[Entered According to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by the Forest and Stream Publishing Company, to the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
NEW YORK, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1879. 
INTIMATIONS. 
BY BIOHAtlD REAJjF. 
A LL around us lies the awful sacredness 
Of babes and cradles, graves and hoary hairs. 
Of youthful laughters and of manly cares, 
Of moaning sighs and passionate caresses. 
Of infinite ascensions of the soul, 
And gnawing hungers of the heavy flesh, 
Of cottage virtues, and the solemn roll 
Of populous cities’ thunder, and the fresh 
Warm faith of childhood, sweet as mignonette 
Among Doubt’s bitter herbage, and the dear 
Ee-glirapses of the earlier stars that set 
Down the blue skies of our lost woudersphere,! 
And all the consecrations and delights 
Woven in the texture of the days and nights. 
The dally miracle of life goes on 
Within our chambers, at our household hearths, 
In sober duties and in jocund mirths. 
In all the unquiet hopes and fears that run 
Out of our hearts along the edges of 
The terrible abysses; in the calms 
Of friendship, in the eostaeies of love. 
In burial dirges and in marriage psalms; 
In all the fair, weird voices that we hear. 
In all the mystic visions we behold, 
In our soul's summers when the days are clear, 
And in our winters when the nights are cold. 
And in the subtle secrets of our breath, 
And that Annunciation men call Death. 
0, Earth, thou hast not any wind that blows 
Which is not music; every weed of thine, 
Pressed rightly, flows in aromatic wine; 
And every humble hedgerow flower that grows, 
And every little brown bird that doth sing. 
Hath something greater than Itself, and hears 
A living Word to eveiy living thing, 
Albeit It holds the Message unawares. 
All shapes and sounds have something which is not 
Of them; a spirit walks amid the grass, 
Vague outlines of the Everlasting Thought 
Molt in the mellow shadows as they pass, 
The touch of an Eternal Presence thrills 
The tranquil sunset and the brooding hills, 
Forever, through the world's material forms 
God shoots his immaterial. Night and day 
Apocalyptic intimations stray 
Down the dark lanes of matter; viewless arms 
Lean lovingly toward us from the air, 
There Is a breathing marvel In the sea. 
The Bapphive foreheads of tho mountains wear 
A light within light which ensymbols tho 
Unutterable Beauty and Perfection 
That, with Immeasurable striving, strives 
Through bodied forms and sensuous indirection, 
To hint unto our dull and hardened lives 
Poor lives thaL cannot see nor hear aright. 
His bodiless glories which are out of sight. 
Jfe th* §obiqm. 
t —♦— 
BY EDWARD JACK. 
T HE Tobique and Aroostook are two of the largest 
tributaries of the St. John, the principal river of the 
Province of New Brunswiok, the former emptying into 
it some two or three miles below the latter. The same 
fertile belt which follows the Aroostook crosses the St. 
John and comprises the north side of the Tobique to its 
source, including in its course long, gently swelling 
ridges, admirably adapted to the uses of the farmer. But 
while in the State of Maine this fertile belt is settled by 
a prosperous people possessing neat little towns \yith 
good churches and hotels, on the English side 
of the St. John one can travel, commencing hut 
a few miles from the mouth of the Tobique, keep¬ 
ing a northeastwardly course for a distance of more 
than sixty miles through as fine a country as can be met 
with in either Maine or New Brunswick, but no settlers 
will be encountered and no clearings reached. All is for¬ 
est. The BOft breath of summer there waves no golden 
grain; no sound of human voice is heard. As day de¬ 
clines and the shadows of evening are drawing on, you 
may perhaps hear the lonely owl calling to his mate from 
the thick cedars which embower some neighboring brook, 
or the wind sighing among the bougliB of the lofty maples 
and birches with which the splendid ridges are covered. 
What master spirit will arise and bid these forests give 
place to smiling fields ? 
The Tobique takes its rise among the granite ridges which 
divide its waters from those of the Bestigouche, Nepisiguit 
and Miramichi, which empty into the Bay of Chaleur. 
On the north side of the mouth of the Tobique, and on 
a large and fertile flat, stands a village of Melicite Indians, 
numbering probably a hundred souls, of all shades of 
color, and who reside in queer, old-fashioned houses, with 
stove-pipes sticking out of roof or window. Some of these 
huts have a little paint on them, the color frequently green 
or other equally inappropriate, according to the taste of 
the occupant. Everything about them denotes a total 
absence of system and order. In the middle of their vil¬ 
lage stands their little church, which has lately boen re¬ 
paired, with a fantastic cross covered with rudely carved 
devices, including spear, hammer, crown of thorns, and 
snake, which we presumed represented the old serpent 
who tempted Mother Eve. This cross was erected by a 
stranger many years ago; his name and memory are cov¬ 
ered with oblivion, and the cross alone is left to speak for 
itself. Among the descendants of the aborigines living 
here are found not only very expert canoe men, but hon¬ 
est fellows, whose manners are easy and graceful and 
who refuse not only strong drink, but in some cases even 
tobacco. 
Crossing the St. John River to this village, myself and 
companion engaged two young Indians—Ambrose Lock- 
wood and Peter Solis—to carry us in their bircli-bark 
canoes to Nictaux Lake, some eighty or ninety miles up 
the Tobique. We left the village early in a bright July 
morning; the air was cooLand temperate, and the breeze 
perfumed with the breath of the white clover and wild 
flowers of various kinds which fringed the shores of the 
stream. 
A distance of about half a mile brought us to a point 
where the river is suddenly contracted to a very deep, 
strong stream running through a narrow cleft in the 
rocks 110 or 120 feet wide, and upwards of sixty or sev¬ 
enty high, rent or worn through strangely contorted ver¬ 
tical slates traversed here and there by veins of white 
spar. 
As we passed along in our frail canoes on either side 
was heard the sharp, cutting noise of the deep, strong 
water as it pressed against the rocky walls of its prison, 
creating here and there whirlpools which our Indians 
skilfully and carefully shunned. Tile canoes were of 
course impelled against the heavy current by means of 
poles, which the Indians placed on the top of submerged 
rocks wherever bottom could be found, which was not 
always the case. When the water is high canoes dare 
not attempt the passage of the Narrows. Immediately 
on emerging from them one sees sloping ridges covered 
by woods, here and there interspersed with clearings and 
houses. Here the Tobique widens out to a large river, 
having an average depth at this time of about three feet 
and running with rapid current over a bright, gravelly 
bottom. Its waters are bright and pure and moderately 
cool,being extremely palatable even in the hottest weather, 
as it is largely fed by springs which issue from ridges on 
which are found no heaths or bogs to darken or defile its 
current. Our progress up this part of the river was ex¬ 
tremely slow, owing to the strength of the current, and 
we were compelled to camp at the Red rapids, thus named 
from the fact that the river here rushes over a series of 
ledges of bright red sandstone of the sub-carboniferous 
period, forming a pleasing contrast to the dark-green foli¬ 
age, which clambered over the bank hanging in festoons 
from the cliffs and waving listlessly to and fro as urged 
by the intermittent evening breeze, the wiiite trunks of 
the birches which surmounted the shores standing out 
like marble pillars in front of the green shrubs which 
grew behind them. The river rushing in sheets of foam 
over the ledges constituted the lower pitch of the rapids. 
Many years ago an American company built a dam at 
this place and erected large saw mills. 
At this time there was much pine timber got on the 
Tobique, and the dam proving an obstruction to the lum¬ 
bermen in getting then- boats loaded with supplies for the 
winter up the river, a large party of them meeting here 
at one time held a consultation, and appointing a bold 
and unscrupulous man as their leader, attacked the struc¬ 
ture with their axes and band spikes, and soon made a 
hole in it large enough to allow their flat boats to be 
hauled through. 
The Indians, who were remarkably active, soon pitched 
the tent, spread the fir boughs, aud prepared our homely 
meal. After the shadows of evening had. Closed around 
us, the full moon, slowly rising, tipped with silvery 
light the summits of the distant hills, soon, however, re¬ 
vealing herself to our sight, her rays dancing and 
quivering on the unresting waters which rippled and 
dashed along on their uneasy course to the distant ocean. 
After we had finished our supper, aud all the flies with 
the exception of an occasional mosqueto had retired to 
rest, we made some enquiries of our Indians as to their 
knowledge of legendary lore, and after a while, Peter 
gratified our cunojity -with the.following legend, which I 
here carefully narrate in his own words, as nearly as 
possible, as his English was not of the best; 
AN INDIAN LEGEND. 
Many, many years ago, Quabeet, the beaver, was very 
large, but his tail was so small in comparison with the rest 
of his body, being nevertheless similar to that now carried 
by Ke-whis, tho muskrat, which at that time was large, 
broad and flat, that he was moved with envy. 
* 1 Quabeet witlimany flattering words addressed himself 
to the latter, calling him cousin and other endearing names, 
at the same time giving him part of his house to live in. 
At length silly Ke-whis was persuaded with many false 
promises of return to lend him his tail. Quabeet obtaining 
his desire from that time, even until now has persistenly 
refused to return the loan. 
"After this, Quabeet becoming very saucy and bold, 
built a dam across the St. John just above where the city 
now stands, and where the falls are, which dam flowed 
the river back to the mouth of the Tobique. His disposition 
becoming worse and worse every day, became at length 
so bad that he destroyed all the Indians who came in his 
way. At last, Glooscap, the great chief, who was of su¬ 
perhuman strength and courage, determined to destroy the 
monster, and coming down the river tore up his dam and 
pelted him off with hugh rocks, some of which he threw to 
within a few miles distance from the mouth of tho Tobique. 
These are yet to be seen, and are well known to those who 
travel the upper part of the river. Quabeet not a whit dis¬ 
concerted at the treatment which he had received, built 
another dam at the Grand Falls, which forced the water 
back into Temiscouata Lake.” My Indian narrator here 
asked me if I had ever seen that high hill just like a beaver 
house on the side of the lake, This he said was Quabeet’s 
house, but Glooscap following up bis first victory pursued 
him to his haunt and soon killed him. All the Melicite 
Indians with whom I have talked knew this story. These, 
like all other uneducated people are very superstitous. 
When ascending the Tobique some years ago in company 
with Ambrose Bear, he stopped our eanoe at a low, flat 
point to show me what the old Indians thought 
that their bodies were transformed into after death. 
These objects were nothing but clay concretions, which, as 
is well known by geologists, oftenassume strange fantastic 
figures, such as that of the foot or even face of a man. 
We were awoke bright and early by our Indians, who 
were excellent cooks, and soon had ready our break¬ 
fast. Packing up our things in the canoes, we were soon 
under way. Sixteen miles f rom the mouth of the Tobique 
we passed through a pretty little group of houses called 
Arthurette. The flats here were extremely fertile and 
extended back on one side a mile from the river. Oppo¬ 
site this place, is the mouth of the Odell stream. Some 
seven or eight miles higher up we came to the mouth of 
the Wapskehegan, where one of the old Indians informed 
me that the aborigines get their arrow-heads which they 
manufactured from the jasper found at the head ol' the 
stream. Wapskehegan is large, and navigable many' 
miles at the proper season of the year for bush canoes. 
At its mouth is a flue island covered by splendid elms, 
and the plaster rock in the distance rises abruprjv from 
the bank of Tobique to a perpendicular heightot' l!>0 feet. 
Tins is a great mass of red and white gypsum, tlirough 
which in the course of ages the river lias worn itself a 
bed. There is here, also, an island covem l by large elms 
and maples, called plaster rock island. Under the plaster 
rock there was once a famous salmon pool, but salmon are 
becoming scarce in Tobique., Keeping steadily on our 
way through a country similar in appearance—meadow,, 
with here and there a house with high hard wood . ..iges 
risu^ behind them—we came to the mouth of thef; nlquiur. 
a large branch of the main river disfcwjt.i ld iv-six miles 
from its mouth ; there woexpected to cat', h unne trout08 
well as white fish, which the Indians. -pcs > eight. The 
latter fish does not descend the river us "How this. 
We were fortunate in getting argood m ,i trout but 
could not get birch bark very conv' . with which to 
make flambeaux for spearing, so v, ■ ..tamed no white 
flail although we saw a good many- Early the next day 
we arrived at the Blue Mountains, a range of highlands on 
the south' side of the Tobique, which here rise abruptly 
from the river to tile height of 1,641 feet. The view from 
the summit, especially just before sunset, was remarka¬ 
bly pretty ; to the north, south and east, nothing but an 
unbroken forest was to be seen, above which, especially 
to the northeast, various mountains raised their heads. A 
number of years ago when I first ascended Tobique, the 
country from the Blue Mountains to the head of the 
river was nearly in a state of nature ; these mountains 
were wooded to their summits and every island and shore 
shaded by a luxuriant vegetation. Now the scene was 
changed; fire had ascended the highest peaks of the 
Blue Mountains, and settlers have destroyed the fragrant 
Balm of Gilead trees which had lent so cooling a shade 
to the bright waters of the gently rustling river and where 
the finny tribe loved to repose during the noontide heat. 
The beauty of this part of Tobique had nearly departed 
and was only preserved by the magnificent wooded hills 
which adorn the north side of the river, 
I longed to be above Nictaux, or the main forlfa 
