The season at which I entered New Brunswick was May, the most favourable period in the year for seeing the country to advantage. It is then that summer bursts at once from the cold embrace of winter; for the few days intervening between the rigorous cold of winter, and the genial heat of the weather such as we experience in England in the month of June, can scarcely be called a spring. To persons who have only witnessed the tardy advances of summer through the months of March, April, and May, in Great Britain, the sudden change which takes place at this season in Canada and the adjoining colonies is especially surprising; in the course of three or four days, the fields and deciduous trees put on their verdant liveries, innumerable garden and field flowers burst into full blow, the birds of summer make their appearance and enliven the woods with their glad songs, and the American nightingales, as the frogs are called, commence their singular evening concerts. In short, nothing can be imagined more delightful than the astonishing quickness with which the face of nature becomes clothed with all the charms of summer. The forests, which cover the greatest part of the province of New Brunswick, are unequalled in magnificence in any other part of the world. The banks of the river St. John are remarkable for the magnitude and abundance of the timber with which they are overgrown. Many varieties of the red, yellow, and pitch pine, intermingled with the graceful larch, the picturesque beech and maple, birch, elm, oak, and numerous other tribes of forest timber, grow down close to the water’s side, spreading in stately grandeur over the broad plains, or stretching proudly up to the summits of the mountains that descend precipitously to the river. In summer the bright and cheerful green of the forests is exceedingly beautiful and refreshing to the eye, the dark pines alone forming a sombre contrast to the vivid freshness of the deciduous trees; but it is in autumn that an American forest wears its most enchanting colours;—two or three frosty nights in the decline of the season transform the rich and boundless verdure of a vast tract into brilliant scarlet, rich violet, and every possible tint of blue and brown, deep crimson and golden yellow. The fir tribes alone maintain their unchangeable dark green hue; all others on mountain and in valley burst into glorious beauty, and exhibit the most splendid and enchanting picture that earth can produce. It is from these immense forests that New Brunswick now draws its principal wealth. The timber trade,[4] which has hitherto almost wholly engaged the attention of settlers, is of great importance, and employs a vast number of people, whose manner of living, owing to the nature of the business they follow, is altogether different from that of the inhabitants who are occupied in agricultural pursuits.