The River St. John.

Woodstock. July.

I have recently performed a pilgrimage along the valley of the Lower St. John, and as I am about to leave the river, it is meet that I should give my reader a record of my observations. The distance from the Falls of St. John to the city of that name, is two hundred and twenty miles. The width varies from a quarter of a mile to nearly two miles, and the depth from two to forty feet. That portion lying north of Frederickton, abounds in rapids and shallows, and is navigated only by flat-bottomed boats, which are taken up stream by horse power, but descend with the current. Here, for the most part, the shores are mountainous, and only partly cultivated, with high and picturesque banks; the lowest portion, however, is of a level character, and presents the appearance of an ancient and highly cultivated country, and is navigated by steam-boats, and the common sail craft of the country. The soil, all along the shores, is good, but seems better adapted for grass than wheat, and I can see no good reason for its not becoming greatly distinguished as a grazing country.

The river is not distinguished for any pictorial feature, (though it abounds in beautiful landscapes,) excepting a place called the Narrows, situated at the southern extremity. At this point, the stream is not more than five hundred yards wide, and as it is bounded on either side by a high, rocky barrier, the current ordinarily passes through with great rapidity. The tides of the ocean ascend about thirty miles, and it is only when the tide is high that the point in question can be navigated. Though these Narrows are a great annoyance to the navigator, by the lover of the picturesque they are highly esteemed. Not only are they beautiful in themselves, but, owing to the peculiarity of the place, it is frequently the case that the broad expanse of water above it, is covered with a fleet of sloops, schooners, steam-boats, tow-boats, and timber-crafts, which present a peculiar and agreeable panorama. The river abounds with salmon and shad, the former of which, though rather small, may be taken by the angler in the principal tributaries. They are not sufficiently abundant, however, to constitute an important article of commerce, and the common modes for taking them are with the spear, and the drift-net.

The principal towns on the St. John are, Woodstock, French Village, Frederickton, and St. John. The first of these is one hundred and fifty miles from the mouth, and though a ragged, yet an interesting village. So far as its natural productions are concerned, I am disposed to compliment this Province in the highest terms; but I must say that the ignorance, idleness, and gouging character of its common people, have made me quite willing to take my departure therefrom. The expenses of travelling are enormous, and so also are all the little incidentals which go to make a man comfortable.

The stage-route from the Grand Falls to St. John passes through Woodstock, but the distance from this place to the American town of Houlton, is ten miles, and in this direction there is also an established stage-route to Bangor.

The next place on the St. John, of any note, is French Village. It usually contains a thousand souls—most of them Indians. They live in frame and log-houses, and though they pretend to do some farming, they are chiefly engaged in hunting and fishing. They are a good-looking race, speak English fluently, and are the followers of a Catholic priest, who lives among them, and officiates in a small chapel, which was built by the Jesuits at an early day. This society is said to be one of the most wealthy in the Province. The chief of the village is one Louis Beir. He lives in a very comfortable, and well-furnished house, is rather a handsome man, dresses in a half-savage manner, and while he offers his visitor a comfortable chair, he invariably seats himself upon the floor in true Indian fashion.

Frederickton is at the head of steam-boat navigation, and distant from St. John eighty miles. Between these two places there runs a morning and evening boat, and the summer travel is very extensive. Frederickton contains about eight thousand inhabitants, composed principally, of Irish, Scotch, and English. It contains three principal streets, running north and south, and some half-dozen handsome public buildings, including an Episcopal church, after the Tuscan order, a Court House and a College. The town is situated on a level plain, and its suburbs are made exceedingly beautiful by the number of rural residences which attract the eye in every direction. The elm and poplar both seem to flourish here, and add much to the picturesqueness of the place and vicinity. The business of Frederickton is only of a second-rate character, and it has become what it is, merely from the fact that it has heretofore been the seat of Government. This fact has also had a tendency to collect a good society in the place, and its “ton,” though in a small way have been disposed to cut quite a dash. The “mother Parliament,” I believe, have recently removed the seat of government to St. John, and the lovers of Frederickton are sorry, and a little angry.

The city of St. John stands at the mouth of the river of that name, and is also laved by the waters of the Bay of Fundy. I hate cities, but suppose that I must stop a moment in the one alluded to. It is a business place, planted among rocks, contains some twenty thousand inhabitants, (two-thirds of whom are Irish,) and in its port, at the present time, is moored a fleet of two hundred ships. Its public buildings are numerous, the finest of which are the Court House, an Episcopal church, of the Doric order, another after the Gothic, and a Presbyterian church, after the Corinthian order. The city is defended by a fortress, which presents a handsome appearance as you approach the port. The merchants of the place are chiefly employed in the square-timber trade, and have heretofore done an extensive business. This trade, however, I am inclined to believe, is rapidly running out. On the opposite side of the St. John’s river is a picturesque point, or hill, which is called Carlton Hill. It is surmounted by a massive block-house, and commands an extensive prospect of the Bay of Fundy, the spring tides of which rise to the height of sixty feet, and when coming in make a terrible roar.