Forty years since--Niagara in winter--Frozen spray--Ice foliage and
ice apples--Ice moss--Frozen fog--Ice islands--Ice
statues--Sleigh-riding on the American rapids--Boys coasting on
them--Ice gorges.
If the first white man who saw Niagara could have been certain that he
was the first to see it, and had simply recorded the fact with whatever
note or comment, he would have secured for himself that species of
immortality which accrues to such as are connected with those first and
last events and things in which all men feel a certain interest. But he
failed to improve his opportunity, and Father Hennepin was the first, so
far as known, to profit by such neglect, and his somewhat crude and
exaggerated description of the Falls has been often quoted and is well
known. So long as "waters flow and trees grow" it will continue to be
read by successive generations. The French missionaries and traders who
followed him seem to have been too much occupied in saving souls or in
seeking for gold to spend much time in contemplating the cataract, or to
waste much sentiment in writing about it. And so it happens that,
considering its fame, very little has been written, or rather published,
concerning it.
Seventy years ago, the few travelers who were drawn to the vicinity by
interest or curiosity were obliged to approach it by Indian trails, or
rude corduroy roads, through dense and dark forests. Within the solitude
of their deep shadows, beneath their protecting arms, was hidden one of
the sublimest works of the physical creation. The scene was grand,
impressive, almost oppressive, not less sublime than the Alps or the
ocean, but more fascinating, more companionable, than either.
Niagara we can take to our hearts. We realize its majesty and its
beauty, but we are never obliged to challenge its power. Its
surroundings and accessories are calm and peaceful. Even in all the
treacherous and bloody warfare of savage Indians it was neutral ground.
It was a forest city of refuge for contending tribes. The generous,
noble, and peaceful Niagaras--a people, according to M. Charlevoix,
"larger, stronger, and better formed than any other savages," and who
lived upon its borders--were called by the whites and the neighboring
tribes the Neuter Nation.
The crafty Hurons, the unwarlike Eries, the invincible league formed by
the six aggressive and conquering tribes composing the Iroquois
confederacy,--the Mohawks, the Oneidas, the Onondagas, the Cayugas, the
Senecas, and the Tuscaroras,--all extinguished the torch, buried the
tomahawk, and smoked the calumet when they came to the shores of the
Niagara, and sat down within sight of its incense cloud, and listened to
its perpetual anthem. In succeeding contests between the whites, on two
occasions only was nature's repose here disturbed by the din of
battle--first, in the running fight at Chippewa, and again at the
obstinate and bloody struggle of Lundy's Lane.
During the War of 1812, in which these actions occurred, the dense
forest which lay outside of the old belt of French occupation was first
extensively and persistently attacked, the sunlight being let in upon
comfortable log-cabins and fruitful fields. The Indian trail and
corduroy "shake" were superseded by more civilized and comfortable
highways. Post routes were opened and public conveyances established.
For many years, however, the two principal ways of access to Niagara
were by the Ridge road, from the Genessee Falls--now Rochester--and the
river road on the Canadian side from Buffalo to Drummondville.
Some forty years ago, and for many years thereafter, Niagara was,
emphatically, a pleasant and attractive watering-place; the town was
quiet; the accommodations were comfortable; the people were kind,
considerate, and attentive; guides were civil, intelligent, and
truthful; conveyances were good, and were in charge of careful and
respectable attendants; commissions were unknown; "scalping" was left
to the Indians; nobody was annoyed or importuned; the flowers bloomed,
the birds caroled, the full-leaved trees furnished refreshing shade, and
the air was balmy. Then the lowing of cows in the street, the guttural
note of the swine, and the voice of the solicitor were not heard.
Elderly people came to stay for pleasant recreation and quiet enjoyment;
younger people to "bill and coo" and dance. Now all that is changed. A
contemporary orator once described the moral status of a famous
stock-jobbing locality by saying that "ten thousand a year is the Sermon
on the Mount for Wall street." The same gospel is popular at Niagara.
Whoso has seen Niagara only in summer has but half seen it. In winter
its beauties are not diminished, while the accessories due to the season
are numerous and varied. After two or three weeks of intensely cold
weather many beautiful and fantastic scenes are presented around the
Falls.
The different varieties of stalactites and stalagmites hanging from or
apparently supporting the projecting rocks along the side walls of the
deep chasm, the ice islands which grow on the bars and around the rocks
in the river, the white caps and hoods which are formed on the rocks
below, the fanciful statuary and statuesque forms which gather on and
around the trees and bushes, are all curious and interesting.
Exceedingly beautiful are the white vestments of frozen spray with which
everything in the immediate vicinity is robed and shielded; and
beautiful, too, are the clusters of ice apples which tip the
extremities of the branches of the evergreen trees.
There is something marvelous in the purity and whiteness of congealed
spray. One might think it to be frozen sunlight. And when, by reason of
an angle or a curve, it is thrown into shadow, one sees where the
rainbow has been caught and frozen in. After a day of sunshine which has
been sufficiently warm to fill the atmosphere with aqueous vapor, if a
sharp, still, cold night succeed, and if on this there break a clear,
calm morning, the scene presented is one of unique and enchanting
beauty.
[Illustration: WINTER FOLIAGE]
The frozen spray on every boll, limb, and twig of tree and shrub, on
every stiffened blade of grass, on every rigid stem and tendril of the
vines, is covered over with a fine white powder, a frosty bloom, from
which there springs a line of delicate frost-spines, forming a perfect
fringe of ice-moss, than which nothing more fanciful nor more beautiful
can be imagined.
Then, as the day advances, the increasing warmth of the sun's rays
dissolves this fairy frost-work and spreads it like a delicate varnish
over the solid spray, giving it a brilliant polish rivaling the luster
of the rarest gems; the mid-morning breeze sets in motion this flashing,
dazzling forest, which varies its color as the sunlight-angle varies;
and finally, when the waxing warmth and growing breeze loosen the hold
of the icy covering in the tree-tops, and it drops to the still solid
surface in the shade beneath,--the tiny particles with a silver tinkle
and the larger pieces with the sharp, rattling sound of the
castanet,--the ear is charmed with a wild, dashing rataplan, while a
scene of strange enchantment challenges the admiration of the spectator.
Even more beautiful and fairy-like, if possible, is the garment of
frozen fog with which all external objects are adorned and etherealized
when the spring advances and the temperature of the water is raised. As
the sharp, still night wears on, the light mists begin to rise, and when
the morning breaks, the river is buried in a deep, dense bank of fog. A
gentle wave of air bears it landward; its progress is stayed by
everything with which it comes in contact, and as soon as its motion is
arrested it freezes sufficiently to adhere to whatever it touches. So it
grows upon itself, and all things are soon covered half an inch in depth
with a most delicate and fragile white fringe of frozen fog. The morning
sun dispels the mist, and in an hour the gay frost-work vanishes.
The ice islands are sometimes extensive. In the year 1856 the whole of
the rocky bar above Goat Island was covered with ice, piled together in
a rough heap, the lower end of which rested on Goat Island and the three
Moss Islands lying outside of it, all of which were visited by different
persons passing over this new route.
The ice formed on the rocks below the American Fall, stretched upward,
reached the edge of the precipice just north of the Little Horseshoe,
continued up-stream above Chapin's Island, spread out laterally from
that to Goat Island on the south, and over nearly half of the American
rapids to the north. At the brow of the precipice it accumulated upward
until it formed a ridge some forty feet high. About fifteen rods
up-stream another ridge was formed of half the height of the first.
Every rock projecting upward bore an immense ice-cap. Around and between
these mounds and caps horses were driven to sleighs, albeit the course
was not favorable for quick time. The boys drew their sleds to the top
of the large mound, slid down it, up-stream, and nearly to the top of
the smaller hill.
On the lower or down-stream side, they would have had a clear course to
the water below, at the brink of the Falls, and might have made "time"
compared with which Dexter's minimum would have seemed only a funeral
march. But with all Young America's passion for speed, he declined to
try this route. The writer walked over the south end of Luna Island,
above the tops of the trees.
The ice-bridge of that year filled the whole chasm from the Railway
Suspension Bridge up past the American Fall. When the ice broke up in
the spring, such immense quantities were carried down that a strong
northerly wind across Lake Ontario caused an ice-jam at Fort Niagara.
The ice accumulated and set back until it reached the Whirlpool, and
could be crossed at any point between the Whirlpool and the Fort. It was
lifted up about sixty feet above the surface, and spread out over both
shores, crushing and destroying everything with which it came in
contact. Many persons from different parts of the country visited the
extraordinary scene.
At Lewiston the writer, with many others, saw a most remarkable
illustration of the terrific power of this hydrostatic press. Just below
the village, on the American side, there stood, about two rods from
high-water mark, a sound, thrifty, tough white-oak tree, perhaps a
hundred years old, and two feet in diameter. The ice, moved by the
water, struck it near the ground and pressed it outward and upward,
until it was actually pulled up by the roots--or rather some of the
roots were broken and others were pulled out--and landed twenty feet
farther away from the chasm.
Those who watched the operation stated that, from the time the ice
touched the tree until it was landed on the bank above, the motion of
the ice could not be detected by the eye.
[Illustration: ICE BRIDGE AND FROST FREAKS]
Slowly, steadily, surely it pressed on. Suddenly there would be an
explosion, sharp and loud, when a root gave way. No motion in the ice or
tree could be discovered. After a lapse of two or three hours another
sharp crack would give notice of another fracture. Thus the ice pressed
gradually on, and in ten hours the work was done. A thousandth part of
this force would pulverize a bowlder of adamant. We need not wonder,
therefore, that the river Niagara keeps its channel clear.
In the ice-gorge of 1866 the ice was set back to the upper end of the
Whirlpool, over which it was twenty feet deep. The Whirlpool rapid was
subdued nearly to an unbroken current, which all the way below to Lake
Ontario was reduced to a gentle flow of quiet waters. Never was there a
sublimer contest of the great forces of nature. The frost laid its hand
upon the raging torrent and it was still.
The winter of 1875 was intensely cold. The singular figures represented
in the illustrations--the eagle, dog, baboon, and others--are exact
reproductions of the real chance-work of the frost of that season. The
long-continued prevalence of the south-west wind fastened to every
object facing it a border or apron of dazzling whiteness, and more than
five feet thick. The ice mountain below the American Fall, reaching
nearly to the top of the precipice, was appropriated as a "coasting"
course, and furnished most exhilarating sport to the people who used it.
A large number of visitors came from all directions, and, on the 22d of
February, fifteen hundred were assembled to see the extraordinary
exhibition.
In the coldest winters, the ice-bridges cannot be less than two hundred
and fifty feet thick. The ice-bridge of 1875 formed on the 6th and 7th
of May, was crossed on the 8th, and broke up on the 14th--the only one
ever known in the river so late in the spring.
[Illustration: COASTING BELOW THE AMERICAN FALL]