which I have already described, the spectator commands one of the
grandest and most romantic views in nature. The tremendous rapids above
the Falls—Goat Island in their midst, covered with trees, which seem at
every moment about to be swept away—the Horse-shoe Fall, immediately
below Table Rock—Fort Schlosser Fall, beyond Goat Island, and the
frightful gulf beneath, boiling with perpetual rage, and shooting
upwards immense volumes of sparkling foam, smoking with the apparent
intensity of heat, are a few of the great objects which are forced upon
his attention.
“Another place from which the Falls assume, if possible, a more striking
and awful appearance, is at the bottom of the cataract. The precipice
leading to this spot is descended by means of a ladder, commonly called
‘the Indian ladder’—a piece of mechanism simply consisting of a
cedar-tree, the boughs of which are lopped off at a sufficient distance
from the trunk to make them answer all the purposes of irregular steps.
After descending this ladder, the perpendicular height of which is
upwards of sixty feet, you proceed along the edge of the river, which is
covered with broken rocks, the wrecks of boats, and other _exuviæ_,
until you arrive at the bottom of the Horse-shoe Fall. From this place
visitors frequently proceed on foot several hundred yards, within a
prodigious sheet of caverned water, which is formed by the overshooting
of the cataract. But they must be men of the firmest nerve who venture
on such a daring enterprise; for the most undaunted resolution is in
danger of being shaken on looking upward at the impending rock, which
continually seems to bend and groan beneath the rolling flood, to which
it serves as a fearful support. From the projecting edge of this rock,
the mass of waters is impelled forward, and leaves a large and smooth
expanse, which reaches from the natural sheet of falling water to the
very base of the gradually undermined mountain. If the atmosphere be
dense, it is still more dangerous to engage in the bold attempt of
exploring the stable foundations of the river; for people at such times
not unfrequently lose the power of respiration in proceeding far beneath
the rocky ceiling. Notwithstanding this and various other dangers, to
which all are equally exposed who venture to approach the Fall in boats,
the fisherman frequently continues there for hours together, apparently
without any apprehension of danger.
“The whole breadth of the precipice or Falls, including the islands
which intervene, is 1,335 yards. The greatest body of water falls on the
Canadian side of the river; and on account of the form assumed by the
waters before they are dashed from the top of the rocks, it is
designated the Horse-shoe Fall. It extends from the shore to the
intermediate island, a distance of 600 yards. Fort Schlosser Fall, which
is on the American side, presents a sheet of water 350 yards in breadth;
and the Little Fall extends across a ledge of rocks for upwards of 140
yards. The quantity of water which pours over all three, in every
minute, is estimated at 169,344,000 gallons.
“Many stories are told of the melancholy fate of persons who at various
times have been carried down the rapids, in attempting to cross the
river above; but I believe the only well-authenticated anecdote of this
kind is that of an Indian, who, having become intoxicated with liquor,
made his canoe fast to a rock, a few miles above the Falls, and fell
asleep. By some unknown accident, the canoe was loosed from its
moorings, and immediately floated down the current. While the surface of
the water continued to be smooth, the slumbers of the unconscious savage
were undisturbed; but when his frail bark entered on the rapids, and
became agitated by the turbulent eddies, he suddenly awoke. On
perceiving his perilous situation, and recovering a little from his
first astonishment, he laid hold upon his paddle, and used the most
violent exertions to escape from the impending destruction. When his
repeated failures to avert the swift course of the vessel had convinced
him that all endeavours on his part would be unavailing, he laid aside
his paddle, composedly rolled himself up in his blanket, and putting the
whiskey bottle for the last time to his lips, quietly lay down, as if
all danger were over. In a few moments he and his bark were precipitated
down the Falls; and no one ever saw trace again of the Indian or his
canoe.
“In the summer of 1822, a similar accident befel two unfortunate white
men. It appears that, for some time past, a part of Goat Island, which
separates the Falls, has been inhabited, and under cultivation. Some of
the residents, who were on the point of quitting their perilous abode,
were engaged in conveying their movable effects to the Canada shore. The
day was exceedingly boisterous, and the current of the river
consequently more violent than usual. Four men, with two boats, were
engaged in taking away the furniture; and when the first trip had been
accomplished, two of them, being apprehensive of danger from the fury
with which the wind blew in the direction of the stream, resolved to
venture no more until the storm should abate. They communicated this
determination to their companions, who, laughing them to scorn, boasted
largely of their own freedom from fear, and returned to their hazardous
employment. But in a few minutes afterwards, they were carried down the
cataract, and dashed to pieces. A day or two after this event, a table
which had been in the same boat, was discovered in the river at the foot
of the Falls, uninjured.
“The noise of the Falls is said to be heard, on a calm evening, as far
as Burlington Heights, a distance of nearly fifty miles. But when this
is true, the wind, which is an excellent transmitter of sound, must blow
exactly in that direction. The waters make a report which might be heard
at a much greater distance, if, instead of falling into a profound gulf,
surrounded on every side with hills of at least 350 feet perpendicular
height, which confine the sound, they fell upon a horizontal plain of
sufficient altitude to allow the sound to pass without interruption into
the circumjacent country. As an illustration:—If a stone were let fall
from the surface of the earth into a well 100 feet deep, the noise would
not be distinctly heard by a person standing twenty yards from its
mouth; but if the same stone were dropped from the apex of a steeple of
only half that height, into a cistern of water, the surface of which was
on a level with the earth, the noise, occasioned by its splashing in the
water, would be distinctly heard at above five times the former
distance.
“Previous to the settlement of the country along the banks of the
Niagara river, great numbers of wild beasts, birds, and fishes might be
seen dashed to pieces on the shore near the bottom of the Falls. But
since this part of the country has been thickly settled, scarcely any
thing is to be found in the bed of the river below the Falls, except
fishes and a few water fowl, which, on alighting in the rapids, are
unable to take wing again, and are soon hurried down the dreadful abyss.
“It is generally supposed that the Falls were once as far down as
Queenston, and the supposition seems plausible. The appearance of the
banks on each side of the river affords very strong presumptive evidence
in favour of this notion; and the fact of the constant recession of the
Falls, observed by the people who reside in their vicinity, is no less
confirmatory. That seven miles of limestone strata of such great depth
should be worn away by nothing but water, will appear too preposterous
for belief, by those who have never stooped to the drudgery of
calculation; but if only the fiftieth part of a barleycorn had been worn
away in every hour since the creation, supposing the Falls to have been
then at Queenston, or a little above it, they would now be within a few
perches of their present position. These calculations receive an air of
great plausibility, at least, from the rugged features of the banks
between the Falls and Queenston, which afford numerous and strong
indications of the violence to which the strata have there been
subjected.”
The writer from whom the foregoing account of Niagara is quoted, went
out with his father and a few labourers to settle in Canada. His voyage
up the St. Lawrence is very descriptive of the scenery and adventures
which fell to the lot of all travellers on the same errand at that time,
and may be useful as well as interesting here. He says:—“I embarked at
La Chine with my father and his settlers, twenty days after our arrival
in Quebec. On account of the shallows immediately below this village,
goods and passengers intended for a higher destination up the river are
conveyed by land from Montreal. Previous to our leaving La Chine,
thirty-one of the settlers, dreading, the expense of transporting their
families to the Upper Province, separated from us and accepted of a
settlement at or near Perth, about 140 miles north-west of Montreal.
Owing to the rapidity of the St. Lawrence immediately above Montreal,
ship navigation terminates at that city. Such is the vehemence of the
current in various places, that it is totally impossible to ascend the
river in vessels of ordinary construction. Batteaux, or flat-bottomed
boats, narrow at bow and stern, and made of pine boards, have been found
much better adapted to the river than any others. These boats are about
forty feet long, and six across the centre, and are navigated by four
men and a pilot. Each boat carries about five tons, and is provided with
a small mast and sails, six setting poles about nine feet long, shod at
their lower extremities with iron, which terminates in a sharp point,
and the necessary cooking apparatus. In these boats, all the merchandise
destined for Upper Canada is conveyed; and, fitted out in this style,
they depart from La Chine, four or five of them generally forming one
party. They quickly arrive in Lake St. Louis, which is formed by the
junction of the Ottawa, or Grand River, with the St Lawrence. If the
wind happen to blow favourably when they are passing through this lake,
they haul up their sails until they arrive at the Cascades, which are
about thirty miles from Montreal.
[Illustration: _Working a Canoe up a Rapid._]
At the Cascades a short canal has been cut, and locks formed by the
government, through which the vessels pass, till they attain the head of
these rapids, after which they proceed without departing from the river
till they arrive at the Cedars, where, by other locks, they ascend the
most difficult part of the rapids. The current between the Cascades and
the Cedars is so very impetuous, that the boatmen are obliged to have
recourse to their setting-poles, which they fix in the bed of the river,
and thus propel their boats with considerable celerity. These exertions,
though fatiguing in the extreme, they are often obliged to continue for
several hours without intermission, and not unfrequently even their best
endeavours in this may prove abortive. When this is the case, they make
a rope fast to the bow of the boat; and leaving only the helmsman on
board, they plunge into the water and tow her by main strength up the
rapids. This is the manner in which they perform the arduous passage,
which, though only 120 miles, they seldom accomplish in less than ten
days. How the men who are employed in this difficult navigation exist
without ruining their constitutions is a mystery which I am utterly
unable to explain. They are compelled, almost every hour, when actually
melting with heat and fainting with fatigue, to jump into the water,
frequently up to their arm-pits, and to remain in it towing their boats
until they are completely chilled. They then have recourse to the aid of
ardent spirits, of which on all occasions they freely partake, and, in a
few minutes, are once more bathed in perspiration. The principal rapids
between Montreal and Prescott are the _Cedars_ and the _Cascades_
already mentioned, the _Coteau du Lac_ and the _Long Sault_, the latter
of which are about nine miles in length; and though they are seldom
ascended in less than a day, boats have been known to descend through
their whole length in fifteen minutes.
While about 140 of the settlers took their passage from La Chine in what
the Canadians call Durham boats, my father and his family, with the
remainder of the settlers, embarked in a vessel of the same description.
The accommodation which the boat afforded was so poor, that our
situation, during the thirteen days of our voyage from La Chine to
Prescott, was in reality “below the reach of envy.” To make room for my
mother and the children in the wretched little hole of a cabin, my
brother and I were frequently obliged to sleep on the shore in the open
air—the refreshing zephyrs being our only curtains, and the “spangled
heavens, a shining frame,” our resplendent canopy. Taverns are
undoubtedly found in many parts along the banks of the river; but, as
the boats do not always stop in the neighbourhood of these refectories,
we seldom had any other method of reposing our weary bodies than the one
to which I have now alluded.
One night in particular, when we felt the air rather too cool for
sleeping on the ground, my brother and I, with three of the settlers,
solicited permission of a Canadian farmer to lie on the floor of his
kitchen. This request, though humble and moderate, was peremptorily
refused. We asked for neither bed nor blanket, meat nor drink, but
barely for leave to stretch our fatigued limbs on the uncovered boards;
yet even this was denied. We were in the act of quietly returning to the
boat, when, on approaching the door of his stable, we found it open,
entered, and had but just discovered some clean straw, upon which we
designed to rest our heads for the night, when the owner stalked in, and
on recognising us, commanded our instant departure. We were therefore
compelled to decamp and to take our usual nightly station on the shore.
This little incident banished sleep from my eyes; and I spent the
greater part of the night in the indulgence of the most gloomy
reflections. That fondly beloved Isle of Erin, where the genius of
hospitality continually holds her court, and freely spreads her social
influence, again recurred to my memory. I thought of her humblest sons,
generous and humane, sons of benevolence and toil, whose hard labour
just gives what life requires, but gives no more; yet who, with the ever
ready smile of heart-felt sympathy, are willing to share that
hard-earned little with the weary traveller whom chance directs to their
threshold, or necessity throws upon their bounty.
We were from the 18th of August to the 1st of September in accomplishing
this voyage of only 120 miles. I think I may say, without any danger of
hyperbole, that, during this short period, each of us encountered
greater difficulties, endured more privations, and submitted to stronger
proofs of our fortitude, than had been our lot in all the preceding
years of our lives. We were obliged by day, in consequence of the great
weight of our luggage, to assist the sailors in towing the boat up the
rapids, often up to the arm-pits in the water; and by night to rest our
enervated and shivering limbs on the inhospitable shore of this river of
cataracts.
On the ninth day of our amphibious journey my brother and I with several
of the settlers, for the sake of a little variety, left the boat, and
walked a few miles along the shore of the St. Lawrence. As we were
entirely unacquainted with the country, we resolved to keep as close as
possible to the bank, which in this part was completely covered with
thick woods. When we had walked about a mile, our progress was
interrupted by a large tract of swampy land, which we found to be
totally impassable. Before we had reached the head of the swamp, and
once more gained the shore, the boat was out of sight. However, we
pursued our route along the bank until night approached, when we
perceived a light about two miles down the river, which we concluded to
be that of the boat. This conjecture proved to be correct. It appeared
that, in our hurry to overtake her, we had over-reached the mark, and
got too far a-head. As the night was dark, we whistled, hallooed, and
fired off our guns, hoping to induce them to pull up and take us on
board. But all our efforts proved ineffectual; we could neither make
them hear us, nor understand our signals. At length one of our party
observed a house about half a mile above us;—a discovery which afforded
no small degree of pleasure. We had walked nearly ten miles through a
dismal forest, over swamps and marshes, and were hungry and fatigued. A
few moments before we had no prospect of discovering even a dry spot of
land on which we might lay ourselves down to rest. Nothing appeared—
“But matted woods, where birds forget to sing,
And silent bats in drowsy clusters cling.”
Judge, then, what was our pleasure on beholding a human habitation; for
a human one it was, though its title to humanity was founded solely on
the fact of its being the abode of man, without the least reference to
the gentleness of his nature.
[Illustration: _Scene on the River St. Lawrence._
(_Near Montreal._)]
When we entered within the door, and informed the owner of the
circumstances which obliged us to become intruders, and to claim his
hospitality, he muttered out a few words with unfeeling frigidity, the
purport of which was that we might lie upon the floor if we pleased! It
was then about nine o’clock; and from that hour until eleven, when they
retired to bed, I do not recollect that we had the pleasure of any
further conversation either with our host or his lady. When they
withdrew from the apartment we were left sole monarchs of the kitchen;
but our throne was, in one respect, like that which the sycophantic
courtiers of king Canute urged him to usurp—it was covered with coarse
sand, and presented no very agreeable aspect as a resting-place to us,
who presumed to think that we had done sufficient penance for our
transgressions in this country, by the sufferings which we necessarily
endured in the day during the course of our unfortunate perambulations.
It was some time before we could reconcile ourselves to the idea of
lying down on the rough kitchen floor; but at length the god of dreams
prevailed over all our apprehensive sensibilities, and compelled us to
resume a recumbent posture. I converted my hat into a pillow, and my
cravat into a cap or turban; and, after promising my companions in
tribulation a glass of rum in the morning by way of toasting Canadian
hospitality, I fell asleep; but awoke some time before day-break with
sore limbs and an aching head.
From the perusal of such incidents as these, one would probably form a
very low and indifferent opinion of Canadian hospitality; but justice
compels me to add, that the people who live on the shores of the St.
Lawrence have so frequently been imposed upon, plundered, and otherwise
maltreated by various evil-disposed emigrants in their progress to the
Upper Province, that, if we had experienced even worse treatment than
this which I have related, it ought not, under such provoking
circumstances, to excite much astonishment.
The country on each side of the river, between Prescott and Montreal, is
similar in appearance to that between the latter city and Quebec, with
this difference, that the houses above Montreal are much inferior to
those below. For about 60 miles beyond Montreal almost all the
inhabitants are of French extraction, and still speak the language of
their ancestors. They scarcely understand a word of English, and seem to
be of very humble origin. Their habitations are constructed in the style
of cottages; and though they certainly are not reproachable with any
great degree of taste or elegance in their design, they have a just
claim to honourable mention for the compensating attributes of
cleanliness and of neatness, if not of refinement, in the simple
decorations of their interiors. The traveller, who may have occasion to
cross their thresholds, will seldom witness the semblance of poverty, or
the shadow of discontent. Since my arrival in the country, I have not
beheld a single trace of anxiety or care in the countenances of the
people. In the city, the town, the village, and the open country, every
eye sparkles with contentment, and every tongue speaks the language of
independence. If the maxim of our ethic poet be correct, that—
“Reason’s whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,
Lie in three words, _health_, _peace_, and _competence_,”
I do not wonder at beholding such an invariable picture of enjoyment in
the looks of the Canadians; for they certainly possess, to a perfection
which cannot be surpassed, every one of those integral elements in the
happiness of man which the poet has thus tersely described. How
melancholy the contrast to an Irishman! How delightfully, yet mournfully
exhilarating to a Canadian, if, from a knowledge of the unhappy
condition of our unfortunate countrymen, he should make the comparison,
and find in it an inducement to bless his happier lot!
The only villages at this time (1820) between Montreal and Prescott are
La Chine and Point Clear; the latter of which is eighteen miles from
Montreal. It has a church and parsonage-house; contains about I,000
inhabitants, all of whom are Roman catholics.
The Village of the Cedars consists of a few houses, inhabited chiefly by
mechanics. Coteau du Lac is equally small, but of more importance as a
military post, a fort having been erected in its immediate vicinity for
the protection of the trade upon the river, and for the purpose of
intercepting the passage of an enemy, whether ascending or descending.
Cornwall, which is dignified with the appellation of a town, is more
extensive than either of the two just mentioned. It is 86 miles from
Montreal, and has a gaol, a court-house, a Roman catholic chapel, and a
Presbyterian meeting-house. In Prescott, which contains about 150
inhabitants, there is a military fort, called “Fort Wellington.” At this
place ship navigation commences, and continues as far as Niagara.
We remained two days at Prescott; and, on the 3d of September, we
embarked for York (now Toronto) on board a small schooner, called the
Caledonia. We performed this voyage, which is a distance of 250 miles,
in six days.
[Illustration: _Brockville—St. Lawrence._]
The St. Lawrence, between Prescott and Kingston, presents an aspect the
most wild and fanciful. The Lake of the Thousand Isles, which is
situated between them, exhibits a delightful combination of the varied
scenery of nature. It has all the features of the placid, the
picturesque, and the sublime, with a striking inter-mixture of the
savage and the uncouth. While slowly gliding up the stream the stranger
observes the northern shores thickly settled. The lowly cottage and the
large mansion alternately attract his notice. The bustle and activity of
life are everywhere visible upon the land; while, upon the lake, all is
solemn stillness and solitude. Hundreds of little islands, assuming
every variety of form, and covered with stunted trees of almost every
species, are spread over the watery expanse, and afford a finished
specimen of that peculiar sort of scenery which is produced when the
several principles and causes of vegetation are not consentaneous—when
the seed is planted by the hand of nature in a sterile soil; and
fertilizing rains, morning dews, and fostering breezes, severally
contribute their appointed quota of natural assistance, but seem to lose
much of their accustomed efficacy by having no suitable objects on which
to operate.