mained a true friend to me. Time passed away, and having resolved to explore the British provinces of New Brunswick, we proceeded to St John's, where we met with much politeness, and ascending the river of that name, a most beautiful stream, reached Frederickton, where we spent a week. Here Sir Archibald Campbell, Bart, received us with all the urbanity and kindness of his amiable nature. We then ascended the river to some miles below the "Great Falls" parallel to Mar's Hill, and again entered the United States' territory near Woodstock. From this spot we proceeded to Bangor, on the Penobscot river, as you will find detailed in one of my short narratives entitled, "A Journey in New Brunswick and Maine."
Soon after our arrival in Boston, my son Victor Gifford set sail for England, to superintend the publication of my "Birds of America," and we resumed our pursuits, making frequent excursions into the surrounding country. Here I was a witness to the melancholy death of the great Spurzheim, and was myself suddenly attacked by a severe illness, which greatly alarmed my family; but, thanks to Providence, and my medical friends Parkman, Warren, and Shattuck, I was soon enabled to proceed with my labours. A sedentary life and too close application being the cause assigned for my indisposition, I resolved to set out again in quest of fresh materials for my pencil and pen. My wishes directing me to Labrador, I returned eastward with my youngest son, and had the pleasure of being joined by four young gentlemen, all fond of Natural History, and willing to encounter the difficulties and privations of the voyage,—George Shattuck, Thomas Lincoln, William Ingalls, and Joseph Cooledge.
At Eastport in Maine, I chartered a beautiful and fast-
