he proper weather for sugaring, namely, cold nights and warm days.
Our saccharine associations, however, remain so obstinately tropical, that it seems almost impossible for the imagination to locate sugar in New-England trees; though it is known that not the maple only, but the birch and the walnut even, afford it in appreciable quantities.
Along our maritime rivers the people associate April, not with sugaring, but with shadding.
The pretty Amelanchier Canadensis of Gray—the Aronia of Whittier's song—is called Shad-bush, or Shad-blow, in Essex County, from its connection with this season; and there is a bird known as the Shad-spirit, which I take to be identical with the flicker or golden-winged woodpecker, whose note is still held to indicate the first day when the fish ascend the river.
Upon such slender wings flits our New-England romance!
In April the creative process described by Thales is repeated, and the world is renewed by water.
The submerged creatures first feel t