WITH feelings consequent on separation from a companion whose sentiments so exactly tallied with my own, and whose society had made this part of my expedition so pleasant, I bade adieu to St. John's on the morning of the 10th of October. The weather was in melancholy harmony with my feelings; for when I entered the steamer the sky was bright and clear, with a fresh southeasterly breeze, and only a dark line like that of a bold and distant coast to be seen low down upon the horizon; this gradually increased to a bank of clouds, its upper extremities tinged with yellow by the morning sun, and then by degrees approaching us more rapidly, and in huge rolling

masses, it shortly enveloped us in a dense damp fog. The sun, however, gaining the ascendancy, gradually broke through thin portions of it with a dazzling light, and in forty or fifty minutes the whole was carried away to leeward by the heavy and increasing gale. I had never before witnessed this, the usual approach of the fog from the banks of Newfoundland.

After a run of sixty miles along an iron-bound coast, we arrived at Eastport, in Maine, one of the United States. The approach to it is pretty, the channel winding amongst numerous rocky islands within the British lines. There is

a house upon one of the last of these islands (if a small barren rock, 100 yards in length, deserves such a name) which was erected at a great expense by one of the revenue officers. Midway between it and the town is the boundary, an imaginary line running through the centre of the river St. Croix and part of Passamaquoddy Bay. The first object, which is supereminently apparent from the deck of a vessel, is the huge star-spangled banner, which, rivalling a ship's topsail in capaciousness, floats above the red roof and glaring white walls of the barracks, on a rocky hill overlooking the town. The town itself is quite an American one, containing 2000 inhabitants and four places of public worship. The streets as usual are regularly laid out as per compass and rule, and most of the private houses white as the driven snow. The landing-place is the most inconvenient that could have been devised; we arrived at low water, and the vessel's deck was consequently some twenty feet below the level of the quay; whoever wished to land was therefore under the necessity of clambering up a perpendicular, slippery, and wet ladder, with staves eighteen inches asunder: even one or two of those were missing, so that the scaling of it was utterly

impracticable for a lady, and a gentleman would find it no easy task. There were two parties, the ascending and descending, who wished to gain possession of it; a fat, choleric New Brunswicker, who had been terribly affected by the gale, volunteered to pioneer the way for the rest of us, and by dint of perseverance once arrived half way up the ladder, when he received such a thump on his head from the heavy heel of a porter, who was descending with a trunk, that he rejoined us by that rapid mode which sailors call "hand over hand," and then awaited patiently until the long stream of passengers and their baggage had reached the quarter-deck in safety.

As soon as I set foot again on the land of calashes,* politics, India-rubber shoes, and vile rocking-chairs, I entered a bookseller's shop, which made a far greater display than any I had seen in Montreal, Quebec, or Halifax, supplying not the immediate neighbourhood only, but a great part of New Brunswick with literature. The careless, tooth-pick manner, however, so characteristic of his countrymen, with which the young gentleman behind the counter, with a forage cap set carelessly on one side of his head, answered one or two of my questions, and then walked away to make his dog open the door for the amusement of some children, was quite sufficient to disgust any man who might entertain even more charitable opinions of the Americans than myself. He was doubtless aware that I had just landed from the British provinces, and so thought fit to treat me with what he considered a specimen of republican sang froid. I observed that there was a more bitter feeling existing between the two nations along the whole extent of frontier than in the

* Loose bonnets, of a light green or dark blue colour, worn by American females.

interior of the two countries, though nearly one-third of the inhabitants on each side of the boundary line made a livelihood by carrying on a smuggling trade with the other. If loyalty to England consists in hatred to America, I would then give the Canadians, and the borderers of New Brunswick, the full credit of being superabundantly supplied with that very excellent quality.

The town, which was taken by the British and kept in possession during the last war (the principal American trade during that period being carried on at Lubec, a few miles distant on the main land), is situated upon the southern end of Moose Island, four miles in length, and connected with the continent by a bridge at the northern extremity. The harbour is an extensive and safe one, extending many miles up Passamaquoddy Bay, and landlocked by the numerous islands. Some salt works have been established near the town, and conducted so as to evade much of the duty by importing the mineral from England, viâ St. John, and boiling it in the States, the duty upon the coarse mineral being comparatively small to that upon English salt. There is also a foundry for the melting of scrap or old iron, conducted upon somewhat similar principles.

Neither sailing-packet nor coach departing for the south-west during the ensuing twenty-four hours, I proceeded in the steamer to St. Andrews, a sea-port of considerable importance on a peninsula of New Brunswick, thirteen miles from Eastport. The scenery up the bay is fine and bold, the Shamcook Hill rising in rear of the town to the height of 1100 feet, the only paper-mill in the province being situated upon the small river which flows near it, and bears the same name. When we arrived within two miles of the town, the tide was half ebb, and, the

night being stormy and dark, the steamer ran its keel deep into the mud. After remaining there sufficiently long to exhaust all our stock of patience, we took to the boat, and, landing upon the beach near a light-house, sought our way, drenched with rain, and covered with mud, to the hotel. The light-house (lucus a non lucendo, again!) shows no light, the establishment necessary for trimming lamps, watching, &c., putting the third port in New Brunswick to the expense of 30l. per annum, which was deemed too extravagant a sum for the benefit of 300 inward and outward bound sail annually, was accordingly reduced, the light being removed to another situation, 300 yards from the point against which it is intended to warn mariners. The present beacon is merely a common lantern placed in a pigeon-box bow-window, protruding from the second story of a house, where its dim rays are exhibited at an annual contract of 157., though it can barely be distinguished from the light in any other window in the

town.

The steamer had reached her customary anchorage ground during the night, but was high and dry at the usual time for sailing, having drifted from her anchors by the heavy gale. The rain still continuing to pour down, I resolved to return by water to Eastport, in preference to taking the American coach from Robbinstown, opposite to St. Andrew's; and, having a few hours to spare, I walked through the town despite of the storm. It is one of the neatest in the provinces, contains from 1500 to 1800 inhabitants, and has a considerable trade with the West Indies. As the name would almost imply, the population is chiefly of Scottish descent, but the influential people of every class were absent at Fredericton, subponed as