his wife and family, with the certainty of being comfortably housed and
cared for, and where all may amuse themselves with quiet recreations of
a healthful kind while he is away fishing the stream for the noble
salmon. It is also one of those summer places where there are no
throngs, and where the number found assembled in the summer time is just
right for social blending in one happy colony. When the fishermen have
returned, and all have admired the day’s catch, and when supper is over,
how pleasant as twilight is setting in to gather on the porches for
intercourse, to recline in easy chair, or to swing lazily in hammock for
rest.
And as the young people wander off in “twos” and “threes,” but mostly in
“twos,” to see the glorious sunset from the porch of a St. Lawrence
bungalow or cottage; the fisherman, the nature-lover, the charming bevy
of young married ladies, their attentive husbands, the sedate couples of
riper age, and even the militant suffragette who did not go off in one
of the “twos”—all these gather to enjoy the _dolce far niente_ of a
cool, summer evening in Charlo.
A larger stream than the Charlo, but one that has its fishing rights
leased, is the Jacquet River. Arrangements may easily be made, however,
by which a day or two or a week’s fishing, or longer, may be obtained at
moderate cost. There is a growing feeling in many pleasant places, such
as Jacquet River, that individual fishing rights retard the growth of a
place, and it is likely that here and in other districts leading men of
the neighborhood will buy in the fishing rights, not for their own use,
but to charge a reasonable fee by the day or week for those who would
then come to fish.
[Illustration: Charlo—A Path through the Woods]
The whole neighborhood of the Jacquet River is a pleasant one, with good
woods and shady roads. There is a picturesque little cove, with high and
rocky banks, where boats may be kept, and the sandy beach of which
offers a desirable spot for children’s play. The upper reaches of the
river are quite pretty, the drives are good, and the country is well
varied with hill and dale.
Passing east along the bay shore and dipping south by the water-bend
that forms Nepisiguit Bay, the town of Bathurst is reached. This, one of
the principal sporting centres of the province, is in itself a pleasant
summer resort, and, in addition, is a starting point for a series of
inner country places, as well as for tours and journeys over the
Nepisiguit River and to the interior lakes. The town is situated on a
tidal lagoon which is an inlet from the great Chaleur Bay. The
Nepisiguit and three smaller rivers empty their waters here, and one of
these, the Tête-a-gauche, or Fairy River, has a small but very
picturesque fall. The Nepisiguit, as is well known, is one of the finest
salmon rivers of the province, and the Nepisiguit Lakes teem with trout.
Moose, deer and game birds are also here in abundance. Guides and canoes
may be obtained in the district. Those interested in hunting and fishing
should consult Chapters IV. and XV. where other information of the kind
is given.
[Illustration]
Pabineau, the Grand Falls of the Nepisiguit, and the upper waters of the
river may all be reached from Nepisiguit Junction, from whence the short
line of the Northern New Brunswick Railway leads, and by which a way to
these places and the inner lakes is opened. In this direction many
pleasant outings may be enjoyed. To picnic by the rushing rapids, or on
a bluff in full view of the falls, is a unique experience and one that
will be long remembered. The short railroad referred to, which connects
Bathurst with the iron mines of the Nepisiguit, is a regular sporting
highway—in summer for the fishing, and in the fall for hunting.
The eastern arm of the Chaleur Bay is traversed by a railroad that runs
from Gloucester Junction and Bathurst to Caraquet, Shippegan and
Tracadie. There are several quiet places on this shore that are quite
quaint, and suited for those who wish to be off the main route of
travel. Caraquet is a pleasant little Acadian settlement where sea
fishing is carried on. Shippegan is on an excellent harbor, and here
deep-sea fishing and cool air may be enjoyed. From Shippegan a crossing
may be made by boat to the island of the same name, a distance of about
a mile. From Miscou Harbor, at the northern end of Shippegan Island, a
crossing may be made in quiet water to the outermost island of Miscou,
or a boat may be taken instead from Caraquet. Both of these islands
afford the best of wild-bird shooting in the fall, such as geese, duck,
plover, etc. Miscou is an old French settlement, and from its harbor
many boats were formerly engaged in walrus hunting. Off Miscou a curious
fresh-water spring spouts up through the briny sea and retains its
freshness. Fishermen obtain drinking water here without the necessity
for going ashore.
[Illustration: Poling up Stream]
The whole Chaleur shore from the region of Charlo River down to Bathurst
is a network of small rivers and streams where trout may always be
found; and because of their favorable position the pleasant towns and
villages that line this coast are sure to grow and increase in favor as
summer places.
[Illustration: By the Miramichi River]
_The Miramichi River and Nashwaak Valley Districts_
[Illustration]
Proceeding south on the Intercolonial Railway, the important centre of
Newcastle on the Miramichi River is reached. Here the fine river
Miramichi empties into Miramichi Bay, passing first through the
island-protected inner bay that makes such a broad approach to Chatham
and the wide Miramichi at Newcastle. The prosperous towns of Chatham and
Newcastle are therefore natural centres for outfitting and starting on
river journeys of such extent that the whole of Central New Brunswick
may easily be reached; and not only that, but also Tobique River and the
west, the St. John and Madawaska to the far west, the Restigouche and
Matapedia Rivers to the north-west, the Upsalquitch and Nepisiguit
Rivers to the north, the Nashwaak and St. John Rivers to the south-west,
and Grand Lake, Canaan and Kennebecasis Rivers and the Bay of Fundy to
the south are all made accessible by the Miramichi River.
This grand system of waterways has no parallel elsewhere. Canoeing,
fishing, etc., over such an extensive chain of rivers is a joy that,
once tasted, calls back the happy nature lover again and again to the
fascination of continued exploration in a country that is full of
variety and beauty.
By this time the traveller has fairly entered New Brunswick, and he
cannot have failed to observe many differences between this province and
that he has recently left. Quebec is the old world, with scarcely
anything of the new in it, save its scenery, distinctive of the Western
Continent. New Brunswick, in its life, seems to typify admirably the
happy position occupied by all Canada, a position midway between that of
Old England and the great republic to the south. With a strong sheet
anchor of conservatism and respect for old and tried institutions
fastened firmly in Britain’s shore, the far-reaching and unbreakable
cable, or indissoluble bond, of attachment and love for the mother
country reaches out; but the sails of the ship of state are not furled,
and the good ship _Canada_ does not ride inactive while the breezes of
modern progress and thought pass idly over her bare spars; for her sails
are unfurled and turned to the growing breeze, and when that wind blows
steadily from one direction instead of in cats-paws, eddies and
squalls—the noble vessel will draw up on her anchor, and her canvas will
fill to the breeze as she sails steadily forward.
[Illustration]
And so the New Brunswicker, if you ask him how he is, will not reply,
like our British Cousin, “Quite well, thank you; how are you?” Nor will
he tell you he feels “great” or “fine”, like our American cousin.
Instead, he will tell you he is “Not too bad!” which, as will be
apparent, is about half way between the other expressions. If you ask a
New Brunswicker, “Is it going to rain to-day?” he will reply, “I don’t
think!” Do not be deceived. This does not mean that he does _not_ think;
it is his way of saying “I think not.” He will be found genial, pleasant
and manly, with a keen eye to the main chance, but not making money his
worship—as yet.
Miramichi Bay, or “Bay of Boats,” was visited by Jacques Cartier. So
many savages put out in their canoes that the bay was literally covered
by them—hence the name. Indeed, Cartier had to fire off cannon to
frighten them away lest they should swarm on and overrun his little
vessels. The next day the explorer made friends with the Indians by
giving a red hat to their chief.
The town of Chatham has a particularly fine situation near the mouth of
the river. Here large ocean steamships load their cargoes of pulpwood
blocks, timber and lumber, etc., for all parts of the world. It is a
splendid point for fitting out with fishing and hunting equipment, and a
convenient base for hunting, fishing and camping-out parties. Enjoyable
shorter trips may be taken down the bay to Tabusintac, Neguac and
Portage Island, as well as to Fox island, Loggieville and Escuminac.
Some of these places are excellent for trout and wild-birds.
At Kent Junction, south of Chatham, on the line of the Intercolonial
Railway, train connections may be made for Kouchibouguac Bay, the
Kouchibouguacis River, and also for the pleasant resort of Richibucto.
[Illustration: On the Miramichi River]
Newcastle is another centre, equipping-point and starting-place for
river trips, fishing, hunting, etc. It has a fine situation on Miramichi
Bay, and considerable shipping may be seen at the wharves and mills on
the water front. On this river, as on the rivers of New Brunswick
generally, the extent of the lumbering operations may be judged from the
timber rafts and immense quantities of logs floating down stream on
their way to the timber-booms and saw-mills.
There is a pleasant trip up the Miramichi by steamer as far as Red Bank,
and down the bay to Chatham, and seaward there are other interesting
steamer routes. Newcastle makes a very pleasant summer stopping-place,
as it is quite convenient to many places of interest in the
neighborhood.
From Derby Junction on one side of the river and from Chatham Junction
on the other, two Intercolonial lines run by the Miramichi to
Blackville, where they join. From this point the line runs to
Fredericton along the river valley, and, from where the Miramichi turns
westward, the railroad keeps its southern course and follows the
Nashwaak river to its junction with the St. John.
The Indian word Miramichi means “Happy Retreat,” and this describes its
character not only for the old-time “Children of the Forest,” but for
the summer visitor as well. It is one of the largest and most important
rivers of the province. It has its source in a lake not far from the
distant Tobique River. It flows with considerable rapidity in some
places, and in the main over a bed of shingle and gravel. The North-West
and the Little South-West branches are dotted with pleasant little
hamlets in their lower reaches. The Renous, Dungarvon, Batholomew and
Cain’s Rivers all discharge into its lower waters, and well above
Blackville the pretty little Taxis River at Boiestown marks the westerly
turn of the main or South-West Miramichi. At Cross Creek the easterly
running Nashwaak turns abruptly south, and over the heights and along
this picturesque valley the railway reaches the St. John River, and
crosses over it to the southern bank on which Fredericton is so
beautifully placed.
[Illustration]
In addition to the main river and its large tributaries, there are
numerous smaller streams and brooks that plash and fall or glide
smoothly along to swell the Miramichi; and there is hardly a town or
village along the route just traced that does not afford good fishing
and hunting, as well as all the joys the nature-lover knows well he will
find in such a superbly-watered and well-wooded country. For touring to
see the beauties of nature, for drives from the principal centres, and
for walking expeditions, no richer or prettier country could be found.
This is also the very heart of a great hunting country. Indeed, it is a
common thing to look from the passing train and see the deer browsing
and bounding gracefully within a stone’s throw of the track, or standing
motionless by the edge of some nearby thicket.
The Nashwaak itself has its own network of pretty little tributaries,
not least of which is the charming Tay; and here as in so many parts of
New Brunswick it is difficult to alight at random in a place that has
not water and canoeing facilities.
[Illustration: Canoeing on the St. John River]
The following description of a canoe trip on the Nashwaak is typical of
hundreds of similar journeys that can be taken along the course recently
traced, and indeed on any of the rivers and waterways, great and small,
with which the province is so liberally endowed. As it is most
convenient to make this particular excursion from Fredericton, that
place is taken as the starting point from which the canoe puts out.
It is a bright morning, the air is playing in a gentle breeze, and the
St. John River gleams with many a dancing ripple as we take our way well
up stream to drop down quietly with the current as we drink in the
glorious view on every hand. Higher up, where the banks become bolder,
the lumbermen’s piers of stone, cribbed in with timber, and overgrown
with young tree shoots and wild-flowers in profusion, line the centre of
the stream like so many ornamental gardens.
Yon shimmering surface in the distant valley, at the foot of a bold
hill, is not a placid lake bathed in the beams of the early sun—it is a
white and fleecy morning mist catching the side rays horizontally and
reflecting them in long pencils of light.
[Illustration: NEW BRUNSWICK SCENES]
1. Boating on the Nashwaak
2. A New Brunswick Waterfall
3. Boating on the Nashwaaksis
4. Armstrong’s Brook, Jacquet River
5. New Brunswick Farm Scene—Pigs in Clover
At times the hills and woodland over there terminate abruptly in long
stretches of perfectly smooth meadow-land, stretching out like a
well-laid carpet, and with only an occasional high tree by the edge to
mark the course of the river.
We are nearly opposite the Nashwaak, and paddling across the northern
half of the broad St. John we reach the rich meadows that lie at the
mouth of the stream upon which we shall soon float.
Gliding up stream with easy paddling, the covered bridge is reached and
we thread our way through the loose floating boards and made-up rafts of
deal that mark the lumberman’s highway. A little further up, however, a
stop is made, for here is a boom of heavy timbers, chained directly
across the stream. We soon find a place where there is a clear waterway
near the shore, some three or four feet wide, and pushing through this
we speed on.
But the rippling murmur of water falls on our ears, and looking ahead we
see the wavelets, eddies and bubbles that mark a swiftly flowing
current. Bending to with a will, and at times using the paddle as a pole
in very stiff water, we manage to work our way up higher.
And now another obstruction is met, a boom that completely closes the
way, with no water passageway of any kind. And so, keeping inshore and
balancing on one of the logs, while using one hand for support against
the almost perpendicular bank, we pull the canoe over the boom, step in,
and once more proceed on our way.
[Illustration]
The lively kingfisher makes flights up the stream in advance of our
progress, sweeping down at times with unerring eye to seize his prey
from under the surface of the water, and then resting on some projecting
tree branch he gives opportunity for admiring his comely appearance
before our near presence warns him to renewed flight. Well up above the
water, but skimming the trees and brushing the leaves as he flies, he
keeps us company, and soon is joined by other merry fellows that make
the way lively.
[Illustration]
Here is a huge eagle with a wing-spread of five or six feet, at least.
Seemingly unafraid, he drops almost alongside on the bank that runs down
to a flat sand strip; and as he stands still as we pass, we can see the
pure white of his head and tail, and notice his powerful wings as he
again soars in the air.
Wild canaries, also, are quite numerous; and the canoe voyager on the
Nashwaak has no lack of pleasant company.
Several pieces of swift water have been passed, and at one point where
the river meets an island and has a steep descent and sharp bend of the
channel, the rushing fall of water carries us nearly into the shore; and
it takes both paddles to make any progress by “poling” or pushing on the
bottom of the river.
[Illustration: Under the Dam—Nashwaak River]
Going further, we look with apprehension on an apparently insurmountable
barrier in the form of an immense log, wedged solidly across stream
between the high banks, with a very narrow channel and, of course,
plenty of rushing water. The log does not touch the water, being held in
position about a foot, or less, above it. Holding to the huge barrier we
force the head of the canoe beneath it, and pressing down with united
weight we manage to get past by scrambling over the log and dropping
into the canoe as it passes clear.
[Illustration: On the Nashwaak River]
A very pretty stretch of water now marks the gradual approach to the
Marysville dam, and here occasional streaks of rapid water are found as
the channel contracts. At last we reach the foaming run, or rapid, just
below the fall, and a lively time ensues before the canoe is brought
right under the curtain of the waterfall. Turning now to descend, the
full current of the rapid is behind. Watching until we head right, and
planning to reach a quiet pool below, to rest awhile, our skilful guide
propels us boldly into the midst of the foaming current.
Hurrah! This is fine! We are where the current is swiftest, and where
waves curl and boil over with dashing foam. There! a sheet of white
spray! and we have tasted the Nashwaak. We take the water like a duck,
are whisked past the point at a tremendous speed, and then, with a
powerful stroke of the paddle, we make a quick and giddy turn—to find
ourselves in still water, taking a few moments of well-earned rest.
While the Nashwaak, in the main, may be termed a meadow stream, it has
many places in its upper waters where high and rugged banks, wild
woodland and steep fall make scenes of romantic beauty. It is not open
in the sense that a canoe may go all over its course without meeting
obstruction, as may be done on so many other rivers in the province. It
is one of those small streams that many prefer just for the fun of
making easy portages and crossing such barriers as those described, as
well as over occasional bars of sand or gravel in shoal places.
A journey of 20 to 25 miles may be taken up stream in this way. One in
each canoe is best for the upper waters. There are pleasant little
settlements all along the shore, and simple refreshment may be obtained,
as well as sleeping accommodation, if the canoeist desires to prolong
the trip and take time to see the inner country at his ease.
[Illustration: Calling the Ferry, St. John River]
_Fredericton and the Upper St. John River_
[Illustration]
No matter how Fredericton may be approached, from north, east, south or
west, by land or water, train, carriage, in steamboat or canoe, the
impression sure to be received, as the capital is neared, is that of
forest depths, great rivers and immense natural resources. A feeling of
admiration and awe, akin to that felt by our humble Indian brother as he
roamed the depths of these noble forests, casts a spell over the
thinking mind. “For,” says Bryant in his ‘Forest Hymn’:—
“His simple heart
Might not resist the sacred influences
Which, from the stilly twilight of the place,
And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible breath that swayed at once
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed
His spirit with the thought of boundless power
And inaccessible majesty.”
[Illustration: ST. JOHN RIVER, above Fredericton]
As is meet and proper, we do not plunge into the hurly-burly of modern
life in Fredericton, the capital city of the province. Instead, we reach
a peaceful, tree-embowered and altogether delightful forest city. Here
is refinement of life and civilization enough to meet all reasonable
demands, yet back of all there still reigns the too-quickly-vanishing
spirit of rest, the absence of haste, the old-time simplicity. How
delightful if all towns and cities were no larger than charming
Fredericton, with its modest 8000 inhabitants. No trusts! No cold
storage! No horrid skyscrapers! No cars! It sounds too good to be true.
And yet at Fredericton no cars are needed; and, as a result, all who
visit the homelike capital will know more of it than they possibly do of
their own city. Here it is a delight to walk and ramble; and, of course,
driving is a great joy with such woodland surroundings and fine river
scenery. An inhabitant of Fredericton once actually expressed a desire
to live in New York! Incredible! Impossible! you cry. And so say all of
well-balanced mind. But mortals do not always know when they are well
off; and a fit of temporary insanity sometimes gains a flitting lodgment
in the brightest mind.
[Illustration]
Few cities are better or as well situated as Fredericton. It stands on
the noble St. John, which here is nearly three quarters of a mile wide.
The five older streets and the two newer ones all run parallel with the
river. There are shady trees on pleasant streets wherever you go. In the
heart of the city you are still in the country. Nature everywhere is so
profuse and abundant that it almost shuts out the view of Cathedral
Church and Parliament Buildings, and enwraps fountain, statue and
river-bank-seat with its wealth of foliage; while in many a shady street
the tree branches knock at the house windows for admittance, and place
smiling clusters of bloom in the hands of those who throw open the
casement in response to the call.
Queen Street is the principal thoroughfare. At its west end is the
substantial building known as Government House, the official residence
of the Lieutenant-Governor of New Brunswick. Between Queen Street and
the river, in a central situation, are the large barracks that were
formerly the headquarters of the British army in this province. At the
lower end of the street is the handsome Parliament Building, where a
small but choice library may be consulted, and from the dome of which
building an extensive view may be enjoyed.
[Illustration]
Christ Church Cathedral, the recent fire damage to which has been
repaired, is patterned after that delightful type of old English church
seen in many a quaint parish of the distant motherland. It has a
graceful spire and pretty interior, with a beautiful stained glass
chancel window presented by the Episcopal Church in the United States.
The substantial building so firmly seated on the southern hills is the
University of New Brunswick, the higher education centre of the
province. Here there is a geological museum; and from the cupola of the
building a wide view may be had of the river and surrounding country.
The glory of Fredericton is the St. John River with its fine scenery and
numerous excursions up and down stream; nor must there be forgotten the
added pleasure of sailing over the tributary streams such as the
Nashwaak, the Nashwaaksis, the Keswick, the Oromocto, the Jemseg, etc.;
and of reaching Grand and Washademoak Lakes, and the numerous smaller
lakes that are all about.
There are excursions up the river to Woodstock and the numerous
riverside places on the way. It is even possible to go all the way to
Grand Falls by water. Then the St. John River steamboats go down the
river daily to St. John and the towns and villages along the banks of
the river.
Nearly opposite Fredericton at the mouth of the Nashwaak formerly stood
an old French fort erected by Villebon. Acadian refugees flocked to Ste.
Anne at the time of the “Expulsion,” and sought refuge under the
protection of the fort; but after the American Revolutionary War the
exiled American Loyalists drove away the Acadians to Madawaska, and
settled themselves along the shore in their place.