ONCE MORE AT NIAGARA.
Flow on forever in thy glorious robe
Of terror and of beauty. God has set
His rainbow on thy forehead, and the clouds
Mantled around thy feet.—MRS. SIGOURNEY.
Ontario was sleeping in the sunshine when they crossed it on Monday
morning.
“Is this an English or American fort?” asked Norman, as he looked at the
massive walls of Fort Niagara at the mouth of the river. “It is an
American fort,” said a young English officer, who stood near, “but we
will come down and take it soon.”
“Not so easily as you think,” replied Norman.
“Yes we will,” said the Lieutenant; “we will come down and take it, and
keep it too.”
“I don’t believe you will,” said Norman.
“We took it once,” rejoined the officer, “in the last war.”
“But you did not keep it,” Norman replied.
As Norman was going off the boat the Englishman said: “We will soon come
and annex the United States.”
From the boat to the cars, for the short ride to Clifton Station, there
is a superb view of the Queenstown Heights, and Brock’s monument rising
proudly on its grand pedestal.
The window of Mrs. Lester’s room, at the Clifton House, commanded a fine
view of the falls, so that they could be enjoyed even in the moments of
rest and dressing.
It was a lovely day, and the walk to Table Rock is probably the most
magnificent in the world, commanding as it does, through its entire
length, a noble view of both falls. The sunlight on the white foaming
water made it almost painful for the eyes to look upon.
They sat on Table Rock and looked down upon the dazzling beauty of those
falling waters so quaintly described by the French missionary, Father
Hennepin, who saw them in 1678. “A vast and prodigious cadence of water,
which falls down after a surprising and astonishing manner, insomuch
that the universe does not afford its parallel.”
They had a more extensive view of the rapids, in connection with the
falls, from the observatory of the house near Table Rock. Then they went
to the Pagoda, and after ascending several flights of stairs, entered a
small room containing a round table covered with white muslin. Norman
wondered why they had come, when the old man closed the window, and on
this white table was thrown a picture that the greatest painter of earth
cannot equal.
Soft and beautiful, a moving picture first of the American falls, then
of the brown crags of Goat Island, and the soft foliage of its forests,
then of the Horse-Shoe Fall, with its brown stone tower. And while they
were looking at this the little steamer Maid of the Mist, was seen
making its way through the foam and spray to the foot of that mighty
cataract, and then turning for its return voyage.
“What a beautiful picture!” cried Norman, laughing aloud with delight;
“what would not the Queen of England give for such a table in her
drawing room?”
“No table of mosaic or enamel can ever equal the soft tints of that
lovely picture,” replied his mother.
“O look there! look there!” cried Norman, as Table Rock and the road
leading to it appeared on the wonderful table. “See those ladies with
their parasols seated on the rock, and that little girl with her brown
straw flat, and that carriage filled with gentlemen driving up there;
and look at these ladies walking away; how little do they know that
their portraits are painted on this table?
“In old times, mother,” continued Norman, “people would have thought
this a magic table, but because we know that it is a camera obscura we
do not think it so wonderful.”
“There is the Clifton House,” said the man, “and see that bit of
foreground, masses of foliage.”
“Norman, we must leave this enchanted picture, for it will soon be time
for us to go back to dinner.”
One more view from Table Rock, more beautiful than ever, crowned as it
was with a brilliant rainbow spanning the British and American Falls, a
type of the bow of peace which should unite the nations.
Once more the Maid of the Mist was seen urging her way close beneath the
American Falls. The figures on her deck, in their waterproof dresses,
looked weird and unearthly as they stood looking up to that mass of
descending waters, and enveloped in the clouds of spray. On their way
home Mrs. Lester stopped to purchase some curious fossils from a man who
had his stand under some trees, and she sat awhile on a chair he placed
for her on the grass, looking at the view, which is exceedingly fine
from this point, commanding the fearful chasm and the rugged rocks on
the Canada side.
The same walk in the afternoon, when they descended the stone steps
leading to the path under Table Rock: down, down by the side of those
stupendous cliffs, towering upward in their might, the water trickling
along the crevices, till they stood beneath the overhanging Table Rock
and looked upward at that mass of falling waters.
“This I like better than all,” said Norman; “how much I would like to go
behind the sheet of water.”
“No, indeed,” replied his mother, “I do not mean that you shall go
there. But is not this grand!”
A few minutes only and they retraced their steps, gathering some blue
hare-bells growing out of the crevices of these rude cliffs.
Slowly, slowly the shadow of the hills crept up the falls, vailing their
dazzling beauty, and obscuring their radiant bows. The sunset came too
soon to close that day of exceeding beauty; but then the moon faintly
lighted up the splendors of the scene, kindling the rapids above the
falls, and making a path of light in the profound depths below. A little
way in the moonlight, down the road to the ferry, to gaze on the wonders
of that fearful chasm, softened rather than heightened by that silvery
light.
No lunar bow to be seen till late in the night from the Canada side.
Those who looked that night from Goat Island and the Tower saw it in
great beauty.