1 NEW YORK, THURSDAY, MARCH 19, 1874. 
Terms, Five Dollars a Year. 
Ten Cents a Copy. 
For Forest and Stream. 
TIMES AND SEASONS. 
S PRING is green, 
Birds are seen 
Tales of love relating; 
After showers 
Bloom the flowers, 
Every bud dilating. 
Everywhere 
Birds must pair, 
Happy be their mating, 
Living, loving, 
All the world is loving! 
Summer glow 
Lieth low 
In the fields before us; 
Hear just there 
In the glare 
Katydids sonorous, 
Up on high 
Laughs the sky, 
At the earth’s dull chorus. 
Living, loving— 
All the world is loving! 
., Autumn sM 
We have had, 
All the leaves are yellow; 
One and all 
Let them fall 
Death’s a jolly fellow! 
Summer dead, 
I Earth is red, 
Every sunbeam mallow. 
Living, loving— 
All the world is loving! 
Winter’s here, 
j Bright and clear, 
Pleasantest of weather; 
See him stand 
Tall and grand, * 
With his icy feather. 
Young and old 
Peel the cold, 
Closely cling together; 
Living, loving— 
All the world is loving. 
Lotos Club. ,T. Brander Matthews. 
JP^ °tf the ejlt inttie . 
■- 4 - 
JfrOTES OF A CRUISE DOWN THE ST. LAWRENCE IN A CENTRE¬ 
BOARD GIG. 
I Chapter II. 
June 13.—Made an early start this morning, pulled out 
of the river, and found the wind fair but very light. Set 
! Jsail and ran before it, passsed Father Point, (the pilot sta¬ 
tion,) Great Metis and Little Metis, the villages now few 
( and far between. About half past four in the a-fternoon 
jwe reached Matane, fifty-six miles from Rimouski, where 
.another small river flows into the St. Lawrence. Entering 
?this river we sailed and rowed up it until we got opposite 
.the village where we landed. This was different from 
'those we had stopped at further up the river, and instead 
?°f being agricultural, its interests were connected with the 
•sea and woods. There is not much cleared ground round 
,Matane, stores for supply of sailors, lumbermen and fisher¬ 
men composed the chief part of the village. During the 
•summer months ships occasionally load here, and a vessel 
was then anchored outside the bar taking in cargo. 
June 14. A light land breeze filled our sails this mora¬ 
ls for about an hour, then it fell calm, and we rowed along 
'shore intending to make Cape Chat in the afternoon. When 
we were some distance from it, however, an easterly wind 
(sprang up. The wind was rising, and as we made little 
way beating to windward and had had enough rowing, we 
^.deckled to turn back to a^bay which we had passed, and 
[Which appeared tolerably sheltered. This was the bay 
!;Neichan, close under the mountains of St. Anne, “the 
l highest land in British North America,” according to our 
i Guide Book, the sailing directions. They rise to a height 
of 4,000 feet, with a gradual slope from the edge of the 
river, and appeared covered with pine forests. Had we 
had time we would have explored these hills, which would 
repay an expedition. The coast is wild and rugged here. 
There are few bays or harbors in which even a fishing boat 
would find shelter. Occasionally a few fishermen’s houses 
are seen, where a ravine furrows the side of the pine-cov¬ 
ered hills, and a mountain stream flows down into a little 
bay, but generally there are few signs of human habitation. 
Along this part of the coast, too, the bones of many a good 
ship are strewn, and during this day and the next we noticed 
several wrecks breaking up on the shore. 
June 15.—The calm continued, though we had the land 
breeze for a short time in the morning. We rowed past 
Cape Chat, on which there is a lighthouse, and into St. 
Anne’s bay, where there is a flourishing village, with 
church, fishing traders’ establishment and store. The St. 
Annes River is tolerably large; it is leased, like all the sal¬ 
mon rivers of any size on the south shore. We put in here, 
and I went up to a farmer’s house and got supplies. There 
is a little cultivated land around the village. Towards 
evening a light westerly wind sprang up, and we set sail 
and ran before it to a small bay called Bay St. John, about 
nine miles below St. Annes. There were a few fishermen’s 
houses here, and though the shelter was not good, we de¬ 
cided to put in, as the wind was falling, the day advanced, 
and we were uncertain whether we would find a better 
harbor further on. The Minnie was accordingly brought 
to an anchor, and a fisherman took us ashore in his boat, 
and hospitably offered us his house. I had climbed up a 
little hill behind the settlement to look about, and C. had 
gone to fish, when a youth came up breathless with haste 
and excitement to tell me the surf was rising from the 
northeast, to which quarter the little bay was open. I ac¬ 
cordingly ran down to the bay and found my friend the 
fisherman alarmed for the safety of my boat. “In another 
hour,” said he, “you won’t be able to see it on account of 
the sea.” There was a surf breaking on the beach, but 
nothing to speak of. I got him and another man to launch 
their boat and take me over, put some of our gear on board 
their boat to lighten the Minnie and rowed her in, beaching 
her v on the top of a roller. We had hauled her up above 
high water mark just as C. came up, wondering what all 
the fuss was about. The alarm was certainly needless, as 
the wind and sea did not rise, and we might have left our 
boat at anchor all night in perfect safety. We put up in 
the fisherman’s “house,” which consisted of one room, in 
which we all slept—our host and his wfife in a bed in the 
corner, the family, consisting of four or five children, on 
the floor, and 0. and myself also on the floor, as close to 
the door as we could get. We hinted at leaving this open, 
but to this our host objected mildty but firmly. This would 
have been too great a change in his domestic arrangements 
for a couple of strangers. Here we heard the first of a long 
series of complaints by the fishermen of the way the mer¬ 
chants and traders treated them. “They take the fish we 
catch and pay us for them in supplies from their stores at 
exorbitant rates; we are constantly in their debt, and al¬ 
ways poor. Ils mus mangent , Messieurs this was the con¬ 
stant burden of the fishermen’s talk at the villages we 
stopped at on the lower St. Lawrence, and they certainly 
did not appear to be too well off. One of them remarked 
that the cost of our boat and outfit would be sufficient to 
buy up the whole settlement of Anse St. Jean. 
June 16.—This morning being fine and calm, the whole 
settlement, was up at the break of day and out in their boats 
fishing, hauling up cod as fast as they could bait and drop 
their lines overboard. We launched the Minnie and started 
under oars, went alongside and on board our friend’s boat, 
and caught a few cod, then continued our course.. We had 
not rowed far before a light westerly wind sprang up, 
which continued during the day, and blew off and on to the 
shore in flaws. The coast presented the same character as 
that we passed yesterday. We noticed three or four deep 
bays, the most westerly of which, Mont Louis bay, is a good 
harbor for coasting vessels. In the afternoon the wind in¬ 
creased to a stiff breeze, and blew down the ravines and 
cliffs in squalls; one of these struck the Minnie with such 
force as nearly to send her under, and we had to shorten 
sail by taking out the sprit. About four o’clock we passed 
the Magdalen lighthouse and river, and were going on 
when the wind suddenly fell and chopped around. We 
then decided to put into the Magdalen river, and rowed up 
this stream till we came to a boom stretched across it. A 
good deal of “lumbering” is apparently done here, as we 
saw numbers of logs floated down to be sawed up and 
shipped off. We anchored near the mouth and slept on 
board. 
June 17.—We had a fair wind to-day with a vengeance; 
started about four o’clock; it was now blowing a stiff north 
westerly breeze, and under mainsail alone we ran before it, 
passing fishing stations, boats at anchor, at a tremendous 
pace. As the morning advanced, instead of calming, as I 
expected it would, the wind increased, and at eight o’clock 
it came down in squalls in such force as to oblige us to 
take out the sprit and run under what the Canadian boat¬ 
men call our “pointer.” Even with this small amount of 
canvas the Minnie rushed through the water at a great 
rate. In going around some of the headlands there was a 
very nasty sea, the big waves coming up after us would 
take the little boat on their crests and hurl it forward like 
a chip amidst their seething foam. The fishing boats had 
now run in for shelter, and at the fishing stations or vil¬ 
lages we saw the people coming to their doors to watch our 
progress* We shipped scarcely any water, the lightness 
and buoyancy of the little craft being our safety When 
the tide turned, about nine o’clock, the sea went down a 
little, but we determined to put in at the first well sheltered 
bay or harbor we came across, as it would have been run¬ 
ning too great a risk to have attempted going round Cape 
Gaspe in such weather. We stood in as close to the shore 
as I dared go, and after trying one or two bays without suc¬ 
cess, and nearly bringing the Minnie broadside on to a sea 
in ^standing out again, we came upon a very well sheltered 
little harbor, rounded to inside a reef at the mouth of the 
bay, and C. took down the sail. Then we rowed up to a 
fishing stage and made fast to it. A party of fishermen 
had collected on our arrival and examined the little boat 
curiously and admired her. From them I learned that the 
place was Fox river, as we had not been able to follow 
the coast on the chart. It was ten o’cloek when we arriv¬ 
ed, and from measurement on the chart and from w T hat the 
fishermen told us, we concluded that, following the coast 
line, we must have run nearly fifty miles in six hours, not 
bad going for a boat only sixteen feet long, though we had 
a strong current with us for the latter part of the run. The 
inhabitants of Fox river we found most hospitable in offer¬ 
ing us a lodging. We selected an old fisherman’s house 
close to the landing stage, and were well treated. Great 
Fox river is a fine little harbor for small craft, well shel¬ 
tered from all quarters. At its east corner the river from 
which it takes its name flows into the bay. We tried this 
for fish and found it a failure. It continued to blow hard 
during the remainder of the day, and at night came down 
with such force as to make the wooden house of our host 
shake again, and cause'me alarm for the safety of the Min¬ 
nie. I was glad to see her next morning riding calmly at 
her mooring between the long lines of fishipg boats. 
June 18.—The summer gale continued during the morn¬ 
ing but abated in the afternoon. We put off starting till 
next morning, however, as we wished to make one day of 
it to Gaspe. We took a walk along the road towards Gas¬ 
pe, and admired the quiet beauty of the scenery from a 
point a little beyond Fox river; the village, the bay, the 
fishing boats, some at anchor in the bay, others with their 
white sails set, standing out to, or coming in from, their 
fishing grounds. A fine odor of cod pervaded the village, 
and we examined the mode of catching and preparing this 
noble fish. 
The boats employed for fishing along the south coast of 
the St. Lawrence are called^by the French Canadians 
“barges;” their usual size is about 23 feet in length by 6 
feet 6 inches in width. They are open boats, good, whole¬ 
some craft, yawl shaped, full in the bows, and lean towards 
the stern, something like the fish they are employed to 
catch; they have a great deal of sheer, and are admirable 
