ashes, and let it drain through.

It is the practice of some people, in making soap, to put the lime
near the bottom of the ashes when they first set it tip; but the lime
becomes like mortar, and the lye does not run through, so as to get
the strength of it, which is very important in making soap, as it
contracts the nitrous salts which collect in ashes, and prevents the
soap from _coming_, (as the saying is.) Old ashes are very apt to be
impregnated with it.

Three pounds of grease should be put into a pailful of lye. The great
difficulty in making soap '_come_' originates in want of judgment
about the strength of the lye. One rule may be safely trusted--If your
lye will bear up an egg, or a potato, so that you can see a piece of
the surface as big as ninepence, it is just strong enough. If it sink
below the top of the lye, it is too weak, and will never make soap;
if it is buoyed up half way, the lye is too strong; and that is just
as bad. A bit of quick-lime, thrown in while the lye and grease are
boiling together, is of service. When the soap becomes thick and ropy,
carry it down cellar in pails and empty it into a barrel.

Cold soap is less trouble, because it does not need to boil; the sun
does the work of fire. The lye must be prepared and tried in the usual
way. The grease must be tried out, and strained from the scraps. Two
pounds of grease (instead of three) must be used to a pailful; unless
the weather is very sultry, the lye should be hot when put to the
grease. It should stand in the sun, and be stirred every day. If it
does not begin to look like soap in the course of five or six days,
add a little hot lye to it; if this does not help it, try whether it
be grease that it wants. Perhaps you will think cold soap wasteful,