Notes and Quertes 
A Trip to St. Andrew’s, N. B. 
Where to go; the long hot summer of 1894 
was drawing to a close (I had spent ten days 
of June in the Quebec country catching trout 
galore, ‘“‘but that is another story”), and, 
weary with the heat of city streets, I was to 
take a trip my wife could share, and thought 
to get out somewhere into the wild woods; 
somewhere by quiet waters where the sun- 
shine and the dew visited their friends the 
wild flowers. A letter to the Ozflook brought 
rich returns, among the rest a pamphlet about 
St. Andrew's, N. B. Therein we read of a 
quaint old town by the sea, where one could 
fish on sea or shore, for cod or mackerel, trout 
or land-locked salmon; where there were 
‘‘lakes, streams, blue sky and sunny gleams,” 
walks, drives, boating of all sorts, and a land 
- of rest. 
That settled it, and one morning apout 
the middle of August we left Boston at 8 
o'clock by the limited express on the B. & M. 
R. R. for St. Andrew’s, N. B. (fare for round 
trip, St. A. and return, $14). It was just a little 
family trip for two. The run along the Massa- 
chusetts coast was pleasantly familiar, as we 
have been to Maine on many similar excur- 
sions before. The Maine country, like an old 
friend, greeted us in its woods and streams. 
It is a difficult country to describe, but a poet 
or angler feels constantly like stopping the 
train to wander about in the many picturesque 
nooks, to fish the many winding streams or to 
explore a little further the many charming 
scenes, that, now on this side, now on that, and 
then on both sides, keep one in constant mo- 
tion to see it all and after all only to hear, ‘‘ Oh, 
you ought to have seen that view; you missed 
it, and it was so lovely.” 
At Bangor, about 3 Pp. M., we had to 
change cars. The scenery grew wilder as we 
approached the state line, running much of the 
time through a wilderness. It was dark when 
we reached Vanceboro, and 100’clock at night, 
cold and rainy, when we reached St. Andrew’s, 
which is a dreamy sort of a place, but we found 
a good hotel in Kennedy's. |;The streets are 
perfect for bicycling, being phenomenally free 
from mud or dust, owing {to some peculiar 
quality of the soil, and we had many very de- 
lightful walks and drives. The wild flowers 
of the province are very beautiful, being larger 
and more thrifty than with us; why, I do not 
understand; lack of dust may have something 
i 
mn 
to do with it; but then again, chamomile, 
which with us looks like a weed, is there a very 
graceful plant, the leaves looking like sea- 
weed freshly washed and the flower heads like 
the larger marguerites. The silvery cinque- 
foil showed brightly forth along the wayside, 
while the golden rods and asters were in great 
variety and profusion. The fields about were 
covered with the bright yellow heads of the 
August flower, and along the damp ditches we 
found the white turtle heads, sometimes mis- 
called white gentians; the bright monkey 
flower and the dull St. Johns wort were there 
in plenty, nor must we forget the Joe Pye weed 
that dyed the swamps in purple hue. The 
town is builton a peninsula, with river and bay 
nearly surrounding it, and the hills rise gently, 
sloping back from the shores to the partially 
wooded and bare Chamcook mountains, that 
arch their mural fronts along the northern 
limits of the town. The tides send their waters 
deep inland and cover the bays, or ebb away 
and leave long stretches of coast bare below 
high water mark, the rise and fall being twenty 
to thirty feet. 
The Chamcook lakes are four to seven miles 
back from the town by rail, and are full of 
land-locked salmon from one to five pounds in 
weight. They are caught in quantities in May 
and June, but were not biting in August, yet 
one can take the train, or drive or ride bicycle 
to the lakes, and from their shores, or from 
boat, catch plenty of salmon with fly or bait; 
at least, such was the universal testimony. 
‘Trout are said to be very plentiful in the other 
lakes, of which there are a dozen within as 
many miles of town, but, contrary to my usual 
custom, I did not go fishing many times; when 
I did, I found the trout all right, of fair size 
and fine quality. The walks, drives and 
steamboat excursions; the wild flowers and 
the beautiful views from the hills out upon the 
grand highway of nations, are always full of 
interest. Excursions by boat up the river to 
Calais and St. Stephen, or to Eastport across 
the bay, or out to the Grand Menan, or again 
to St. John, all furnish variety of entertain- 
ment that it would be hard to equal. 
To old salts the trip from Boston by steamer 
is said to be fine, but I am willing to take their 
word for it, though I have no doubt they are 
right. The Algonquin, of St. Andrew’s, is a 
fine modern hotel, none better, and has a su- 
perb location, accommodates 400 guests; rates, 
$4 per day; $15 to $25 per week. There are 
