Chapter VI: Front Matter (6)

Is there need to describe the pleasures of the return journey? How our host of the previous night, Davidson’s brother—who had come with us from his ferry to the rapids—insisted on our stopping off at his house for dinner; how we did so and found by experience that city “cream” has a very rich but distant relative known as “country cream” which turns tea into nectar. Nor is there need for a description of how we operated the ferry, said “good-bye” and went downstream—wind, current and gasolene all in our favor—at a clip of twelve miles an hour and sometimes faster; nor how we sped by the men poling their rafts downstream, giving them time only to greet us with a friendly call and wave of the hand before we were well by; or how we gasolened triumphantly into Fredericton by eight at night, just in time for a nice supper at the hostelry near to the steamboat landing, and to take a little turn on the Promenade before retiring for sleep that came so fast as to almost close our eyes before head could be well cushioned in downy pillow........ all the details attending these various incidents must be left to the imagination: and also those of the moose we saw in the woods, the wild birds on the wing, the flocks of wild ducks in the water—twenty and more at a time—that allowed us to pass close by without taking fright, the young deer that watched us cunningly from woodland and thicket, the partridges, the soaring eagles, the leaping salmon, and the fishermen hauling in their well-stocked nets.

On the way to Pokiok two small streams are passed, the Indian names of which have been humorously embodied in the last two lines of this extract from De Mille:—

“Sweet maiden of Passamaquoddy,
Shall we seek for communion of souls
Where the deep Mississippi meanders
Or the distant Saskatchewan rolls?

Ah no! in New Brunswick we’ll find it—
A sweetly sequestered nook—
Where the sweet gliding Skoodawabskooksis
Unites with the Skoodawabskook.”

Few who reach Fredericton and the Middle St. John River will care to turn back without seeing the Grand Falls. It is one of the three greatest cataracts of the upper continent. It has almost a perpendicular drop, and the volume of water falling and thundering on “Split Rock” below is a sight to be long remembered. A great column of spray surmounts the lower rocks, and throws to the bright sunlight a play of rainbow-color with beautiful effect against the sombre foam-washed rocks. It is a splendid sight to see great logs passing over the brink. Even in the channel above great timbers of forty feet in length are tossed out of the water bodily, and when they are hurled headlong over the fall and into the depths below—often piled there momentarily, in almost inextricable confusion—the spectacle has a fascination in it that compels intent observation. There is a winding gorge below, and there are places such as “Pulpit Rock,” the hollowed-out “Great Well” and the “Coffee Mill” whirlpool that are of great interest. Logs are sometimes caught in the whirlpool, where the fierce spinning round to which they are subjected rapidly wears away the ends to sharp points, just as they would be if turned in a lathe.

Of the approach to and general aspect of the cataract, the view from above is a fine one, for here the river after making a wide and grand sweep makes an abrupt turn and takes a forty-foot plunge in a solid mass. In continuous succession below is one fall after another until a total descent of 80 feet is reached. The water rushes through a high and winding chasm after it falls by rocky walls that are perpendicular. From the first fall to the last the water is lashed into angry sheets of foam; and no matter from where viewed, the scene is impressive and striking, and holds the onlooker spellbound.

The full significance of the Indian legend connected with this locality will be realized as the gaze goes over the whole mass of turbulent and seething water. The legend, in brief, is this:—

Long ago a great war party of 500 Mohawks came by Temiscouata Lake and the Madawaska River to destroy the Maliceet village of Medoctec on the St. John. Before they reached the mouth of the Madawaska they surprised a Maliceet hunter with his family. The man and his family were instantly killed, but the woman was spared on condition that she should guide the war party to the doomed village by a safe path. (One version has it that it was a Maliceet maiden who was thus captured.) She was placed in the chief’s canoe and guided them safely over the portage by the Madawaska Falls and into the St. John River.

Assured by their guide that there were no more falls to pass, the canoes were lashed together and drifted down the tide while the weary Mohawks sank in slumber. By and bye a sound of falling water aroused one of the chiefs; but being told that it was only the noise of the waterfall at the mouth of a nearby river, he again slept. But suddenly the full roar of the tremendous cataract strikes on the ears of the sleepers. Springing to their feet the horror of the situation is at once apparent. Paddles are seized and frantic efforts are made to stem the fierce tide. It is useless, and a terrible cry of despair goes up as they are swept to the brink of the foaming cataract. She had saved her father and her native village:

“Then with a shout of triumph, the Indian maiden cried,
‘Listen, ye Mohawk warriors, which sail on Death’s dark tide!
Never shall earth grave hold you, or wife weep o’er your clay.
Come to your doom, ye Mohawks, and I will lead the way.’

* * * * *

“And many a day thereafter, beyond the torrent’s roar,
The swarthy Mohawk dead were found along the river’s shore.
But on brave Malabeam’s dead face no human eyes were set—
She lies in the dark stream’s embrace, the river claims her yet.

“The waters of five hundred years have flowed above her grave,
But daring deeds can never die while human hearts are brave.
Her tribe still tell the story, and round their council fires,
Honor the name of her who died to rescue all their sires.”

Almost needless to state, there are many other legends and tales of the Indians in connection with their villages that are on the banks of the St. John above and below Fredericton. The whole district is so full of beauty, has so many attractions for the vacationist and nature lover, and is such a superb centre for hunting, fishing, boating, canoeing, etc., that no one may hope to exhaust its possibilities, even if a lifetime of summers should be spent in the exploration and unfolding of all that it contains.

_The City of St. John and Lower St. John River_

Leaving Fredericton at 8 o’clock in the morning, a start is made on the trip down the river to the city of St. John, the commercial centre of the province and greatest shipping port on the Bay of Fundy.

The journey is full of interest and variety. There are numerous stops on each side of the river, and few daylight trips of eight or nine hours can be taken elsewhere that will compare with this in pleasure. As the boat cleaves the waters of the winding and continually-widening waterway, new incidents mark each mile of its progress.

Here is a small tug whose engine capacity is out of all proportion to its size. It is towing a huge raft of timber, and, notwithstanding the heavy pull, is making good progress upstream and against the current. Now, the deep and wide Oromocto River is reached, and a busy scene is enacted at the wharf as all hands on the steamer are pressed into the work of loading produce of every kind on board.

We go only a short distance across stream before reaching another landing, where squash, cucumbers and other vegetables by the barrel, and in immense quantities, are loaded on the lower decks.

Now a wharf is neared where, it so happens, there are no passengers awaiting the steamer, and none to get off. A man puts off in a small boat and makes fast to our boat, well out in the river, transfers some crates of tomatoes—the vessel still in motion and pushes back to the shore.

Nearing a spot where meadow and rolling upland mark a particularly rich agricultural district, a great flat barge or hay-boat is almost ahead, and the steamer slows up to give the boat an opportunity for coming alongside. She is loaded with fine-looking pressed hay, fresh from the fields and done up in the usual bales which are piled on the low boat to such a height as almost to be level with the decks of the large river steamer. No sooner is the barge made fast than men pour out on to the hay, and, while we are still proceeding on our downward course the product of the meadow is quickly stowed away below. It seems only a minute or two before the empty float rises high out of the water, and saluting the two men with a wave of the hand as they cast off, we go ahead under full steam.

A garden country now comes into view, where fair plots of all kinds of vegetable growth greet the eye in great profusion as we pull inshore. The wharf is stacked with hundreds of barrels of fresh corn and other produce destined for St. John as a consuming and distributing point. There is barely room to move about, but the united forces of steamer crew and wharf gang make short work of the huge stack, and in a few minutes all is nicely stowed away on the lower decks. Ingenious packers they must be down there to stow away such immense quantities so quickly.

Here a delightful little point is passed, dotted with bungalows and having trim yachts and smart launches moored offshore in a snug little cove. A very pretty picture of comfort, cool breezes and aquatic pleasures it makes, and we are just turning out into midstream when a mellow-toned salute from an upstream passenger boat greets the ear. Passing to the offshore side of our boat a fine full view is had of a St. John River steamboat churning a way to Fredericton at full speed, freighted with a goodly company of happy people all engaged with the superb views of the noble river.

And now a trading sloop passes by so close that we can call to and converse with her crew; and here, as elsewhere, evidence is found of the general courtesy and happy disposition of Maritime Province people, for the men of the small craft crowd to her side and wave their hands in pleasant greeting—as much as to say, “You are on the famous St. John; enjoy it as we do that have been on it all our lives, and love it dearly.”

1. Bluff Camp, near Fredericton
2. Westfield, St. John River
3. Willow Avenue, Rothesay

A word to the happy brides and devoted grooms who spread off over summer highways and byways from June to September, and who appreciate ideal and romantic scenery on routes that are not too crowded for comfort, and who like, at times, a little isolation. The St. John River steamers are roomy and capacious, and they have many little nooks and corners where there is just room for two, with a little squeezing, and from which the scenery may be enjoyed with that quiet and ideal environment so suited for the “two hearts that beat like one.” The little spot near the Captain’s wheelhouse deserves to be called “Bride’s Corner.” It is so used, again and again, and from this delightful coign a full view of the river may be had, and it is also a quiet point of observation for viewing life on the forward deck of the steamer.

What if it is breezy at times, so that a wisp of golden hair passes feathery fingers over the bronzed cheek of the happy groom! What if summer gusts festoon her chiffon veil so that clearer view of peachy cheeks is revealed, and what if that filmy and insubstantial shoulder-wrap is displaced by a particularly lively current that comes from the nearby valley! Surely the happy man does not object to the delightful opportunities thus given for adjusting refractory draperies, and for holding them in place with his arm around her shoulder when the gusts are heaviest. Ah! me.... “Bless you, my children,” we whisper in benediction. “May your life ever be like a voyage on the tranquil St. John.”

Here is a charming spot, Camp Bedford, only seventeen miles from St. John, and just the place for the summer homes or bungalows of those who like some social life, and who do not wish to “commune with nature” alone in some more remote spot. A number of pleasant cottages line the heights by the shore, and as the occupants throng the wharf to greet us, the enjoyment they find in life is reflected in their happy faces.

And so with the numerous choice spots that now follow quickly as our destination looms up more nearly. Here the great river widens out to large proportions; and as we pass the frowning cliffs and massive rocks that mark a way to the harbor, it is apparent that few ports have such fine approaches as this, few rivers can match this for scenery—scenery that is unique and all its own. The steamer ties up at St. John at what is locally known as Indian-town.

The St. John may fairly be termed an Imperial River, for at different times in the past it has “annexed” large portions of other great rivers, and turned their waters into her own. Both the Restigouche and Miramichi Rivers lost heavily in this way. The length of the river is nearly 450 miles, and no better trip could be planned anywhere than one up to the head waters of this great waterway.

The city of St. John was formerly called Parr Town, but was finally named from the great stream whose mouth it guards. De Monts and Champlain discovered and named the St. John River in the year 1604, or some seventy years after Jacques Cartier’s exploration of the St. Lawrence. That arm of the Atlantic in front of St. John, and known as the Bay of Fundy, was originally named La Baye Françoise by De Monts. On Dochet’s Island in Passamaquoddy Bay the exploration party under De Monts passed a severe winter. The following summer they left the neighborhood and founded a colony at Port Royal in a protected basin on the south shore of the Bay of Fundy. Nearly thirty years later a fort was built near the mouth of the St. John River by Charles La Tour, a man who had much to do with the development of the then French province of Acadia, and whose wife Frances earned undying fame by her noble defense of the St. John Fort while La Tour was absent in Boston.

“Of all the gallant Frenchmen whose names and deeds endure
In old Acadian annals, the greatest was Latour.

* * * * *

He built a potent fortress beside that harbor deep,
Thro’ which the broad and strong St. John flows with a mighty sweep.

* * * * *

Strong were its earthen bastions, its palisades were tall,
Heavy and great the cannon that frowned above the wall;
And bold and true its soldiers, all men of fair Rochelle—
Stout Huguenots who knew no fear, but loved Latour full well.

* * * * *

But none within that fortress, tho’ tried in many a fray—
Sons of the gallant men who fought on Ivry’s bloody day—
Possessed more dauntless courage to dare or to endure,
So kind and yet so brave a heart, as the wife of Lord Latour.”

The French occupation gave way to the English about the middle of the eighteenth century, but the real settlement of St. John was made by United Empire Loyalists, or expatriated loyalists from New England, at the close of the American Revolutionary War.

St. John is a very homelike and pleasant city where cool sea breezes may be enjoyed all through the summer. It has restful small park areas or squares, as well as extensive outlying parks and public gardens, and it is surrounded by a wealth of drives, resorts, boating places, beaches and places where all kinds of outdoor sport may be enjoyed. In addition, over one hundred outlying places of much interest are readily accessible from it as a centre, and for fishing and hunting it occupies a position only exceeded by those of the great sporting districts. For maritime pleasures, deep-sea fishing, etc., it shares supremacy with two or three other places such as Halifax and Sydney. It has good hotel and other accommodation, and for chance wet days it has a most excellent public library. In this connection may also be mentioned the Museum of the Natural History Society on Union Street.

It was at the foot of what is now King Street, the principal store thoroughfare, that the American Loyalists landed in 1783 and founded the city. What are presumed to be the remains of earthworks marking the site of Fort La Tour may be seen in West St. John at the foot of Middle Street. It was here that La Tour’s wife, the “Heroine of Acadia,” made such a gallant defense of her husband’s cause. She is supposed to have been buried somewhere near where Governor Villebon is known to have been interred. In this connection the old French cannon on Queen Square is believed to have been taken from the French fortifications, and it is altogether likely to have been one of those to which Whittier referred in his poem, “St. John,” on Charles La Tour and the noble Lady La Tour:

1. Beacon in St. John Harbor
2. Market Slip, St. John, High Water
3. North Head, Grand Manan
4. Martello Tower

“Half-veiled in the smoke-cloud,
Her hand grasped thy pennon,
While her dark tresses swayed
In the hot breath of cannon!”

Fort Frederick, built by the British, and now generally known as the “Old Fort,” stands on the site of the former Fort La Tour. On the Carleton Heights stands a Martello Tower erected by the British about one hundred years ago. It is well worth a visit, and the caretaker has an interesting collection on view inside. There is an excellent view from the top of the tower. At Jemseg up the river an old French fort was occupied by Villebon, before he abandoned it for the fort he built on the Nashwaak, opposite Fredericton.

The harbor of St. John is deep and large, and shipping from all parts of the world may regularly be seen at its wharves. Its waters have been the scene of many a naval engagement in times long gone by. The famous “Reversing Falls,” the only phenomenon of the kind in all the world, may be seen at the huge rocky pass where the St. John pours out its great flood into the harbor. An immense body of water passes through this channel, representing the natural river drainage of over 25,000 square miles of country. It is not a fall as ordinarily understood, nor a sheer drop from high to low level. The outlet, though wide, is not sufficiently large to admit the inflow of the tidal water. The tide packs up, therefore, and falls into the river. In the same way the tide recedes in the harbor much faster than it can escape from the river channel, and at such time the fall is outward. Apart from the curiosity of such a strange sight, there is much beauty in the view from the Suspension Bridge. The view of the river from the Fairville side is very good, and the general scene from Prospect Point is also excellent.

There is a spot below the Fall where a rocky cavity causes a whirlpool effect at times. It was known in La Tour’s time, and was called the “Pot.” Floating timber was often caught in it and confined in a floating circle for days and weeks. One great tree is known to have been impounded there for many years. In connection with that tree it is told that the Indians called it Manitou, or “the Devil.” To propitiate the evil spirit that lodged—as they thought—within it, they offered homage of beaver skins, which they attached to the tree with an arrow head made of sharpened moose bone.

Rockwood Park is quite close to the city, and is a delightful place in which to spend summer days. It is quite extensive, and is particularly interesting from the fact that it is full of natural beauty, having hill and dale, little glens and waterfalls, ponds, bridges, terraces, etc., and a variety of features that make it an attractive spot. There is rarely any crowd there, and those who love pleasant walks under shady trees, with a fine prospect in addition, may take a book and enjoy country repose on the very threshold of the city. Lily Lake is a pleasant sheet of water, within the park and not far from the entrance. The rocky fall at one end of it is very picturesque, and the climb down reveals a pretty scene. Five other lakes have been constructed to form a feeding chain for the park lake, and these, with the numerous paths and roads that are laid out to them and through the rocks, glens and lakes, add greatly to the recreational resources of the park. If it is visited several times, a complete circuit of its beauties may gradually be made, and the views of the surrounding country, and those of the Bay of Fundy waters, will well repay all who engage in the delightful occupation. The opportunities for rambles, secluded walks, and for discovering many a charming spot, are almost unlimited.

The Public Gardens are at the west end of the park, and a pleasant hour or two may be well spent in either ramble or rest, to view the floral clusters so tastefully displayed.

There are golf, tennis and yachting clubs in or near the city; and unlimited opportunities for the enjoyment of sailing, yachting, boating and canoeing are found on different nearby waters suited to each preferred form of aquatic recreation.

Nearby Bay Shore beaches are found at Seaside Park, Blue Rock, Broad View and Bay Shore. These are all reached quite easily by street railway or ferry.

Trout fishing is free at the fine expanse of lakes known as Loch Lomond. There are hotels at which to stop and from which boats may be hired. A drive of about eleven miles is necessary to reach the first lake. There are many other choice lakes and streams where the fishing rights are private. As a general statement permission to fish in many of the private waters may be obtained on application at the Tourist Bureau in the city.

There are many pretty drives along the country roads to nearby places. One of these is by way of Adelaide Street to Milledgeville on the Kennebecasis River, where will be found the club house of the Royal Kennebecasis Yacht Club. The return may be made by Ragged Point, for the sake of the fine view from there of river and islands with boats and vessels of every description passing in all directions. Another is to Indian Town, Pleasant Point, Fairville, the Suspension Bridge and Reversing Fall; crossing the bridge and returning by way of Douglas Avenue with its lawns and comfortable homes. By crossing on the Carleton Ferry many pleasant roads are available, and in this direction the Bay Shore may be reached where there are pleasant coves and bathing places. Still another is to ‘Three Mile House,’ and Rothesay on the Kennebecasis River. Then Adam’s and McConnell Lakes, Loch Lomond, Golden Grove and Chamber’s Lake, as well as the Bay of Fundy, by way of Black River Road and Enchanted Lake, are pleasant drives. Good views of the city are obtained from Fort Howe Hill and from the heights of Mt. Pleasant.

The best way to enjoy all that St. John contains is to settle down quietly in a comfortable hotel or other stopping-place, call at the Tourist Bureau, register and obtain their St. John Booklet with map, purchase McAlpine’s Road Map of St. John, N.B., and County, and then become familiar with the city and environs by using the street railway, and taking rambles from place to place. Helpful maps also are the St. John River Steamship Co.’s, showing the places on the river as far up as Fredericton; the Kennebecasis Steamship Co.’s, showing the Kennebecasis River as far as Hampton, and the May Queen Steamship Co.’s, showing Grand and Washademoak Lakes, and the places between St. John and Chipman. With these at hand the surrounding topography will soon be known, and a logical plan of operations can soon be planned out. There are other river steamboats with short runs, and still others that make occasional excursions; but particulars relating to these are best obtained on the spot.

The favorite sea trips are those to Digby by Dominion Atlantic ferry Prince Rupert, and to lovely Campobello, pleasant Eastport and picturesque Grand Manan (island of bold and romantic cliffs) by the Grand Manan Steamboat Co. There are trips also to Parrsboro and Kingsport on the Minas Basin at the head of the Bay of Fundy.

Many of those who reach St. John by sea, principally from the West, make it the whole object of their trip, sojourning there, taking local excursions and finally returning over the route by which they came. Others, of course, make a stay there, and then visit the interior by way of the St. John River to Fredericton, going over the Intercolonial Railway from thence to Miramichi Bay and Bay of Chaleur, and so on to Quebec and the St. Lawrence. Or they pass over the St. John-Moncton division of the Intercolonial to Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island or Cape Breton. Wherever they go they will find Indian villages and encampments; and a few words on this feature of Maritime Province life will not be amiss here.

Visitors who wish to enjoy their vacation to its full extent should not make the mistake of taking a flying trip through an Indian village. Our life would not be understood by a stranger who took only a momentary glimpse of it, and this is true in a much greater degree of Indian life. The Indian does not live nearly so much on the surface as we do, for he is silent and uncommunicative; and we are apt to err in judging from superficial observation that there is little in his life worthy of note.

The Indian has to be drawn out. Gain his confidence—let the newness of strangership wear off gradually—go and be piloted by him over many a foaming rapid—go with him in the woods—share a tent with him under the moon by night—put up your own tent near his village, and visit his humble little home—do all this, and you will learn much.

“He makes his way with speed and ease
Through woods that show the noonday star,
The moss-grown trunks of oldest trees
His lettered guide books are.

Needs he a fire? The kindling spark
He bids the chafed wood reveal.
Lacks he a boat? Of birchen bark
He frames a lightsome keel.”

Some of the older Indians have a natural dignity and beauty of expression that is wonderful. In time you will hear many quaint incidents of their lives; and if you are patient and gain their confidence, tales they have heard and the traditions of their fathers will gradually be yours.

It is, of course, difficult to understand an Indian properly in any tongue other than his own. His English is often broken and peculiar. Here is a “snake story” just as told by a Maliceet: “From dis landin’, ’bout tree, may be four mile, I s’pose, dere’s a loggin’ road. ’Bout nine years ago, in de fall, I was goin’ down dat road with Archy Lodge, when we saw big pine log lyin’ right cross de road. Archy he say, ‘s’pose we have chop dat log to get team by.’ I say, ‘Yes, s’pose’; an’ Archy he get off an’ go to git de axe. Den dat tree he move right out de road, an’ go trough de brush like de devil, an’ break down maple saplin’s big’s my arm. So ’twas a big snake!”

Maliceet Indians are now found chiefly on the St. John River and its tributaries. The Micmacs are found in eastern parts of New Brunswick, and in Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island. The Micmacs are not a cross between the Irish and Scotch—as has been humorously remarked might be thought from their name. Both Maliceet and Micmac trace their descent from the great Algonquin nation.

Indians are eloquent. Read the reply of the old Maliceet chief to the Government Commissioners who were sent to dispossess the Indians of their lands at Medoctec on the St. John. The commissioners asked: “By what right or title do you hold these lands?” The old chief, with knowledge of right on his side, pointed to the little enclosures by the river as he gravely said, “There are the graves of our grandfathers! There are the graves of our fathers! There are the graves of our children!” To this argument the commissioners could make no reply, and the Indians were left in possession.

1. St. George Falls, N.B.
2. Evanisle, St. John River
3. Indian Camp, St. John River
4. Haying at Lakesie, N.B.

An Indian courtship was formerly a very simple affair. If a young brave decided to marry—his relatives approving—he would go into the wigwam where an “eligible” maiden lived, and look at her without saying one word. If he liked her appearance he tossed a chip into her lap. This was “popping the question.” The maiden would shyly pretend to examine it closely while taking covert glances to “size up” her admirer. If “smitten,” she would throw the chip at him with a pleasant smile, and then nothing was wanting but the service of the priest to bind the marriage tie. If, however, the young brave was not a man to her liking, the chip would be tossed aside with a frown, and he would then be obliged to seek elsewhere.

A full wedding ceremony took place in the following way. On the appointed day the happy brave, accompanied by his relatives, went to the bride and her assembled friends. She was “given away” by her father, and was then dressed in a handsome costume, a present from the groom. All then took their way to the village green to participate in the wedding dance, at which the whole village was present. The following day the newly-wedded pair started on a canoe honeymoon trip. At some choice spot, chosen for its beauty and romantic surroundings, both knelt together and made vows of unending affection, The neighborhood of some great rock was always preferred, and the enduring rock was invoked to witness the vows thus made. A tree was rarely chosen because of its being more perishable than a rock.

The superior civilization of the Indian knows little of infidelity, and nothing of divorce.

All the Indian peoples of Canada had, and still have, superstitious and strange fancies. Animals, plants, mountains, rivers and great rocks were supposed to have indwelling spirits. They were, therefore, treated with respect. Even to animals of the chase, such as bear and beaver, etc., they would offer an apology for the necessary pursuit. Fishing-nets were even included in a ceremony which consisted of an address to the fish begging them to take courage and be caught, soothing them also by the promise that due respect should be paid to their bones. Plants had souls, the Indians believed; and, in addition, they held the belief that elves and fairies of great beauty and marvellous powers dwelt in hill and valley. The high mountain tops were supposed to be inhabited by gods with wonderful attributes; and the sound of thunder, the voice of the rapid, and the roar of the great cataract were all manifestations to them of individual divinities. Above all was the overruling Manitou or Great Spirit.

The Indian settlements on the St. John River and elsewhere in New Brunswick, as well as in Nova Scotia, etc., are well worth a visit; and all who wish to understand the life and ways of those who have so well been named “Children of the Forest,” should give some time to a pleasing form of recreation that is sure to bring many hours of happiness in its train.

_St. John to Moncton and Point du Chene_

The trip by steamboat from St. John up the Kennebecasis will have given many a view, distant and near, of the beautiful valley and the garden country surrounding it. The course of the river steamboat is to the west of Long Island, and hence of such pretty suburbs as Renforth and Rothesay only distant glimpses may be had. Hampton is the head of steam navigation; but the river runs up to Norton, Apohaqui, Sussex and beyond, in all of which places pretty views may be seen. These places, therefore, are best seen from the Intercolonial Railway, which passes through the heart of the several districts; and, in addition, the road runs up to Petitcodiac village and along by the river of that name as far as Moncton.

Renforth, Rothesay, Hampton and the various summer resort in the vicinity of St. John lying on or near the Kennebecasis are all pleasant vacation spots, justly prized by the inhabitants of the prosperous city for which they provide such convenient and delightfully situated country places.

At Renforth there is a choice little cove or bay where summer cottages face riverwards along a breezy ridge that follows the course of the stream at this point; while at Rothesay the bungalows are very prettily disposed in the woods by the shore, and on the pleasant slopes above. At both of these places good boating, sailing, and canoeing may be had, as well as motor boating. River bathing is enjoyed by nearly all who summer in these charming spots. While not so cool as seaside places, they are appreciably cooler than town or city, and on that account they have become favorite resorts for St. John people, as well as for others from more distant points.

Above Rothesay the railroad strikes inland a mile or two from the river, but at Jubilee and Nauwigewauk it resumes its river course and holds it until near Hampton, where it is about a mile from the part of the village that fronts on the water. Hampton, however, may be said to run almost from the station to the river, and with the pleasant inn or summer hotel close by the station, the pretty village, the Court-House green, and the splendid view from the hills, together with the many shady walks, this part of the village has many attractions.

Hampton is the head of Kennebecasis River navigation for steamboats; and as all the pleasant resorts just named are either on the river or near it, those who summer in this neighborhood will soon become familiar with the enjoyable scenery of the Kennebecasis. At Hampton-by-the-River, it should be added, there is a comfortable homelike hotel or stopping-place. The surroundings of the whole village are all picturesque, and such as conduce to pleasure in walks, drives and rambles.

An enjoyable water outing may be taken on the river by boarding the steamboat at Hampton and going downstream to St. John. At first a way is threaded through the meadows by a varied channel that makes it necessary to “double” and often head in an opposite direction, to pass some island or follow the devious windings of a stream that makes bends and turns and double-bends in its course. At last the meadows are passed, however, and a typical river course with regular channel is entered. Here high hills and steep ridges line the way. The view at Clifton is very fine, and at Moss Glen and Chapel Grove it is almost equally good. As St. John is neared the steamboat passes into the waters of the larger river and takes its way past the Boar’s Head, and round south to the Indiantown Wharves.

From Hampton a short railroad runs to St. Martin’s and Quaco on the Bay of Fundy shore. St. Martin’s is a favorite excursion point that is readily reached by a short sea journey from St. John. Quaco, almost immediately joining on the south, has a very pretty harbor. Bold cliffs and little stony beaches are prominent features in its attractive scenery.

Journeying north-east from Hampton along the line of the Intercolonial Railway the course of the upper Kennebecasis River is approximately followed by way of Norton, Apohaqui and Sussex through a very pleasant pastoral country. These are all excellent summer places, and from nearly all of them fishing is within easy reach. From Norton a short railroad runs through choice country to Grand Lake, Chipman and the Salmon and Gaspereau Rivers. Apohaqui has a favorable situation at the mouth of the branching Millstream, while the smart little town of Sussex has a delightful site with its own pretty little waterway stretching off through the Sussex Vale to the southeast.

After leaving Penobsquis the railroad soon crosses North River, and the upper waters of the Petitcodiac; then following a course first west and then north of the Petitcodiac River, it reaches Moncton. Petitcodiac is not only a pretty village itself, but it has much romantic scenery surrounding it. The Pollet River Falls to the south-east are well worth seeing, and the river itself invites to many a ramble.

At Salisbury a short railroad runs east to Hillsboro on the Petitcodiac River, and from thence in a southerly direction along the west shore of Chignecto Bay to Albert, Harvey and Alma. The country round about Albert is very picturesque, and Alma on the Bay Shore is an attractive village. The peculiar Hopewell Cape Rocks are generally reached by driving from Hillsboro. Ample recreation is found through this district in fishing, walking, and driving; and there is boating on Chignecto Bay, etc.

Few would recognize the progressive and prosperous city of Moncton as the place that originally came into being under the modest name of “The Bend.” The name applied to the river, Petitcodiac, which seems a blending of French and Indian, means a “bend.” Soon after the middle of the eighteenth century the place was named after General Monckton, once Lieutenant-General of Nova Scotia, who had served at Louisbourg, served also as second in command under General Wolfe at the taking of Quebec, and who later was British Governor of New York.

Some of the early settlers of “The Bend,” as Moncton was then known, came from Philadelphia and the Delaware River in pre-revolutionary days. One of these early settlers built a log house on the spot where now stands the railway round-house. Some United Empire Loyalists assisted in the settlement later on. The place had a gradual growth until 1872, when it commenced a new life by becoming an Intercolonial Railway centre, with workshops, etc., and to-day, as a consequence, it is an important town, full of life and vitality.

The management and administration of the Intercolonial Railway, as well as the clerical, constructive and auxiliary staffs, all centre in Moncton. As a consequence, about 2500 of the town’s population are in Intercolonial employ.

The General Offices of the Railway occupy a prominent position adjoining the station grounds. The building has recently been extended to give much needed room, and with its pleasant surroundings gives comfortable quarters for the working staff of the system.

The city bears on its face every evidence of prosperity, and it has many excellent stores and pleasant residential streets.

The Moncton and Buctouche Railway has its headquarters here; and Moncton is also the eastern terminus of one of Canada’s trans-continental railway systems, the Grand Trunk Pacific.

The phenomenon of the Bay of Fundy “Tidal Bore” is best seen on the Petitcodiac River at Moncton. The rise and fall of the tide here shows a difference of thirty feet between extreme high and extreme low. At favorable times the height of the incoming wall of water, or “bore,” is between four and five feet. At such times it is a very wonderful and interesting sight.

There are a number of pleasant walks and drives in and around the city, with drives of a more extended character to Shediac and Hopewell Cape and Rocks. By rail, too, it is easy to reach many pleasant spots in a very short time.

Many will be surprised to learn that there are splendid oil and gas fields in the neighborhood of Moncton. A number of wells have been drilled, and some are exceedingly productive.

The importance of this development will be understood from the mere statement of the present capacity of the gas wells, which is fifty millions of cubic feet daily; nor does this represent a maximum capacity, for the industry is just in its infancy; the first public consumption of gas in Moncton dating only from the year 1912.

The Intercolonial Railway uses nearly two million feet of gas daily in its workshops, and manufacturing plants generally are hastening to adopt gas as a substitute for coal. As is well known, gas is much more efficient and economical than coal as a fuel; and the product of the local gas wells is of excellent quality, its thermal value being high. A striking modern example of the use of gas fuel is demonstrated in Moncton, for here the electric power for street railway purposes, for the pumping station at the waterworks and for street and domestic lighting is all generated economically through the use of gas as a fuel.

Although natural gas is used so generally by manufacturers and residents of Moncton, and is also piped into the village of Hillsboro, in Albert County, its use is less than ten per cent. of the yielding capacity of the present gas wells. It is also believed that other wells will be discovered, and many experts are of the opinion that the gas field has merely been tapped on the fringe.

The early expansion of Moncton as a manufacturing and residential centre will be apparent to those who study economic conditions, for in addition to the low cost of gas as a fuel for manufacturing and general power purposes, the use of it as a substitute for coal in the important detail of house heating in winter shows a saving of over eighty-five per cent.

It will be remembered that from Newcastle and Chatham Junction a course by the Miramichi River was traced, followed by another along the Nashwaak to Fredericton. From that point a further course was traced down the lower St. John River to the city of St. John, and thence to Rothesay, Hampton, Sussex and Petitcodiac to Moncton.

Starting now from the Miramichi River and Chatham Junction and proceeding along the main line to Moncton, a section of country is traversed that is inland from the Northumberland Straits Coast a varying distance of twenty to twenty-five miles. The railway line in its progress crosses the main Barnaby River as well as its upper waters, bridges the Kouchibouguac, the Kouchibouguacis and the Richibucto Rivers, and passes over the headwaters of the Canaan, Buctouche, Cocagne and North streams. At Kent Junction railroad connection is made for Richibucto and St. Louis; and from Moncton a line runs to Buctouche.

Richibucto and St. Louis are Acadian settlements, the former a prosperous place from which timber is shipped. There is bathing not far from Richibucto, with boating and other shore recreation.

Some of the small streams between the Barnaby River and Moncton are used for logging in the spring, the headwaters of some of them being not over twelve feet wide. In places where the river has not risen high enough, the logs may be seen packed side-by-side, like matches, or piled high in a confused heap with projecting timbers, presenting the appearance of a _chevaux-de-frise_. With a heavy rainfall, however, these streams swell to considerable proportions; and the logs are easily borne down to the mills, and to the coast, with some attention here and there to free the timber when it jams.

Buctouche, at the mouth of the river of that name, is a little Acadian watering place about two hours’ run from Moncton over the Moncton and Buctouche Railway.

In a north-easterly direction from Moncton the line of the Intercolonial Railway reaches Painsec Junction. The main line here passes to the east, after throwing off a short branch that leads to Shediac and Point du Chêne.

Shediac is a pleasant town situated on a broad harbor, sheltered by Shediac Island. It has a good sand beach, and is celebrated for its fine oysters. There is excellent fishing here, both in fresh and salt water. The place was once strongly garrisoned by French troops.

North of Shediac is a large Acadian settlement, the Cocagnes, reached by coast road, or by boat around Cocagne Cape and into the mouth of the Cocagne River. East of Shediac are other interesting Acadian villages; these also are accessible by coast road and boat.

Point du Chêne is well placed as a pleasant little Summer place for boating, etc., but it is chiefly known as the place of departure for the passenger steamships crossing the Northumberland Straits to Summerside, Prince Edward Island. Steamships for other parts of the same island leave from Pictou, some 140 miles east; but the Point du Chêne route is preferable for all but those who come from Cape Breton, Halifax, etc., and the comfortable and smart-looking steamships of the Prince Edward Island Navigation Co. that cross from Point du Chêne to Summerside leave nothing to be desired in the way of equipment and speed.

_Prince Edward Island_

Evening cloud effects of a beautiful character are frequently seen when crossing the Straits of Northumberland from Point du Chêne to Summerside on Prince Edward Island. On one occasion it had threatened rain on leaving the mainland, but when the steamer was well over and nearing Summerside the clouds began to disperse. The sun was about to dip below the horizon, and its upward slanting beams gave marvellous coloring to the dispersing cloud drifts. These assumed the deepest and richest tints of pink and terra cotta, with an infinite variety of fantastic forms; and this lovely Prince Edward Island sunset, with all its gorgeous display of form and color, was the topic of conversation then and afterwards amongst those on the steamer, and who met by chance on the Island later on.

In approaching the Island the first feature of the land that attracts attention is the red sandstone. Red may be termed the Island’s color, for everywhere the red sandstone and the light hue of the soil—almost as vivid as the well-known Pompeian clay—is to be seen. It affords a beautiful contrast with the vivid green of the fields and the darker green of the fir and spruce trees that freshen the landscape.

“Where’er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade;
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade;
Where’er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.”

Prince Edward Island has been well christened. It is doubtful if Cabot ever called there. Jacques Cartier is said to have done so, however, and it was he who called it the “Low and Beautiful Island.” The Indians called it Abegweit, or “Resting on the Wave.” Champlain named it L’Isle St. Jean; the English rechristened it after Edward, Duke of Kent, as “Prince Edward Island,” and it has since been termed the “Garden of the Gulf,” and the “Million Acre Farm.”

Together with the Magdalen Islands it was tentatively settled by the French in 1663, and was always included as part of Acadia; but its real settlement dates from the time when the Acadians came hither after being expelled from Nova Scotia. Peasants from Bretagne, Picardy and Normandy participated in the settlement; and later, English and Scotch settlers followed. Many hoards of arms, furniture, cooking utensils, etc., have been found hidden in the woods, placed there by the early Acadians.

Some ten thousand descendants of this hunted people are living on the Island, and as they do not readily mix with others, and thus preserve their old manner of living, they are a very interesting part of the population. To some extent they live by themselves in their own villages, speaking the original tongue, wearing the simple dress and keeping alive the old traditions. They are simple and kindly, and give color and charm to the more populous communities that surround them.

In these places the maidens still weave, sew and lay by linen for the expected marriage; and the simple social gatherings for weddings, barn-raisings, etc., still attract their people of all ages. Many of them still believe in “Loups-garous” and other fictions of ghost, and haunting spirits, etc. The principal Acadian settlements are at Rustico, Tignish, Abram’s Village, and Miscouche.

The quaint broken English of the old Acadian is shown in this extract relating to our little friend the grosbeak:

“An’ mebbe you hear de grosbec
Sittin’ above de nes’—
An’ you see by de way he’s goin’
De ole man’s doin’ his bes’
Makin’ de wife an’ baby
Happy as dey can be—
An’ proud he was come de fader
Such fine leetle familee.”

There are a few hundred Micmac Indians living along the north shore. They are good hunters, and an outing with them for trout and wild birds is a pleasant experience.

The water surrounding the island is shallower than that of the mainland coast, and on that account, and because the temperature is higher, the bathing here is not too cool, and is much enjoyed. It is warmer than New Brunswick or Nova Scotia—Atlantic Nova Scotia being the coolest place of all. The summer temperature of the Island ranges from 65 to 80 degrees, and higher on exceptional occasions.

It has been remarked that, “there will come to the world-weary tourist visions of a beautiful land in the midst of the cool sea—a land fanned by healthful breezes, a land of green hills, purling brooks and fertile fields. The crowded fashionable watering places have lost their charm for him, and he yearns for some place of rest and repose where quiet summer days can be obtained”—and all this is true of Prince Edward Island.

A recent census of the Island shows the largest population per thousand of people over seventy years of age in any province of Canada. In most countries a fourth generation is rare, but Prince Edward can boast of a fifth. This is the Poirier family of Tignish, the men are fishermen who all “pull together” in excellent health. The head of the family, great-great-grandfather Poirier, has 202 living descendants, and at 97 years of age rises at daylight, turns his fish on the “flakes” to dry, and chops and saws his wood.

But we have entered Bedeque Bay, and are at Summerside, bound for Alberton and Tignish at the western end of the Island. A very pleasant harbor indeed is this, and the not too pretentious summer town is nicely laid out with good stores and shady streets. There is good boating for yachts, sail-boats, launches, row-boats and canoes, and the life is that of the seaside resort, with pleasant excursions and an enjoyable social life. The Wilmot and Dunk Rivers empty into the harbor. On the Dunk will be found many pretty views; the fishing, too, is good—trout of large size. It was a view of this river that inspired the couplet:

“Pause here—and look upon a sight as fair,
As ever painter limned of poet’s dreams.”

Everyone in Summerside walks down to the wharf to see the steamship come in from Point du Chêne. The usual hour, 7.30 p.m., is convenient for all. The two trains for east and west go down to meet the steamer and then return to the station to start their runs. In summer both steamer wharf and train platform are crowded with the youth and beauty of the town. The scene is always a lively one.