_Narrative of a Voyage up the River Hudson, from New York to Lake
Champlain. By_ ISAAC WELD, Esq.
Mr. Weld, having taken his passage in one of the sloops which trade on
the North or Hudson's river, betwixt New York and Albany, embarked on
the second of July. Scarcely a breath of air was stirring, and the tide
carried the vessel along at the rate of about two miles and a half an
hour. The prospects that were presented to his view, in passing up this
magnificent stream, were peculiarly grand and beautiful. In some places
the river expands to the breadth of five or six miles, in others it
narrows to that of a few hundred yards; and, in various parts, it is
interspersed with islands. From several points of view its course can be
traced to a great distance up the Hudson, whilst in others it is
suddenly lost to the sight, as it winds between its lofty banks. Here
mountains, covered with rocks and trees, rise almost perpendicularly out
of the water; there a fine champaign country presents itself, cultivated
to the very margin of the river, whilst neat farm-houses and distant
towns embellish the charming landscapes.
After sunset a brisk wind sprang up, which carried the vessel at the
rate of six or seven miles an hour for a considerable part of the night;
but for some hours it was requisite for her to lie at anchor, in a place
where the navigation of the river was intricate.
Early the next morning the voyagers found themselves opposite to _West
Point_, a place rendered remarkable in the history of the American war,
by the desertion of General Arnold, and the consequent death of the
unfortunate Major Andre. The fort stands about one hundred and fifty
feet above the level of the water, and on the side of a barren hill. It
had, at this time, a most melancholy aspect. Near West Point the
Highlands, as they are called, commence, and extend along the river, on
each side, for several miles.
About four o'clock in the morning of the 4th of July, the vessel reached
_Albany_, the place of its destination, one hundred and sixty miles
distant from New York. Albany is a city which, at this time, contained
about eleven hundred houses; and the number was fast increasing. In the
old part of the town, the streets were very narrow, and the houses bad.
The latter were all in the old Dutch taste, with the gable ends towards
the street, and ornamented at the top with large iron weather-cocks; but
in that part of the town which had been lately erected, the streets
were commodious, and many of the houses were handsome. Great pains had
been taken to have the streets well paved and lighted. In summer time
Albany is a disagreeable place; for it stands in a low situation on the
margin of the river, which here runs very slowly, and which, towards the
evening, often exhales clouds of vapour.
[In 1817, Albany is described, by Mr. Hall, to have had a gay and
thriving appearance, and nothing Dutch about it, except the names of
some of its inhabitants. Being the seat of government for New York, it
has a parliament-house, dignified with the name of Capitol. This stands
upon an eminence, and has a lofty columnar porch; but, as the building
is small, it seems to be all porch. There is a miserable little museum
here, which contains a group of waxen figures brought from France,
representing the execution of Louis the Sixteenth. Albany is now a place
of considerable trade; and, if a canal be completed betwixt this town
and Lake Erie, it will become a town of great importance.]
The 4th of July, the day of Mr. Weld's arrival at Albany, was the
anniversary of the declaration of American independence. About noon a
drum and trumpet gave notice that the rejoicings would immediately
commence; and, on walking to a hill, about a quarter of a mile from the
town, Mr. Weld saw sixty men drawn up, partly militia, partly
volunteers, partly infantry, partly cavalry. The last were clothed in
scarlet, and were mounted on horses of various descriptions. About three
hundred spectators attended. A few rounds from a three-pounder were
fired, and some volleys of small-arms. When the firing ceased, the
troops returned to the town, a party of militia officers, in uniform,
marching in the rear, under the shade of umbrellas, as the day was
excessively hot. Having reached the town, the whole body dispersed. The
volunteers and militia officers afterwards dined together, and thus
ended the rejoicings of the day.
Mr. Weld remained in Albany for a few days, and then set off for
Skenesborough, upon Lake Champlain, in a carriage hired for the purpose.
In about two hours he arrived at the small village of _Cohoz_, close to
which is a remarkable cataract in the _Mohawk River_. This river takes
its rise to the north-east of Lake Oneida, and, after a course of one
hundred and forty miles, joins the Hudson about ten miles above Albany.
The _Cohoz fall_ is about three miles from the mouth of this river, and
at a place where its width is about three hundred yards: a ledge of
rocks extends quite across the stream, and from the top of these the
water falls about fifty feet perpendicular: the line of the fall, from
one side of the river to the other, is nearly straight. The appearance
of this cataract varies much, according to the quantity of water: when
the river is full, the water descends in an unbroken sheet from one bank
to the other; but, at other times, the greater part of the rocks is left
uncovered.
From this place Mr. Weld proceeded along the banks of the _Hudson
River_, and, late in the evening, reached _Saratoga_, thirty-five miles
from Albany. This place contained about forty houses; but they were so
scattered, that it had not the least appearance of a town.
Near Saratoga, on the borders of a marsh, are several remarkable mineral
springs: one of these, in the crater of a rock, of pyramidical form, and
about five feet in height, is particularly curious. This rock seems to
have been formed by the petrifaction of the water; and all the other
springs are surrounded by similar petrifactions.
Of the works thrown up at Saratoga, during the war, by the British and
American armies, there were now scarcely any remains. The country around
was well cultivated, and most of the trenches had been levelled by the
plough. Mr. Weld here crossed the Hudson River, and proceeded, for some
distance, along its eastern shore. After this the road was most
wretched, particularly over a long causeway, which had been formed
originally for the transporting of cannon. This causeway consisted of
large, trees laid side by side. Some of them being decayed, great
intervals were left, in which the wheels of the carriage were sometimes
locked so fast, that the horses alone could not possibly extricate them.
The woods on each side of the road had a much more majestic appearance
than any that Mr. Weld had seen since he had left Philadelphia. This,
however, was owing more to the great height than to the thickness of the
trees, for he could not see one that appeared more than thirty inches in
diameter. The trees here were chiefly oaks, hiccory, hemlock, and beech;
intermixed with which appeared great numbers of smooth-barked, or
Weymouth pines. A profusion of wild raspberries were growing in the
woods.
After having experienced almost inconceivable difficulty, in consequence
of the badness of the road; and having occupied five hours in travelling
only twelve miles, Mr. Weld arrived at _Skenesborough_. This is a little
town, which stands near the southern extremity of Lake Champlain. It
consisted, at this time, of only twelve houses, and was dreadfully
infested with musquitoes, a large kind of gnats, which abound in the
swampy parts of all hot countries. Such myriads of these insects
attacked Mr. Weld, the first night of his sleeping there, that, when he
rose in the morning, his face and hands were covered with large
pustules, like those of a person in the small-pox. The situation of
Skenesborough, on the margin of a piece of water which is almost
stagnant, and which is shaded by thick woods, is peculiarly favourable
to the increase of these insects.
Shortly after their arrival in Skenesborough, Mr. Weld, and two
gentlemen by whom he was accompanied, hired a boat of about ten tons
burden, for the purpose of crossing _Lake Champlain_. The vessel sailed
at one o'clock in the day; but, as the channel was narrow, and the wind
adverse, they were only able to proceed about six miles before sunset.
Having brought the vessel to an anchor, the party landed and walked to
some adjacent farm-houses, in the hope of obtaining provisions; but they
were not able to procure any thing except milk and cheese. The next day
they reached _Ticonderoga_. Here the only dwelling was a tavern, a large
house built of stone. On entering it, the party was shown into a
spacious apartment, crowded with boatmen and other persons, who had just
arrived from St. John's in Canada. The man of the house was a judge; a
sullen, demure old gentleman, who sate by the fire, with tattered
clothes and dishevelled locks, reading a book, and was totally
regardless of every person in the house.
The old fort and barracks of Ticonderoga, are on the top of a rising
ground, just behind the tavern: they were at this time in ruins, and it
is not likely that they ever will be rebuilt; for the situation is a
very insecure one, being commanded by a lofty hill, called Mount
Defiance. During the great American war, the British troops obtained
possession of this place, by dragging cannon and mortars up the hill,
and firing down upon the fort.
Mr. Weld and his friends, on leaving Ticonderoga, pursued their voyage
to _Crown Point_: Here they landed to inspect the old fort. Nothing,
however, was to be seen but a heap of ruins; for, shortly before it was
surrendered by the British troops, the powder-magazine blew up, and a
great part of the works was destroyed; and, since the final evacuation
of the place, the people of the neighbourhood have been continually
digging in different parts, in the hope of procuring lead and iron shot.
At the south side only the ditches remain perfect: they are wide and
deep, and are cut through immense rocks of limestone; and, from being
overgrown, towards the top, with different kinds of shrubs, they have a
grand and picturesque appearance.
While the party were here, they were agreeably surprised with the sight
of a large birch-canoe, upon the lake, navigated by two or three
Indians, in the dresses of their nation. These made for the shore, and
soon landed; and, shortly afterwards, another party arrived, that had
come by land.
_Lake Champlain_ is about one hundred and twenty miles in length, and is
of various breadths: for the first thirty miles it is, in no place, more
than two miles wide; beyond this, for the distance of twelve miles, it
is five or six miles across; but it afterwards narrows, and again, at
the end of a few miles, expands. That part called the _Broad Lake_,
because broader than any other, is eighteen miles across. Here the lake
is interspersed with a great number of islands. The soundings of Lake
Champlain are, in general, very deep; in many places they are sixty and
seventy, and in some even one hundred fathoms in depth.
The scenery, along the shores of the lake, is extremely grand and
picturesque; particularly beyond Crown Point. Here they are beautifully
ornamented with hanging woods and rocks; and the mountains, on the
western side, rise in ranges one behind another, in the most magnificent
manner possible.
* * * * *
Crossing from the head of Lake Champlain, westward to the river St.
Lawrence, we shall describe the places adjacent to that river, and some
of the north-western parts of the state of New York, in
_A Narrative of_ LIEUTENANT HALL'S _Journey from Canada to the
Cataract of Niagara._
Mr. Hall had travelled from Montreal, in Canada, to Prescott, in a
stage-waggon, which carried the mail; and he says that he can answer for
its being one of the roughest conveyances on either side of the
Atlantic.
The face of the country is invariably flat; and settlements have not,
hitherto, spread far from the banks of the _St. Lawrence_.
_Prescott_ is remarkable for nothing but a square redoubt, or fort,
called Fort Wellington. The accommodations at this place were so bad
that Mr. Hall, at midnight, seated himself in a light waggon, in which
two gentlemen were proceeding to Brockville. These gentlemen afterwards
offered him a passage to Kingston, in a boat belonging to the British
navy, which was waiting for them at _Brockville_.
The banks of the river St. Lawrence, from the neighbourhood of
Brockville, are of limestone, and from twenty to fifty feet in height.
Immense masses of reddish granite are also scattered along the bed of
the stream, and sometimes project from the shore. The numerous islands
which crowd the approach to _Lake Ontario_, have all a granite basis:
they are clothed with cedar and pine-trees, and with an abundance of
raspberry plants. The bed of the _Gananoqua_ is also of granite. This
river is rising into importance, from the circumstance of a new
settlement being formed, under the auspices of the British government,
on the waters with which it communicates.
This settlement lies at the head of the lakes of the _Rideau_, and, in
case of another American war, is meant to secure a communication betwixt
Montreal and Kingston, by way of the Utawa. The settlers are chiefly
disbanded soldiers, who clear and cultivate the land, under the
superintendance of officers of the quarter-master-general's department.
A canal has been cut to avoid the falls of the Rideau; and the
communication, either by the Gananoqua, or Kingston, will be improved by
locks. _Kingston_, which is within the Canadian dominions, is admirably
situated for naval purposes.
The basis of the soil on which this town is situated is limestone,
disposed in horizontal strata. Kingston contains some good houses and
stores; a small theatre, built by the military, for private theatricals;
a large wooden government house, and all the appendages of an extensive
military and naval establishment; with as much society as can
reasonably be expected, in a town but lately created from the "howling
desert." The adjacent country is flat, stony, and barren. Mr. Hall says
that fleets of ships occasionally lie off Kingston, several of which are
as large as any on the ocean. Vessels of large dimensions were at this
time building, on the spot where, a few months before, their
frame-timbers had been growing.
Mr. Hall left Kingston, in a packet, for the American station of
_Sackett's harbour_. This, after Kingston, has a mean appearance: its
situation is low, its harbour is small, and its fortifications are of
very different construction, both as to form and materials, from those
of the former town. The navy-yard consists merely of a narrow tongue of
land, the point of which affords just space sufficient for the
construction of one first-rate vessel; with room for work-shops, and
stores, on the remaining part of it. One of the largest vessels in the
world, was at this time on the stocks. The town consists of a long
street, in the direction of the river, with a few smaller streets
crossing it at right angles: it covers less ground than Kingston, and
has fewer good houses; but it has an advantage which Kingston does not
possess, in a broad flagged footway.
The distance from Sackett's harbour to _Watertown_ is about ten miles.
This is an elegant village on the _Black River_. It contains about
twelve hundred inhabitants, chiefly emigrants from New England. The
houses are, for the most part, of wood, but tastefully finished; and a
few are built of bricks.
At Watertown there was a good tavern, which afforded to Mr. Hall and his
companions a luxury unusual in America, a private sitting-room, and
dinner at an hour appointed by themselves. Within a few miles of
Watertown the country rises boldly, and presents a refreshing contrast,
of hill and valley, to the flat, heavy woods, through which they had
been labouring from Sackett's harbour.
_Utica_, the town at which the travellers next arrived stands on the
right bank of the _River Mohawk_, over which it is approached by a
covered wooden bridge, of considerable length. The appearance of this
town is highly prepossessing: the streets are spacious; the houses are
large and well built; and the stores, the name given to shops throughout
America, are as well supplied, and as handsomely fitted up, as those of
New York or Philadelphia.
There are at Utica two hotels, on a large scale; one of which, the York
House, was equal in arrangement and accommodation, to any hotel beyond
the Atlantic: it was kept by an Englishman from Bath. The inhabitants,
from three to four thousand in number, maintained four churches: one
episcopal, one presbyterian, and two Welsh.
This town is laid out on a very extensive scale. A small part of it only
is yet completed; but little doubt is entertained that ten years will
accomplish the whole. Fifteen years had not passed since there was here
no other trace of habitation than a solitary log-house, built for the
occasional reception of merchandise, on its way down the Mohawk. The
overflowing population of New England, fixing its exertions on a new and
fertile soil, has, within a few years, effected this change.
Independently of its soil, Utica has great advantages of situation; for
it is nearly at the point of junction betwixt the waters of the lakes
and of the Atlantic.
With Utica commences a succession of flourishing villages and
settlements, which renders this tract of country the astonishment of
travellers. That so large a portion of the soil should, in less than
twenty years, have been cleared, brought into cultivation, and have
acquired a numerous population, is, in itself, sufficiently surprising;
but the surprise is considerably increased, when we consider the
character of elegant opulence with which it every where smiles on the
eye. Each village teems, like a hive, with activity and employment. The
houses, taken in the mass, are on a large scale; for (except the few
primitive log-huts that still survive) there is scarcely one below the
appearance of an opulent London tradesman's country box. They are, in
general, of wood, painted white, with green doors and shutters; and with
porches, or verandas, in front.
The travellers passed through _Skaneactas_, a village, pleasantly
situated, at the head of the lake from which it is named. They then
proceeded to _Cayuga_, which, besides its agreeable site, is remarkable
for a bridge, nearly a mile in length, over the head of the Cayuga lake:
it is built on piles, and level. Betwixt Cayuga and Geneva is the
flourishing little village of _Waterloo_, formed since the battle so
named. _Geneva_ contains many elegant houses, beautifully placed, on the
rising shore, at the head of the Geneva lake.
From Geneva to _Canandaigua_, a tract of hill and vale extends, for
sixteen miles, and having (within that space) only two houses.
Canandaigua is a town of villas, built on the rising shore of the
_Canandaigua lake_. The lower part of the main street is occupied by
stores and warehouses; but the upper part of it, to the length of nearly
two miles, consists of ornamented cottages, tastefully finished with
colonnades, porches, and verandas; and each within its own garden or
pleasure-ground. The prospect, down this long vista, to the lake, is
peculiarly elegant.
From Canandaigua the travellers turned from the main road, nine miles,
south-west, to visit what is called "_the burning spring_." On arriving
near the place, they entered a small but thick wood, of pine and
maple-trees, enclosed within a narrow ravine. Down this glen, the width
of which, at its entrance, may be about sixty yards, trickles a scanty
streamlet. They had advanced on its course about fifty yards, when,
close under the rocks of the right bank, they perceived a bright red
flame, burning briskly on the water. Pieces of lighted wood were applied
to different adjacent spots, and a space of several yards in extent was
immediately in a blaze. Being informed by the guide that a repetition of
this phenomenon might be seen higher up the glen, they scrambled on,
for about a hundred yards, and, directed in some degree by a strong
smell of sulphur, they applied their match to several places, with
similar effect. These fires continue burning unceasingly, unless they
are extinguished by accident. The phaenomenon was originally discovered
by the casual rolling of lighted embers, from the top of the bank,
whilst some persons were clearing it for cultivation; and, in the
intensity and duration of the flame, it probably exceeds any thing of
the kind that is known.
_Rochester_ stands immediately on the great falls of the Genesee, about
eight miles above its entrance into lake Ontario. When Mr. Hall was
here, this town had been built only four years, yet it contained a
hundred good houses, furnished with all the conveniences of life;
several comfortable taverns, a cotton-mill, and some large corn-mills.
Its site is grand. The Genesee rushes through it, over a bed of
limestone, and precipitates itself down three ledges of rock,
ninety-three; thirty, and seventy-six feet in height, within the
distance of a mile and a half from the town. The immediate vicinity of
Rochester is still an unbroken forest, consisting of oak, hickory, ash,
beech, bass, elm, and walnut-trees. The wild tenants of the woods have,
naturally, retired before the sound of cultivation; but there are a few
wolves and bears still in the neighbourhood. One of the latter had
lately seized a pig close to the town. Racoons, porcupines, squirrels
black and grey, and foxes, are still numerous. The hogs have done good
service in destroying the rattlesnakes, which are already becoming rare.
Pigeons, quails, and blackbirds abound. At Rochester, the line of
settled country, in this direction, terminates; for, from this place to
Lewistown, are eighty miles of wilderness.
The traveller, halting on the verge of these aboriginal shades, is
inclined to pause in thought, and to consider the interesting scenes
through which he has been passing. They are such as reason must admire,
for they are the result of industry, temperance, and freedom. Five or
ten, or, at the utmost, twenty years before Mr. Hall was in America,
where there are now corn-fields, towns, and villages, the whole country
was one mass of forest.
Notwithstanding the bad state of the roads, the stage-waggon runs from
Rochester to Lewistown in two days. This journey is so heavy, that it is
sometimes necessary to alight, and walk several miles, or to suffer
almost a dislocation of limbs, in jolting over causeys or logged roads,
formed of pine, or oak-trees, laid crossways. At different intervals,
square patches seem cut out of the forest, in the centre of which low
log-huts have been constructed, without the aid of saw or plane; and are
surrounded by stumps of trees, black with the fires kindled for the
purpose of clearing the land.
_Lewistown_ was one of the frontier villages burnt during the last war,
to retaliate upon the Americans for the destruction of Newark. It has,
however, been since rebuilt, and all the marks of its devastation have
been effaced. It is agreeably situated, at the foot of the limestone
ridge, on the steep bank of the river St. Lawrence, which here rushes,
with a boiling and eddying torrent, from the falls to Lake Ontario.
Lewistown, notwithstanding its infancy, and its remote situation,
contains several good stores.
_Queenston_, on the opposite side of the river, stands in the midst of
corn-fields and farm-houses; a rare and interesting sight in Canada. It
is built on the river's edge, at the foot of the heights. Before the
late war it was embosomed in peach-orchards; but these were all felled,
to aid the operations of the English troops. The heights are still
crowned by a redoubt, and by the remains of batteries, raised to defend
the passage of the river. It was near one of these that Sir Isaac Brocke
was killed, on the 13th of October, 1812, while, with four hundred men,
he gallantly opposed the landing of fifteen hundred Americans, the whole
of whom were afterwards captured by g\General Sheaffe.
From Queenston Mr. Hall proceeded to _York_, a town within the British
territory, situated on the north-western bank of lake Ontario. The
country through which he passed abounded in game of various kinds. From
the head of the lake it was, however, less varied than on the Niagara
frontiers; and, for many miles, it was an uniform tract of sandy
barrens, unsusceptible of culture.
York, being the seat of government for Upper Canada, is a place of
considerable importance in the eyes of its inhabitants. To a stranger,
however, it presents little more than about one hundred wooden houses,
several of them conveniently, and even elegantly built; one or two of
brick. The public buildings were destroyed by the Americans.
From York, Mr. Hall went, through the little town of _Ancaster_, to
visit a _Settlement of Mohawk Indians_, on the banks of the _Grand
River_. In the American war the Mohawks were strongly attached to the
British interest, and first followed Sir William Johnson in Canada,
under their chieftain, a celebrated warrior, whose name was Brandt. This
man accustomed his people to the arts of civilized life, and made
farmers of them. He built a church, and himself translated one of the
gospels into the Mohawk language. His grave is to be seen under the
walls of his church. The son of this extraordinary Indian is now living,
and is a fine young man, of gentlemanly manners and appearance: he both
speaks and writes the English language with correctness; and he dresses
nearly in the English fashion. Brandt left also a daughter, who is
living, and who would not disgrace the fashionable circles of Europe.
Her face and person are fine and graceful: she speaks English, not only
correctly, but elegantly; and, both in her speech and manners, she has a
softness approaching oriental languor. She retains so much of her
national dress as to identify her with her people; over whom she affects
no superiority, but with whom she seems pleased to preserve all the ties
and duties of relationship. She held the infant of one of her relations
at the font, on the Sunday that Mr. Hall visited the church at Ancaster.
The usual church and baptismal service was performed by a Dr. Aaron, an
Indian, and an assistant priest; the congregation consisted of sixty or
seventy persons, male and female. Many of the young men were dressed in
the English fashion, but several of the old warriors came with their
blankets, folded over them; and, in this dress, with a step and mien of
quiet energy, they forcibly reminded Mr. Hall of ancient Romans. Some of
them wore large silver crosses, medals, and other trinkets, on their
backs and breasts; and a few had bandeaus, ornamented with feathers. Dr.
Aaron, a grey-headed Mohawk, had touched his cheeks and forehead with a
few spots of vermilion, in honour of Sunday: he wore a surplice, and
preached at considerable length; but his delivery was unimpassioned and
monotonous.
The Mohawk village stands on a little plain, and looks down upon the
Grand River. The houses of the inhabitants, built of logs, rudely put
together, exhibit, externally, a great appearance of neglect and want of
comfort: some few are in a better condition. The house belonging to
Brandt's family resembled that of a petty English farmer: Dr. Aaron's
was neat and clean. The doctor, who had been regularly ordained, and
spoke very good English, told Mr. Hall that the village had been much
injured by the wars, which had impeded its improvements, and had
dispersed the inhabitants over the country.
Mr. Hall had little opportunity of observing the manners and character
of these Indians. It may, however, be conjectured that European
intercourse is fast obliterating the characteristic features of their
former social system. Their increased knowledge of European arts and
enjoyments, has been probably followed by a proportionate increase of
wants and desires. Their manners seemed, to Mr. Hall, remarkable for
nothing so much as for that quiet self-possession, which constitutes
the reverse of vulgarity. Their women, before strangers, are extremely
timid: most of those who lived at a distance from the church, came
mounted, with their husbands walking by their sides; a symptom, perhaps,
that the sex is rising among them into an European equality of rights
and enjoyments. The whole of the settlements are reckoned to furnish
about five hundred warriors to the British government.
Mr. Hall next describes the celebrated _Cataract_ or _Falls of Niagara_.
At the distance of about a mile from this cataract, a white cloud,
hovering over the trees, indicates its situation: it is not, however,
until the road emerges from a close country, into the space of open
ground immediately in its vicinity, that white volumes of foam are seen,
as if boiling up from a sulphureous gulph. Here a foot-path turns from
the road, towards a wooded cliff. The rapids are beheld on the right,
rushing for the space of a mile, like a tempestuous sea. A narrow tract
descends about sixty feet down the cliff, and continues across a plashy
meadow, through a copse, encumbered with masses of limestone. Beyond
this, Mr. Hall found himself upon what is called the Table Rock, on the
west side of the upper part of the cataract, at the very point where the
river precipitates itself into the abyss. The rapid motion of the
waters, the stunning noise, and the mounting clouds, almost persuade the
startled senses, that the rock itself is tottering, and is on the point
of being precipitated into the gulph, which swallows the mass of
descending waters. He bent over it, to mark the clouds rolling white
beneath him, as in an inverted sky, illuminated by a most brilliant
rainbow; one of those features of softness which nature delights to
pencil amid her wildest scenes, tempering her awfulness with beauty, and
making even her terrors lovely.
There is a ladder about half a mile below the Table Rock; and, by this,
Mr. Hall descended the cliff, to reach the foot of the fall. There was
formerly much difficulty in the descent, but a few years have made a
great change: the present dangers and difficulties may easily be
enumerated. The first is, the ordinary hazard that every one runs who
goes up or down a ladder: this ladder is a very good one, of thirty
steps, or about forty feet; and, from it, the path is a rough one, over
the fragments and masses of rock which have gradually crumbled, or have
been forcibly riven, from the cliff, and which cover a broad declining
space, from its foot to the brink of the river. The only risk, in this
part of the pilgrimage, is that of a broken shin from a false step. The
path gradually becomes smooth as it advances towards the cataract. Mr.
Hall, as he drew near, says that he felt a sensation of awe, like that
caused by the first cannon, on the morning of a battle. He passed, from
sunshine, into gloom and tempest. The spray beat down in a heavy rain; a
violent wind rushed from behind the sheet of water: it was difficult to
respire, and, for a moment, it seemed temerity to encounter the
convulsive workings of the elements, and to intrude into the dark
dwellings of their power. But the danger is in appearance only: it is
possible to penetrate only a few yards beyond the curtain, and, in these
few, there is no hazard; the footing is good, and the space is
sufficiently broad and free. There is even no necessity for a guide: the
eyes amply suffice to point out all that is to be seen or avoided.
During Mr. Hall's first visit, there were two young American ladies on
the same errand; and they, as well as himself, were drenched in the
cloud of spray.
The larger fall was formerly called the "Horse-shoe," but this name is
no longer applicable; for its shape has become that of an acute angle.
An officer, who had been stationed in the neighbourhood thirty years,
pointed out to Mr. Hall the alteration which had taken place in the
centre of the fall, and which he estimated at about eighteen feet in
that time.
The lesser fall, on the American side, had the appearance of a
considerable elevation, above the bed of the greater: on enquiry, Mr.
Hall found that there was a difference between them, of about fifteen
feet, caused, probably, by the greater weight of water descending down
one than the other.
The island which divides the falls has, of late years, been frequently
visited; nor is the visit to it an adventure of much hazard. At the
point where the rapids commence, the current separates, and is drawn, on
either side, towards the centre of the two falls, while the centre of
the stream, being in the straight line of the island, descends towards
it, without any violent attraction; and, down this still water, American
boats, well manned, and furnished with poles to secure them from the
action of the two currents, have frequently dropt to the island.
There is a whirlpool about half way betwixt Niagara and Queenston. The
river, boiling and eddying from the falls, enters a circular basin,
round which the lofty cliff sweeps, like an antique wall, overgrown with
trees at its base, and amid its clefts and crevices. The cause of the
whirlpool is perceptible to the spectator, who looks down, and observes
that the stream, being compelled into this basin, by the direction of
its channel, and unable to escape with celerity, is forced to gain time
by revolving within its own circumference.
[Mr. Weld, who visited Niagara, about the year 1797, observes that,
although the spray, and the noise of the cataract, are sometimes not
observable so far as half a mile, yet, at other times, the noise has
been heard at the distance of forty miles; and that he has himself seen
the spray, like a cloud, at the distance of fifty-four miles. The river,
as it approaches the falls, runs with astonishing impetuosity. Just at
the precipice, down which it tumbles, it takes a considerable bend
towards the right; and the line of the falls, instead of extending from
bank to bank, in the shortest direction, runs obliquely across. The
whole width of the fall is estimated to be about three quarters of a
mile, including a rocky island, a quarter of a mile wide, by which the
stream is divided. This cataract is divided, by islands, into three
distinct falls, the loftiest of which is one hundred and sixty feet in
perpendicular height.
Mr. Weld observes that it is possible not merely to pass to the very
foot of the great fall; but even to proceed behind the tremendous sheet
of water which comes pouring down from the top of the precipice; for the
water falls from the edge of a projecting rock, and, by its violent
ebullition, caverns of considerable size have been hollowed out of the
rocks at the bottom, and extend some way beneath the bed of the upper
part of the river. Mr. Weld advanced within about six yards of the edge
of the sheet of water, just far enough for him to peep into the caverns
behind it. But here his breath was nearly taken away by the violent
whirlwind, that always rages at the bottom of the cataract, occasioned
by the concussion of such a vast body of water against the rocks. Indeed
Mr. Weld had no inclination either to go further, or to explore the
dreary confines of these caverns, where death seemed to await any one
who should be daring enough to enter their threatening jaws. No words,
he says, can convey an adequate idea of the awful grandeur of the scene,
at this place. The senses are appalled by the sight of the immense body
of water that comes pouring from the top of the precipice; and by the
thundering sound of the billows dashing against the rocky sides of the
cavern below. He trembled with reverential fear, when he considered that
a blast of the whirlwind might have swept him from off the slippery
rocks on which he stood, and have precipitated him into the dreadful
gulph beneath; whence all the power of man could not have extricated
him. He here felt what an insignificant being man is in the creation;
and his mind was forcibly impressed with an awful idea of the power of
that mighty Existence, who commanded the waters to flow.]
Fourth Day's Instruction.