The milder days multiplied; the snow had less depth on the earth, and now came on the season of sugar making. In all our forest region magnificent sugar maples abounded like an orchard, and Fabens prepared for his spring encampment in the bush. His shanty was repaired with new bark on the roof, and a fresh carpet of clean wheat straw on the rough bark floor; his kettles were hung; his troughs were turned up by the trees and cleaned of the mould and cobwebs of the last season; sleek slanting boxes were cut in the sides of the noble maples in the process of tapping, and spouts driven under to conduct the sap to the troughs; and quick was his step and diligent his labor, to gather and boil so fast that his troughs would not run over. The camp was within hearing distance of the house, and his father, though trembling with age, went out to keep him company, and attend to the fire and kettles, while he was away with two pails, gathering the delicious flowings of his maples. And Julia, too, was there on many a pleasant afternoon, plying her busy distaff in the shanty; and Fanny lent gladness to the scene; leaping like a merry fawn about the little opening, and amid the clustering bushes; her face lustrous and soft as a velvet peach; her voice blithesome as the pee-wee's, and clear and sweet as the robin's. "And if Clinton could be here, too!" sighed the bereaved mother. "Dear, dear Clinton! if he could be here, O would we not be happy?" "How I would kiss him, and say, 'Good brother,' and feed him, and crinkle his curly hair, if he would come back!" added Fanny. To one fond of the romance of rural life, a scene like this addresses many attractive charms. The evenings were clear and beautiful; a class of the grandest constellations took their course in the sky, and rained their holy lights, while the winds were asleep in their caves, and keen frosts came down each night to increase the morrow's run; the days were warm and agreeable with bracing air and kindly sunshine; and the forests were roused from their stillness by the sound of the axe, the shrill reports of the frost escaping from the trees, and the notes of a few birds that carolled of the coming spring-time.