One star-lit night—it seems, you know, About a year or two ago, But when you come to count it square It’s fifty of ’em, I declare— We gathered on my father’s lands, ’Bout where that market wagon stands; Us younger folks each other found From wooded regions all around, An’ then with genuine laugh and smile, We sugared off in county style! Since then, these memory hallowed spots Are fenced up into city lots; The farm is raisin’ spires and domes, Where once the maples had their homes; Big feats are given, rich and rare, Of which, I own, I have had my share, But nothin’ ever tasted quite So good, as on that star-lit night! An’ when the sap was boilin’ there Till we could taste it in the air, We wood-land boys with hearts awhirl, Each took a cupful to his girl, An’ cuddled down with her an’ ate, With just the white snow for a plate. You see that first-class candy-shop Up yonder where them school girls stop? They’ve gathered sweet-meats there that’s worth As much as any _now_ on earth; But they’ve got nothin’ that’s in sight Of what we ate that winter’s night. An’ up on Woodland Avenue, A young, old lady, kind an’ true, With han’some tresses gray enough, But still on earth, an’ “up to snuff,” Will tell you, when we go that way, (If she hasn’t changed her mind today) That, though the years have brought her nigh All earthly good that cash can buy, She’d give them all for that one night, When, from the sap fire’s fadin’ light, We wandered homeward side by side, An’ kindled flames that never died, An’ felt confession’s sudden charm, An’ slowly walkin’ arm-in-arm, With no one there to laugh or scoff, Just had a private sugarin’-off. [Illustration: Two women] [Illustration: MAPLE GROVE IN SOUTHEASTERN VERMONT. ASCUTNEY MOUNTAIN IN THE DISTANCE.] VERMONT MAPLE SYRUP AND THE ENVIRONMENT OF MANUFACTURE. E. WELLMAN BARNARD, Open Ridge, Springfield, Vt.