Aroostook Falls, on Aroostook River.
Among the most interesting objects to be met are the Ox-bow and Aroostook Falls. The former consists of a crook in the river, which "forms a curvature of one mile, while the neck of land included between the two portions of the curve is but twenty rods across, so that it is customary for the Indians to carry their canoes over this portage." The falls occur near its junction with the St. John's. "The water is very rapid, and rushes over ledges of slate and limestone rocks for three fourths of a mile." "Then the river precipitates itself over a steep and broken ledge fifteen feet into a wide basin below." In the rocks there are "pot-holes," "five feet in diameter and four feet deep," "worn in the limestone by the grinding motion of rounded stones moved by the impetuous current."
The reader will see in the cut a picturesque view of a section of this beautiful water-fall, with its high ledges, overhung with a heavy growth of cedar-trees. The country in the vicinity of the falls "becomes more elevated, and lofty precipices of limestone and calciferous slate rise on each bank of the river, while the country in the rear is broken, hilly, and covered with an abundant mixed growth of forest trees."
We next turn our attention to the "Mirimachi," one of the principal rivers of the province, "which falls into the Gulf of St. Lawrence in 47° 10′ north latitude, 64° 40′ west longitude, forming at its estuary a capacious bay, with several islands, and a ship channel for vessels of seven hundred tons burden, and navigable upward of thirty miles from the sea. Chatham, Douglass, and Newcastle are the principal towns, situated on the banks of the river, about twenty-five miles from its mouth. At these settlements upward of two hundred vessels annually load with timber for Great Britain, &c. Seven miles above Chatham the Mirimachi divides into two branches, one running southwest and the other northwest. The southwest branch of the river contains more water than the River Thames from London upward. The sea-coast of Mirimachi is low, but inland the country rises in some places, consisting of extensive and rich intervales, in others of a rugged, rocky territory."
This river is particularly prominent, in the history of New Brunswick, for the astonishing amount of ton timber which was formerly procured from the territory bordering it, and as the scene of a bloody and protracted riot on the part of the Irish population, chiefly emigrants, who rose en masse, and attempted to drive the Americans, who had flocked there in large numbers, from the country. Desperate encounters took place from time to time between small parties, but the Americans maintained their ground against fearful odds, and after the lapse of a few months quiet and order again prevailed. But in a more particular and impressive sense will the Mirimachi be remembered as the scene of one of the "most terrible natural conflagrations of which we have any record in the history of the world." The annexed account[ [25] will be found deeply interesting.
"The person who has never been out of Europe," and, we may add, out of our cities and older portions of country in the States, "can have little conception of the fury and rapidity with which fires rage after a continuation of hot seasons in North America and New Holland, when the dry underwood and fallen leaves, in addition to the resinous quality of the timber, afford combustible materials in the greatest abundance. I have seen the side of a mountain thirty miles long burning in New Holland, and illumining the sky for many miles; but the following description by an eye-witness (Mr. Coony), of the great Mirimachi fire, exceeds any thing of the kind that ever occurred."
"The summer of 1825 was unusually warm in both hemispheres, particularly in America, where its effects were fatally visible in the prevalence of epidemical disorders. During July and August, extensive fires raged in different parts of Nova Scotia, especially in the eastern division of the peninsula. The protracted drought of the summer, acting upon the aridity of the forests, had rendered them more than naturally combustible; and this, facilitating both the dispersion and the progress of the fires that appeared in the early part of the season, produced an unusual warmth. On the 6th of October, the fire was evidently approaching New Castle; at different intervals fitful blazes and flashes were observed to issue from different parts of the woods, particularly up the northwest, at the rear of New Castle, in the vicinity of Douglasstown and Moorfields, and along the banks of the Bartibog. Many persons heard the crackling of falling trees and shriveled branches, while a hoarse, rumbling noise, not dissimilar to the roaring of distant thunder, and divided by pauses, like the intermittent discharges of artillery, was distinct and audible. On the 7th of October the heat increased to such a degree, and became so very oppressive, that many complained of its enervating effects. About twelve o'clock, a pale, sickly mist, lightly tinged with purple, emerged from the forest and settled over it.
"This cloud soon retreated before a large dark one, which, occupying its place, wrapped the firmament in a pall of vapor. This encumbrance retaining its position till about three o'clock, the heat became tormentingly sultry. There was not a breath of air; the atmosphere was overloaded; and irresistible lassitude seized the people. A stupefying dullness seemed to pervade every place but the woods, which now trembled, and rustled, and shook with an incessant and thrilling noise of explosions, rapidly following each other, and mingling their reports with a discordant variety of loud and boisterous sounds. At this time the whole country appeared to be encircled by a fiery zone, which, gradually contracting its circle by the devastation it had made, seemed as if it would not converge into a point while any thing remained to be destroyed. A little after four o'clock, an immense pillar of smoke rose, in a vertical direction, at some distance northwest of New Castle for a while, and the sky was absolutely blackened by this huge cloud; but a light northerly breeze springing up, it gradually distended, and then dissipated into a variety of shapeless mists. About an hour after, or probably at half past five, innumerable large spires of smoke, issuing from different parts of the woods, and illuminated by flames that seemed to pierce them, mounted the sky. A heavy and suffocating canopy, extending to the utmost verge of observation, and appearing more terrific by the vivid flashes and blazes that darted irregularly through it, now hung over New Castle and Douglass in threatening suspension, while showers of flaming brands, calcined leaves, ashes, and cinders seemed to scream through the growling noise that prevailed in the woods. About nine o'clock (P.M.), or shortly after, a succession of loud and appalling roars thundered through the forests. Peal after peal, crash after crash, announced the sentence of destruction. Every succeeding shock created fresh alarm; every clap came loaded with its own destructive energy. With greedy rapidity did the flames advance to the devoted scene of their ministry; nothing could impede their progress. They removed every obstacle by the desolation they occasioned, and several hundred miles of prostrate forests and smitten woods marked their devastating way.
"The river, tortured into violence by the hurricane, foamed with rage, and flung its boiling spray upon the land. The thunder pealed along the vault of heaven—the lightning appeared to rend the firmament. For a moment all was still, and a deep and awful silence reigned over every thing. All nature appeared to be hushed, when suddenly a lengthened and sullen roar came booming through the forests, driving a thousand massive and devouring flames before it. Then New Castle and Douglasstown, and the whole northern side of the river, extending from Bartibog to the Naashwaak, a distance of more than one hundred miles in length, became enveloped in an immense sheet of flame, that spread over nearly six thousand square miles! That the stranger may form a faint idea of the desolation and misery which no pen can describe, he must picture to himself a large and rapid river, thickly settled for one hundred miles or more on both sides of it. He must also fancy four thriving towns, two on each side of this river, and then reflect that these towns and settlements were all composed of wooden houses, stores, stables, and barns; that these barns and stables were filled with crops, and that the arrival of the fall importations had stocked the warehouses and stores with spirits, powder, and a variety of combustible articles, as well as with the necessary supplies for the approaching winter. He must then remember that the cultivated or settled part of the river is but a long, narrow strip, about a quarter of a mile wide, lying between the river and almost interminable forests, stretching along the very edge of its precincts and all around it. Extending his conception, he will see the forests thickly expanding over more than six thousand square miles, and absolutely parched into tinder by the protracted heat of a long summer.
"Let him then animate the picture by scattering countless tribes of wild animals, and hundreds of domestic ones, and even thousands of men in the interior. Having done all this, he will have before him a feeble outline of the extent, features, and general circumstances of the country which, in the course of a few hours, was suddenly enveloped in fire. A more ghastly or a more revolting picture of human misery can not well be imagined.