totally destroyed—­this is a calamity that to be known must be experienced—­the potatoes stored here are the chief produce of the farm, at least the part that is most available for selling, for hay should never go off the land, and grain is as yet so little raised that ’tis but the old farmers can do what is called “bread themselves:” thus the innovation of the cellars by the frost fiend is a sad and serious occurrence—­of course a deep bank of earth is thrown up round the house, beneath which, and generally its whole length and breadth, is the cellar; but the snow over this is an additional and even necessary defence, and its want is much felt in many other ways—­in quantity, however, it generally makes up for its temporary absence by being five and six feet deep in April.  About this season the warm sun begins to beam out, and causes the sap to flow in the slumbering trees—­this is the season for sugar-making, which, although an excellent thing if it can be managed, is not much attended to, especially in new settlements, and those are generally the best off for a “sugar-bush;” but it occurs at that season when the last of the winter work must be done—­the snow begins to melt on the roads, and the “saw whet,” a small bird of the owl species, makes its appearance, and tells us, as the natives say, that “the heart of the winter is broken.”  All that can be done now must be done to lessen the toils of that season now approaching, from which the settler must not shrink if he hope to prosper.  Sugar-making, then, unless the farmer is strong handed, is not profitable.  A visit to a sugar-camp is an interesting sight to a stranger—­it may, perhaps, be two or three miles through the woods to where a sufficient number of maple trees may be found close enough together to render it eligible for sugar-making.  All the different kinds of maple yield a sweet sap, but the “rock maple” is the species particularly used for sugar, and perhaps a thousand of these trees near together constitute what is called a sugar-bush.  Here, then, a rude hut, but withal picturesque in its appearance, is erected—­it is formed of logs, and covered with broad sheets of birch bark.  For the universal use of this bark I think the Indians must have given the example.  Many beautiful articles are made by them of it, and to the back settlers it is invaluable.  As an inside roofing, it effectually resists the rain—­baskets for gathering the innumerable tribe of summer berries, and boxes for packing butter are made of it—­calabashes for drinking are formed of it in an instant by the bright forest stream.  Many a New Brunswick belle has worn it for a head-dress as the dames of more polished lands do frames of French willow; and it is said the title deeds of many a broad acre in America have been written on no other parchment than its smooth and vellum-like folds.  The sugar-maker’s bark-covered hut contains his bedding and provisions, consisting of little save the huge round loaf of bread,