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Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la dernlAre image de cheque microfiche, seion ie cas: Ie symbols — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", Ie symbols V signifie "FIN". Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre fiimte A des taux de rMuction diff Arents. Lorsque Ie document est trc^i grand pour Atre reproduit en un seui clichA, II est fiimA A partir de i'angle supArleur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant Ie nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants iliustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 12 3 4 5 6 4 RE-PUBLISHED BY PERMISSION. WILDERNESS JOURNEYS IN NEW BRUNSWICK, IN 1862-3. / .5 - \ ::/ t*- (V i: >l!':"ir- 0>irt V B. /,'. ""<.-:; ^Kr,;r;;\ BY THE HON. ARTHUR HAMILTON GORDON, SAINT JOHN, N. B. J. & A. M'MILLAN, PUBLISHERS, 78 PRINCE WILLIAM STREET. 1864. I; i ii ■'■§ ■»■ \ - ''-'\ -;> r— WILDERNESS JOURNEYS IN NEW BRUNSWICK. BY THE HON. ARTHUR GORDON. [Reprinted from Vacation Tourists for 1862-63.] During the period of my residence in New Brunswick the exploration of its rivers and forests has formed the chief recreation of my leisure time. To visit the already settled districts of the province, and examine into the growth and condition of rising townships, is a part of my official duty ; but the expeditions to which I refer, and which have led through vast tracts of unbroken wilder- ness, entitle me in all strictness to assume the designation of a " Vacation Tourist." It had originally been my intention to have described these wanderings in some detail, but on carefully looking over my various journals, I came to the conclusion that whilst a minute narrative of such journeys might form a not unsuitable, — though somewhat sleep-inducing, — paper for a meeting of the Royal Geographical Society^ it would prove sadly uninteresting to the general public, consist- ing, as it for the most part would, of a monotonous itin- erary, in which the events of day after day were almost precisely similar for weeks together ; whilst the notes taken had chiefly reference to the number of hours trav- elled by land or water, the various birds, plants, or ani- mals observed during the day, the nature of the vegetation or the soil, the course and volume of the streams crossed, or falling into the river which (if we were in canoes), formed our highway, together with, in this case, the ele- vation and aspect of the banks as we proceeded. I have therefore relinquished this idea, and propose simply to throw together a few sketches of forest life — a few descrip- tive notes of such natural objects as have most vividly attracted my attention — and a few curious legends which I have learned from the Indian companions of my ram- bles. I have no ren arkablc discoveries to record, or ex- citing personal adventures to narrate, yet it is possible that these pages may not be wholly uninteresting to WILDERNESS JO UliNE YS Eiisj^lish roiidcrs both as containing some particles of infor- mation with reference to one of the least known depen- dencies of the British Crown, and as descriptive of a mode of life which, however frequently described, must always preserve an attraction for the young and adventurous. There is a charm in forest life and its freedom, which is ever new for those who have strength of body and a temper of mind which enable them to enjoy it, but which is almost inexplicable to those who have never tried it, or never surrendered themselves to its influence ; for the many drawbacks and disagreeables which attend life in a wilderness are easily described and almost self-evident, whilst its pleasures are more difficult to define. A most repulsive picture of camp life, even in summer, might be drawn without any departure from truth — musquitoes and sand-flies tormenting the traveller by night, black flies biting him well-nigh into madness by day, with the al- ternative of a cramped seat for hours of broiling sunshine in a frail canoe, or a tread-mill like walk through close sti- fling woods, perpetually climbing over the truiiks of fallen and decaying trees, sometimes many feet from the probably wet and swampy ground. He has but hard and uncertain fare to look forward ; perhaps a wet night to sleep in, to be followed it may be by steady rain, drenching every article of clothing or consumption. -All these little mis- eries, duly coloured and dwelt on, would go far to make life in the woods, even in summer, appear but a dubious pleasure ; whilst, as for a winter camp, it would not be hard to show that a man, who with the thermometer 20° below zero, deliberately leaves his fireside and arm-chair for a bed on the snow, there to be begrimed with smoke and browned with dirt, must be little short of insane. Of the forests in other parts of America I have no knowledge ; but certainly those in New Brunswick are very unlike what my imagination had pictured from de- scription. I remember in my boyish days reading in Cooper's novels of parties travelling on horseback through the woods for days together, without any apparent diffi- culty. I should like to see the horse that could make its way over the loose masses of windfall, and through the tangled underbrush and broad belts of swamp which form a New Brunswick thicket ! So difficult indeed is progres- sion through the unbroken woods, unless a way is cut IN NEW BRUNSWICK. ! / witli axes as the party proceeds, that recourse is ahnost always had to the water, and any expedition choo.ses the line of one of the numerous rivers for its route, only niake- ing short occasional trips inland from the banks. For these voyages two kinds of canoe are used — that of birch bark, or those dug out of a single log. The latter are used by the white settlers exclusively, and have the advantage of standing rough shocks, which would crush the frail bark craft like an egg-shell ; but they draw more water, and as they are necessarily very narrow, they are both uncomfortable and unsafe, as the slightest incautious movement is suflicieut to upset them, or rather to jerk overboard the unwary occupant. The bark canoe again has two varieties, adapted to the different services to which it may be put. The Melicete tribe, who live along the St. John and other inland rivers, build narrow canoes with a gunwale even along its whole length, or if any- thing slightly depressed in the centre : the Micmacs, on the other hand, who live on the sea-coast, and whose canoes are exposed to rough weather, adopt a different model, far broader in the beam, and with gunwales which rise towards the centre and curve inwards, to protect the canoe from shipping seas in broken water. The Melicete canoe holds two persons, or perhaps three — that of the Micmacs will comfortably carry two or more passengers and two paddlers. In shallow or broken water the pad- dles are exchanged for long poles, by which the canoes are urged against the stream or warded off rocks and bars if descending with the current. Of course the distance travelled varies greatly according to the strength of the stream. In descending the Metapedia, I have gone more than fifty miles in less then ten hours, including a long mid-day halt ; in ascending a\ river, I think three miles an hour is a very good average rate of speed ; the pro- gress made is generally less. To those who are keenly alive to impressions from natu- ral objects, few things are more 'delightful than to drop down some great river, where every frequent turn pre- sents, notwithstanding the monotony of continual forest, some new view ; and where, as you smoothly glide on, a perpetual succession of fresh pictures is presented to the eye — where the play of the sunlight on the leaves, and rocks and water ; — the beautiful kingfishers startled from WILDERNESS JOURNEYS tlieir nests ; — the groat owl waked by tlio splash of tlio poles or the sound of voices, and winking and blinking from his cedar bough ; — the small excitement of the de- 8(!ent of some foaming rapid ; — the sight of flowers bright and unknown, and of ferns almost tropical in their lux- uriance ; — the mid-dav halt under the shade of some spreading tree; — the luxurious bathe in the still, lazy warmth of noon ; — the pauses to fish at any tempting pool ; — all combine to make the day pass in dreamy de- light. Towards evening, the declining sun warns us to camp. All eyes are turned in search of some suitable spot, and at the first which appears eligible the canoes are run to the shore and lifted carefully out of the water. The spot thus selected may be sometimes a sandy or peb- bly little promontory, jutting into the swift stream which runs round it with musical murmur; — sometimes a grassy bank bare of trees ; — sometimes the beach ; — sometimes, indeed, no natural camping-ground oflfers itself, and a space has to be cleaned for it by the axe in the thick forest. Those who land are immediately surrounded by swarms of biting, buz;dug, stinging, humming insects, and the first thing done is, to diminish the r annoyance, by making a smoke, if possible, with the dry aromatic bark of the American cedar, to the scent of which they entertain a special aver- sion, The site for the camp is chosen where the current of air, which always blows up or dow^n the river, may have free access to it ; the skins and packs are dragged out of the canoes, and thrown down on the spot, and the party separates to perform their respective shares in con- structing the camp. Saplings are soon felled, and a couple of forks erected at such a distance from each other as the number of the party may require, a ridge pole placed on them, and then other saplings laid against this, over which is stretched a piece of sail-cloth, should the party possess such a luxury ; if not, or if the weather threatens heavy rain during the ni^ht, their labour is pro- longed. A spruce tree of some size is selected, a long straight cut made, and the bark stripped oflf in long rolls, about a foot broad ; these rolls are then stretched across the camp instead of the sail-cloth, and a few more poles or stones added to keep them flat. In front the camp is open along its whole length, and here the fire is made. I had always supposed that the camp fire would be round, IN NEW BRUNSWICK. but this ia not the case. It is invariably eoniposod of lon«( logs, some six or eight feet in length, supported on siiort thick billets, placed transversely by way ot'dogs to secure a current of air below the fire. It is the duty of one of the party to cut a suiiicient supply of long logs to last all night. Another will appear with his arms full of .short spruce boughs. These are for bedding, and on the mode in which they are laid down greatly depends our comfort for the night. The raw beginner, who throws his bundle on the ground anyhow, will wake with an uncomfortable sensation of pointed sticks running into his back. The best of the various methods in use is probably that wliich thrusts the broken wood into the earth, and covers the lower part of each bough with the upper part of that next put down. Such a bed, covered with a bear or buffalo skin, is as dry, springy, and comfortable a couch r i any man can desire. Meanwhile, others have put their rodb together and are employed in catching fish for supper nearly as fast as they can throw the lly, for trout are plentiful and un- suspicious in these regions. The faces of some of the fishermen are probably covered by muslin masks, as a protection against the black flies, now more tormenting than ever, as though conscious that their reign is about to expire. Suddenly, about sunset, their attacks cease, and in a few minutes not one of the swarm that has so pertin- aciously hovered round you during the day is to be seen. Intensely relieved, you throw oft' the few garments you have on, and again plunge into the clear river. Prepara- tions for supper are meanwhile advancing, and all are fully prepared to do it ample justice whatever it may be. We squat upon the ground behind the fire — if we have plates we take them on our knees, if we have none apiece of birch bark supplies the want ; and do we wish to clean such a platter all we have to do is to pull oft" the upper- most layer of bark and lo ! a fresh plate is before us. There is hardly any limit to the uses to which birch bark may be put ; it makes not only our dishes, but our cups and our candles too. The nature of our supper depends partly on the locality and partly upon chance. Fried salt pork and biscuit we are sure of, and, unless very unlucky, or on one of the few rivers where fish are not, we may count on a dish of splendid trout, if not salmon, to say nothing of WILDERNESS J O URNE YS Huch accidontial luxurios U8 partri(l<(o (and tlio white par- tridge h excellent) or rabbit ; or the more quentionable de- licaeiea of boiled beaver, or nuis(|uaHli soiij). Beaver, how- ever, is very good, especially the tail, which is all fat — (the flesh itself tastes somewhat like coarse ton«^ue with a 8ou{)(;on of a Havoiir of hare) — and 1 have readily devonred musquash and wild onions. And why not? — Oh, no reason at all good reader, only it might not sound so palatable if I were to translate the name and write 7Yit. Unless our stock of Hour is exhausted ive add damper after the Australian fashion. All this is washed down with strong tea, and nolhwg else. A total abstinence from all spirit- uous liquors makes the whole difference as to comfort on such excursions. The slightest use ot them makes the assaults of the black flies and other noxious insects a serious torture instead of a matter of comparative indifference; and the great parties of woodcutters or lumberers almost invariably confine themselves wholly to tea whilst in the woods. I am afraid, on their return to the settlements, they too often indemnify themselves for their enforced temperance. By the time supper is over, night has fallen ; — the fire throws its bright light into the recesses of the wood, illumi- nating the lounging red or purple-shirted figures, or caus- ing some small tree to stand out all brilliant against a dark background, and producing Rembrandt-like eftects, rn the groups of men, and on all surrounding objects, which I never tire of watching. We smoke and roll ourselves in oar blankets, and soon the camp sinks into a sound and dreamless sleep. I have passed, the night, shivering on a mountain side, waiting for dawn. I have passed it stretched, on the long grass of the Hauran, snatching short slumbers under the Syrian moonlight, with my horse's bridle round my arm. I have spent it in many different places, under circumstances calculated to inspire strange and solemn thoughts, but never anywhere with so awful a sense of man's insignificance, and of the calm changelessness of nature, as in the depths of the American forest. In cities, each day seems a well-defined period, sharply cut off from those which preceded and those which are to follow it ; but in the wilderness one learns to realize the ceaseless march of twilight and dawn, and day, and noon, evening, twilight, night and dawn, and twilight, and day again, in JN NKW BRUNSWICK. its uiibroktm coutho, and to tool oiio'h own lioIpIcHsiioHs and iittlonofis. Tlio daily jiotition, too, for daily bread acquires new force wlien offered in its literal nieaninir, and wliere for the day's food one is in sonn* measnre dependent on the livin<; creatures thnt n)uy clnmce to cross one's path dnrinu: its eonrse. Dawn conies — the black Hies happil} are late risers, and if not unlucky we obtnin our niorninrk, hiscuit, and tea — a blanket ^trapped on the top of the pack, and in his hand a gun or fishing-rod. GahricI e;irried, in addition, the tea-kettle and frying pan. Our way nt first lay along n well-definod path, in a westerly direction, through a thick forest of elni and maple, and though occasionally interrupte',1 by a lalleii tree or low growth of underbrush, wjis perfectly easy to per- ceive and to traverse. The soft earth near the mariiins of the little streams we forded was al)undantly printed with tracks ot the lynx, the moose, and the bear, some of which were very fresh ; but the only creature we can.e upon was a partridge, which W. shot. After v/alking about three hours, the character of the forest suddenlv chany beautiful yellow swallow-tailed butterflies. The Little Nashwaak lake is a small sheet of water to the south of the river, with which it is connected by a very short passage. From this point wt proposed to fol- low the Nashwaak river, (which we hero touched for the first time since leaving Fredericton), closely to its source. About half-past ten we again set out through the forests on the right bank, and I do not know that I liave ever been more tired in my life than by this morning's walk. We wandered on through the thick and trackless woods, heavily loaded, through stifling heat, and surrounded by countless swarms of insects, whilst our progress was so slow, owing; to the thickness of the wood and the number of windfalls, as to permit of their feeding on us at their pleasure. At length, after a long descent, we again reach- ed the river, and so thoroughly exhausted were we, that sinking on the shore, we all fell fast asleep, almost before we could thro,w off the loads on our backs, regardless of black flies or exposure. How long we slept I do not know, but when we woke we found ourselves, — fwell bitten), — by the side of a very pretty Scotch-looking siream, among I ^t y 12 WILDERNESS JOURNEYS sltity rocks shadowed by briglit green foliage. Here we rested some time, caught fisli and ate them ; and when the heat of the day was abated, forded the river, and con- tinned the journey on the left bank — each of us carrying in his hand a torch of cedar-bark, as some defence against the flies. Such a torch goes on smouldering and smoking for hours, if care is taken not to permit it to burst into a flame. At last we camped. I liave never, in all my sub- sequent experience, known the black flies so utterly in- tolerable as on this and the succeeding day. For an hour before their disappearance for the night, this evening, we sat apart, each absorbed in his own miseries, his face buried in his hands, unable to move, or talk, or think. On the following day, when compelled to stand still for a short time, whilst Gabriel was searching for signs to direct as to the course we were to take, we plunged into three several spruce trees, and endeavoured (vainly, alas!), by pulling the boughs rapidly to and fro over our persons, to keep the enemy at a distance. The mosqaito of North America appears comparatively harmless to any one who has aftbrded a meal to those found on the plains of Syria ; — the sand-fly — " Bite him no see him," as the Indians, or " brulard," as the French, equally appropriately call them — though irritating, do no harm ; — (the sensation is like that of a minute hot ash falling on the skin) ; — but the black fly is indeed a pest, and hjippy are the dwellers in Europe, where they are unknown. Fussy, restless, per- tinacious, finding entrance at every aperture in one's clothes, thronging into ears, eyes, and nostrils, drawing blood, and leaving an irritating wound, they are no light drawback to the pleasures of a forest life. It would be tedious to dwell minutely on the remainder of our journey. The river's course \a,y almost always through flne hard- wood, but it was difiicult to keep as near to it as we desired, and we often lost our way altogether. The feeling of confinement was unsatisfactory. A small circle of tree-stems was all that we could see, unless we were actually looking up or down the river, where the views w^ere generally pretty. It was impossible, as we went along, to learn anything of the aspect of the coun- try ; for though we went up high hills, we never got a view of any extent out of the trees immediately round us. Our last Nashwaak camp, however, perhaps deserves descrip- I ^ IN NEW BRUNSWICK. tion. After wandering about a good deal in a circuitous direction in the forest, we came down a bank towards the river. On one f^ide rose the high bank we had descended, on the other was a wooded flat. The river was broad and bhick, and perfectly still and dead, without perceptible current. Near our camp it was overhung by a large wil- low, and a magnificent black birch — one of the finest I have ever seen — rose high above the other trees on the op- posite bank. The whole appearance of the scene was mysterious and dismal, resembling that of the deserted and neglected lake of some great park which had been abandoned by its owner, and over which hung some gloomy association. Nor was the mysterious aspect of the place diminished by the only noise we heard — the continued drumming of the partridges, of which the deep, hollow, muffled tones sounded all night through the forest. To a wet night succeeded a showery morning. Silently we packed, and resumed our way with somewhat depress- ed spirits. The river was dark and still, the air heavy and warm, the saturated foliage motionless and loaded with moisture, which descended on us in showers at the slightest touch, the drumming of the partridges had ceased, and an absolute silence prevailed, which weighed oppressively on the mind. Walking was very difficult, as our way lay through a wholly untrodden forest full of windfalls, and overrun by tangled undergrowth. We had to ford a succession of creeRs, and crossed repeatedly from side to side of the river, which had here scarcely any per- ceptible current. But our efi^brts to reach the lake which is supposed to form the source of the Nashwaak were all destined to be fruitless. After crossing the stream, we frequently left the swampy tangled thicket on its banks for the comparatively dry ground and opener wood of the higher ridges in the neighbourhood. Here, at last, after, as I am inclined to think, mistaking a branch for the main stream, we lost the river altogether, and, after vain searching for it from the tree-tops, gave up the quest, and followed a direct line due north, which, about one o'clock, led us down to the bank of a broad clear river, which Gabriel pronounced to be the Miramichi. We struck it just above the confluence of two branches, and the meeting of the waters presented a very lovely scene — the lovelier, perhaps, in our eyes, for our previous confine- '4 WILDERNESS JOURNEYS ment to a narrow circle of tree-stems. Two large streams, broad as the Thames at Ilenlej, flowed quietly together, the point of their junction being marked by two large pines, which overhung the stream, and formed a striking contrast to the hard- wood forest which backed them. Far away in the distance, seen over the trees, were he purple summits of a distant mountain. All was quiet and calm and still, but it was a peacei'ul, tranquil stillness, very different in its impression from the eery deadness of our camp of the previous night. We caught a number of trout, and dined, and then after going down the river bank foi about a mile, we resolved to take to the water as an easier mode of progression, for we were still far above the point where the canoes were awaiting us. Gabriel led us to a deserted camp, high above the river, which sup- plied us with materials for constructing a couple ot rude catamarans on which to place ourselves and our effects. After two hours' work these were completed, and we launched ouraelves into ihe stream, not, however, without having first narrowly escaped setting fire to the forest ; a small fire made to keep off the maddening attacks of the black flies, having spread into and under a bank of rotten wood and rubbish in such a manner, as to cause us the utmost difficulty in extinguishing it. The river here was broad and the stream gentle, and we glided very pleasantly along among water-lilies and wild ducks, till we reached a turn above some rapids, where Gabriel thought it best to stop for the night, which we accordingly did. Being very tired no camp was made, and we lay down in the bright moonshine, with a fire at our feet, and beyond it, what looked like a garden com- posed of tall green succulent plants. The next morning, Gabriel floated the unloaded rafts through the rapids, whilst we carried the goods to a point below them. In a few miles more we again approached rather serious rapids, and prepared to portage aguin. Gabriel undertook to bring down one, and "W" the other raft, whilst C and I carried our diminished stores, and watched for the descent of the voyagers. Ga- briel came down successfully, his catamaran merely touching on a rocky point and then swinging off from it into the full rush of the hurrying waters, which brought him down all right into the pool below. W was not \w IN NEW BRUNSWICK. '5 8«) fortunate. Ilia raft struck full upon the same rock on which Gabriel's had touched, and being pressed against it by the force of the water, began to lose its shape and break up. He was soou standing on a mere loose n.ass of timber, whicli floated away pieceniCal from under him, He tried to reach the rock, failed, and was the next minute in the boiling current, struggling towards the shore, whilst C , who was nearer the bank than I, rushed into the river to pick up the bits of the raft as they floated by, which we succeeded in cobbling together again after a fashion. All this was sufliciontly exciting, but it must be confessed that a prolonged catamaran voyage is somewhat weari- some and tedious. After the passage of the rapids w-e continued to drift down without any further adventure, and our progress was both too slow and too wet to be pleasant. Our own catamaran was nearly under water, whilst that navigated by W and C was always in danger of coming bodily to pieces whenever the frail craft impinged on a rock — a very frequent occurrence — though C and W spent great part of their time in the water endeav- ouring to ward off such collisions. Moreover, the water- logged condition of their machine, and their want of Ga- briel's experience in its conduct, made their progress even slower tlian ours, and we had constantly to stop in order to allow tliem to keep within any reasonable distance, and to be at banc in case assistance should be really wanted. At length, about five o'clock, one lovely summer evening, our crazy rafts neared a point beyond which, in Gabriel's opin- ion, it would be hopeless to attempt to carry them, as there was there a considerable fall and dangerous rapid. Near- ing this point we came upon a very pretty spot, at which the river, before turning sharply to the north, opened out into a little lake. Behind the woods w^hich fringed a still mirror-like pool, rose high and graceful hills, clothed in the richest young summer foliage, bright with every tint of golden green, and bathed in the still sunshine of evening. Our logs struck heavily on a sunken rock, and we had just observed that this hidden foe would altogether demolish our comrades' craft, when a thin line of blue smoke, rising into the air, caught Gabriel's eye, and almost at the same moment a log canoe shot rapidly out from behind a promontory, and darted over the black glassy 1 1 ! I ni!i u "i :1 WILDERNESS JOURNEYS surface of the water towards ua, its red shirted occupants uttering a whoop of recognition. In a few minutes we were on board the canoe, and our abandoned catamaran was floating down the stream to find its way to the sea us best it might, — to remain a broken pile of drift wood under some rock, or float round and round in an eddy, till flood or frost changed the current of the river's life. All difiiculty and discomfort were now over. We found a luxurious spruce bark camp, with soft spruce boughs to sleep on, and skins to cover us, fresh provisions, and clean dry clothes, — even plates and knives. There being still some hours of daj^ight, W and I went out on the chance of a shot at a moose. W as the vounsfer and more eager shot had the foremost canoe — for me the novelty and beauty of the scene sufiiced. We went up the little winding stream which leads to Lake Miraraichi, and a more lovely evening I never re- member to have seen. The absence of all human sounds gave an impression of deep and solemn stillness, and yet air and water were full of life, and the attentive ear caught the plash of the frightened water-rat as it plunged into the stream ; the gurgling bubble of the diving musquash ; the rise of startled water-fowl among the sedges ; the hum of the laden bee homeward-bound ; the buzz of mvriad in- sects near the water's surface. Sometimes we shot under tall trees, which bent towards each other from either bank and canopied the stream, — sometimes by low stunted wood, above which the mountains could be plainly seen, — some- times through reedy swamps, — sometimes through tangled spruce woods ; but ever turning and turning, and ever moving rapidly over clear brimming water. It was my first experience of a log-canoe, and much as I had heard on the subject, I was unprepared for the marvellous skill and dexterity with which it was handled. At one point we fairly ascended a small waterfall, going up its steps as if up a staircase. At length, at a sudden turn, we burst into the Miramichi Lake. Very lovely, indeed, it looked in the waning sunlight, — a perfect picture of placid repose. Hills ,of soft rounded outline and considerable height, densely clothed with hard- wood, rose from the water and were reflected into it ; whilst every shade of beautiful colouring, purple, blue, and crimson, tinged hills and woods, and water, and the low mist gathering on the sur- IN NEW BRUNSWICK. ?.& face of the lake. In the distance, w. saw two moose, one feeding at the edge of the lake, the other swimming in itp waters. In again descending the stream, wc came upon another of these huge animals feeding very near the bank. W took good aim, and pulled the trigger ; but our catamaran voyage had damped the caps, and the gun hung fire. Before he could fire his second barrel the moose was gone, nor did w^e see another that night though we twice heard them crashing through the Woods. We did not return to camp till nine p. m. when we were ready to do ample justice to an abundant supper. The next day we conimenced our canoe voyage down the river, — which here runs in a north-easterly direction, — by a descent of falls and rapids, certainly well calculated to inspire the inexperienced beginner with considerable astonishment. But the command exercised over the canoe appears nearly as great in the roughest as in the smoothest water, its progress being occasionally suddenly arrested in mid career, or turned fror> the very edge of a threatening rock, with a nicety which nothing but constant practice can give. The scenery all day was very beautiful, though the hills were somewhat monotonous in form. Their rich and varied clothing of hard-wood, however, saved them from being wearisome. At one island where we stopped for a short time, I noticed the mixture of slate and quartz, which forms the home of gold, but none has yet been dis- coverered on this river. We stopped for *^he night at one of the best fishing stations, "Burnt Fi)'," and actually halted in the middle of a rapid. We failed, however, to see any salmon, partly because the water was still too cold to have admitted of their ascent in any numbers, and partly on account of the obstructions which fish have to surmouut, and which bid fair, in no long time, to extin- guish the as yet highly profitable salmon fisheries of the province. Laws and regulations are made for their pro- tection, but they are seldom enforced, and individual selfishness seeks unchecked to reap an immediate harvest, regardless of the interests of the future. I have myself seen on this very river a net habitually stretched across its whole breadth, and remaining down, I have every reason to believe, for weeks toajether. Our halting place at Burnt Hill struck our whole party as wearing a singularly theatrical appearance. The thin •8 WILDERNESS JOURNEYS !-■ / t I u odgea of the slate rock, whicli lioro have an almost vortical dip, strangely resembled the pasteboard side-scenes of a theatre, whilst a " practicable " stair-like path and narrow terrace, just able to contain a few figures on the hill-side, greatly added to the operatic aspect of the whole place. The rest of our voyage to lioicstown was accomplished without adventure ; the river preserving througli its whole course the same general characteristics. The night before we reached Boiestown, however, we slept in scenery more resembling that of an English park than is usual in the American forest ; large single trees standing well apart on a grassy bank, and presenting to our sight sometliing like the glades and clumps of our own country, instead ot the tangled litter to which the eye may become accus- tomed, but which is never agreeable to it. The land is almost entirely covered with hard-wood, and is consequetitly of good quality for settlement, but very much of the district wc traversed is locked up in the hands of the New Brunswick Land Company, who possess an enormous tract in the County of York, the disposal of which, so long as the provincial government sells land at the rate of three shillings an acre, payable in labour, the}'^ can hardly hope rapidly to effect. I was struck, whilst descending the river, by a peculi- arity which I then for the first time noticed, but which I have since remarked on almost all the other North Amer- ican rivers which I have subsequently visited — I mean the rapidity with which they descend from, one level to an- other, without marked rapids or any distinct vertical fall. There will sometimes be a rapid incline for nearly three miles of perfectly unbroken water, not leaping over rocky ledges, or fretting among boulders and wearing out holes in its bed, but running smoothly down hill at an inclina- tion so distinctly visible that the inmates of one canoe will look verj^ decidedly over the heads of those in one but a very short distance below them. This is a feature I have seldom seen in European rivers. At Boiostown we met my carriage, and w^ent home, well pleased with our excursion, to resume our ordinary course of life. Very early in July I again started, accompanied this time by W and Gabriel only, for the purpose of des- cending the great Restigouche river, which forms, for a I "1 IS NEW BRUNSWICK. •9 coiiHidorable distance, the boundary l)etween Canada and New Brunswick, and of exploring some of its imperfectly known tributaries, n)any of which are tliernselves rivers of very considerable tize. Our journey up the country was in no way renmi-kable, and on the third day after leaving Fredericton we reached the Grand Falls of the St. John. The little town of Cole- brooke, the shire town of the county of Victoria, which is situated Just above the falls, ii not imposing in its dimen- sions or population, but what there is of it, is neat and pretty, and it possesses a Court House, which boasts a stupendous portico. The great vork, however, at Cole- brooke is the suspension bridge v/hich is thrown across the rocky cliasm below the falls, and is a structure ex- ceedingly creditable to the engineer who designed, and the government which erected it The falls themselves are undeniably tine, and consist of what may by courtesy be called a horse-shoe, but is in reality the junction of two walls of perpendicular rock, placed nearly at right angles to each other, down which the whole waters of the St. John tuml)le in one leap, and then rush boiling through a deep and narrow gorge of rock tor nearly a mile. To compare these falls with those of Niagara, as the good people of the province are fond of doing, is simply ridiculous ; nor will they bear c. mparison with any of the more celebrated Canadian falls, such as Montmorenci or the Chaudiere. They are, however, fine falls, and may decidedly take rank above those on the Ottawa. They arc the scene of an Indian legend, which is probably not untrue. It is related, that a large war-party of Mohawks made a descent on the upper St. John from Canada, for the pur- pose of exterminating the Melicetes. They carried their canoes with them, and embarked on the St. John below Edmundston, from which point to the Grand Falls the river is perfectly smooth and deep. Not knowing the navigation, they landed and seized two squaws, whom they compelled to act as their guides down the river. When night fell, the different canoes were tied together, so that the warriors might sleep, whilst a few only pad- dled the leading canoes, under direction of the women, whose boats were tied, the one on the right, the other on the left, of the flotilla. They neared the falls, and still ao WILDERNESS JOURNEYS w I ^ the women paddled on. The roar of the falling waters rose on the ntill night air. Those who paddled looked anxious; some few of the sleepers awoke. To lull buh- pieion, the women spoke of the great stream which here fell into the VValloostook, the Indian name of the St. John ; and still they paddled on. When they saw, at length, that the whole mass of canoes in the centre of t}ie river was well entered on the smooth treacherous current, which, looking so calm and gentle, was bearing them irresistibly to the falls, the women leaped into the water, and strove to reach the shore by swimming in the com- paratively feeble stream near the banks. Tied inextri- cably together, the centre canoes drew the others on, and the whole body of the invaders plunged down the catar- act, and perished in the foaming waters of the !iarrow gorge below. I asked eagerly whether the women es- caped. It does not speak highly of Indian chivalry that no one knew, or seemed to think it matter worthy of recollection, whether the two squaws had, or had not, sacrificed their own lives in defending those of their tribe. This fall was, also, the scene of a tragedy of more recent occurrence. Two young men in a canoe found themselves sucked into the current whilst engaged in drawing logs to the shore. They were still some way above the fall, and there was yet a chance of escape. Through vigorous exertion, they might yet reach the bank — perilously near the fall, perhaps, but yet safely. They plied their paddles desperately — too desperately — for one broke with the violence with which it was wielded, and then all hope was over ; though some minutes elapsed before, in the sight of the horrified population of Cole- brooke, utterly unable to render the least help, the canoe shot over the precipice. The man, whose paddle broke, threw himself down in the bottom of the canoe; the other never ceased paddling towards the side, though hope- lessly, till just betore the final plunge, when he folded his arms on his breast, and with his paddle waved adieu to the spectators. No trace of the canoe, or of the bodies, was ever seen again. On crossing the suspension bridge, we find ourselves among a different population. To the south of the Grand Falls the people are exclusively of British descent; in IN NEW BRUNSWICK. II the nortliorn portion of the county they are almost as ex- clusively French. Tliin is the once well-known Mada- waaka settlement, — a name more familiar to the English Parliament and ncwKpapera twenty years ago, than at the present day, but whicli has steadily flourislied and pro- gressed, until it has become one of the most thriving of the puVely agricultural portions of the province. The French population, which forms* so large a propor- tion among the inhabitants of the counties of Westmore- land, Kent, and (Jloucester, appears to me as contented as the hahitans of Victoria, but hardly equally well oft*. There was an air of comfort and bien ctrc about the large timber two-storied houses painted a dark Indian rod standing among the trees, the numerous good horses, the well-tilled fields, and sleek cattle, which is wanting on the sea-coast. We stopped, after a pleasant drive, affording us good views of the beautifu' peak of Green River Moun- tain, at the house of a Monsieur Violet, at the mouth of Grand River, which was to be our starting point. The whole aspect of the farm was that of a metairie in Nor- mandy ; — the outer doors of the house gaudily painted, the panels of a different color from the frame — the large, open, uncarpeted room, with its bare shining floor — the lasses at the spinning-wheel — the French costume ami ap- pearance of Madame Violet and her sons and daughters, — all carried me back to the other side of the Atlatitic. After a short conversation with the Violets, we walked down to the bridge, where two log canoes, manned by Frenchmen — three Cyrs and a Thibeaudeau — were wait- ing for us, and pushed oft* from the shore. A turn in the river very speedily hid from us the bridge and farm, our empty carriage, and the friends who had accompanied us from Grand Falls, standing on the bank, in the evening sunshine, waving us their farewells ; and it was not with- out pleasure that we felt that the same turn which screened them from our view, separated us, for some time to come, from civilized life.* * On my way to Canada a few months later, I visited the parishes up the river, and was greatly pleased with all I saw. At Edmundston I was present at the vacation fSte of the school of the settlement, and I do not know that, since I first landed in the province, I have ever been more amused than by this festivity. The scholars were assembled in a large barn belonging to the Hon. F. Rice, M.L.C. which was decorated with true French taste, and here they acted various dramatic scenes in French and English. Almost all the T at WILVEHNESS JOUiiNEYS i f The (3 rand River, tlio green liankH of which give it a re!ienil)laiico to Honic Knglish streuni, la a trihutary of the St. John, and in itH turn pOHHeyaeH a trihufary, the Waag-ansiH, whidi runH within a few niiieH of the Waagan, a tributary of the ReHtigouelie. A portage between these two Htreains is the regularly reeognized mode of aeeeHs to tlie ReHtigouehe from the St. John, and of it we proposed to avail ourselves. Wo did not j>roeeed far tlmt night, and eamped on a sandy spit at a pretty turn of the stream, where it was Joined by a little burn, whielj kept up a strong eddy. I give a few extraets trom njy journal of the following day:— " Botlj our watehes stopped in the niglit, but we ima- gine we woke about 4.30. After a bathe in the elear, dark rapid river, on the bank of whieh an otter had left the print of his footmarks during the night, we breakfast- ed and started. The river wound about very much, but did not present many objects of interest on its banks, ex- cept that at one very pretty turn, I noticed, almost for the first time in the province, the true English ash. A very few pines were scattered, here and there, among an abundance of spruce, bircli, alder, and elm. At length, we reached the Waagansis, a wretched, muddy little stream, overgrown with bushes, through and under which we forced our way slowly, to our great discomfort. On reaching the portage, we expected to find the Micmacs waiting for us, according to their instructions, it hrfving been arranged that they should meet us here, to help to carry our effects across to the Restigouche waters, and that the Frenchmen and their canoes should return home. On the supposition that, misunderstanding their orders, they might have remained on the other side, Gabe, W , and I crossed, by the portage-path, to the Waa- children appeared ; the younger ones coming forward on the stage, and, after a bow to the audience, uttering some short English proverb, pronounced as though it were a word of one syllable, whilst the older boys and girls performed very creditably portions of the " Bourgeois' Genlilhomme" and other pieces. At St. Basil there is an excellent boarding-schoool for young ladies, conducted by Siiilui's of one of the numerous religious orders which make education their special care. I mention those facts, l)ecau8e the few people in England who know anything at all of the Madawaska settlement probably imagine it to be a howling wilderness of pine forests and swamp, as indeed, I remember hearing it terme'J in the House of Commons. I IS NEW BRUNSWICK. »3 ^ati to look for tliotn, hut tlioy wore not there. After rtomo coiisiiltutioii, we returned a«^Miii to the W'aji'.'sinHiH, jin'l iinloiulin^ the cunoes, (jjirried our <^oo(1m sicroHs to the Wiiiii^jin .-^ide. Thone tlime tripH took up the Itest part of the (lav, for tliouirh the; distunce chxis not exceed live or «ix miles, it was not (Miay to travel. A portai^e-path doeH not iniply a i^ravel road, or even a hcaten traek, hut simply a route indicated hy the felling of trecH. Our path was of- ten throup^h deep Hlijjpery mud jind wwaruf), alony; Io<:;h and fallen timber, and for [>art of the way aloiii^ the top of a lar^e beaver-(hnn, from which I took several stictks, as eleanly and shar[)ly cut as if with a knife. 'IMie si«rMs of hears' feet on tlie mud, and of tlieir claws on the hark of trees, wi^e plentiful ; atul on our third journey across, wo found tliat in the short interval between that and our [U'e- vious trip a nest of laru;c black ants in a I'otten tree, had been attacked and pillaged by one. The only other natural objects worth notice were a solitary kalmia, the last of the season, I sliould think — and provini^ how trreat the difference is between the climate of this hij^ji land and that of Frodericton, where they are lon^^ ae comparative openness and variety of the cleared land, the ripening crops of grain and luxuriant gnnvth of maize, and all the manifold signs of life and habitation, were pleasing to eyes which had long rested only on forest and river. Mr. Alexander Fraser accompanied us for a short dis- tance up the Metapedia, where we spent a few days fish- ing; and W caught a few grilse. In Canada, the fish- ery laws are better framed, and far more efficiently carried out, than in New Brunswick, where, indeed, in some ri- vers, which used to yield a profitable return to the fisher- man a few years ago, the salmon have now been almost exterminated; whilst in Canada, since measures of pro- tection have been adopted, the fisheries have annually in- creased in value. From Mr. Fraser's to the som, a dis- tance of some twenty miles by water, or fourteen by land, the course of the river is really beautiful. Swoll.'n to di- mensions of majestic breadth, it flows calmly on, among picturesque and lofty hills, undisturbed by rapids, and studded with innumerable islands covered with the richest growth of elm and maple. The Bay of Chaleurs preserves a river-like character for some distance from the point where the river may strictly be said to terminate, and certainly offers the most beauti- ful scenery to be seen in the province. I shall not soon forget my first visit to Campbelton, the conclusion to my ramble on this occasion. I h'ld gone alone with one of our Indians up a pretty valley to look at a beaver lake and house — a structure more resembling a rusty hay-stack than anything else — and have seldom enjoyed a walk more. The views were lovely. Fine mountains were round about me — the picturesque "Squaw's Cap," the " Slate Mountain," and the cone of the " Sugar Loaf;" — the winding reaches of a majestic river spread blue and sparkling below the heights on which I stood ; cattle peacefully reposed in the shade of noble forest trees ; com- 34 WILDERNESS JOURNEYS fortablc lioiiaca were scattered here ai)(] tlicro in view. Every breatli of tlie pure dry air, every ruy of the briliiatst sunlight, Heenied to bestow a fresli Hnp[)ly of health and joyonsness, and \\\y niocansined foot sprang with lighter tread from the green turf, and l)rnshed more swiftly over the plants and dry fern whieh thickly covered the hili-^ide, with every glance I gave at the clear blue sky above, or the fair scene below and around me My short canoe voyage from hence to the mouth of the river was one of unmingled pleasure — except in so far as it was to be the last for months to come; the river broadened out into the sea, and every golden hr.c grew deeper and warmer as sunset approached, and bathed trees, and rocks, and hill-tops in one rich glow, nor could the nine illegal- ly-set salm.jn nets which I saw, and duly noted, deprive mo of the pleasure I received, not through the eyes alone, but which tingled through u\y whole frame. Where the frith was about two miles broad 1 was met by the Survey- or-General and some of the gentlemen of Campbelton in a boat, manned by six red-shirted lumbermen, and follow- ed by a little iloet of Fndian canoes. The sun had set, but the western sky was all one flood of clear transparent gold, against which the Gaspe mountains stood relieved in every shade of indigo and [)urplc, reminding mo of one of Millais' pictures. The sea was calm as the sky, and as golden, reflecting on its surface every hill and little fleecy cloudlet. The echoes of the cannon flrcd from Atholl IIouso * reverberated grandly in the Canadian valleys, being echoed and re-cclioed from mountain to mountain, like prolonged peals of thunder, in tliC still evening air; whilst life and animation were given to the scene by the scarlet shirts of the throngs of lumbermen, and the pic- turesque groups waiting on the quay of the pretty little town to witness my landing, which was welcomed with w long-continued popping of guns, great and small, and with row and cheering, whicli lasted till long after I had walked up to the Surveyor-General's house, prettily situated in a little garden of nice flowers The whole of the distance from Campbelton to Dal- housic, a drive of twenty miles along the coast of the Bay of (^haleurs, on an excellent high road, presents a bucccs- • The rcsiJoncc of Adam Ferguson, Esq. of Rcstigouchc. Ill JN NEW n RUNS WICK. S5 sioii of beautiful views iici'08< the narrow hny, in \Aliieh Trueudiogiisli, one of tlie highest of tlu; GaHpe niountainrt, ulwayrt forms u conspicuous ohjoct, Jutting forward as it does into the sea opposite Dalhousio Daihuusio itself is in a remarkably pretty situation, more iiictures(pic. how- ever, I should tlTudv than convenient, for the town is hiid out on the side of a steep hill, and the thresholds in one atrectareconsiderahly above the ehinnK'y-[)i)tsoftlic h hs in the street below. However, its inlial)itants ought to be content with the possession of a nuigniticent harbour, to say nothing of the lovely scenery whirh maUcs Dalhousic u ploasanter residence ihan uiost other phices in the province A few miles from the town 1 was met by the High Sheriff, the Hon. W. Hamilton, M. L C, the members for the county, and other notabilities of Dalhousio, and entered the town with the ordinary tiriiiij of el, so arranged that a window obliquely traversing the wall on eacii side of the partition whieh divides the two rooms enables the patients of either sex to witness the eelebration of Mass without meeting. Through the same apertures confessions are received, and the Holy Communion administered, f nuiy here remark how curious an illustration is thus atlbrdcd to archi- tectural students of the object of those low skew windows often found in the chancels of ancient churches, [n a re- mote corner of North America, in a rude wooden building of modern date, erected by men who never saw a medi- 8Bval church, or possess the least acquaintance with Gothic architecture, convcnieticc lias suggested an arrangement precisely similar to one which has long puzzled the an- tiquaries and architects of Europe. At the time of my visit there were twenty-three patients in the Lazaretto, tliirtoen males and ton females, all of whom were French Koman Catholics, belonging to families of the lowest class. These were of all ages, and suft'ering from every stage of the disease. One old man, whoso fea- tures were so disfigured as to be barely human, and who appeared in the extremity of dotage, could hardly bo roused from his apathy sufficiently to receive tho Bishop's blessing, which was eagerly sought on their knees by the others. But there wore also young men, whoso arms seemed as strong, and their powers of work and of enjoy- ment as unimpaired, as they over had been ; and — saddest sight of all — there wore young children condemned to pass hero a life of hopeless misery. I was especially touched by the appearance of three poor boys between the ages of fifteen and eleven years. To the ordinary observer they were like other lads — bright- eyed and intelligent enough ; but the fatal marks which sufficed to separate them from the outer vorld were upon 4 ■#> f^ m\ II 38 WILDERNESS JOURNEYS thcni, and they were now shut up for ever within the walls of tl»c Lazaretto. An impression similar in kind, though feebler in degree, is produced hy the sight of all the younger patients. There is something appalling in the thought that from the time of his arrival until his death, a period of perhaps many long years, a man, though endowed with the eapacities, the passions, and the desires of other men, is eondcmned to pass from youth to middle life, and from middle life to old age with no society but that of his ^ellow sufferers, with no employment, no amusement, no resource ; with nothing to mark his hours but the arrival of son:c fresh victim ; with nothing to do except to watch his eom- l)anions slowly dying round him. IFardly any of the pa- tient.'^ could read, and those who could, had no books. Ko provision seemed to be made to furnish them with any oc- cupation, either bodily or mental, and under these circum- stances I was not surprised to leiirn that, in the later stages of the disease, the mind generally became enfeebled. The majority of the patients did not appear to me to suffer any great amount of pain, and I was informed that one of the characteristics of the disease was the insensi- bility of the llesh to injury. One individual was pointed out to me whose hand and arm had been allowed to rest on a nearly red-hot stove, and who had never disco veicd the fact until attention was arrested by the strong smell ot the burning Tunb, which was terribly injured. The day after my visit to the Lazaretto, i went to Burnt Church, the trysting-placc and head (piarters of the Mic- mac tribe, who collect here in great numbers on St. Anne's day. Comparatively few live habitually on the reserve, but the presence of the Governor and the iiishcp attracted a considerable gathering, although St. Anne's Day had not passed by three weeks. A large and very handsome arch had been erected in front of the churcli, bearing the text " Per Me remnant rcges ct ministri decreverunt iusti- tiam," and an immense wigwam of green boughs, without r. single nail in its structure, had been built, under which the Bishop of Chatham gave luncheon to a large party collected to meet me. An address was presented in Mic- mac, after which there were foot-races and dances. I suppose all barbaric dances arc much alike, but I was surprised by the curious resemblance between these dances IN NEW BRUNSWICK. 39 and those of the Gi'cck peasantry. Kven the coatnmoa wore in some degree similar, and T noticed more than one coloured silk .short jacket and handkerchief-bound liead that carried me back to Ithaca and Puxo ; but, alas ! how different were the flat-nosed, high cheekboned faces from those of the Ionian Islands! Before I left the next morning a pair were married hy the Bisliop, who took the opportunity to make an address to the people, ami I was extremely struck by the manner in which what he said was translated to the Indian congre- gation by the recognised interpreter (u very dark Indian), who stood by the Bishop at the altar, dressed in u purple cassock and short surplice. lie never faltered or hesitated, always rendering with the most perfect fluency the sen- tence which the Bishop had uttered, whilst his gestures — sometimes folding both hands on his breast, sometimes raising one arm, sometimes gorjtiy extending both — wcic not only forcible but exco.ssively graceful. The Indians settled at Burnt Cliurch are by far the most civilized that T have seen in the province. Many of them have frame houses, flolds neatly fenced, good crops and fair cattle ; but, as tlio ground belongs to all in common, a feeling of insecurity as to the possession of any indivi- dual must exist, which can hardly fail to act injuriously The Indians of New Brunsv/ick, if the census returns may be trusted, are not, as is generally supposed, decreas- ing in number; as in 1861 a slight augmentation appear- ed to have taken place during the previous ten years. Lands, which are placed under the care of Commissioners appointed by the Government, are reserved for their oc- cupation in various parts of the province. They arc all Christians, and almost all Roman Catholics. The remainder of my tour in 1802 was of a purely oflicial character. During the spring and early summer of 1863 I visited various settled districts; and on the 30th of July com- menced another extensive journey through the wilder parts of the province, on which I was accompanied by Mr. \V" , Mr. E. C , and Gabriel. Our purpose, which we fully carried out, was to ascend the Tobiquc to its forks, follow the southern branch to the wild lakes from which it comes, then to mount the northern branch to its source, and, crossing the portage, descend the great Nepi- 40 WILDERNESS JOURNEYS •3; siguit river to the sea. Having often travelled to Wood- stock by the great road on the right bank of the river, T determined on this occasion to take the less frequented road on the left bank, and accordingly we crossed the St. John by the first morning trip of the steam ferry. It was a lovely summer day, and our drive along by the broad bright river, through woods and fields, v/as charm- ing. Near the mouth of the Keswick, the profusion of tiger-lilies in the meadows quite tinged the ground. After passing under the picturesque point called Clark's hill, and through the rich English-like woods about Crock's point, we entered on a district new to me. A little below Woodstock we crossed the river at a pic- turesque ferry, and got into the usual road. On the whole, the route by the left bank is not so pretty as that on the right, hut I was glad of the opportunity of seeing how thino-s on the side more usuallv travelled looked when viewed from the opposite bank The road itself was ex- cellent the whole way — very far better than I had expected, and quite as good, I think as the great road. The approach to Woodstock, from the old church up- wards, is one of the pleasantest drives in the province : the road being shaded on either side with fine trees ; and the comfortable farm-houses and gardens — the scattered clumps of wood — the windings of the great river — the pic- turesque knolls — and the gay appearance of the pretty straggling little town, all giving an idea of long settled peaceful Enqlish-\ook.\ng country. Woodstock itself abounds in churches, brick hotels, stores, and ornamental wooden villas are plentifully scat- tered round about the neighbourhood. In the evening I went to see the volunteer company on the green to the south of the town. They are very well drilled, and exact in all their movements. July 31. — " Drove out to the iron mines at five a. m. I had gone over them before, but my object in now visiting them was to ascertain exactly the lines of certain conflict- ing grants which have been issued. The early morning was lovely before the sun had obtained its full power, but there were distant clouds which hid from us the snow- crowned summit of Katardhen. I entertain sanguine ex- pectations of the success of these works. The beds of haematite extend over great part of the county, and are IN NEW BRUNSWICK. 4' I practically inexhaustible. Of the quality of the iron it is impossible to speak too highly, especially for making steel, and it is eagerly sought by the armour-plate manufacturers in England. On six different trials, plates of Woodstock iron were only slightly indented by an Armstrong shot which shattered to pieces scrap-iron plates of the best quality and of similar thickness. When cast it has a fine silver-grey colour, is singularly close grained, and rings like steel on being struck. A cubic inch of Woodstock iron weighs 22 per cent, more than the like quantity of Swedish, Russian, or East Indian iron, and at least 26 per cent, more than the most of the Scotch brands. We had a pleasant but exceedingly hot drive to Florencc- ville, travelling through a country which I like extremely. It is rich, English, and pretty — when I say English I ought, perhaps, rather, to say Scotch, for the general fea- tures are those of the lowland parts of Perthshire, though the luxuriant vegetation — tall crops of maize, ripening fields of golden wheat, and fine well-grown hard-wood — speak of a more southern latitude. Single trees and clumps are here left about the fields and on the hill-sides, under the shade of which well-looking cattle may be seen resting, whilst on the other hand are pretty views of river and distance, visible under fine willows, or through birches that carried me back to Deeside. Florenceville is a tiny village with a large inn. Its site is, I should think, inconvenient, as it is perched, like an Italian town, on the very top of a high bluff, far above the river. Between Florenceville and Tobique the road becomes even prettier, winding along the bank of the St. John, or through woody glens that combine to my eye Somerset- shire, Perthshire, and the green-wooded part of south- western Germany. All through the sultry afternoon the clouds grew blacker and lieavier, and, when we came in sight of Tobique, seemed truly magnificent in their mass and weight and gloom. We drove up to Mr. N" 's just in time, for as we got out of the carriage, the still sultriness of the evening was interrupted by a furious gust of wind, which made N 's unfortunate flag-staff reel and quiver and threw all the trees into agonized contortions. This was followed by a burst of thunder and down-pour of rain I ft. !i WILDERNESS JOURNEYS \m such as I have seldom seen, and which was only the fore- runner of a terrific storm. Every now and then there was a lull, but the thunder and rain continued, more or less, for the whole night. " August \st. — Gabriel arrived in the middle of the night by the stage-coach.* About mid-day, after signing a mass of papers, packing up what we meant to send back to Fredencton, buying at the village store the few things we still wanted, and making every other preparation for a month's seclusion in the woods, we drove up to a point opposite the Indian village, occupying the promontory formed by the junction of the Tobique and the St. John, where we found canoes waiting for us. The hnnk was everywhere marked and furrowed by the effects ^ f 1 night's rain, which had, in many places, done a great dcj f damage. The Indians were waiting for us at the opposite landing, and received me with a long shout and an irregular firing off of guns, and I then walked through the vilhige and farm. The irregular cluster of wretched houses looked comfortless enough, and all the more so for the miserable assembly of mangy, hungry curs which sneaked about them; but they were, in general, clean and neat within ; which, even supposing them to have been specially got up for mj- visit, at least showed that their owners knew what cleanliness and neatness were. Three houses especially interested me. The first contained a very fine old Indian of extreme age, and his little grandson, together with his nephew's widow. In • I have often wished, on seeing one of these unwiekly machines (which are only rather less difficult to get out of than to get into), that I had by my side Mr. Antony Trollope, who has inTormed the readers of his very pleasant book on America that, "though New Brunswick borders with Lower Canada and Nova Scotia, there U neither railroad nor stage conveyance running from one to the other," and that " the Canadas are, in effect, more distant from New Brunswick than from England." If Mr. Trollope had given a day or two to this province (where he would have been, and will be, heartily welcome), and had witnessed the receipt and despatch of the daily mails from St. John, he would not have written this sentence; still less, had he travelled over the rail- way (certainly second to none on the American Continent in the solidity of its works and completeness of its arrangements) which passes within a short distance of the Nova Scotia frontier, with whiih it is connected by daily stages. Not only, however, are we supposed to be without regular communication with Canada, but without roads to effect such communication. Great was the amusement produced in New Brunswick earlv in 1862, by a number of the It- lualrated London News, accompanied by a hrge colncred print, purporting to represent the march of the Guards to Canada, from St. John. These unfortu- IN NEW BRUNSWICK. 43 the second was an old blind crone, wonderfully patient and good-humoured ; and in the third, a sick woman, very gorgeously costumed. Wo visited the chapel, and then looked at the farms. The reserve is one of considerable extent, but only a small portion has been cultivated or cleared. There was a sort of road, uncjertain attempts at fields, and some very good horses. In one house was a tame beaver. Before leaving, '•' my children" presented me with a sort of address, or petition, asking for support for the priest, medicine for the sick, blankets for the poor and aged, &c. I made them a short answer, which Gabe translated, sentence by sentence, as I went on. This over, we descended the bank, got into our canoes, bade good- bye to our cortege, and pushed off. Our canoes were small, holding only one of us in each, and an Indian in the stern. Mine was paddled by Sabanis, the head man of the village, a very good and worthy Indian, but rather too old for hard work, and knowing little English. E was taken charge of by Inia, a very dark old fellow, and hardly able to speak anything but Melicete, except a few words of Micmac. W had young Lolah — a mighty hunter — active, intelligent, and strong, a thorough Indian, and an unspoiled one. Gabe came with Noel, a half-breed, who talked very good English. We had not gone a mile be- fore we commenced the very difficult navigation of " the Narrows." These are a series of very strong and formi- dable rapids, where the river, extremely contracted, rushes nate troops were depicted on foot, with their knapsacks on their backs, and their bearskins on their heads, trudging up a winding path on the face of a portentous mountain, accompanied ut intervals by mounted ofHcers ; whilst in the foreground was a " bivouac" (something like one of our forest-camps), where round a fire various queer figures were grouped, who, according to the letter-press, were *' Indian guides consulting as to the route to be taken," and who were accompanied by huge dogs, whether to smell out the road or pick the soldiers out of the snow, I am not aware. The paper ended its description by observing, that whatever might be thought of the artistic merits of the pic- ture, its scrupulous fidelity' might be relied on with confidence. ?)ow for a few words of sober fact. 1st. — Not one man of the 7,000 soldiers who passed through New Brunswick in the winter of ] 86 1-2 made the journey on foot. 2d. — Not one man carried his knapsack. ?d. — They had no mountains to cross. 4th. — The bearskins were not sent out till summer. 5th. — No ofKcer made the journey on horseback, had any done so he would have probably lost one or both feet. 6th. — No Indian — or any other — guides were needed, seeing that it would have required considerable ingenuity to lose the way — a high road, along which Her Majesty's Mail constantly travels, whilst a line of tele- graph posts and wires runs by its side during its whole course from St. John, to Riviere du Loup. ''■W 44 WILDERNESS JOURNEYS ii between steep banks of lime-stone rock and slatey shale for a considerable distance, turning sharply at every few hundred yards. There is a certain excitement in poling up a rapid, and it forms a very pleasant episode in a wood- life, when one has confidence in the eye and hand of the voyageiir. It was, in this case, very hard work — the stream being terrifically strong, the sharp turns incessant, and the rocks in the course of the river numerous and danger- ous, to say nothing of the precipitous cliffs on either bank ; the scenery, nowever was fine. At length, about four P.M. we surmounted the last rapid, and paused to rest in a lovely lake-like reach, into which the river had broadened out. The narrow gorge through which we had come was composed of abrupt precipices of splintered slate ; above the rapids were more rounded hills, though rock showed here and there through a rich growth of wood. Our canoes lay in a rushy inJet, from which rose a grassy knoll, where stood a picturesque group of three Indian children with wreaths of orange tiger-lilies twined round their heads. We pursued our way up the now broad and undisturbed stream for about another hour, when we camped in a very pretty place, at a turn in the river, and on the right bank. Here we fished with no great success for a little time, and then bathed. The stream was rapid and strong, and car- ried us down nearly as quickly as the St. John did in the morning ; but getting back over the sharp stones and slippery boulders along the edge, to our starting point, was hard work. Great was the pleasure of our first camp- supper for this year, and after a smoke we speedily went to sleep. The clouds threatened thunder, but none came. " August 2, Sunday. — We were lazy, and did not get up till past six, when it was already very hot. Another swim in the swift stream followed by breakfast took up some time, and in the course of the morning we read the service in a shady place up the bank ; but the greater part of the day we lay under the shelter of the camp, trying to keep cool. The slightest movement was an exertion, and the day I think the hottest I ever felt in the province. To- wards evening, as the sun went down, we strolled gently along a path by the river-side, enjoying the views as we went, all of which had much beauty, and eating the raspberries and Indian pears which grew thickly along H 'm J N NEW BR UNS WICK, 45 the track. During our walk, which lasted a considerable time, we came upon a snake of a peculiar reddish colour, which we killed. The next morning wc were up by half-past four. Af- ter passing two more rapids, one of some length, we entered on clear deep water, which lasts unl 'oken for seventy miles. There is a good settlement above these rapids, and it increases, as well it may, for the land is ex- cellent, and covered, where uncleared, with most luxuriant vegetation, chiefly elm, ash, cedar, birch, pine, thorn, and poplar, whilst the ferns are in many places a good live feet high. I landed in the centre of the settlement, and received an address, signed by about 100 persons, to which I replied, and then gave the settlement the name of Arthuret. The people thought I meant to associate my own Christian name with the chief place in the exten- sive parish of Gordon, but in fact my mind was dwelling on the little border village where Sir James Graham lies buried. I walked into the School which contained but five scholars. The schoolmistress, however, seemed like- ly to do well. After leaving Arthuret and proceeding on our way, the heat became intense, and as it beat down on our unsheltor-. ed heads, and was reflected up again in full force from the water, I began to think that it might possibly be too hot. Before I was compelled to make any such humilia- ting confessions, however, we halted, and took a rest for more than an hour, sleeping most of the time under the shelter of some great elms. The river for the rest of the afternoon continued broad and calm, studded with large islands beautifully wooded, and the banks partially settled here and there. I landed now and then to speak to these settlers. One house, though a mere log hut built on a high bank, showed signs of taste, for it was constructed with a porch, and had a few flowers planted in front of it. The clearing itself only dated from last year. We camped on a flat grassy meadow, opposite the mouth of the "Wapskehegan river — a pretty spot. Across the broad still river was the mouth of the Wapskehegan, one side of which was dense hard-wood forest, the other high red cliffs, crowned with wood, dotted with bushes, and partially clothed by a growth of creepers and climbing plants. In the distance, looking down the main river, f^ 46 WILDERNESS JOURNEYS were the blue raountuinB, und a bettor foreground than usual of wood and meadow. From this point upward the courHO of the Tobique, as far as the forks, a distance of about eighty miles from its mouth, is remarkably well adapted for settlement, and will, I have no doubt, one day be among the most popu- lous and most flourishing regions in the province. As it is, scattered squatters have at points distant from each other carved out a few acres from the forest. Every year, however, these settlers increase in number. I endeav- oured to visit them all on my way up, and did actually succeed in seeing and speaking to a large proportion ot them Our custom was to stow ourselves on a buffalo skin at the bottom of the canoe, either kneeling Indian fashion, sitting cross-legged a la IWquc, or reclining with out- stretched feet — the back supported by a bar wlr h crosses the canoe to keep it in shape. For my own par.., I carried on my knees my large map and note-book, and a fishing- rod and gun formed part of the equipment of each canoe. When I saw a settler's house, or was attracted by geo- logical appearances, I landed. The latter, however, were rare, the only noteworthy facts the observation of which was permitted by the dense vegetation being the existence of enormous beds of gypsum, and of large quantities of excellent building stone — a greyish limestone. At one place we found a substance, which at first sight bore some resemblance to coal; it was not, however, coal, but a bituminous black earth. Without inserting a tedious journal of our daily progress to the Nictor, I give one morning's notes as a specimen of those taken as we advanced : — " August 4ith. — We were up at five a.m. and I went alone with Sabanis some little distance up the Wapskehegan. The red rocks are very pretty, but they soon give place to the usual dense jungly forest. I found the other canoes ready, when I returned to the main river again, and we all started together at 7.35. Burnt land on right bank. 7.50. ll.B. Bold red earth blufiT. L.B. Bank much un- dermined by a change in the current, which was washing away the earth, and bringing down the trees, scores of which were lying prostrate in the water. Large and pic- turesque island, rich with fine timber, especially elm. IN NEW BR UNS WICK. 47 as 7.53. L.B. Burnt land. Beautiful clump of clras on the iuland. The Moliceto name for elm is "Neep." 8. L.B. Burnt land continuoa. R.B. High red cliff, densely wooded. End of Island, whereon many walnuts. 8.7. R.B. Red cliffs, curiously stratified. Low and small brush-covered island. The character of the larger wood almost wholly changed. Up to this point it has been entirely hard wood; here it is almost entirely pine, and other soft woods. 8.22. R.B. Some fine hard wood again, and an island covered with hard wood. 8.38. L.B. Very high and precipitous cliffs ; red to the eye, though composed of gypsum. 8.38. L.B. Cliffs really very fine, rising between 100 and 200 feet peipendicularly from the river, whijh indeed they overhang. They abound with coarse gypsum. We stopped a few minutes on a little island to admire. The cliffs, at least the highest of them, are situated at a turn in the river, and are so crumbling that they must be some- what dangerous. 8.50. End of island. , 8.55. L.B. Burnt hillock. 9.15. L.B. Burnt promontory. R.B. A large quiet brook enters the river, deeply overshadowed by trees and bushes. 9.37. L.B. Rich and beautiful wooded point. River very broad and very lovely. 10.10. A promising little settlement. Numerous islands. 10.17. A very lovely nook. 10.30. Two settlers' houses, one en either side of the river, M 's and G 's. I visited each, which took about half an hour. The heat on shore was tremendous, and walking an exertion 11.25. R.B. Another settler's, T . House and clear- ing, though both quite new, looked very thriving. T was out, but his wite (an English woman) and children w^ere at home. I was glad to see that in their cleared intervale* they had allowed some clumps of elm to stand. The river makes almost a right-angle in front of their houses, from which (it is situated on a high bank) is a fine view * Intervale it the name given to the natural meadows, flat, and covered with luxuriant grass, only occasionaly dotted with trees, which are to be found along the course of the great rivers. .... ff w 11! i I f 1 1 'J ' 48 WILDERNESS JOURNEYS of the Bliio Mountain, which we had first seen a few minutes provloualy. On going on again, saw and spoke to T himself, in a field by the river-side. 12 M. L.li. A wretched little house and small cleared patch. J an English settler. He was away, but I saw the wife and babies, the youngest of whom, being the first child born in the new parish of Gordon, rejoiced in my own name. The woman complained bitterly of the hardships of a new settler's life, and of a freshet iu the spring, which had overflowed the house. 12.15. Have been fine elms — killed. 12.30. Halted for mid-day rest at a very pretty turn of the river under the shade of remarkably fine cedars and ashes, the latter being a novelty in the landscape." The settlers are, too generally, barbarously destructive of their noble elms. This extermination of trees is, how- ever, perfectly natural, even when it is not (as to a great extent it is) unavoidable. I remember feeling the force of the reply which a new settler made to my intercession for the preservation of a fine clump. " There will be quite enough black flies without them, sir." In some cases, however, an eftbrt to retain ornamental trees has been made, and I find the following note among others : " A squatter's house ; B , a married man. They only settled last 3 ear, but have cleared a good deal. B is a man of taste. He has left a number of fine elms stand- ing along the river's bank, and encouraged a growth of orange lilies about his house." On reaching the last house on the river, K 's, whilst I landed on one bank to visit the settler, Gabriel landed on the other to follow up some traces of a beaver which were clearly visible. Old Sabanis accompanied me, and the delight, wonder, and curiosity he displayed at the sight of some beehives, which happened to be placed be- fore the house, were most amusing. He had never seen the like before, and the idea of putting " flies," (as he considered them) into a wooden house seemed to entertain him greatly, for he chuckled over it to himself for hours afterwards. On returning to the canoes, I found E sleeping in one of them, and dozed myself in another till the return of Gabe, with news of a beaver-camp close at hand. So we went inland a short distance, and soon ar- rived at the beaver-pond, a dreary pool, out of which rose IN NEW BRUNSWICK, 49 tho usual number of (load trccH killed by the dammed- up water, their white barklcHs Hteinn and weird nkeleton arms looking ghastly enough. There was a large beavcr-houHO near one end of the pond. We pulled down a piece of the dam, and dug into the house. It was a long affair, and the black ffien were most troubleHome, At length our patience was rewarded by W shooting a full-grown beaver, witli which we returned in triumph to our canoes.* On tlie afternoon of the 6th August, we reached the " Nictor," or " meeting of the waters," where tlie Momoze- kel and the two branches of tho Tobique unite. We landed on a pebbly beach to enjoy the view, which, though on a much larger scale, reminded me somewhat of tliat from the spot where we last year first met tfie canoes on the Miramichi. To the north was a rapid river running through fir-woods ; to the south a quiet broad stream, re- flecting on its surface a park-like scene of intervale and fine timber ; and to the south-west a dark lake-like expanse, narrowed at last to the river's usual width by a large wooded promontory. We now turned up the soutliern branch, and camped in a thick wood above a pool where some rocks, from which W. caught a fine grilse, jutted into the water. Before going further up this wild and almost entirely unknown stream, we lightened the canoes as much as possible, leaving buffalo robes, spare stores, &c. in a bear-house which we built ; — a simple but ratlier ingenious structure of logs so put together as mu- tually to strengthen each other, and effectually hinder a bear from extracting the contents. Our next day's course was one of continued and very steep ascent, during which, while the river became shallower and narrower, the scen- ery became at every mile wilder and more picturesque, especially near some falls where we were compelled to portage the canoes ; and, after a hard day's work, we • This exploit gained W a new name from the Indians. Up to this time he had been known by a designation signifying " Boy who writes." This was now changed into " The Slayer of the Red-toothed One ; " but as this appellation was very nearly as cumbrous in Meiicete as in English, it was commuted a few days later, when his skill as a fisherman became apparent, for that of the " Fish Hawk " which he retained. E. C , a youth of seventeen, was ironically styled " Lhoks," the American panther, or " Indian devil," the roughest, ugliest, and most dangerous of the wild beasts of the New Brunswick forest. I never myself received any other title than " Saag'm," « the Chief." 5° WILDERNESS JOURNEYS ciimpod at Icuijjtli in u lueliinclioly and sonihhy fir-wood on tlic left l)ank. The remainder of onr journey to the wild and Holitary lakes wliieh exist in thin lii^h region will best l)e dcsoribed in the words of my journal. ^^ AiKfHst Hth. — We left our somewhat eomfortless camp soon after six. The river had now grown very narrow as well as shallow, and rushed along in a suce<'ssion of almost continuous rapids, varied hy deep ami clear pools, in one of which W caught a grilse and a largo salmon, which, before being landed, very nearly jumped right into one of the canoes. About nine we reached another fork, and taking the left — (geographically the right) — hand branch, pushed up a clear full stream, cutting our way occasional- ly through fallen cedars, for about half-an-hour, when we arriv^cd at a jam which it was clearly impossible to pass. We accordingly landed, and set about preparing to port- age. Uabe and Lolah, in one of the canoes, went down the stream again to the forks, with the intent of forcing a way up the main river to the lake from which it flows, whilst we and the other Indians walked there. The other canoes, with all our things, except what each couh' \rvy on his back, were carefully hidden, to protect the mi weather and bears, rather than from anything so impro- bable as the passage by the spot of a wandering Indian hunter. Wc then swallowed a hasty meal of salmon, and started with Sabanis, Inia, and Noel. Our walk was long, rougli, and difficult : the trail, such as it was, very blind and constantly lost; the heat extreme, and the distance considerable (about ten or twelve miles). The ground was also very uneven, and we twice mounted hills of great height, but so densely covered with wood that we could see little from them. The wood was almost wholly of deciduous trees ; the black flies plentiful and tor- menting, nor were they slow in making or profiting by the discovery that I had torn one leg of my trousers all to pieces. On the top of one low hill we found an old win- ter camp of Lolah's, built of bark, tent fashion, and thence rapidly descended to the shores of Quispam Pechayzo, " The Long Lake," and great was my pleasure at Sabanis' observation that " the Saag'm " was the "first white face gentleman " that had ever reached it. A desolate place it was : the water, calm and dark reflected the still black firs that crowded its rocky islets and promontories, and \ 1 li lit 1 f t 1 PI mm [ii IN NEW BRUNSWICK. 5' there was an air of eery still hobs and Rtranpfoncsfl about every tiling, not diniinirthcd by tlie wild wuiling cry of the loons vvblcli flitted t'oarlesHly about its Hurtiice. Hotli K and I were Boniewbat knoeked up with the work. Wg made a lire under a great cedar by the water'n edge to drive away tlies of all Hortn, and sank down to rest. Our real eainp we made rather further off from the lake, in a wood of very tall black birch and Hpruce, unuHually clear from all undergrowth and windfalU. ^he renuiin- der of daylight was devoted to preparations for the numu- facture of a spruct'-bark canoa. Ihe night was wet and uncomfortable. *' August dth. — As soon as it was daylight the Indians resumed the business of spruce-bark canoe making. We breakfasted, read service, and watched the lake and the progress of the work. Just in front of us was a picturesque })ine-covered island ; a large promontory j)revented our seeing much of the lake, but in the distance at its further end were large high mountains. Soon after eleven the canoe was completed, and a, queer craft it was. A hirge sheet of spruce-bark turned inside out, and folded at the ends exactly like a child's paper boat, — kept in proper shape by sticks of willow, — and stitched up at the ends witli string of the tou^h inner bark of the cedar, — formed the whole concern. In this frail bark Noel, E , W , and I embarked, leaving Sabanis and Inia behind us. We pad- dled carefully along, getting very pretty views, — for the shores of the lake are well indented with deep bays, — till we came to what Noel believed to be the portage. The track was better and more level than that of yesterday, and we made good way along it. — Came upon a very pret- ty little nameless lake, which I christened Lake Lhoks, after E 's Indian nickname. When we reached the banks of the big lake wo found Lolah and Koblcah* camped at the end of a narrow inlet running up some dis- tance, and from which we obtained a beautiful view. The lake here is broad, full of islands, and backed by a pic- turesque double mountain. The Indians call it Trousers Lakes, from its two long arms. We had felt no wind in the forest nor on the other lake, but here it blew quite fresh, and waves rolled in boisterously. After a hasty bathe and equally hasty feed, we decided that W and * Gabriers Indian name. 5» WILDERNESS JOURNEYS enough ^oel Hhoiild return as they came, while E and I went down the main stream in the canoe, as there was not water to allow of its carrying us all. '• We accordingly paddled across the lake, and in due time reached its end, where was a large dam. The descent from thence was very steep, the turns continual, the scenery very picturesque, and some of the rapids very bad. Noticed some ferns of a species new to us — a kind of Os- mimda — and also some flowers rwith which I was not ac- quainted. " When it began to grow dark we stopped, made a sort of camp on the right bank with the canoe turned upon its edge, and ate our fish ravenously, after which we enjoyed a good sound sleep m spite of a heavy shower. " August 10th. — It was foggy and heavy when we woke this morning, but we soon got under weigh, going down a river much like last night's, till we reached the forks, where we paused on the left bank to empty the water out of the canoe and fish a little, in hope.W would join us. Lolah went up the other stream to the portage, where he saw no signs of them, but brought down some tea and other things from the cache. Alter waiting an hour for W , we wont on, and glided gently down till we reached the salmon-pool, where we landed, and had breakfast, whilst Lolah set to work to patch up the canoe, which was sorely cut and strained by bumps in the rapids, and rents from sharp rocks. Just we were about to leave again, W overtook us. He and Noel had paddled back in the frail spruce-bark canoe, and, on getti'^g to camp, had found Inia iirju Sabanis gone. They went after them, but were overtaken by night, and camped in the wood near Lolah's old camp, close to which were the two Indians. He said the rain in the night had been terrific, and amusingly deocribed their dismay on finding that the cache had been rifled, not thinking we could have got there before them." We pushed on vigorously all day, and great was the delight of going smoothly and swiftly down the rapid current, instead of poling up toilsomely against it. We found the bear-house and its contents untouched, and were able to camp at the Nictor itself, where we were more pestered with swarms of sand flies a^^d black flies than we had ever previously been. ii IN NEW BRUNSWICK. 53 ^''August 11. — Were up and stirring at 4.20, and started up the little Tobique Branch. For some distance this ri- ver is rather ugly, but it greatly improves as one proceeds, and at length becomes really pretty. All is at first soft wood, though with abundance of deciduous shrubs and undergrowth. After a time, hard wood is picturesquely interspersed among the pines. The windings are innum- erable. On their concave side the trees overshadow the water — the convex one is usually formed by the points of broad shingly beaches of sand and small pebbles, just made for camping places. The water everywhere is very deep and dark, in contrast to the shallow stream of the other branch. "We pushed on very vigorously all day and camped at Cedar Brook ; not a very good camping-ground, — but mark- ed by a particularly fine cedar on the margin of a rushing brook. I sat long over the fire after the rest had gone to sleep, listening to Indian legends told in low mysterious tones. *^ August 12. — We started in good time, (6.30,) and pushed on very well. The river was now narrow and winding, and constantly interrupted by jams of timber, some of which we cut away, and under others of which we crept. I was in old Inia's canoe, and following, asleep, at the bottom of the next. After passing one difficult place where the boughs of fallen cedars were very troublesome to force a way through, Inia chuckled a long while to him- self, and at last brought out what was for him a very lengthy English sentence, " Make him, , open eye, me tink ! " After passing through a pretty pool we reached a rapid where the trees nearly met above the stream, and where there were plenty of large picturesque rocks. Here we bathed and dined, and after an hour's rest went on again. The river r