Chapter VII: Part 7

The intelligent and amusing author of “Sam Slick,” speaking of the harbour of St. John, says:—“No person on entering this harbour, for the first time, could suppose that it was the outlet of one of the largest rivers on the American continent, as it is in no way to be distinguished in appearance from any of those numerous inlets of the sea that render the coast of the British provinces every where accessible to ships of the largest class. As soon, however, as he gets a view of this noble stream, and becomes acquainted with its magnitude, he feels that St. John is destined by nature, as well as by the activity and intelligence of its inhabitants, to become the next largest city to New York on this continent.” To judge of the importance of its situation, the spectator should view the HARBOUR AND CITY OF ST. JOHN from the heights over Portland. From this vantage ground the landscape is magnificent. He will behold, as upon a map spread beneath his feet, prairies, mountains, and woods; the noble harbour; the town, with masts of ships, spires of churches, and houses of various sizes and colours; the heights of Carleton, on the opposite side of the harbour; and, spreading away to the southward, the Bay of Fundy, with the distant shores of Nova Scotia, emerging darkly from the waters: these, with numerous other picturesque features, form a splendid and beautiful panorama.

The artist of this work obtained another charming and extensive prospect of ST. JOHN FROM THE SIGNAL, which is planted on the summit of a commanding eminence that rises immediately behind the pretty little village of Carleton.[7] The aspect of the town from this position is exceedingly fine. Situated on a rocky peninsula projecting into a safe, spacious, and convenient harbour, it appears designed by nature to command the trade of the vast tract of country lying between it and the River St. Lawrence. Indeed, from the appearance of its public buildings,—of its wharfs and warehouses,—of the noble ships that crowd its port, and of the numerous steamers that are perpetually plying to and from Boston, Annapolis, Windsor, and other places,—it is but reasonable to infer that the time is not far distant when this town will assume an important position in the commercial world. At the entrance of the harbour is Partridge Island, on which there is a light-house and a quarantine station; and further in the harbour, a bar, extending across from the western side beyond the point on which the city stands. A beacon has been placed on this bar, which is quite dry at low water. The tide, which runs with extraordinary force, rises in this harbour from twenty-five to thirty feet perpendicular.

The streets of St. John, owing to the unevenness of the ground upon which the town has been built, are very irregular, although considerable pains have been taken to level and smooth the rugged surface. The government and public buildings are generally appropriate and handsome. The principal are the court house, a marine hospital, a poor house, a gaol, and two fine ranges of barracks, with government store-houses at the lower cove, which have materially improved the appearance of this quarter of the city. There are also two Episcopal churches, one an old wooden structure, the other a modern erection, built in the gothic style, of rough stone; a handsome Scotch kirk, two or three neat Methodist chapels, one Catholic and one Baptist place of worship, and several religious humane and useful societies in St. John. The country around the town, as I have already observed, is exceedingly picturesque; and the inhabitants are fond of making little excursions and pic-nic parties[8] to favourite places during the summer. I visited one of these delightful spots during my sojourn at St. John. It lies within an easy walk of the town, and bears the romantic name of LILY LAKE. A straggling road leads to within a short distance of it, from whence, striking off by a tangled path, through broken ground, I came suddenly upon the object of my search—a sweet little lake, reposing in the bosom of a wild valley, upon whose picturesque sides the feathery larch, the graceful beech, the wild cherry, the Indian pear, with the hazel, juniper and dogwood tree, formed many a natural thicket and delicious arbour, whose thick roof of verdant branches is, through the long summer’s day,—

“——alive
And musical with birds, that sing and sport
In wantonness of spirit; while below,
The squirrel, with raised paws and form erect,
Chirps merrily.”

St. John is seen to great advantage from the shores of Lily Lake:—seated on its rugged peninsula, with houses rising above houses to the summit of the hill, on whose highest point the tower of the Methodist chapel forms a striking object, the town makes, with the surrounding scenery, an exceedingly pretty picture.

Having now conducted my readers, from the Canadian boundary, through a vast extent of territory, tracing, in our route, the course of the magnificent river St. John, with its myriads of lakes and tributary streams, opening an inland navigation to almost every part of this fine province, I shall next make a rambling tour through the sister colony of Nova Scotia, describing, as I go along, the most striking and romantic features of that country, which will form the concluding portion of this work. Before quitting New Brunswick, I shall offer a few brief observations on some of the most prominent advantages and disadvantages of the colony. The rigours of the climate in winter, about which so much has been said, and which seems to have deterred many English emigrants from settling here, have been considerably exaggerated. The fact is, the climate has of late been materially ameliorated; the winters are by no means so severe, or of the same duration, as they were fifteen or twenty years since. The reason is obvious: the rapidity with which settlers are clearing the forest, and opening the face of the earth to the light of day, gives to the sun’s influence a much greater extent of country annually; as a natural consequence, the snows melt more early and rapidly, and the winters become proportionably short. When the colony was but thinly inhabited, the winter commenced early in November, and continued generally until the end of April; latterly, however, there has been no dead winter until Christmas, and the spring has usually opened in the beginning of April. But even the winter has its advantages and pleasures. The snow which falls then protects the herbage and winter grain from the severity of the frost, and natural roads are formed on the hardened snow, which materially facilitate the labours of the farmer and the lumberer. When the cold is extreme, the inhabitants keep within doors; and, fuel being abundant, they feel little of the severity of the frost without. As soon as a favourable change takes place in the weather, the roads and rivers are again alive with sleighs and sleds, drawn by horses, and posting at a rapid rate, in all directions, over the glassy surface of the ice; the former as vehicles of pleasure, and the latter laden with provisions for the markets. Many settlers travel in these sleds from two to three hundred miles to the city for a market, (such trips being seldom made more than once a year,) when they barter their farm produce for tea, tobacco, hardware, and other luxuries which their farms do not yield. The summer, as I have already observed, is truly delightful; the air, notwithstanding the heat, is pure, and the nights at this season exceed in splendour the most beautiful in Europe. The autumn very much resembles an English autumn—the days warm, and the evenings delightfully cool. The productions of the province necessary for man’s support are various and abundant:—wheat and Indian corn, with hay on the intervale[9] lands. Peas, beans, carrots, turnips, mangel-worzel, and other culinary vegetables, thrive remarkably well. Melons, pumpkins, and cucumbers are produced in the open fields. Apple trees, though not yet sufficiently plentiful, thrive well in the upper parts of the province. Grapes, cherries, raspberries, strawberries, cranberries, blueberries, currants, and gooseberries, are indigenous to the country, and are found in abundance in the woods. As far as raspberries are concerned, it is a singular circumstance, that, immediately after the clearing of a piece of land, its whole surface, unless kept down by annual crops, will be overrun with raspberry bushes, which in the second year are in full bearing. The most serious disadvantage under which New Brunswick labours is a deficiency of roads. There are, it is true, roads between the principal towns and settlements, but they cannot be said to be continually effective, or in a state to afford a constant and practicable mode of conveyance. Few of them are passable for carriages for any considerable distance, and at many seasons of the year are wholly untraversable. The most important is the post road from Nova Scotia to Canada, which crosses the province diagonally from the city of St. John, and runs parallel to St. John River, on its western side. It is passable for carriages fourteen miles above Fredericton, but only in summer: in spring and autumn it is very wet; and in winter, the only mode of travelling is by the ice, on the river.

The distance from St. John River to Annapolis Bason in Nova Scotia[10] may be about thirty miles, across the Bay of Fundy, the passage being usually performed by the steam packets which run regularly between these places. The entrance to the bason is through a narrow strait, called Digby Gut, whose precipitous sides suggest the idea of a passage having been opened through the North Mountain by some violent convulsion of nature. On entering the bason, one of the most magnificent havens in America opens to the view; on its western shore the small but beautiful village of Digby is situated, on the gentle slope of a hill, commanding a view of part of Granville and Clements, and of the broad BAY OF ANNAPOLIS, which receives the collected waters of the Annapolis, Moose, and Bear rivers. The air of Digby is remarkably salubrious, and the situation particularly agreeable in summer. The author of “Sam Slick,” in his pleasant work, eulogizes this town as “The Brighton of Nova Scotia, the resort of the valetudinarians who take refuge here from the unrelenting fogs, hopeless sterility, and calcareous waters of St. John.” We can forgive this partiality on the part of the talented writer, who is always enthusiastic in his praise of Nova Scotia; and, without depreciating the merits of a neighbouring colony, accord to Digby the praise of being a delightful and healthy summer residence. The shores of the bay are eminently picturesque—displaying all the softer features of English park scenery, mingled with the primeval wildness of an American landscape in all its sylvan luxuriance and solitude.

The same steamer which conveyed you to Digby takes you, if you wish it, on to Annapolis, a small town situated on the river Annapolis, at the eastern extremity of the bay. It is built upon the extremity of a peninsula, which, projecting into the river, forms two beautiful basons, one above and the other below the town. This place, the earliest settlement, and the capital of the province, while under the dominion of France, was called Port Royal; but changed to Annapolis Royal, in honour of Queen Anne, in whose reign it was ceded to England. Mr. Haliburton tells us that, “in addition to its being the most ancient, it is also the most loyal city of this Western Hemisphere. This character it has always sustained; and ‘royal,’ as a mark of peculiar favour, has ever been added to its cognomen by every government that has ever had dominion over it.” But royal patronage does not seem to have done much towards improving the condition of the place, for it has increased little in size or population since the conquest of the province. It is, however, a respectable town, and contains—a government-house, court-house, Episcopalian and Methodist churches, a respectable academy, supported by a legislative grant, commodious barracks, and several handsome private buildings. From the circumstance of the first governors of the province having resided at Annapolis, many of the most interesting subjects relating to the history of the colony are connected with this town. Indeed, it is impossible to walk in its pleasant environs, without being struck with the “old world” look of the country,—the quickset hedges, and the neatness of the farms and gardens, reminding one forcibly of an English rural scene. The view that best pleased me in this neighbourhood was that from THE OLD FORT OF ANNAPOLIS, on the south-western extremity of the peninsula, which commands a fine prospect of the broad and beautiful bason, the settlements on the Granville shore, and part of Clements. These fortifications, which were erected at an immense expense, are in a dilapidated condition; the cannon dismounted, and incapable, in the present state, of sustaining a defence. An old block-house, in a ruinous state, has an air of antiquity rarely to be met with in this country; its venerable appearance struck me as being quite un-American.

In no part of Nova Scotia are so many natural and artificial curiosities to be met with as in the neighbourhood of Annapolis,—of these, the most singular are, the natural ice-house, a deep ravine wherein ice may be found throughout the summer,—the lake on the summit of the mountain,—the point of land on the Granville shore, opposite to Goat island, where the first piece of ground was cleared for cultivation in this colony by the French, and where is still shown the stone on which they had rudely engraved the date of their settlement, (1606,) as a memorial of their formal possession of the country,[11]—the iron mines, on the Moose river,—and, not the least interesting, THE GENERAL’S BRIDGE, a romantic spot, about two miles from Annapolis, which I visited during my brief stay in this neighbourhood. The walk to it was most delightful: first, through the pretty suburbs of the town, and then, by a road through luxuriant woods, till I came suddenly upon the secluded valley, embosomed amongst undulating hills, through which rushed a rapid stream, dancing and sparkling in the bright beams of an early sun. An old wooden bridge, thrown across the brawling current, formed a striking object in the picture; while, nearer to us, the wigwams of a party of Indians, who had encamped on a slip of intervale land, completed the picturesque character of the scene. While the artist who accompanied me was engaged making his sketch of the place, I entered one of the wigwams of the Indians, and learnt that they were journeying from Annapolis to Liverpool, by way of the Rossignol Lakes, which, with the exception of two short portages, form, it is said, a continued chain of navigable water across the whole province, but rarely travelled, except by the Indians. Having purchased from the squaw a pair of slippers, ornamented very ingeniously with small glass beads and porcupine quills, and a fan formed from the skin of some fish, tastefully dyed with various colours, all of Indian manufacture, I rejoined my companion, who had completed his sketch, and returned to Annapolis. The road from Annapolis to Windsor runs parallel to the course of the Annapolis river, along that high ridge which stretches from the Digby Gut to the Bason of Minas, an extent of seventy miles of coast, without the intervention of a single harbour. This tract, notwithstanding this disadvantage, is settled by industrious families, who have, in general, excellent and well-cultivated farms. The towns are clean and thriving; but we meet none worthy of particular notice, until we reach KENTVILLE, a prettily situated village, containing several handsome private residences, a court-house, gaol, and a good grammar-school. The views in the vicinity of Kentville are remarkably fine, and the formation of the land such as to present the greatest diversity of landscape; the chief charm of which consists in the unusual combination of hill, dale, woods, and cultivated fields,—in the calm beauty of agricultural scenery,—and in the romantic wilderness of the distant forests. The numerous orchards, and the general fertility of the land in this and the adjoining township of Horton, have procured for them the title of the “garden of the province.”

Between Kentville and Windsor, the traveller crosses the Horton Mountain, from whence he may obtain a view of extraordinary beauty and extent. Behind him lies the township of Horton and Cornwallis, over which he has just passed, beautifully watered by the rivers that meander through them: beyond, is a lofty and extended chain of hills, presenting a vast chasm—the entrance to the Bason of Minas—through which the nineteen rivers that pour their waters into this vast reservoir appear to have forced an _embouchure_ into the Bay of Fundy. The variety and extent of this prospect,—the rich and verdant vale of Gaspereaux,—the extended township of Horton, interspersed with groves of wood, farm-houses, orchards, and cultivated fields,—the Grand Prairie, sheltered by evergreen forests of dark foliage,—the blue highlands of the opposite side of the Bason,—and the cloud-capped summit of the lofty cape that terminates the chain of the North Mountain, form an assemblage of picturesque objects, rarely united with so striking an effect.

The approach to the town of Windsor, from the western road, is by a handsome wooden bridge, recently constructed over the river Avon, which was formerly crossed by means of an inconvenient and unsafe ford, passable only at low water. The Avon takes its rise in the extensive lakes that lie between Chester and Windsor; but, though navigable for some miles above the latter place, it would be little better than a large brook, were it not for the augmentation it receives from the flow of the tide from the Bason of Minas, which occasions an extraordinary rise and fall of the river at Windsor; being about thirty feet at spring tides. The Avon receives the Kennetcook, Cockmagon, and the St. Croix rivers, a short distance below Windsor, and discharges their united streams into the Bason of Minas. The country in the neighbourhood of the town is exceedingly beautiful, being agreeably diversified with hill, dale, and lawn. The luxuriance of the meadows,—the chain of high hills on the south and west, clothed with wood of variegated foliage,—and the white sails of vessels gliding through the serpentine windings of the Avon and St. Croix,—are amongst the leading features of this interesting landscape. Windsor is an extremely neat and pretty town, with a Protestant church, and Presbyterian, Methodist, Baptist, and Roman Catholic chapels. The private houses are numerous and tastefully built, and have, with few exceptions, large gardens and orchards attached to them. On an elevated and beautiful spot of ground, a short distance from the town, stands the University of King’s College, which has the power of bestowing degrees, similar to those granted by the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. The View of Windsor, shown in the accompanying engraving, was taken from a spot near the residence of Judge Haliburton,—better known in the world of letters on both sides of the Atlantic, as the author of the humorous “Sayings and Doings of Sam Slick,” the first work that ever truly delineated that most singularly amusing character—a Down-East dealer—and gave us a correct picture of the quaint, shrewd, impudent, but good-humoured Yankee, in all his striking originality of thought and action.

The spectator, in this view, is supposed to be looking down the river Avon, towards the bay: beneath him is seen the picturesque town, with its new bridge; and in the distance, the winding shores, to which the rich woods and cultivated farms give a diversified and beautiful appearance. THE RESIDENCE OF JUDGE HALIBURTON is a small but elegant structure, delightfully situated on an eminence, which, as I have just observed, commands a noble prospect of the whole township. This charming retreat is surrounded by thriving plantations of beech, white maple, poplar, juniper, and other ornamental trees. Fruits of the most delicate kinds are produced in the garden; indeed, the sheltered situation of Windsor is peculiarly favourable for raising the tender produce of more genial climates. Mr. Haliburton remarks, that “peaches, though subject, from the early blossoms they put forth, to be injured by frosts, have been known to ripen without artificial aid or even common shelter; and grapes, pears, and quinces, and a great variety of summer and autumnal plums, arrive at perfection in all ordinary seasons.”

The communication between Halifax and New Brunswick is maintained by means of steam packets, which ply between St. John and Windsor, from which latter place there is an excellent mail-coach road to Halifax. The passage across the Bay of Fundy, and through the Bason of Minas, is said to be rather dangerous, owing to the rapid tides, the rocky shores, and the fogs which prevail on these coasts.

The Bason of Minas is one of the most remarkable and beautiful inlets in North America. Its entrance is through a strait about three miles in width, with bold craggy shores. Outside this strait, the tides in the Bay of Fundy are rapid but regular; but within, the rise of the tide is greater than in any other part of America; in spring tides it flows to the height of seventy feet in the narrow part of the bason. The phenomenon called the _Bore_ is an attendant or rather precursor of the flood tide, which approaches in a line of foam, extending across the bay about four or five feet high, and rolling over the sands at the rate of four miles, or upwards, an hour. The appearance of the shores of the Bason of Minas, while sailing towards its entrance, is exceedingly beautiful:—the luxuriant woods, lagoons, hills, dales, bays, rivers and headlands, the numerous picturesque islands, the extensive farms, verdant prairies, and thriving villages which meet the eye on every side, form a succession of rich and varied landscapes. Near the entrance of the bason on the western shore is the remarkable headland called Cape Blomedon, or more generally—CAPE BLOW-ME-DOWN, which forms the termination of the chain of hills that run parallel to the shores of the Bay of Fundy from Annapolis. This headland presents a singularly abrupt and imposing appearance; its perpendicular front is of a dark red colour, and its rugged head may be seen at a great distance, emerging from the thick mists by which it is frequently encompassed. On the opposite side of the channel is the pretty little village of Parrsborough, sheltered by the bluff cliff called Partridge Island; which, resisting the force of the tides in the Bay of Fundy, makes a secure harbour for the craft engaged in the navigation of the Bason of Minas and the adjoining rivers. Through the narrow channel between Partridge Island and CAPE SPLIT, at the outer entrance of the bason, the great body of water collected in this immense reservoir escapes into the Bay of Fundy. The singular appearance of this Cape, whose detached masses of rock appear to have been shivered by some mighty convulsion of nature, and shaken from their original foundations, has never failed to excite the surprise and admiration of every stranger who has seen it. A mail-coach road runs from Windsor to Halifax, which crosses the St. Croix river at a short distance from the former place. On the border of the St. Croix Lakes is the hill of Ardoise, the highest land in the province, from whence may be had a distant prospect of Windsor, Falmouth, Newport, and the beautiful country around the Bason of Minas. The road, as we approach Halifax, winds for nearly ten miles along the western shore of Bedford Bason, which is connected with the outer harbour by a narrow passage at the dock yard;—this inner bason is a beautiful sheet of water, containing ten square miles of safe anchorage. The scenery here, though not highly romantic, is agreeably picturesque; and the shores of the bason are indented with numerous coves, and well-sheltered inlets of great beauty. About seven miles from Halifax are the ruins of what was once the favourite country residence of His Royal Highness the Duke of Kent, when commanding the forces in this province. “It is impossible,” says Mr. Haliburton, “to visit this spot without the most melancholy feelings: the tottering fences, the prostrate gates, the ruined grottoes, the long and winding avenues, cut out of the forest, overgrown by rank grass and occasional shrubs, and the silence and desolation that pervade everything around, all bespeak a rapid and premature decay, recall to mind the untimely fate of its noble and lamented owner, and tell of fleeting pleasures, and the transitory nature of all earthly things. I stopped at a small inn in the neighbourhood, for the purpose of strolling over it for the last time ere I left the country, and for the indulgence of those moralizing musings which at times harmonized with our nerves and awaked what may be called the pleasurable sensations of melancholy.”

The harbour of Halifax is one of the finest in the world:—it is capacious, safe, accessible at all seasons of the year, and easy of approach for vessels of the largest size. Three miles from Halifax and near the mouth of the harbour is MacNab'’ Island, which forms two entrances, called the eastern and western passage; but the former is only used by small vessels. The North-west Arm is an inlet branching off from the main entrance of the harbour, and penetrating about four miles into the land; it winds in the rear of the town until it approaches to within half a mile of Bedford Bason, forming the peninsula upon which the town is built. The situation of Halifax is on the east side of the peninsula, on the declivity of a commanding hill, whose summit is between two and three hundred feet above the level of the sea. Near the southern part of the peninsula stands a strong martello tower, which commands on one side the harbour of Halifax, and that of the Arm on the other. The author of “Sam Slick” gives the following humorous description of the attractions to be found in its neighbourhood. “It is situated,” he writes, “at the termination of a fashionable promenade, which is skirted on one side by a thick shrubbery, and on the other by the waters of the harbour; the former being the resort of those of both sexes who delight in the impervious shade of the spruce, and the latter of those who prefer swimming and other aquatic exercises. With these attractions to the lovers of nature and a pure air, it is thronged at all hours, but more especially at day-dawn, by the valetudinarian, the aged, and infirm; and at the witching hour of moonlight, by those who are young enough to defy the dew and damp air of night.” The streets of Halifax are wide, and intersect each other at right angles; some of them are paved, others macadamized, and from the ascent and nature of the soil are usually dry. The houses, however, are irregularly built, no uniformity in the height and size being observed in their construction; handsome buildings of three and four stories high being intermingled with old and mean looking edifices. The new houses built of wood, being large, neatly finished, and painted white, are more imposing in their appearance than those of brick and stone. Amongst the public buildings, the government house,—the residence of the governor of the province for the time,—is a large gloomy-looking structure, built of freestone, and situated at the southern extremity of the town. The Province Building, which is admitted to be the most splendid edifice in North America, stands within a square in the centre of the town. It is built of freestone quarried in the province, and its plan combines elegance with strength and utility; its length is 140 feet, its breadth 70, and its elevation 45 feet. It contains the chambers of the Council, and Legislative Assembly,—the Supreme Court, with its appendant offices; also all the provincial offices,—the Halifax public library, &c. There are two Episcopal churches; one (St. Paul’s) is a handsome edifice with a tall spire; the other, the Rotunda church, at the north end of the town, is distinguished by a dome which gives it a remarkable appearance. Halifax also contains two Presbyterian, one Methodist, two Baptist, and one Roman Catholic chapel; besides a Sandemanian meeting-house. The court-house is a plain brick building. Dalhousie College, established in 1820, is a spacious and handsome structure, situate at the end of the old military parade.

Viewed from the village of DARTMOUTH, on the opposite shore of the harbour, the town of HALIFAX appears to singular advantage. The front of the town is lined with ships, warehouses, and wharfs, amongst which Cunnard’s wharf, with one of his fine steam-packets lying alongside, forms a conspicuous object. Above these the spires of the different churches and the neat tower of the methodist chapel are seen intermingled with the houses that cover the side of the hill, upon whose summit stands the citadel which commands the town and harbour. To the left, in the distance, is the entrance of the harbour; and nearer to the spectator, the numerous boats and vessels in motion upon the water, with the busy little steam ferry boat plying constantly between Dartmouth and Halifax, give life and animation to the picture.

Halifax has been always the principal naval station of British North America; and though it has lost much of its consequence since the termination of the last war, it is still the most important town in the possession of England in this part of the world, forming as it does the great military and naval depôt for her North American and West Indian colonies. The dock-yard here is the most extensive establishment of the kind out of England; it is enclosed on the land side by a high stone wall, and contains within it every requisite for repairing and refitting the largest ships. On an eminence above the dock-yard, and commanding a view of the harbour, is the residence of the admiral, who commands the squadron on the American station. There is also a large wooden building, at the south end of the town, for the use of the military commandant; with two barracks, a military hospital, ordnance and commissariat stores, &c. Halifax is the station for the North American packets, which convey the mails regularly once a month to and from Falmouth. The old worthless gun-brigs, which, to the disgrace of England, were employed for a length of time in this service, have at length been removed; and the mails are now carried by Cunnard’s splendid steamers, which frequently make the passage from England out in ten days, touch at Halifax, where they deliver the mails, and proceed without delay to Boston, which they generally reach in two days. This increased facility in the communication between England and Nova Scotia will do more towards improving the colony than any thing that has been hitherto attempted, and will be the means of making Halifax one of the most flourishing towns in British North America.

END OF VOL. II.

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[2] The descendants of the French who settled in the colonies now possessed by Great Britain are distinguished by the appellations of _Canadians_ and _Acadians_. The former were settled in Canada, and the latter principally in Nova Scotia, then called Acadia. The Acadians are now to be found in Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick, and Cape Breton; always by themselves in distinct settlements, and scarcely ever inter-marrying with strangers.

[3] The Acadian women in Prince Edward Island dress after nearly the same fashion as the Bavarian broom-girls. On Sundays their costume is peculiarly neat and picturesque; they wear over their shoulders a small blue cloth cloak reaching only half way down the body, and generally fastened at the breast with an ornamental brass brooch; on week-days they usually wear wooden shoes. The men dress in round blue jackets with standing collars, and rows of shining metal buttons placed closely down the front, scarlet waistcoats, and loose blue trowsers. Mr. McGregor, in describing the Acadian customs, says, “Among all the Acadians in Prince Edward Island I never knew but one person who had the hardihood to dress differently from what they call “notre façon.” On one occasion he ventured to put on an English coat, and he has never since, even among his relations, been called by his proper name, Joseph Gallant, which has been supplanted by that of “Joe Peacock.”

[4] St. John and Miramichi are the two places from whence the exportation of timber is principally carried on in New Brunswick. The town of Miramichi is seated at the mouth of a beautiful and majestic river of the same name, which divides into three great branches, upon whose banks dwell a thinly-scattered population, who employ themselves during the winter chiefly in hewing timber in the woods, and in rafting it down the river in summer to the places where the ships load.

[5] Many Americans make a practice of clearing a few acres of wood farm, and then setting or selling the land and improvements the first opportunity that offers. When this is accomplished they travel farther into the forest, and settle upon another farm, which they clear, build on, and dispose of in the same way they did the first.

[6] Mr. McGregor gives the following account of this dreadful conflagration: “It appears,” writes he, “that the woods had been, on both sides of the north-west branch, partially on fire for some time, but not to an alarming extent until the 7th of October, when it came on to blow furiously from the north-west, and the inhabitants on the banks of the river were suddenly alarmed by a tremendous roaring in the woods, resembling the incessant rolling of thunder; while at the same time the atmosphere became thickly darkened with smoke. They had scarcely time to ascertain the cause of this phenomenon, before all the surrounding woods appeared in one vast blaze, the flames ascending more than a hundred feet above the tops of the loftiest trees, and the fire, like a gulph in flames, rolling forward with inconceivable celerity. In less than an hour Douglastown and Newcastle were enveloped in the destroying element, and many of the wretched inhabitants perished in the midst of this terrible fire.” It was calculated that upwards of 500 persons fell victims to the conflagration throughout the province.

[7] Carleton, named from Sir Guy Carleton, one of the early governors of this province, is a thriving little place, situated on the opposite side of the harbour to St. John. The saw mills, within the _aboiteaux_, a little above the village, are deserving the notice of strangers. Opposite to the town is a low muddy islet called Navy Island. The Indians say that it was carried down at one time by the stream in a body. It is, however, evidently an alluvial deposit, and has been gradually formed.

[8] _Pic-nic_ excursions are much in vogue all over America. To show how far these differ from any thing to which they may be compared in England, it may be sufficient to observe, that pic-nic parties generally consist of families of respectability, with their friends, who are on a perfectly intimate footing with each other. In summer, some romantic spot is fixed upon, to which the party proceed; if by water, which is most commonly the case, in an open boat; or if by land, in gigs or in calashes, and on horseback. The ladies consider it as within their particular province to furnish eatables: the gentlemen provide wines and spirits. At these parties there is usually less restraint and more enjoyment than at the assemblies. On some grassy glade, shaded by the luxuriant branches of forest trees, and not far from some clear spring or rivulet, the contents of the well-filled baskets are disclosed; feasting on which forms certainly the most substantial part of the day’s enjoyment; but perhaps the most agreeable is that which succeeds, when the party divides for the pleasure of walking; and there are undoubtedly “worse occupations in the world” than wandering with a pretty woman through the skirts of a wood, or along the margin of the sea, enjoying “sweet converse” and the delights of the open air and surrounding scenery. As the evening approaches they re-assemble; and the party, followed by their servant, bringing along the fragments of the _pic-nic_, return to the boat, in which they embark.—_M^{c}Gregor’s Sketches_.

[9] This word in usually applied to land so situated, with respect to some adjacent stream or river, as to be occasionally overflowed by it, and thus to enjoy the advantage of alluvial deposits.

[10] The province of Nova Scotia is an extensive peninsula, connected with the continent of North America by a narrow isthmus of only eight miles in width, between Bay Verte in the Straits of Northumberland, and Cumberland Bason at the eastern extremity of the Bay of Fundy. It is supposed to have been discovered in 1497, by John Cabot, then in the service of Henry VII. of England. The first settlement was made there in 1604, by a number of French adventurers, who founded Port Royal, now Annapolis; by these the country was named Acadia. The occupation by France of this important province was opposed by England, and was the cause of the hostilities between these countries in America, which did not terminate until France was stripped of all her North American possessions by the peace of 1763.

[11] This stone was discovered in 1827: it is about two feet and a half long and two feet broad; on the upper part are engraved the square and compass of the free-mason, and in the centre, in large and deeply cut Arabic figures, the date 1606.

TRANSCRIBER NOTES

Spelling maintained as written except where obvious errors or omissions. Multiple spellings of words and names were adopted consistent with Volume I as follows: Montmorenci to Montmorency; St. Laurence (river) to St. Lawrence (river); St. John for river and town in New Brunswick; and St. John's for Newfoundland and Quebec early settlement on the Richelieu River.

Punctuation maintained except where obvious omissions or printer errors occurred.

List of Engravings created for this volume to complement Volume I.

Engravings have been enhanced and, where possible, relocated to coincide with the text.

[The end of "Canadian Scenery Vol. II of II", by N. P. Willis (Nathaniel Parker).]