ntrance on a level with the
road, the same being a "rollway" wide enough to admit barrels of cider
and other produce. I don't know how many had been rolled into it during
the century or so before we came, but after a casual look I decided that
very few had been rolled out. The place was packed to the doors with
barrels, boxes, benches, and general lumber of every description.

[Illustration: _They formed a board of appraisal. All of them knew that
cellar and were intimately acquainted with its contents_]

About the time we got started an audience assembled. Old Nat, who was
taking a day off, and 'Lias Mullins, who had a weakness in his back and
took most of his days off, drifted in from somewhere and sat on the wall
in the shade to give us counsel. Then presently W. C. Westbury drove up
and became general overseer of the job. They formed a board of
appraisal, with Westbury as chairman. All of them knew that cellar and
were intimately acquainted with its contents.

I had thought the old collection of value only as kindling, but as we
brought out one selection after another I realized my error.

"That," said 'Lias Mullins, "is Uncle Joe's pork-barrel. It's wuth a
dollar fifty new, an that one's better 'n new."

"I used to help Uncle Joe kill, every year," nodded Old Nat, "an' to put
his meat away. I remember that bar'l as well as can be. I'll take it
myself, if you don't want it.

"Better keep your barrel," Westbury said. "You'll be wanting a pair of
pigs next, and then you'll need it." He looked into it reflectively
and sounded it with his foot. "Many a good mess of pork that old
barrel's had in it," he said.

The board's ruling being unanimous, the barrel was set aside. Uncle
Joe's ham-barrel came next, and was likewise recognized, carefully
examined, and accepted by the board. Then two cider-barrels, which awoke
an immediate and special interest.

For cider is the New England staple. Its manufacture and preparation are
matters not to be lightly dismissed. Good seasoned cider-barrels have a
value in no way related to cooperage. It is the flavor, the bouquet,
acquired through a tide of seasons, from apples that grow sweet and rich
through summer sun and shower and find a spicy tang in the first October
frost. Gathered and pressed on the right day; kept in the right
temperature, the mellow juice holds its sweetness and tone far into the
winter, and in the oaken staves leaves something of its savor to the
contents