MADAWASKA. Written for the "Boston Transcript" by Edward Jack, C. E., Fredericton. At a distance of more than two hundred miles from its mouth, the St. John, even then a large river, in a whirlwind of foam and spray, dashes madly over sharp, nearly vertical ledges of slate, waking at one fall a perpendicular descent of seventy feet, into a narrow, yawning chasm, whose rugged and sombre walls are overhung with dark green pines. For a distance of half a mile below, the river, white with foam, rolls, tosses and surges in such a violent manner that neither boat, batteau nor canoe could for one moment live on its troublous bosom, even were it guided by the strongest arm and most experienced head that ever steered among stormy waters. The highway leading from Fredericton, the Capital of New Brunswick, to the Province of Quebec, crosses the St John by a suspension bridge, which is situated a short distance below the falls. For more than thirty miles above this point the river glides along with smooth and unruffled current, its banks lined by the houses of the descendants of those Acadians who were so rudely driven from their quiet homes by the sea, and compelled to take up their residence among the far-off forests of the upper St. John. The story of THE ACADIANS SORROWS AND SUFFERINGS has often been told, but never better than in their own words, as contained in a statement of their situation on the Miramichi River, in the year 1756, where 3500 had fled for refuge. It is addressed to the Marquis de Vaudreuil. A portion of it is as follow:- "The inhabitants of all Acadia, represented by their deputies, have the honor of placing before you both their sad state as well as that into which they are ready to fall should you not extend to them a succoring hand. Can you not, monseigneur, be moved at their lot? Scattered here and there, persecuted by the English, deprived of every asylum, it seems as if nature itself regarded them as but the object of public vengeance. Remark, they beseech you, that their attachment to France alone is the cause of their misery. Educated by their fathers in sentiments of uniform attachment to their king, can they, without being unfaithful to their religion and themselves, give their adherence to that which is required of them? The inhabitants of Minas, those of Beaubassin, as well as those of the rivers, are either wandering in the woods or prisoners among the English. Seldom can a whole family be found assembled together. And there only remains to those thus situated the desire of vengeance. Their petition, after enumerating their other troubles, craves of the Marquis arms, of which they had been deprived by the English, and some provisions, such as peas and beans. They ask for but little flour and meat, as the wants of these can be replaced by the products of the sea and of the chase. THREE MILES AROVE THE GRAND FALLS the St. John river becomes the dividing line between New Brunswick and the State of Maine. There are probably in this part of Maine and New Brunswick, 15,000 French, many of them descendants of that forlorn band. Everything in this country is strange, simple and pleasing. One is gratified by the invariable politeness of the people, so characteristic of their polished race. Even the little school boys touch their rude straw hats as they pass you on their way to and from school, and bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked little girls acknowledge your presence by a modest courtesy. There are probably more than a hundred school houses in distant Madawaska, on both sides of the St. John, and within a few years a simple education is within the reach of all, though instruction is given in a rude dialect or in a strange and almost unknown tongue. The Acadians are good linguists, and it is astonishing with what facility they acquire the English language. The women are more afraid to speak English than the men; if any mistakes be made they are laughed at, a thing never done by them. Some of their mistakes are very amusing The young woman at the hotel at Edmundston, the shire-town of Madawaska, would persist in calling a mouse-trap a trap-mouse; and yet in a few mouths she could speak English very well. Some of the children will read their English books at school perfectly well, and yet not know the meaning of a word. THE ACADIANS ARE A MUSIC LOVING PEOPLE; their favorite instrument is the violin, and with it, in the long, cold winter nights, in their distant camps among the lumber woods, many an hour is whiled away. But if one wants to see an Acadian m his glory, let him attend one of their weddings; to these the fiddlers flock, and one constant round of music and dancing is kept up sometimes for a day or two. They are also fond of songs, and delight in the singing of ballads, of which they have many, some of them evidently brought from the fair land of France by their ancestors. One can sometimes hear some of the old people repeat "The Song of Biron," in which the former friend of Henry the Fourth, Marshal Biron, is made to say, "If I had my good sabre, I would not sleep in the Bastile this night." One often, too, hears them sing of the nightingale, and occasionally the renowned name of Marlborough, though in an altered form, is mentioned in some of their songs. The Madawaska peasant is hardy and contented, and will live without repining on the most humble fare. They are a peaceful and peace-loving people, strongly attached to their homes. While France was a spectator of the fearful days of the first revolution and followed the victorious steps of the great Napoleon through the bloody fields of prostrate Europe, the descendants of the Norman peasants who people this valley for more than one hundred years have kept the even tenor of their way. Only once did they hear the sound of war, when the drums and fifes of the ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTH NEW BRUNSWICK REGIMENT cheered the soldiers on their way as they went through Madawaska to take part in the battles at Lundy’s Lane and Fort Erie. A captain of that ill-fated regiment describing their midwinter march to Canada, says : "On the 2nd March, 1813, we arrived at the head of the Madawaska settlement, which is entirely separated from the busy world. A few hundred Frenchmen are here settled in peaceful retirement. Their kind and worthy pastor assured me that crimes were quite unknown in this peaceful spot; he was their confessor, their adviser and their judge, and if a difference ever did exist among them it was speedily referred to him and his decision was final. Their habits and manners were simple and kind—altogether French. From the worthy cure's description and the lively and contented air of the people, I should take this to be the only Arcadia now existing in the world. I am not aware that these good people considered us as great intruders, but they certainly did not give us much time to corrupt them, as they mounted the whole of us, officers and men, in sleighs, and drove us through their settlement, twenty-one miles, in a day." Since these days the population of Madawaska in Maine and New Brunswick, has rapidly increased, and the valley is full of the habitations of man, and many a church spire is seen rising from the surrounding trees. In the calm summer's evening, when everything is fresh and fair, this valley, as seen from the adjacent hills, presents a prospect of rare beauty. As day declines, the last rays of the sun gilding the summits of the hills, linger for a moment as if unwilling that night should so soon conceal the beauties of nature from view. At this moment THE CHIMES OF THE ANGELUS break in melody on the ear; St. Basil answering St David, while scarcely perceptible in the far off distance is heard the toll of Mount Carmel’s bell. The habitans appear to be very devout in the exercise of their indeed they have so many saints' days to observe as seriously to interfere with their outdoor pursuits. They have a singular fancy for Anglicizing their names. At the Grand Napoleon Bois figures on a sign as Napoleon Woods LeBlanc becomes White, St Pierre St Peter, and Fabien becomes Do-Well. Whilst listening to the names of the Madawaska peasantry, one hears those of the days of Froissart and DeMonstrelet, and we are even carried back to the days of the Crusaders hearing the name of Thibaut, and are reminded of Thibaut, Count of Champagne and Brie whom that famous soldier, historian and crusader, Geoffrey de Villehardouin, in the twelfth century called master. Here, too, one finds a strange mixture of heathen and Christian words. Ovide, Damien, Narcisse and Cyril in the shape of small boys, play brisque in the evening on the top of the old chest which stands in the corner of the one large room, often the parlor and kitchen of a habitan's house, or chase the painted butterflies as they flit among the wild flowers which border the roadsides. STRANGE OLD FRENCH SUPERSTITIONS still cling firmly to many of the people. The Lutin, as he did hundreds of years ago in France, still troubles the horses with his nightly visits, tangles their manes, and mercilessly drives them through valleys and over mountains until when they return to their stables, they are found by their owners exhausted and panting from the effects of the spirit’s pranks. A sovereign remedy against the evil effects of the Lutin upon a mare who is nursing her foal consists in tying a hazel bush around the mother's neck. The habitans are good woodsmen and hunters, patient, cheerful, contented, and will gather round the campfire in the evening after the day's labors are done, to hear some story or song, such, perhaps, as the death song of the Cdieux the old voyageur, who sleeps close to Portage du Fort on the Ottawa, beginning- "Petit rocher de la haute montagne Je viens finir ici cette campagne!" The rivers of Madawaska abound with trout, whitefish and tuladi or toque. Green River and the Madawaska and its tributaries are especially prolific in fish, and present rare attractions to the sportsman and forest-loving tourist; one can reach their mouths directly by the New Brunswick Railway, which has its terminus at Edmundston, thirty-six miles above the Grand Falls. On these rivers and their lakes one may cast his flies, where for mile after mile no flies, save natural ones, ever touched the surface. Here, AMONG LAKER AND FOREST-EMBOSOMED STREAMS, the patient angler may linger for weeks, nay months; if he fear not the black flies and mosquitoes, and every day when the weather is fine is absolutely sure of plenty of game, since the rivers of Madawaska are hardly known to the sportsmen. Summer life in Madawaska is charming and it is also cheap; all that you require to bring with you is your close tent to keep out flies at night, a couple of blankets and cooking materials; and the N. B. R. R. will land you either at the hotel at the Grand Falls, or at Edmundston, 36 miles higher up the St. John, or drop you at some grassy spot at the mouth of some of the Madawaska rivers, when you can at once pitch your tent, and where you can secure the services of a canoe man at from $1 to $1.50 per day for himself and his canoe. If you can speak a few words of French so much the better: taken at once into the chasseur's confidence and looked upon as a brother: and should he take you a hundred miles in his canoe, if he ever fails once in his natural politeness it will be an almost unheard of circumstance in Madawaska; and in almost every case you may put implicit confidence in his honesty and integrity. Should you have any doubts of your man, you can, before starting consult monsieur le cure, who knows the characters of all his people.