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Excerpt from Wilderness Journeys in New Brunswick: In 1862-3 The Little Nashwaak lake is a small sheet of water to the south of the river, with which it is connected very short passage. From this point we proposed t low the N ashwaak river, (which we here touched for the first time since leaving Fredericton), closely to its source. About half-past ten we again set out through the forests on the right bank, and'i do not know that I have ever been more tired in my life than by this morning's walk. We wandered on through the thick and trackless woods, heavily loaded, tht'ough stifling heat, and surrounded by countless swarms of insects, whilst our progress was so slow, owing to the thickness of the wood and the number of windfalls, as to permit of their feeding on us at their pleasure. At length, after a long descent, we again reach ed the river, and so thoroughly exhausted were we, that sinking on the shore, we all fell fast asleep, almost before we could thro, wi ofi' the loads on our backs, regardless of black flies or exposure. How long we slept I do not know, but when we woke we found ourselvea-�-(well bitten), - by the side of a' veryprettyscotch amongslaty rocks shadowed by bright green foliage. Here we rested some time, caught fish and ate them; and when the heat of the day was abated, forded the river, and con tinued the journey on the left bank - each of us carrying in his hand a torch of cedar-bark, as some defence against the flies. Such a torch goes on smouldering and smoking for hours, if care is taken not to permit it to burst into a flame. At last we camped. I have never, in all my sub sequent experience, known the black flies so utterly ih tolerable as on this and the succeeding day. For an hour before their disappearance for the night, this evening, we sat apart, each absorbed in his own miseries, his face buried in his hands, unable to move, or talk, or think. On the following day, when compelled to stand still for a short time, whilst Gabriel was searching for signs to direct as to the course we were to take, we plunged into three several spruce trees, and endeavoured (vainly, alas I), by pulling the boughs rapidly to and fro over our persons, to keep the enemy at a distance. The mosquito of North America appears comparatively harmless to any one who has afforded a meal to those found on the plains of Syria the sand-fly Bite him no see him, as the Indians, or brulard, as the French, equally appropriately call them - though irritating, do no harm - (the sensation is like that of a minute hot ash falling on the skin) - but the black fly is indeed a pest, and happy are the dwellers in Europe, where they are unknown. Fussy, restless, per tinacious, finding entrance at every aperture in one's clothes, thronging into ears, eyes, and nostrils, drawing blood, and leaving an irritating wound, they are no light drawback to the pleasures of a forest life. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
