There will not be time, during his brief nap, to tell who and what he
was, and why he had come to sojourn far away from home and friends.
But let the curtain be drawn back for a moment, to reveal a glimpse of
that strange, questionable country over which he has been wandering
for the last few months, doing hard service.

Miramichi,[A] a name unfamiliar, perhaps, to those who may chance to
read these pages, is the designation of a fertile, though partially
cultivated portion of the important province of New Brunswick,
belonging to the British Crown. The name, by no means uneuphonious, is
yet suggestive of associations far from attractive. The Miramichi
River, which gives title to this region, has its rise near the centre
of the province, and flowing eastward empties into the Gulf of St.
Lawrence, with Chatham, a town of considerable importance, located at
its mouth.

[Footnote A: Pronounced _Mir´imisheé_.]

The land had originally been settled by English, Scotch, and Irish,
whose business consisted mostly of fishing and lumbering. These
occupations, pursued in a wayward and lawless manner, had not exerted
on them an elevating or refining influence, and the character of the
people had degenerated from year to year. From the remoteness and
obscurity of the country, it had become a convenient hiding-place for
the outlaw and the criminal, and its surface was sprinkled over with
the refuse and offscouring of the New England States and the Province.
With a few rare exceptions, it was a realm of almost heathenish
darkness and vice. Such Mr. Norton found it, when, with heart full of
compassion and benevolence, thirty-five years ago, he came to bear