The manner in which I sailed through Timiscouta and Madawaska, was exceedingly pleasant, if not peculiar and ridiculous. My canoe was manned by a couple of barbarous Canadians; and while they occupied the extreme stern and bow, I was allowed the “largest liberty” in the body thereof. It was an exceedingly hot day when I passed through; and having stripped myself of nearly all my clothing, I rolled about at my own sweet will, not only for the purpose of keeping cool, but that I might do a good business in the way of killing time. At one moment I was dipping my feet and hands in the water, “humming a lightsome tune of yore,” and anon sketching the portrait of a mountain or a group of trees. Now I lay flat upon my back; and while I watched the fantastic movements of the clouds, as they crossed the blue of heaven, I attended to the comforts of the inner man, by sucking maple sugar. Now I called upon the boat-men to sing me a song: and while they complied with my request, I fixed myself in the poetical attitude of a Turk, and smoked a cigar. At one time we halted at a mountain spring, to obtain a refreshing drink; and at another, the men pulled up to some rocky point, that I might have the pleasure of throwing the fly. Thus “pleasantly the days of Thalaba went by.”
My voyage down the Madawaska was not without a characteristic incident. There was a fleet of canoes descending at the same time; some of them laden with women and babies, and some with furs, tin kettles, and the knapsacks of home-bound lumbermen. Two of the canoes were managed by a Canadian and a Scotchman, who seemed to cherish a deep-rooted passion for racing. They paddled a number of heats; and as they were alternately beaten, they both finally became angry, and began to bet extravagantly. The conclusion of the whole matter was, that they went ashore on a bushy point, among the mountains, and settled their difficulty by a “private fight.” They fought like brave men, “long and well;” and by the time one had a tooth knocked out of his head, and the other had nearly lost an eye, they separated, and quietly resumed their way. These were the only wild animals that I saw in the Madawaska wilderness.
At the junction of the rivers Madawaska and St. John, and extending for some miles down the latter, is a settlement of about three hundred Acadians. How these people came by the name they bear, I do not exactly understand; but of their history I remember the following particulars. In the year 1755, during the existence of the Colonial difficulties between England and France, there existed, in a remote section of Nova Scotia, about fifteen thousand Acadians. Aristocratic French blood flowed in their veins, and they were a peaceful and industrious race of husbandmen. Even after the Government of England had become established in Canada, they cherished a secret attachment for the laws of their native country. But this was only a feeling; and they continued in the peaceful cultivation of their lands. In process of time, however, three titled Englishmen, named Lawrence, Boscawen, and Mostyn, held a council, and formed the hard-hearted determination of driving this people from their homes, and scattering them to the four quarters of the globe. Playing the part of friends, this brotherhood of conquerors and heroes sent word to the Acadians, that they must all meet at a certain place on business which deeply concerned their welfare.