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DOWN THE RIVER TO THE SEA
BY
MISS MACHAR
NEW YORK
HOME BOOK COMPANY
45 VESEY STREET
Copyrighted, 1894,
by
Home Book Company
DOWN THE RIVER TO THE SEA
CHAPTER I
NIAGARA.
The brilliant sunshine of a July day lighted up the great cataract and
the rich verdure of the surrounding landscape, bringing out all the
wonderful variety of hue in the surging mass of falling water, the
snowy clouds that perpetually veiled and unveiled it, the iridescence
that floated elusively amid their ever-shifting billows, and the deep
emerald of the islands that nestled so confidingly among the foaming,
seething rapids that swept down the slope above, in order to take the
fatal leap. The Clifton House veranda had its usual complement of
lounging groups of guests, most of them so absorbed in gossip,
flirting, or the last sensational novel, that they scarcely seemed to
notice the grandeur of the scene they had come so far to enjoy. Of a
very different class of visitors was May Thorburn, who sat silently in
a vacant corner of the wide veranda, gazing at the ceaseless rush of
the Horse-shoe Fall, in a speechless ecstasy of delight. The
brown-haired, brown-eyed, rather pale girl, who sat so absorbed in the
wonderful grandeur of the scene before her, was not quite sure whether
she was the same May Thorburn, who, only a few days before, had been
all engrossed in the usual endless round of home duties, sweeping,
dusting, or stitching away at the family mending (and how much mending
_that_ family needed!), and trying to squeeze in, between these homely
avocations, a little of the poetry and music in which her soul
delighted. And now, here she was, in the midst of Nature's grandest
poetry and music, realizing what had been the day-dream of years! And
all this wonderful happiness had come about through the thoughtful
kindness of her cousin, Kate Severne, in inviting her to share the
delights of a trip all the way from Niagara to the Saguenay--names that
had so long stood in her mind as equivalents for the greatest
enjoyment that any tourist could hope for--at least outside of Mont
Blanc.
She had come by way of Hamilton, and as the train swept her rapidly
through the region of peach orchards, her mind was full of vague
anticipations of the delights of the prospective journey, with
occasional speculations as to Kate's two Scotch cousins, Hugh and
Flora Macnab, whose visit to Canada was the immediate occasion of this
present trip. Kate, who had repeatedly gone over the whole ground
before, and knew it well, wished to act the part of _cicerone_
herself, while her kind, though somewhat peculiar aunt, Mrs. Sandford,
was the _chaperone_ of the little party. It had been the thoughtful
suggestion of this aunt that May, who so seldom had a holiday, should
be invited to join them, a suggestion which Kate had gladly carried
out, in the kind and welcome letter of invitation which had put May
into such a little flurry of delightful excitement and preparation.
The rest of the party had arrived before May; and her cousin Kate had
met her at the Clifton House station with an enthusiastic welcome and
a torrent of information as to their future plans, scarcely half of
which May could take in, being quite happy enough in the sense of
being _really at the Falls_ at last, and of getting her first glimpse
of them. She only vaguely heard, in an unreal sort of way, Kate's
eager account of her cousins--how "nice" and amiable Flora was, and how
well she could sketch; and how Hugh, though very quiet, was very
clever, too,--had taken honors at college, had somewhat injured his
health by over-study, so that he was obliged to take a rest, and had
even written a little book of poems which was soon to be
published,--indeed, was now in the press. "And I shouldn't wonder if he
were to write another about his travels here, and put us all into it,"
she added.
May had no particular desire to "be put into a book," but, just then,
the interest of the scene before her, with the thunder of "many
waters" in her ears, was strong enough to exclude all other ideas. Her
eager, watching eye just caught a glimpse of what seemed a giant's
caldron of milky spray, and behind it a dazzling sheet of snow; but
her cousin hurried her on into the hotel and up to her room, which, to
her delight, commanded a splendid view of the Horse-shoe Fall, on
which she could feast her eyes at leisure to her heart's content. And
now, indeed, anticipation and faith were swallowed up in sight! She
had, of course, frequently seen photographs of the great cataract, so
that the outlines of the view were familiar enough; but the exquisite
coloring, the ceaseless motion, the sense of infinite power, no
picture could possibly supply. As she Lay dreamily back in a lounging
chair, on the veranda, scarcely conscious of anything but the grandeur
of the scene, a line or two from Wordsworth's "Yarrow Visited" flitted
across her mind:
----"this is the scene
Of which my fancy cherished
So faithfully a waking dream!"
"No!" she mentally decided, "no 'waking dream' could picture Niagara."
"Well, dreaming as usual?" May looked up with a start, as she felt
Mrs. Sandford's plump hand on her shoulder. "Kate wants you to make
haste and get ready for an expedition. Here are the Scotch cousins.
This is Flora, and this is her brother Hugh. You don't need any formal
introduction. Kate will be down in a moment, and you are all going for
a long stroll, she says, for which I don't feel quite equal yet after
my journey, though it _is_ a charming afternoon; so I shall stay here
and rest. Kate has promised me not to let you run into any sort of
danger, and I am sure you'll find her a capital _cicerone_."
Kate, who appeared just then, renewed her promise to be most prudent,
and especially to look after her cousin Hugh--her aunt's chief object
of anxiety. "And, indeed, you _need_ taking care of," she said, in
answer to his attempted disclaimer. "You know you're under orders not
to overwalk yourself, or get heated or chilled, so mind, Kate, you
_don't let him_. I don't want to have to stop on the way to nurse an
invalid!"
"I don't think you need be at all afraid, Aunt Bella," the young man
replied, with what May thought a pleasant touch of Scottish accent,
though his pale face had flushed a little at the allusion to his
semi-invalidism, which had been the immediate cause of his journey to
Canada. His sister Flora, however, with her abundant fair hair, which,
like her brother's, just missed being red, looked the picture of
health and youthful energy.
May, with her straw hat beside her, needed no further preparation for
the expedition, on which she was, indeed, impatient to set out at
once, Kate, to her relief, leading the way with Mr. Hugh Macnab, who
was not _her_ cousin, and it did not seem to her that she could find
anything to say to any one so learned and clever as this quiet-looking
young man must be. It seemed much easier to talk to the frank and
merry Flora, who tripped on by her side, looking very fresh and trim
and tourist-like, in her plain gray traveling hat and gray tweed
dress, made as short as a sensible fashion would allow, and showing
off to perfection a lithe, well-rounded figure and a pair of shapely
and very capable feet. The party entered what is now called Victoria
Park, and walked leisurely along the brink of the precipitous cliff
that here formed the river bank, stopping at frequent intervals the
better to take in some particular aspect of the wonderful scene before
them.
"That's the advantage of not taking a carriage, _here_," explained
Kate, who had relentlessly refused all the entreaties of the hackmen.
"It's ever so much nicer to go on your own feet, and stop just where
you please, and as long as you please! We don't want to hurry _here_.
It's a charming walk, now that all the old photographic saloons and
so-called museums have been cleared away! By and by, when we feel a
little tired, we can take a carriage for the rest of the way."
May soon felt the dreamlike sensation come over her again, as they
wandered slowly along the steep cliffs of shade, and came from time to
time on some specially charming view of the white foaming sheet of the
American Falls, so dazzlingly pure in its virgin beauty, as it vaults
over the hollow cliff into the soft veil of mist that perpetually
rises about its feet--always dispersing and ever rising anew. Then, as
their eager gaze followed the line of the opposite bank, black, jagged
and shining with its perpetual shower-bath of spray, what a glorious
revelation of almost infinite grandeur was that curving, quivering
sheet of thundering surge, with its heart of purest green, and its
mighty masses of dazzling foam, and its ascending clouds of milky
spray,--sometimes entirely obscuring the fall itself, as they float
across the boiling caldron,--sometimes partially dispersed and spanned
by the soft-hued arc, which here, as at the close of the
thunder-storm, seems like the tender kiss of love, hushing the wild
tumult into peace. From many other points she could get better views
of individual details, but no nobler view of the mighty whole, than
from this silent, never-to-be-forgotten ramble. No one said much; even
the lively Kate lapsed from her office of _cicerone_, or, rather, best
fulfilled it, by her silence; for, when the infinite in Nature speaks,
the human voice may well be still. And how grand a voice was that
which the cataract was speaking,--even to the outward ear! The "voice
of many waters"--mighty as thunder, yet soft as a summer breeze--seemed
to leave the whole being immersed and absorbed in the ceaseless rush
and roar of the "Thunder of Waters"--the majesty of whose motion
appeared to be, itself, repose.
This feeling deepened as they advanced nearer to the edge of the
Horse-shoe Falls. They paused on Table Rock, so much less prominent
than it used to be years ago. At every turn they paused, lost in the
grandeur of the present impression. It was Kate who first roused them
to a sense of the passage of time, and gave the order to proceed, for
the afternoon was swiftly gliding by.
"Well!" said Hugh, "I never felt as if I had got so near the state of
self-annihilation, the '_Nirvana_' we read about. I don't wonder at
suicides here, under the fascinating influence of these rushing
waters!"
"Really, Hugh," exclaimed his sister, "I should scarcely have expected
to hear _you_ rhapsodizing at such a rate! We shall have to look after
him, Kate." Hugh replied only by a half smile, but May noticed his
heightened color and the absorbed expression of his dark blue eyes,
and began to feel much less shy of him. She had much the same feeling
herself, though too reserved to say it out.
Kate hurried them on, until they had reached the very edge of the
great Horse-shoe Fall. Here they stopped and sat down on a long black
beam of timber that lay on the side of the quivering torrent, there
seeming almost stationary, as if pausing in awe of the mighty leap
before it. Just inside the old beam lay a quiet pool, reflecting the
sky, in which a child might bathe its feet without the slightest
danger, while, on the outside, swept the great resistless flood of
white-breasted rapids, moving down the steep incline with a majesty
only less inspiring than that of the cataract itself.
"Well! don't you think Niagara deserves its name, which means 'Thunder
of Waters'?" asked Kate, after a long silence.
"It scarcely could have one that better describes the impression it
makes," said Hugh Macnab, in a low, meditative tone.
"Are _you_ tired yet, Hugh?" asked Kate; "shall we walk on--it's a good
mile--or take a carriage?"
"Walk, by all means," said Hugh, "if the rest of you are not tired."
They walked leisurely on by the shore, washed by the swift hurrying
water, while, above them, to their right, Kate pointed out the railway
track along which they had come, and the point at which they had
stopped, in order to get the celebrated "Fall view."
"I shall never forget it," said Flora. "I was a little disappointed at
first about the _height_. I couldn't see _that_ from there, nor
realize it at all! But the grandeur of the scale quite took my breath
away. It was like seeing Mont Blanc for the first time. It takes a
little while before you can feel yourself grow up to it!"
"That's it exactly!" exclaimed Kate. "That just expresses my own
feelings when I saw them first. Well, May, you look sober enough over
it all."
"Oh, Kate, it's too grand for words; I'm trying to 'grow up to it,'"
she added, smiling.
They reached the bridge leading to the lovely Sister or Cynthia
Islands, nestling amid the tumult and foam as safely as in the embrace
of a calmly winding river where the constant shower-bath of the spray
keeps the foliage and the ferns at their greenest and freshest; and
the contrast between the tranquil beauty of the woodland ways and the
turmoil of the rapids beyond greatly heightened the charm of the
scene.
"Now, we must take a carriage back," said Kate decidedly; and no one
objected now, for all were tolerably tired, between the physical
fatigue and the mental strain involved in the mere appreciation of so
much beauty. They stopped for a few minutes at the Burning Spring, to
look, as in duty bound, at that natural curiosity, and then settled
themselves comfortably in the carriage they had hailed, while Kate
gave the order to return by Prospect Drive, along the bluffs above,
whence they could take in the whole sweep of the grand river from Navy
Island, at the foot of Lake Erie, to the dark, narrow gorge below the
Falls, where the waters fret and toss their crests, like angry
coursers fretting at the curbing bit.
"Now," said Kate, "if it were not so late already, I should have had
you driven to Lundy's Lane,--only about a mile and a half west of us;
but it's too late, for to-day."
"What is remarkable about Lundy's Lane?" inquired Hugh Macnab. "I
confess my ignorance."
"Oh, of course; one doesn't expect _you_ to be posted in Canadian
history," Kate replied. "Lundy's Lane is where the British troops and
Canadian volunteers beat the Americans eighty years ago, when they
tried to take Canada."
"Oh! I see. Pardon my ignorance. I never happened to hear of such
things as battle-grounds in connection with Niagara. I shall have to
read up these historical associations."
"May can tell you all about it," replied Kate. "She's great on
Canadian history. And there is something about it in my guide book; so
you can read up in the evenings all about Lundy's Lane and Queenston
Heights, and then you can see them both, if you care enough about it."
The drive was charming, under the slanting rays of the August sun; the
sky and water taking on such exquisite ethereal tints, the iris on the
clouds of spray so delicately bright, that their gaze was constantly
turning backwards as they glided rapidly over the smooth high-road
back towards the "Clifton."
"Now for a rest, then dinner--and then, you know, we shall have the
moon, and a lovely time for watching the Falls by moonlight."
Kate's programme was fully enjoyed--not least the latter portion of it.
They were all tempted forth for another stroll along the river bank,
halting again at some of the points from whence they had so greatly
enjoyed the afternoon views, to compare the difference of the
moonlight effect--less distinct, but more romantic and suggestive. Kate
and Flora preferred, on the whole, the play of color and cheerful
light of day, while Hugh Macnab endorsed May's preference for the
moonlight, which is as effective at Niagara as at Melrose Abbey. They
sat long on the piazza that night, saying little, but silently
enjoying the marvelous scene--the glory of the white, shimmering water,
the solemn majesty of the ascending column of misty spray, and the
strong contrast of light and shade--until the picture seemed to have
become a part of their mental consciousness, never to be forgotten and
a "joy forever."
Next morning the party met at breakfast in good time, as they had a
long day before them, and meant to make the best possible use of it.
It was a charming morning, and they all set off in the best possible
spirits, enjoying the Falls both in the present and the future. To
begin with, however, there was a difficulty to be got over. The
juniors were all eager to cross the river in the ferry-boat, so as to
have the glorious view of the great cataract from a point of view
which gives a different and grander impression than almost any other.
But Aunt Bella stoutly refused even to consider the suggestion of
trusting herself to the tender mercies of a cockle-shell of a boat
tossed on that "boiling flood." The difficulty was finally settled by
Kate, who put her aunt under the care of a hackman who promised to
take her across the suspension bridge and meet them at Prospect Point.
The rest of the party, in high glee, followed the winding road that
leads down to the ferry, and were soon packed into the large, heavy
skiff. Here, indeed, they had the full view of both of the magnificent
falls and of the boiling, white caldron below, and the dark,
malachite-green rapids that seem to press like a solid body down the
narrow river gorge, after leaving the turbulence of the boiling basin
behind them. The cool spray dashed in the faces of the happy party as
the boat danced lightly over the heaving waters, under the strong
strokes of the sturdy rowers; and, when they reached the other side,
after a short passage, they all felt as if the exciting pleasure had
been quite too brief. On landing they ascended in the elevator to the
bank above, and at once took their way to Prospect Point, where they
stood for some time lost in the fascination of the scene before
them--the majestic American Fall rushing down in snowy foam from the
slope of furious white-crested rapids just above the headlong torrent.
The thundering sheet filled their ears with its mighty music, and as
they could now see its outline curved inwards almost as much as that
of the "Horse-shoe" itself, for, of course, the action of falling
water is the same on both sides of the river. But the fact that the
rapids are here compressed by scattered islands seems to add to the
force and fury with which they dash themselves wildly over the stony
ledges with a resistless strength which makes us realize the power of
the one spiritual force which is described as stronger than "many
waters." After they had stood silently watching the ceaseless progress
of the waters, until all their senses had seemed to be filled with its
mighty rush and roar, they joined Mrs. Sandford in the carriage, and
were speedily driven across the bridge leading over the rapids to Goat
Island, which seemed to May like a little tranquil paradise nestling
amid the wild fury of the raging floods. Here, indeed, they could have
all varieties of scenery. The whole party left the carriage, so that
they might feel at liberty to enjoy all the charming nooks of the
island at their own sweet will; Aunt Bella, however, preferring to
make a leisurely circuit in the carriage, and take them up again at
the end of it.
"Only see that Hugh doesn't tire himself out," she called out as they
left her behind, and Kate, who noticed the young man's rising color
and expression of repressed annoyance at the allusion to them, hurried
into a lively talk about the natural history of the island, explaining
that it was fast wearing away under the force of the torrent; that it
had been gradually growing smaller during the last hundred years, and
that probably, in the course of another century, it would have almost
entirely disappeared.
"Now, come round this way," she said, "and soon you will almost forget
that you are on the edge of the biggest waterfall in the world."
They followed her lead, taking the woodland path to the left, catching
charming glimpses of the fleecy rapids between the overhanging boughs
of the trees, on which birds sang sweetly and merry squirrels frisked
and chattered, as if in a solitary wilderness far from the busy haunts
of men. As they came out presently on the open ground at the head of
the island, they found themselves beside "still waters," the shoal
water rippling gently over the gravel, as if it were a quiet reach of
woodland stream; while, above them, lay a smooth stretch of Lake Erie,
with Grand Island in the distance, its apparent placidity concealing
the fierce undercurrent which no power of man could stem.
"One might 'moralize the spectacle' to any extent," said Hugh Macnab,
as Kate told some stories of the deadly strength of that hidden
current--that delusively peaceful expanse of water.
"But we haven't time for moralizing," retorted Kate. "Now for a change
of scene."
A change of scene it was, when they came out on one of the light
rustic bridges which lead across the foaming rapids to the nearest
small island, and from one to another of these fairy islets, so tiny
that it only seems strange that they are not swept bodily over the
Falls, with their wave-worn rocks and trees, gnarled and twisted by
the prevailing winds. Under the bridges they saw pretty silver
cascades, and swift rushing streams, looking innocent enough, but all
charged with a portion of the same overpowering force. On the outer
verge of the farthest one they stood, gazing across the boiling sea of
rapids that extends unbroken from the Canada shore. Kate pointed out
the column of spray which rose at one point, produced by the collision
of cross-currents, driving the water forcibly upwards. Then,
recrossing the little bridges, they slowly walked along the road
leading by the edge of the island overlooking the rapids, till they
found themselves standing on the verge of the great Horse-shoe Fall.
"Our Canadian Fall is the grandest, after all," said May.
"Yes," replied Kate, "only it isn't all Canadian, you see, for the
boundary-line runs somewhere about the middle of the river. The
Americans have more than their own share--all their own, and nearly
half of ours."
"I shouldn't think it mattered much," observed Hugh, "as they
certainly can't take it away, or fence it in, and forbid trespassers."
Their eyes followed the long, irregular curve, more like the figure
_five_ than like a horse-shoe, and so deeply indented in the center
that they could scarcely mark the center of the abyss, whose almost
apple-green tint was every moment hidden by the perpetually ascending
clouds of milky spray, sometimes touched by the tinted bow, and always
descending into the cloudy veil that eternally conceals the seething
abyss below.
"This is Terrapin Rock," said Kate, after they had looked in silence
for a time; "and there used to be a tower here from which you could
look down on all this wild raging commotion, feeling the strong stone
structure tremble beneath you. It came down at last--or was pulled
down, because it was thought dangerous, I forget which."
"Well, _this_ is fearful enough for me," said Flora, turning away, at
last, with Kate, while May still stood lost in the fascination of the
scene, till roused by Kate's call, when she discovered that Hugh
Macnab had lingered also, absorbed in the same fascination, and was
now waiting to help her back across the little bridge which joined the
rocky point to the island.
"It seems like waking up to one's own identity again, after having
lost it in a vague sense of 'the Immensities,'" remarked Hugh, as they
joined the others; and May felt that the words exactly expressed her
own feeling.
"But we _must_ wake up in earnest," said Kate, "and hurry on, or Aunt
Bella will be certainly imagining that we have all gone over the
Falls."
They hurried along the smooth, broad road till they at last came up
with Aunt Bella, seated on a rustic bench, with a large basket beside
her.
"Oh, my dears! what have--" she began, but Kate playfully laid her
finger on her lips, saying: "We are all here, Auntie, quite safe, and
now we are going to look at the Fall from Luna Island."
"My dear, not I! I never could go there since that dreadful thing
happened there, years ago. It makes me faint, just to think of it! If
you go, do be careful! Don't go and stand near the brink!"
"No; we'll be careful, I assure you. Now don't worry about us! We'll
be back soon, and then we'll have our luncheon." And she led the way
down the stair that leads from Goat Island to the charming bit of
bosky green which cuts off the small "Central Fall" from the great
"American Fall." May and Flora both exclaimed with delight over its
wonderful combination of beauty and terror, its glancing, silvery
sheen and terrible velocity, as it rushed past them at headlong speed,
on to the misty depths below. And while they stood fascinated by the
sight, Kate told them the tale of the tragedy which had happened there
on one bright summer day like this, when a young man thoughtlessly
caught up a little child and sportingly held her over the brink,--when
the struggling little one somehow escaped from his grasp, and the
horror-stricken young man madly leaped after her, both being instantly
lost to sight in the wild rush of the torrent.
Hugh Macnab turned away with a blanched face. "What a penalty for a
momentary thoughtlessness!" he said, in a scarcely audible tone.
And a hush seemed to steal over the little party, as they turned
silently away from the fateful spot.
"Yes," remarked Kate, as they reascended the stairway to Goat Island,
"the old Indian legend was not so far wrong--that the deity of the
Falls demanded a victim yearly. There is scarcely a year in which more
than one victim is not secured by these insatiable waters, though it
is not always a young maiden--as the legend has it."
When they reached Mrs. Sandford, they found that she had spread the
contents of the basket on a white cloth on the grass, and they were
all hungry enough to enjoy their luncheon in the midst of such
romantic surroundings. After the lunch was finished, and they had all
rested for awhile, they made their way to the little staircase close
by, down which they were all to go in order to get the wonderful view
from below. Mrs. Sandford chose to descend in the elevator, and
insisted that Hugh should accompany her, while the three girls ran
merrily down the long stair, Flora counting the steps on the way. Hugh
was determined, in spite of all his aunt's persuasive eloquence, to
don a waterproof suit in order to go under the Falls and explore the
Cave of the Winds; and Kate agreed to be his companion, the rest
preferring to venture along the rocky pathway, only so far as they
could safely do, under cover of their umbrellas. Mrs. Sandford took
her seat on a mass of black rock, declaring that she would remain
there, in fear and trembling, until they all returned in safety from
their expedition. May and Flora strolled about the surrounding rocks,
looking up, with some dread, at the precipices towering above them,
and at the tremendous columns of falling water, which filled in the
view in every direction. Presently, three frightful figures in bulky
garments of yellow oilskin emerged from the building at the foot of
the stairs, from two of which they presently, to their great
amusement, recognized the voices of Hugh and Kate, accompanied by the
guide. Allowing these extraordinary figures to precede them, May and
Flora clung closely together, holding an umbrella between them, and
following, as closely as they could, along the narrow pathway, where
the spray rained down perpetually on the shining black rocks below. As
they left the American Fall farther behind them, skirting the rugged
brown cliffs that support Goat Island high overhead, the pathway
became comparatively dry, and they could see more clearly before them
the great Fall they were approaching from beneath--its tremendous wall
of fleecy foam rising high above them into the deep blue sky, and
losing itself below in the floating clouds of spray, which they soon
began to feel again in a renewal of the light shower. The two girls
had to stop, at last, and stood spellbound, watching the mighty
expanse of eternally falling water, its fleecy, flashing masses of
milk-white foam, and its gray impalpable billows of ever-ascending
spray--through the rifts in which they could ever and anon catch
glimpses of that seemingly solid gray wall of water behind. Strange
sensations of awe at its solemn grandeur alternating with the sense of
the exquisite beauty of the scene absorbed their consciousness, while
they mechanically observed, also, the yellow figures--so
infinitesimally small beside the mighty cataract--as they passed
onward, and were for a few moments, to their momentary terror, lost to
view among the clouds of spray that hid their farther progress. Very
soon, however, they emerged again, and soon regained the point where
the girls were standing, breathless and dripping, but in overflowing
spirits.
"And what did you see, when you got in behind the Falls?" asked Flora.
"We certainly did not _see_ much," replied her brother. "Everything
visible seemed swallowed up in a gray mist, but the whole experience
was a wonderful one! I wouldn't have missed it for anything."
"Well, I'm quite contented with what I've had!" said Flora.
May had for a moment a little wistful sense of having missed
something, but, after all, intense satisfaction preponderated.
Returning again to the starting-point, they gave Mrs. Sandford
reassuring evidence of their safety, so far, and promising a quick
return, they pursued their way to the entrance of the "Cave of the
Winds," the name given to the hollow arched over by the concave rock
and the falling sheet of the lovely little Central Fall. May and Flora
again followed under their umbrella, as far as they dared, and there
waited, enjoying the wonder and novelty of the sight. May gazed into
the mysterious cavern before her, veiled by the clouds of milky spray,
as if it were indeed the veritable Cave of AEolus, in which were
confined the wailing winds which clamored to be let loose on their
mission of destruction, and also, it might be, of blessing; whose
hollow roar seemed blended with the full soft "thunder of waters."
May had lost all count of time, absorbed in the scene before her, when
Flora's relieved exclamation, "Oh, here they are at last!" recalled
her absorbed senses, and she perceived the dripping figures of what
might have been disguised river-gods, scrambling back along the wet,
rocky pathway.
"Oh, it was _grand_!" Kate declared. "I'll never forget it! To stand,
just between those two lovely falls, till you felt as if you were
actually a part of them! And then we went on a little way behind the
American sheet, too."
"Well, Hugh, are you satisfied _now_?" asked Flora. Hugh's eyes were
shining through the dripping moisture, and his face, so far as it was
visible, was glowing with exercise and excitement.
"Satisfied? No!--delighted? Yes. But when is the eye satisfied with
seeing? The grandest sights only seem to quicken our aspirations
towards the Infinite."
But Aunt Bella was now beckoning to the party to hasten back, and, as
soon as they were within speaking distance, she hurried Hugh off to
change his clothes as speedily as possible. Kate and he were soon out
of their grotesque disguise, and in a few minutes they were all
ascending, in the elevator, to the upper bank. Here they found the
carriage awaiting them, which had been ordered to come back to meet
them, and discovered, to their surprise, that they would have to drive
home as rapidly as possible if they wished to be at the Clifton in
time for the hotel dinner. It was a quiet drive across the suspension
bridge, with the Falls to their left, and the deep green gorge of the
winding river to their right. Each felt the silent enjoyment of the
scenes they had just left, and of the fair evening view around
them--with the wonderful Falls always in the distance,--quite enough for
the present, without trying to talk about it. Even Mrs. Sandford,
usually discursive, was too much fatigued with the day's outing to do
her usual part in the matter of conversation.
They made up for it later, however, when, too tired for further
roaming, they all sat on the balcony watching the sunset tints fade
into those of the brightening moonlight, whose whiteness seemed to
harmonize so well with the snowy sheen of the Falls. Kate got out her
guidebook, and, with occasional appeals to May to fill up her
outlines, gave the strangers a few particulars as to the historical
associations of the locality. "You see," she said, "all this frontier
was the natural scene of hostilities when the two countries were at
war. This is one of the points at which New York troops could most
easily make their entrance into Canada." And then Hugh Macnab, by dint
of cross-questioning, drew from the two girls, in turn, the main
outlines of the war of 1812, concluding with the battle of Lundy's
Lane. As they at last said good-night to each other, and to the beauty
of the moonlit Falls, they noticed regretfully that a yellowish halo
had formed round the moon.
"Yes," said Mrs. Sandford, "it's quite likely we shall have a rainy
day to-morrow, and, when it once begins, I shouldn't wonder if we had
two or three days of it, after such a dry time!"
"Well, we won't believe anything quite so dreadful just now," said
Kate. "We'll go to sleep now, and hope for the best."
Mrs. Sandford was somewhat triumphant in the justification of her
weather wisdom, when they heard, next morning, the sound of the rain
pattering down on the veranda without. The morning _did_, indeed, look
gray, dull, unpromising, as even a July day can sometimes look. May
was rather mournful over the loss of the light and color, and the
general change that had come over the landscape. But Kate persisted in
her optimistic declaration that she believed it would soon clear up,
and then everything would be even more lovely than before. Meantime
they would have the chance of seeing how the Falls looked in bad
weather!
And, indeed, they were by no means without beauty, even now. The
purity of the central green was gone, but the soft gray tones melting
away into gray mist, under a gray sky, gave the effect of a sketch
rather than a finished picture, with suggestions of sublimity far
beyond the visible.
As they wistfully scanned the sky after breakfast, watching for a
promising gleam of blue, Kate proposed a programme to be carried out
as soon as it should clear.
"You see it will be too wet for much walking and scrambling about,
which would never do for Hugh, at any rate. Now, let us order a
carriage and take a nice leisurely drive all about the country. We've
seen the Falls pretty well now, and we can do the
battle-grounds--Lundy's Lane and Queenston Heights, and take the
Whirlpool on the way."
"Well, we'll see," said Mrs. Sandford resignedly, "if it _does_
clear." So she settled down to her knitting. Hugh Macnab sat
scribbling in his note-book; Flora amused herself at the piano, and
May hovered about the veranda, still enthralled by the spell of the
"Thunder of Waters," even in a washed-out sketch, as Kate styled it.
But by and by, a warm, soft gleam stole through the mist-laden
atmosphere, small patches of blue sky appeared, and, in a very short
time, the color had, as if by magic, come back to the scene; the
foliage stood out greener than before, and the emerald once more
gemmed the center of the Horse-shoe Falls, though somewhat less than
it had previously appeared.
The carriage was quickly summoned, and they were soon rolling smoothly
along the road that led away from the river, through the quiet little
village of Drummondville--back to Lundy's Lane.
"You see we are really beginning at the end," said Kate. "Lundy's Lane
came at the close of the war, in 1814, and it began in October, 1812,
at Queenston Heights, which we are going to see this afternoon. For,
you see, the American troops kept harassing this border for a couple
of years."
"Just as your English forefathers used to harass my Scotch ones long
ago," said Hugh.
"Oh, and I suppose the Scotch never did likewise! Indeed, I rather
think they were a good deal the worst," laughed Kate. "But, at any
rate, this sort of thing had been going on for nearly two years,
keeping the poor people in a state of constant dread, and I think Sir
Gordon Drummond and his sixteen hundred men, part of them British
troops and part Canadian volunteers, must have been pretty tired of
it. He made up his mind, however, that, come what might, he wouldn't
retire before even five thousand Americans. That hill there was where
he stationed his troops, and, as the guidebook says, they _stayed_
there, though the Americans did their best to drive them off. At last
they tired out the American general, who fell off with his defeated
army to their camp, away up there beyond Chippewa--in the direction we
walked the first afternoon--and I believe they never halted till they
got back to Fort Erie, from whence they had come."
"Your Canadian volunteers must have been a plucky lot of fellows; no
disgrace to the British flag they bore," Hugh observed.
"Yes, and it wasn't only the _men_ who were plucky," May remarked,
somewhat shyly. "The summer before Lundy's Lane, a woman did one of
the bravest deeds of the whole war. Her name was Laura Secord, and she
was the wife of a militiaman who had been crippled in the war. She
found out that the American troops were on the march from Fort George,
down at the mouth of the river, with the object of cutting off a
little garrison of volunteers entrenched at a place called Beaver Dam.
If the Americans could have managed this it would have been a great
blow to the Canadians; and, as there was no one to warn them, this
brave young woman determined to walk all the way--and a very lonely way
it was--through the woods, to warn Fitzgibbon, the British commander.
She succeeded in getting through the Yankee lines, and arrived safely
at the little Canadian garrison; and when the American troops arrived
they met so hot a reception from sharp-shooters concealed in the
woods, with a few British soldiers in front, that the commander
thought he was trapped into an encounter with the whole British force,
and precipitately surrendered his six hundred men, guns and all, to a
Canadian force of much less than half his own numbers."
"Well," exclaimed Hugh, his eye lighting, and his cheek flushing,
"that _was_ a brave woman. Such an exploit as that, in our old border
wars would have been immortalized in a ballad."
"It has been the subject of two or three Canadian poems," Kate
replied. "May knows all about them, and I have no doubt she could
recite some of the verses about Laura Secord."
And May, on being pressed, recited a portion of a ballad rather shyly,
but still with a good deal of spirit, and seeming to feel more at home
with the formidable Hugh, through their fellow-feeling about such
traditionary tales. They looked at the little hill and tried to
imagine the scene, when, at sunset, the guns mingled their ominous
roar with the majestic thunder of the Falls, until recalled by Mrs.
Sandford to the recollection that it was nearly lunch-time. They drove
some distance further along the pretty shady lane, with its bordering
gardens and orchards on either side, and then rapidly returned to the
hotel.
In the afternoon they set out again to drive down the river,--the
afternoon being a lovely one,--the air fragrant with wandering scents
from the woods, and the roads freed from dust by the recent rain. They
drove past the little town of Niagara Falls, or Clifton, as it is
still sometimes called, at the point where the railway crosses the
river on its great suspension bridge, and whose chief center of life
is the great railway station for the whole vicinity. Leaving that
behind, they followed the road along the river bank till they turned
in at the gate leading to the descent to the Whirlpool. A steep,
wooded incline descended the abrupt and densely wooded cliffs, down
which, at intervals, ran a car, drawn up and down by a chain that
passed over a wheel at the top. The fatigue of a descent in any other
way was not to be thought of; so, although this way looked rather
formidable, they all committed themselves to the car, except Mrs.
Sandford, who preferred to remain at the top until their
return--remarking that she had no fancy for tobogganing, especially on
dry land! And, indeed, the dizzy speed at which they descended was not
altogether unlike tobogganing--at least, according to Kate--which, Hugh
said, was some satisfaction, since he should not be able to enjoy the
thing itself. At the foot of the rapid descent they had only to follow
a woodland path for a short distance in order to get a full view of
the boiling and raging torrent; the waters, to a depth of more than
two hundred feet, being compressed into a narrow channel of about a
hundred yards between the high precipitous banks, till the confined
and chafing stream seemed to rise into a ridge of great seething,
foaming waves, tossing their heads up like small geysers, or
waterspouts, some twenty feet high, as they dashed furiously against
each other with all the force of the strong hidden currents. Just
here, where the river swerved suddenly to the right, the sweep of the
river round the American cliff made a sort of back-eddy in the bay
formed by the receding heights above them--where, under a surface of
apparently still water, its solemn depths, dark and somber, like a
mountain tarn set in the midst of dusky pines, lay concealed, save for
a few whirling eddies, a fierce vortex, which nothing that approached
it could resist. Looking only on the placid surface, it was difficult
to realize the hidden power beneath, until Hugh Macnab threw a large
piece of stick near the center, where they saw it continue to gyrate
with tremendous speed as long as they cared to watch it. Kate said
there were gruesome stories of bodies which had been carried over the
Falls, reappearing here for a horrible dance of death, which it made
them shudder to imagine. Hugh enthusiastically declared that the dark
and savage grandeur of this lonely gorge, with its steep overhanging
heights, rising in their dusky green against the sky, like prison
walls about the little Maelstrom, was the finest bit of scenery he had
yet seen about the Falls, and seemed just the place in which to
imagine any tragedy.
"Can't you invent one for it?" asked Flora.
"Nothing worthy of the scene, I am afraid," he replied. "It recalls
Schiller's 'Diver,' though, which has been haunting me constantly
during the last few days. Do you remember it?"
Kate did not, but May had read Lord Lytton's translation of it, and
remembered it, though not distinctly.
"Couldn't you repeat a verse or two of your own translation?" said
Flora.
"I should _have_ to repeat my own, if I did any," he said, smiling,
"for it's the only one I could manage to remember."
"Well, give us a bit of it, do," commanded Kate.
Hugh thought for a moment. "I'll give you the two stanzas that might
do for a description of the present scene," he said, and went on to
recite, with great spirit:
"And it boils and it seethes, and it hisses and roars,
As if fire struggled fierce with the wave,
And a misty spray-cloud from its bosom outpours,
And the chasing floods endlessly rave;
And, like thunder remote, with its low distant rumbles,
The foam-crested stream from the dark canyon tumbles!
But at last comes a lull in the turbulent war,
And black in the midst of white foam
A yawning rift gapes in the center, that far
Leads downwards to bottomless gloom;
And lo! all the surges, swift, rushing and roaring,
Down into the whirlpool are endlessly pouring!"
"It has the merit of being pretty literal, at any rate," he added, as
they all thanked him, while Flora whispered to May that the whole
translation was in the new book that was nearly ready. "But it is so
strong and terse in the original that it is extremely difficult to
render with any justice in a translation."
"It would do for a description of _this_ whirlpool, at any rate," said
Kate. And then she told them of a real tragedy, not unlike that of
"The Diver," which had been recently enacted there, the feat of a bold
swimmer, who had ventured to oppose his own strength and skill to that
resistless force of the flood, with a similar result.
"Poor fellow!" said Hugh, "that's tragedy enough for the place without
inventing one. But why will man be so foolhardy?"
"I can tell you of another daring feat, that _succeeded_ though,"
replied Kate, "though _that_ might have seemed foolhardy, too." And
she went on to tell them how a little steamboat called the "Maid of
the Mist," which used to ply up and down, just below the Falls, in
order to give visitors the same view they now had from the ferry boat,
had finally been taken down the river to Niagara, at its mouth,
piloted through these fierce rapids and that greedy whirlpool; and
how, when at last the pilot had successfully accomplished his anxious
task, and left the boat at its dock, he looked at least ten years
older than he had done only an hour or two before.
While they talked Flora was trying to make a rapid sketch of the view
had from where they sat on the bank--just as a help to remember it by,
she said, for there was far too much to attempt in a hasty sketch, and
the others were not sorry for an excuse to linger a little longer in
so striking and picturesque a spot; but at last they felt compelled to
bid it farewell, and tore themselves away, ascending in the same way
in which they had come down, not without some tremor on the part of
the girls, lest the stout chain should part while they were on the
way. Rejoining Mrs. Sandford, who had grown very impatient, they were
soon in the carriage again, but before pursuing their onward way they
made a little _detour_, driving through a charming glen which led
gradually downwards, under embowering trees and among mossy rocks and
ferny glades, to where a pretty little bay lay, cut off from the
raving stream by a beach of weather-worn pebbles. At the other
extremity of the picturesque glen lay a little placid pool formed by
an eddy of the river, at which Hugh declared he should like to stand
all day with his fishing-rod, taking in leisurely all the influences
of the tranquil scene. Flora, also, went into raptures over the place,
which she said reminded her so much of a Scottish glen, and she and
her brother eagerly discussed its points of similarity and contrast
with several glens well known to them at home.
Returning once more to the high-road they continued their drive in the
slanting afternoon light, with rich farms and orchards on either side
of them and lovely glimpses of the river and the opposite bank, till
they found themselves among the picturesque dingles that lie round
Queenston Heights, ascending the noble eminence, crowned by a stately
shaft, which had been for some time looming before them in the
distance. This height, Kate declared, was a natural monument, marking
the Thermopylae of Canada. But when they came out at last on its brow,
close to the base of the shaft, they all exclaimed with delight at the
exquisite beauty of the view that lay at their feet, which for the
time made them forget that such things as historical associations had
any existence.
Just below them lay a fair, broad bay, into which the narrow,
precipitous gorge had suddenly expanded; while away to their left they
could trace, as on a map, the windings of the now placid river, round
point after point, between banks that in the nearer distance looked
like escarpments crowned with foliage, and, as they receded, gradually
fell away in height until they descended almost to the level of the
great Lake Ontario, which stretched--a blue, sea-like expanse--to the
horizon line. Across the river, before them, the eye traveled over
miles on miles of woodland and fertile farming country, dotted with
villages and homesteads; the pretty little town of Lewiston, close to
the river, just below. Immediately beneath them the rugged heights
fell away abruptly to the river beach, and they looked down on the
picturesque little village of Queenston, nestling among its graceful
weeping willows, while, from its dock, a small ferry steamer was just
leaving the quiet river, on its way to the nearly opposite dock at
Lewiston. One or two sailing vessels and skiffs added animation to the
charming foreground, and the whole seemed an embodiment of tranquil
beauty.
"Who would ever dream," said Flora, "that this was the same river we
saw raging away up there?" though May, listening attentively, could
still hear the soft, distant murmur of the "Thunder of Waters."
"War and Peace," said Hugh. "But are we not going to ascend the
monument?"
"Of course," said Kate, when they had all read the commemorative
inscription, and duly admired the graceful shaft, crowned by the
figure of General Wolfe, with one hand resting on his sword and the
other extended as if to cheer on his men. They climbed the winding
stair within to the summit, from whence they could command still more
extensive and varied panorama on all sides of them. Kate eagerly
pointed out on the last headland at the mouth of the river the little
Canadian town of Niagara, which, she informed her Scotch cousins, was
almost the oldest town in Ontario, and had even enjoyed the dignity of
being its first constitutional capital. Close beside it they could
trace just through an opera glass the ramparts of old Fort George,
which had played an important part in stormy days gone by. On the
opposite point rose the white walls of the American Fort Niagara.
Landward, Kate pointed out the spires of St. Catherine's, fourteen
miles off, and the silver streak of the Welland Canal, winding its
devious way from Lake Erie to Port Dalhousie, on Lake Ontario. And,
"if they only had a good spy-glass," she added, "they could catch a
glimpse of Toronto, just across a blue stretch of lake."
After feasting their eyes on the lovely landscape, lighted by the warm
afternoon sun, they were not sorry to descend from their lofty perch
and sit down a while in a shady spot on the verge of the height,
looking down over its dense foliage of oak and maple, birch and
sumach, to the blue-green river that flowed beneath, half concealed by
the rocky ledges. And as they sat there and Flora sketched, Kate
described--helped out by May--how, early in one October morning of 1812,
a line of boats filled with American troops had stolen silently across
the stream, until the gallant "forlorn hope" had made a landing on the
Canadian shore; and how the fire of the guns that greeted their
passage had roused General Wolfe at Fort George, and brought him
galloping up at the head of his suite to take command of the gallant
little British and Canadian force, of only about eight hundred men,
all told. But this little force had opposed the progress of the
invaders every inch of ground with such desperate valor as speedily to
change the attack into a rout, in which numbers of the brave American
soldiers, fighting gallantly, even after all was lost, fell victims to
the uncontrollable ferocity of the Indians, determined to avenge the
death of the brave Wolfe, who had fallen while fighting like one of
his own men, and cheering on the "York Volunteers." Many of the
invaders who escaped the pursuing Indians were killed in trying to
descend the rocky height or drowned in attempting to swim across the
river.
"A well-fought fight it must have been," exclaimed Hugh, "worthy to
take its place beside any of our historical battlefields. Why don't we
know more about these affairs at home? Then we might feel more as if
Canada were indeed a 'Greater Britain!' And so these heights had
_their_ dead hero, too, as well as the 'Heights of Abraham'?"
"Yes, indeed," said May; "General Brock was indeed a hero, just as
much as Wolfe, though he only helped to _keep_ Canada, instead of
conquering it."
"But," said Kate, "to go back to ancient history, do you know that
this ridge here is said to have been once the shore of an ocean, and,
at a later time, the boundary of the lake; and that here the Falls are
supposed to have made their first plunge. The geologists have traced
it all the way--its gradually receding front all the way back to where
it is now."
"I'm sure I'm much obliged to them," said Hugh, "but somehow these
vast blank periods of geological history don't touch me half so much
as a little bit of human interest. That battle you have been
describing is far more interesting than aeons of conflict between water
and shale."
"If it interests you so much," Kate rejoined, "you can read more about
it when we get home, in a Canadian story I have, called 'For King and
Country,' which ends with the battle of Queenston Heights."
And now Flora had finished her little sketch, and Mrs. Sandford warned
the lingering party that the afternoon was waning fast, in which
undoubted fact they acquiesced with a general sigh of regret. They
descended by the steep winding road on the other side of the height,
through thickets of aromatic red cedar, down to the scattered little
village, embowered among its orchards below, and drove some distance
farther on along the road in order that they might enjoy, in
returning, the charming view of the Heights, approached from the
Niagara side. They followed, for a mile or two, the undulating road
which, after leaving the village behind, was skirted with white
villas, surrounded by wide stretches of soft green sward, flecked by
the shadows of fine old trees, looking like a bit of an English park;
and then, turning at last, enjoyed the charming view of the now
distant bay, with wooded point after point intervening, and the bold
eminence of Queenston Heights always fitly closing in the picturesque
vista.
They all thought the drive such an enchanting one that there was not a
dissenting voice when Kate proposed that, since they were going to
take the daily steamer to Toronto from Niagara, on their onward route,
by far the pleasantest plan would be to _drive_ thither, when at last
they must leave the Falls.
Leaving the Falls seemed a sad prospect to all of them, but more
especially so to May, over whom the Falls had thrown such a spell of
fascination that she would have liked nothing better than to stay
there all summer, feasting eyes and ears on their grandeur. But Hugh
Macnab, who owned to the same feeling, added the consoling reflection
that "a thing of beauty is a joy forever," and May felt convinced that
the memory of the Falls would indeed be "a joy forever" to _her_ as
long as she lived.
They could only spare three days more to Niagara, and as they sat that
evening as usual on the piazza, regretting the lateness of the already
waning moon, they agreed that now, having taken a general survey of
the main points of view, they should not attempt any plans for the
remaining days, but should spend them in those leisurely,
unpremeditated loiterings, which are always the pleasantest way of
absorbing all the more subtile and indefinite influences of noble
scenery.
So the remaining days turned out to be, perhaps, the most delightful
of the sojourn, spent in charming desultory strolls, as the fancy of
the moment dictated, revisiting all the points which had most
impressed them, taking in new beauties which they had not observed
before, while they talked or were silent, as the mood suggested, and
Flora filled her sketch-book with pretty "bits," and Hugh occasionally
withdrew to a little distance and scribbled in his note-book, and Mrs.
Sandford, sitting near while the others discursively rambled,
accomplished yards on yards of her endless knitting.
Their last day was Sunday, when they walked down to the pretty little
church at Clifton, and enjoyed the quiet service, and sat most of the
afternoon on the piazza, of the view from whence they never tired. It
was a lovely sunset, and they walked as far as Table Rock to have a
last lingering look at the superb view from there in the rich evening
glow. As they watched the two magnificent Falls into which the stream
divides, to re-unite below, Kate told her cousin Hugh of a beautiful
simile which she had seen in a new Canadian book called "The New
Empire," in which the author suggests that though the stream of the
British race in America had divided like that sweeping river into two
magnificent sections, so, like it, they might re-unite in the future
citizenship of a world-wide Britain.
"And then, perhaps, we shall go on to our laureate's dream of the
federation of the world! It is at all events a pleasant thought to
finish this glorious visit with; and I suppose this is our farewell
look?"
"I am afraid so," said Kate. "We shall not have much time in the
morning for loitering. Let us be glad we have such a glorious sight of
it--for the last!"
And they sat silently gazing, as if they would fain have prolonged the
sunset light. But at length its last vestige had vanished, and they
slowly walked back to the hotel in the starlight, while the grand
music of the "Thunder of Waters" still filled their ears, and sounded
even through their dreams.