sees it dropping from the branches, and probably the Indians first discovered its sweetness from this habit. One would think that the loss of so much sap would necessarily injure the trees; but it is not so; they remain perfectly healthy, after yielding every spring, gallons of the fluid.
Wednesday, 22d.—A thunder-shower last night, by way of keeping the equinox, and this morning, to the joy of the whole community, the arrival of the robins is proclaimed. It is one of the great events of the year for us, is the return of the robins, we have been on the watch for them these ten days, as they generally come between the fifteenth and twenty-first of the month, and now most persons you meet, old and young, great and small, have something to say about them. No sooner is one of these first-comers seen by some member of a family, than the fact is proclaimed through the house; children run in to tell their parents, “ The robins have come!” Grandfathers and grandmothers put on their spectacles and step to the windows to look at the robins; and you hear neighbors gravely inquiring of each other: “ Have you seen the robins?”—“ Have you heard the robins?” There is no other bird whose return is so generally noticed, and for several days their movements are watched with no little interest, as they run about the ground, or perch on the leafless trees. It was last night just as the shutters were closed that they were heard about the doors, and we ran out to listen to their first greeting, but it was too dark to see them. This morning, however, they were found in their native apple-trees, and a hearty welcome we gave the honest creatures.
Thursday, 23d.—The snow is going at last; the country has the dappled look belonging properly to March in this part of the
