The Mschoodiac, more generally known as the St. Croix, constitutes the first link in the boundary between Maine and the province of New Brunswick.
The name by which this river is more generally known is St. Croix, which is probably of French origin. The original and Indian name is Mschoodiac. An intelligent Indian, belonging to the Penobscot tribe, to whom I am indebted for the signification of the original names which our rivers bear, informed me that the signification of Mschoodiac was, "Burned land river," "Open space," or "Wide prospect river," thus deriving its name from some peculiarity in the country along its borders.
Probably, at some period anterior to the white man's knowledge of our Western World, a section of forest adjacent to some part of the river was destroyed by fire, originating perhaps in the torch of some invading tribe as they laid waste the wigwams of their discomfited enemies, or from the embers of the little fire kindled by the hungry hunter to cook his hurried meal. In process of time, the principal part of a forest, withered and destroyed by such a devastating scourge, would fall to the ground, opening wide prospects where densely-compacted forest trees once completely circumscribed the view. But the river may have derived its name from a circumstance of still earlier date, viz., the existence of immense fields of meadow land, which abound more or less in the whole region lying about the St. Croix, often affording the voyager an unobstructed view for miles up and down the stream. In former years vast quantities of this wild grass were cut by lumbermen for the subsistence of oxen and horses during their winter operations.
The St. Croix has two branches, the east and west; the latter, at its source, is contiguous to the head waters of the Machias River in the west, while the former, being of more importance and greater magnitude, stretches far to the north to the lakes, whence is its source. Of these bodies of water mention may be made of Grand Lake in particular, which is about twenty-five miles long by eight wide at its greatest extent, romantically diversified in the northern part with beautiful islands, deep coves, and far-reaching points of land, covered with dense and rather undersized trees. The shores, east and west, are composed for the most part of immense granite rocks, rising very abruptly on the southwest to a considerable elevation, covered with a heavy growth of majestic Pine, Hemlock, and Spruce-trees.
Beautiful white sand beaches, which run outward with a very gradual descent for many rods into the lake, afford a most luxurious bathing-ground, where probably the young savages of former generations gamboled and indulged in aquatic sports.
Not many years since, an unbroken forest stretched abroad over a vast area of country, of which this lake formed a central point. The pervading silence, which rested like night over this vast wilderness, was only broken by the voice of the savage, and the discordant howlings of wild beasts. But within a few years the ax of the pioneer has leveled large tracts of forest, and thus opened the virgin soil to the sun's germinating rays, so that now may be seen skirting the shores of the lake, north and northwest, cultivated fields, relieving the solitude which once reigned there. The gray-haired red man of past generations knew this lake by the name Madongamook, which signified "Great grandsires," and owes its origin to the following circumstance: From time immemorial it is said that some of the aborigines made the immediate vicinity of this lake's outlet a permanent annual "setting-down place," or head-quarters. Here their ancestors gathered around the council-fire for uncounted generations. Hence this sheet of water was called Great-great-grandsire's Lake, of which Grand Lake is an abridgment.
The author entertains many pleasant reminiscences of former visits to this lake. To use the language of the red man, he has spent many pleasant "moons" on the shores of Madongamook, paddled with the Indian hunter in his tiny birch over its silver waters, chased wild game through its forest confines, and flung from its transparent depths the delicious trout. Indians affirm that there is in these waters a great fish, "all one big as canoe," a sort of fresh-water whale.
But it is time to proceed on our down-river trip. So, leaving the outlet of Grand Lake, and passing south about two miles across a "carrying-place," we strike the head of another lake, called Che-pet-na-cook, into which the surplus waters of the former lake pass. The name by which this lake is designated is said to signify hilly pond or lake. In form it is long and narrow, resembling a deep, massive river. That peculiarity from which its name is derived is strikingly prominent. A range of abrupt and elevated ridges rises suddenly from its western shore, covered with a close, heavy growth of trees, principally Spruce. One peak of the ridge rises several hundred feet from the surface of the lake, which is called "Spruce Mountain." After mid-day, a section of this mountain ridge, so dense and frowning as to resemble a thunder-cloud, casts a cavernous shade, like a misty pall, over the surface of its waters, which seem to lay with prostrate fear at its base, imparting an oppressive solemnity over the scenery.
At the foot of this lake, which is between twenty and thirty miles long, the east branch of the St. Croix takes its rise. From this point it passes through a rocky channel for the most part, occasionally flowing through a section of meadow or intervale land until it reaches Baring, a distance of some fifty miles, where for the first time it meets with a formidable barrier to its hitherto wild and unrestrained progress in the character of a "dam." Passing this through its various avenues, it flows on to Milltown, which occupies both sides of the river, and includes both the English and American villages. Between this place and the head of ship navigation, some two miles distant, the channel is dammed several times on a succession of falls, where are numerous saw-mills; and, finally, after having leaped a thousand rocky precipices above, and struggled through as many gates and sluice-ways below, it quietly flows on to the Passamaquoddy Bay, where its restless waters find repose in the bosom of the Atlantic Ocean.
In regard to the lumbering resources on this river, I believe it is generally admitted that the supply of Pine is comparatively small, the principal part having already been brought to market; and although the territory belonging to this river is large, still its resources are curtailed by the proximity of the head waters of the St. John, Penobscot, and Machias Rivers.