Not a port or sea is there in any clime but the tall and stately ships of Bath have entered. Her name and reputation are worldwide. The onward march of steam has, however, supplanted the slower power of sails, and this, together with the growing industry of iron ship-building, has prostrated the life of the city. The representatives of Maine in the halls of Congress have striven vigorously and persistently in the endeavor to evoke national aid in securing such legislation as will enable these idle yards to compete with other more favored places. [Illustration: ADIEU SEGUIN] MAPLE-SUGAR MAKING IN VERMONT. BY J. M. FRENCH, M.D. The poet Saxe has written of his native State, that Vermont is noted for four staple products; oxen, maple-sugar, girls, and horses:-- "The first are strong, the last are fleet, The second and third exceedingly sweet, And all uncommon hard to beat." Whatever changes may have taken place in other respects, in maple-sugar, at least, Vermont retains her preeminence, producing each year from eight to ten million pounds, or more than any other single State, and nearly one-third of the entire amount manufactured in the United States. [Illustration: CATCHING SAP.] To the farmer's boy among the Green Mountains the springtime is the sweetest and most welcome of all the seasons. And however far he may wander in later years from the scenes of his boyhood, yet often, in quiet hours or when busied with the cares of life, his thoughts return to the old homestead; and, as he walks again in the old paths, recalls the old memories, and watches the old-time pictures come and go before his mental vision, he enjoys again, and with a freshness ever new, the pleasures of the maple-sugar season. Midwinter is past. The "January thaw" has come and gone, leaving a smooth, hard crust, just right for coasting. The heavy storms of February have piled the drifts mountain high over road and fence and wall; and the roaring winds of early March have driven the snow in blinding clouds along the hill-sides, through the forests, and down into the valleys. But now the coldest days are over, and the sun, in his returning course, begins to send down-rays of pleasant warmth. The nights are still sharp, and the March winds have not yet ceased to blow; but for a week, the snow has been melting at noon-day on the southern slope of the hills. [Illustration: THE YOKE.] One afternoon, when the sun seems a little warmer than usual, the farmer comes in to the house, on his return from a trip to the wood-lot, saying, "Boys, this is good weather for sap. We must get the buckets out, and be ready to tap the trees to-morrow." The buckets are stored in the loft over the shed, or at the barn or in the sugar-house, where they were carefully laid away after last year's season was over. Now they must be washed and scalded, repaired if necessary, and carried around to the trees.