A MARCH CHRONICLE. 109 



tree in the woods, that has but a small top. Young, 

 thrifty, thin-skinned trees Start up with great spirit, 

 indeed, fairly on a run ; but they do not hold out, 

 and their blood is very diluted. Cattle are very fond 

 of sap ; so are sheep, and will drink enough to kill 

 them. The honey-bees get here their first sweet, and 

 the earliest bug takes up his permanent abode on the 

 " spile." The squirrels also come timidly down the 

 trees, and sip the sweet flow; and occasionally an 

 ugly lizard, just out of its winter-quarters, and in quest 

 of novelties, creeps up into the pan or bucket. Soft 

 maple makes a very fine white sugar, superior in qual- 

 ity, but far less in quantity. 



I think any person who has tried it will agree with 

 me about the charm of sugar-making, though he have 

 no tooth for the sweet itself. It is enough that it if 

 the first spring work, and takes one to the woods- 

 The robins are just arriving, and their merry calk 

 ring through the glades. The squirrels are now vent- 

 uring out, and the woodpeckers and nuthatches run 

 briskly up the trees. The crow begins to caw, with 

 iiis accustomed heartiness and assurance; and one 

 sees the white rump and golden shafts of the high- 

 hole as he flits about the open woods. Next week 

 or the week after, it may be time to begin plowing; 

 and other sober work about the farm ; but this week 

 we will picnic among the maples, and our camp-fire 

 shall be an incense to spring. Ah, I am there now ! 

 I see the woods flooded with sun-light ; I smell the 

 fry leaves, and the mould under them just quickened 



