It rises among the dense forests in the northern part of New Brunswick--a moist upland region, of never-failing springs and innumerous lakes--and pours a flood of clear, cold water one hundred and fifty miles northward and eastward through the hills into the head of the Bay of Chaleurs. There are no falls in its course, but rapids everywhere. It is steadfast but not impetuous, quick but not turbulent, resolute and eager in its desire to get to the sea, like the life of a man who has a purpose "Too great for haste, too high for rivalry."The wonder is where all the water comes from. But the river is fed by more than six thousand square miles of territory. From both sides the little brooks come dashing in with their supply. At intervals a larger stream, reaching away back among the mountains like a hand with many fingers to gather "The filtered tribute of the rough woodland,"delivers its generous offering to the main current.
The names of the chief tributaries of the Ristigouche are curious.
