My route to New Brunswick from Canada was by the Grand Portage, about thirty-six miles across. The roads, though bad, were better than I expected. On my way I passed through some new settlements on reclaimed swamps, near the Rivière du Loup and crossed two or three high mountains, which form part of the Alleghany chain, lying between New Brunswick and the River St. Lawrence. The greater part of the country here is a complete bed of rocks, and the whole way through the woods offers little encouragement for settlers. Having passed the Portage, I reached Lake Tamisquata or Témiscouata a wild and solitary piece of water, twenty-eight miles in length. The land upon its banks is generally inferior, but upon its western side there are several swells of fruitful ground. From this lake the River Madawaska takes its rise, and winds for thirty miles through an almost boundless forest. The country on either side is exceedingly fertile; and the scenery is of the most wild and magnificent description. A few Acadians[2], the descendants of the original French settlers, are located on the banks of this lonely river; they are exceedingly simple in their manners, and have little intercourse with the rest of the world, except when at distant intervals they visit Fredericton to dispose of the surplus produce of their little farms. Their wants are few, and they live a quiet pastoral life, retaining a strong attachment to the dress, habits, language, and religion of their forefathers.[3] This settlement is comprehended in the disputed territory claimed by the Americans on the Maine frontier; which, in point of fertility, valuable timber, and beautiful rivers and streams, is equal to any part of America.