eight two of the three lay down to sleep, Mrs. W., then a girl of
sixteen, being one. At nine she was called up by the beating of a drum,
the signal that the Indians were at hand. No description can give an
idea of the loathing with which these savages were then regarded; the
mingled horror, disgust, dread, and hatred. The Indians were insidious,
dangerous, and cruel beyond example, even in the history of savage
warfare. These poor ladies had been brought up to hate them with a
deadly hatred; they were surrounded with persons burning with the
injuries inflicted by Indian revenge and barbarity; for weeks they had
lived in hourly dread of death by their hands; their strength was worn,
and their nerves shaken by the long suspense; and now the hoarse drum
woke them up with news that the hour was come. A deadly sickness
overspread their hearts as they started from their beds. They looked
from their windows, but could see nothing through the blank darkness.
They listened, but they knew that if the streets had been quiet as
death, the stealthy tread of the savages would have been inaudible.
There was a bustle in the town. Was the fight beginning? No. It was an
express sent by the scouts to say that it was a false alarm. The wornout
ladies composed their spirits, and sank to sleep again. At four they
were once more awakened by the horrid drum, and now there was a
mustering in the streets which looked as if this were no false alarm. In
the same moment the sister who was watching what passed in the street
saw by torchlight the militia part asunder and fly; and Mrs. W., who was
looking through the back window, perceived in the uncertain glimmer that
a host of savages was leaping the garden fence; leaping along the walks
to the house like so many kangaroos, but painted, and flourishing their
tomahawks. She cried out to her mother and sister, and they attempted to
fly; but there was no time. Before they could open the front door the
back windows came crashing in, and the house was crowded with yelling
savages. With their tomahawks they destroyed everything but the ladies,
who put on the most submissive air possible. The trunks containing the
clothing of the whole family stood in the hall, ready to be carried away
when the wagon should arrive. These were split to fragments by the
tomahawk. These wretches had actually met the wagon with the rest of
the family, and turned it back; but the brother-in-law, watching his
opportunity, wheeled off from the road when his savage guards were
somehow engaged, and escaped.
The ladies were seized, and, as Mrs. W. claimed protection, they were
delivered into the charge of some squaws to be driven to the British
camp. It was unpleasant enough the being goaded on through such a scene
by savage women, as insolent as the men were cruel; but the ladies soon
saw that this was the best thing that could have happened to them; for
the town was burning in various directions, and soon no alternative
would be left between being in the British camp and in the thick of the
slaughter in the burning streets. The British officer did not wish to
have his hands full of helpless female prisoners. He sent them home
again with a guard of an ensign and a private, who had orders to prevent
their house being burned. The ensign had much to do to fulfil his
orders. He stood in the doorway, commanding, persuading, struggling,
threatening; but he saved the house, which was, in two days, almost the
only one left standing. The whole town was a mass of smoking ruins, in
many places slaked with blood. Opposite the door lay the body of a woman
who, in her despair, had drunk spirits, and then defied the savages.
They tomahawked her in sight of the neighbours, and before her own door,
and her body lay where it had fallen, for there were none to bury the
dead. Some of the inhabitants had barricaded themselves in the jail,
which proved, it was said, too damp to burn; the rest who survived were
dispersed in the woods.
Before the fire was quite burned out the Indians were gone, and the
inhabitants began to creep back into the town, cold and half dead with
hunger. The ladies kept up a large fire (carefully darkening the
windows), and cooked for the settlers till they were too weary to stand,
and one at a time lay down to sleep before the fire. Mrs. W. often,
during those dreary days, used to fasten a blanket, Indian fashion,
about her shoulders, and go out into the wintry night to forage for
food; a strange employment for a young girl in the neighbourhood of a
savage foe. She traced the hogs in the snow, and caught many fowls in
the dark. On the third day, very early in the morning, six Buffalo men
were enjoying a breakfast of her cooking, when the windows were again
broken in, and the house once more full of savages. They had come back
to burn and pillage all that was left. The six men fled, and, by a
natural impulse, the girl with them. At some distance from the house she
looked behind her, and saw a savage leaping towards her with his
tomahawk already raised. She saw that the next instant it would be
buried in her scull. She faced about, burst out a laughing, and held out
both her hands to the savage. His countenance changed, first to
perplexity; but he swerved his weapon aside, laughed, and shook hands,
but motioned her homeward. She was full of remorse for having left her
mother and sister. When she reached her door the house was so crowded
that she could neither make her way in nor learn anything of their fate.
Under the persuasion that they lay murdered within, she flew to some
British dragoons who were sitting on the ground at a considerable
distance, watching the burning of the remainder of the town. They
expressed their amazement that she should have made her way through the
savages, and guarded her home, where they procured an entrance for her,
so that she reached the arms of her patient and suffering mother and
sister. That house was, at length, the only one left standing; and when
we returned Mrs. W. pointed it out to me.
The settlers remained for some time in the woods, stealing into a
midnight warming and supper at the lone abode of the widow and her
daughters. The ladies had nothing left but this dwelling. Their property
had been in houses which were burned, and their very clothes were gone.
The settlers had, however, carried off their money with them safely into
the woods. They paid the ladies for their hospitality, and afterward for
as much needlework as they could do; for every one was in want of
clothes. By their industry these women raised themselves to
independence, which the widow lived some tranquil years to enjoy. The
daughter who told me the story is now the lady of a judge. She never
boasts of her bravery, and rarely refers to her adventures in the war;
but preserves all her readiness and strength of mind, and in the silence
of her own heart, or in the ear of a sympathizing friend, gratefully
contrasts the perils of her youth with the milder discipline of her
riper age.
NIAGARA.
"Look back!
Lo! where it comes like an eternity,
As if to sweep down all things in its track,
Charming the eye with dread!"
BYRON.
It is not my intention to describe what we saw at Niagara so much as to
relate what we did. To offer an idea of Niagara by writing of hues and
dimensions is much like representing the kingdom of Heaven by images of
jasper and topazes.
I visited the falls twice: first in October, 1834, in company with the
party with whom we traversed the state of New-York, when we stayed
nearly a week; and again with Dr. and Mrs. F., and other friends, in
June, 1836, when we remained between two and three days. The first time
we approached the falls from Buffalo, the next from Lewistown and
Queenstown.
I expected to be disappointed in the first sight of the falls, and did
not relish the idea of being questioned on the first day as to my
"impressions." I therefore made a law, with the hearty agreement of the
rest of the party, that no one should ask an opinion of the spectacle
for twenty-four hours. We stepped into the stage at Buffalo at half past
eight in the morning on the 14th of October. At Black Rock we got out to
cross the ferry. We looked at the green rushing waters we were crossing,
and wondered whether they or we should be at the falls first. We had to
wait some minutes for the stage on the Canada side, and a comely English
woman invited us into her kitchen to warm ourselves. She was washing as
well as cooking; and such a log was blazing under her boilers as no
fireplace in England would hold. It looked like the entire trunk of a
pine somewhat shortened. I could not help often wishing that some of the
shivering poor of London could have supplies of the fuel which lies
rotting in the American woods.
The road is extremely hard all the way from the ferry to the falls, and
the bridges the rudest of the rude. The few farms looked decaying, and
ill-clad children offered us autumn fruit for sale. We saw nothing to
flatter our national complacency; for truly the contrast with the other
side of the river was mournful enough. It was not till we had passed the
inn with the sign of the "Chippeway Battle Ground" that we saw the spray
from the falls. I believe we might have seen it sooner if we had known
where to look. "Is that it?" we all exclaimed. It appeared on the
left-hand side, whereas we had been looking to the right; and instead of
its being suspended in the air like a white cloud, as we had imagined,
it curled vigorously up, like smoke from a cannon or from a replenished
fire. The winding of the road presently brought this round to our right
hand. It seemed very near; the river, too, was as smooth as oil. The
beginning of the Welland canal was next pointed out to me, but it was
not a moment to care for canals. Then the little Round Island, covered
with wood and surrounded by rapids, lay close at hand, in a recess of
the Canada shore. Some of the rapids, of eight or ten feet descent,
would be called falls elsewhere. They were glittering and foamy, with
spaces of green water between. I caught a glimpse of a section of the
cataract, but not any adequate view, before we were driven briskly up to
the door of the hotel. We ran quickly from piazza to piazza till we
reached the crown of the roof, where there is a space railed in for the
advantage of the gazer who desires to reach the highest point. I think
the emotion of this moment was never renewed or equalled. The morning
had been cloudy, with a very few wandering gleams. It was now a little
after noon; the sky was clearing, and at this moment the sun lighted up
the Horseshoe Fall. I am not going to describe it. The most striking
appearance was the slowness with which the shaded green waters rolled
over the brink. This majestic oozing gives a true idea of the volume of
the floods, but they no longer look like water.
We wandered through the wood, along Table Rock, and to the ferry. We sat
down opposite to the American Falls, finding them the first day or two
more level to our comprehension than the Great Horseshoe Cataract; yet
throughout, the beauty was far more impressive to me than the grandeur.
One's imagination may heap up almost any degree of grandeur; but the
subtile colouring of this scene, varying with every breath of wind,
refining upon the softness of driven snow, and dimming all the gems of
the mine, is wholly inconceivable. The woods on Goat Island were in
their gaudiest autumn dress; yet, on looking up to them from the fall,
they seemed one dust colour. This will not be believed, but it is true.
The little detached fall on the American side piqued my interest at
once. It looks solitary in the midst of the crowd of waters, coming out
of its privacy in the wood to take its leap by itself. In the afternoon,
as I was standing on Table Rock, a rainbow started out from the
precipice a hundred feet below me, and curved upward as if about to
alight on my head. Other such apparitions seemed to have a similar
understanding with the sun. They went and came, blushed and faded, the
floods rolling on, on, till the human heart, overcharged with beauty,
could bear no more.
We crossed the ferry in the afternoon. Our boat was tossed like a cork
in the writhing waves. We soon found that, though driven hither and
thither by the currents, the ferryman always conquers at last, and
shoots his boat into the desired creek; but the tossing and whirling
amid the driving spray seems a rather dubious affair at first. To be
carried down would be no better than to be sucked up the river, as there
is a fatal whirlpool below which forbids all navigation as peremptorily
as the falls.
I still think the finest single impression of all is half way up the
American Fall, seen, not from the staircase, but from the bank on the
very verge of the sheet. Here we stood this first evening, and amid the
rapids above. In returning, we saw from the river the singular effect of
the clouds of spray being in shadow, and the descending floods in light;
while the evening star hung over one extremity of the falls, and the
moon over the other, and the little perpetual cloud, amber in the last
rays from the west, spread its fine drizzle like a silver veil over the
scene.
There is nothing like patient waiting in a place like this. The gazer,
who sits for hours watching what sun and wind may be pleased to reveal,
is sure to be rewarded, somewhat as Newton described himself as being
when he set a thought before him, and sat still to see what would come
out of it. It is surprising what secrets of the thunder cavern were
disclosed to me during a few days of still watching; disclosed by a puff
of wind clearing the spray for an instant, or by the lightest touch of
a sunbeam. The sound of the waters is lulling, even on the very brink;
but if one wishes for stillness, there is the forest all around, where
the eyes may become accustomed to common objects again. It is pleasant,
after the high excitement, to stroll in the wild woods, and wonder what
this new tree is and what that; and to gossip with the pigs, slim and
spruce while fed on forest nuts and roots; and to watch the progress of
a loghouse, sitting the while on a stump or leaning over a snake-fence;
and then to return, with new wonder, to the ethereal vision.
The first evening the gentlemen were all restless under the prohibition
to ask about impressions; every one of them was eager to tell, but too
proud to pour out till others did the same. What an outpouring it was
when it did happen!
One morning we found an old man, between seventy and eighty years old,
gazing from Table Rock. He was an American. Being on a journey, he had
walked from Queenstown to see the falls. He quietly observed that he was
ashamed to think there had been wars near such a place, and that he
hoped the English and Americans were grown wiser now, and would not
think of fighting any more. This came in echo of my thought. I had been
secretly wishing that all the enemies in the world could be brought
together on this rock; they could not but love as brethren.
An English family at the hotel seemed marvellously skilled in putting
away all the good influences of the place. The gentleman was so anxious
about where he should settle, so incessantly pettish, so resolutely
miserable, as to bespeak the compassion of all the guests for the ladies
of his family, one of whom told me that she had forgotten all about the
falls in her domestic anxieties. As this gentleman found fault with
everybody and everything, and ostentatiously proved that nothing could
give him any pleasure, it was not surprising that the cataract itself
failed to meet his approbation; yet I was not prepared for the question
he put to me across the table, in the presence of both Canadians and
Americans, whether I did not think the natives made a very silly fuss
about the falls, and whether the Falls of the Clyde were not much finer.
Such are the persons by whom foreigners suppose themselves made
acquainted with the English character. Such is the way in which not a
few English study to mortify the inhabitants, and then come home and
complain of American conceit. I told this gentleman that I perceived he
was speaking of the rapids, and had not seen the falls.
We wished, while we were in the neighbourhood, to obtain a glimpse of
Lake Ontario, as we were not sure of being able to visit Canada at a
future time. We took the opportunity of two of our party going
northward, to accompany them as far as Queenstown, seven miles off,
where we intended to see Brock's monument, satisfy ourselves with the
view from the top of it, and walk home through the woods in the
afternoon. In the stage were an Irish gentleman and his wife. The lady
amused me by the zeal with which she knitted all the way, just as if she
were in a dark parlour in the Old Jewry; and the gentleman with some
sentiments which were wholly new to me; for instance, he feared that the
independence of the Americans made them feel themselves independent of
God. This consequence of democratic government had not struck me before,
and I never perceived any traces of its existence; but if it should
occur, there will probably soon be an epidemic or a bad season to bring
them to their senses again.
Before the door of the wretched, foul inn at Queenstown, we sorrowfully
shook hands with our Prussian and Dutch companions, hoping to meet them
again in the course of our travels; which, indeed, happened more than
once. We provided ourselves here with cider, cakes, and sandwiches;
i.e., beefsteak laid between thick dry bread. With this provision we
ascended the hill to the foot of Brock's monument, and found the
portress, an active little Irishwoman, waiting to let us in. She was
delighted to meet ladies from the old country, and heartily invited us
to spread our dinner in her cottage below. She told us all her affairs,
and seemed unwilling to leave us when we told her we meant to stay a
long while on the top of the monument, and would not detain her from her
washtub, but would come down to her by-and-by. She and her husband have,
for showing the monument, sixty dollars a season (that is, while the
boats run), and all that they happen to take in the winter. They were
soon to have a cottage built for them nearer the monument. When we went
down to her cottage she had spread plates, knives, and pickles, and had
her head full of questions and communications. She was grateful for a
small payment for her trouble, and gave us the impression of her being
a very amiable, contented person, whom we should like to see again.
Sir Isaac Brock fell at the battle of Queenstown, in October, 1812, near
the base of this monument. It is 145 feet high, and, being built on a
pretty steep hill, commands a fine view. To the left a prodigious sweep
of forest terminates in blue Canadian hills. On the right is the
American shore, at this time gaudy with autumn woods. There stands the
village of Lewistown, with its winding descent to the ferry. At our feet
lay Queenstown, its sordidness being lost in distance, and its long
street presenting the appearance of an English village. The green river
rushes between its lofty wooded banks, which suddenly widen at
Queenstown, causing the waters to spread and relax their speed while
making their way, with three or four bends, to the lake. We saw the
white church of Niagara rising above the woods some miles off where the
junction takes place; and beyond, the vast lake spreads its waters, gray
on the horizon. There was life in this magnificent scene. The ferryboat
was buffeted by the waves; groups were in waiting on either side the
ferry, and teams were in the fields. The Irishwoman was grieved that she
had no telescope wherewith to enable us to see what was doing on the
lake. She and her husband had provided one for the accommodation of
visiters. Some travellers (English) had thrown it down from the top of
the monument, and when she asked for payment only bullied her; and her
husband had not been able to afford to get another.
After dinner we sat on the top of the precipitous wooded bank of the
river, looking down into its green eddies, and watching the family of
white birds which hovered far beneath us, but yet high over the stream.
Meditating, as we were, that we were now sitting on the spot where the
falls were pouring down their flood ages before Babylon was founded or
the Greek Mythology had arisen out of the elements of universal
conviction, it was not surprising that we had no thoughts to spare for
the weather.[5] We did not observe how the sky had been darkening. Two
wagons driven by lads stopped in passing, and their drivers offered us
seats to Niagara. We at first declined, being bent upon walking; but
feeling heavy drops of rain at the moment, we retracted our refusal, and
jumped into one of the vehicles. It was a mere box upon wheels; a
barbarous machine, but of great service to us in the ensuing storm.
Before we reached our hotel we were thoroughly wet, but had obtained a
good deal of information from our driver about the condition of the
Canadian settlers in the neighbourhood. He was the son of a Canadian
father and Scotch mother, who were doing well in the world, as he said
the English settlers do who set the right way to work. The land is not
the best near the road; so that what is seen there is no fair specimen
of the state of the settlers. The farms hereabout consist of about 100
acres generally, and are all the property of the residents. Labourers
live with the farmers, and receive, besides their board and lodging,
about 120 dollars a year. A gentleman, a farmer and physician, from some
distance, called on me one day when I was out, and left messages for me
with one of our party. He said he wished me to see and do justice to
Canada. People go, he believes, with wrong expectations, and so are
disappointed. He, his wife and daughters, went expecting ease and
comfort, and they have found it; but they have not wealth and luxury. He
declared that civility and cheerfulness would always command good
manners and service. As I had no opportunity of "seeing and doing
justice to Canada," I give this gentleman's testimony. It is very
agreeable, and I do not doubt its justness.
Footnote 5: It is familiar to all that the cataract of Niagara is
supposed to have worn its way back from the point of the narrowing of
its channel (the spot where we now sat), and that there is an
anticipation of its continuing to retire the remaining twelve miles to
Lake Erie. Unless counteracting agencies should in the mean time be at
work, the inundation of the level country which must then take place
will be almost boundless. The period is, however, too remote for
calculation. An American told me, smiling, that the apprehension has not
yet affected the title to land. And no one knows what secret barriers
may be building up or drains opening.
Another visiter of a very different kind came to our parlour as I was
preparing for our departure. I looked up from my packing, and saw an
extraordinary apparition in the doorway; a lady bridling, winking, and
attitudinizing in a wonderful manner. On my asking her to come in and
sit down, she said she was deputed by a gentleman to ask my address, in
order to his communicating with me before I should publish my account of
the falls. She seemed deeply grieved at finding that I did not
contemplate any such publication, saying that it would be a serious
disappointment to the gentleman, who hoped I might have been of
essential service to him--by recommending his hotel! It appeared that a
sharp competition was going on about the letting of this hotel, and the
gentleman in question was in hopes of getting it. He seemed to have one
great qualification, the determination to leave no stone unturned.
The second time I visited Niagara I accomplished the feat of going
behind the fall. In October it was too cold; on a sunny 8th of June
there was no imprudence in it. When I descended the staircase with Dr.
and Mrs. F. after breakfast, we had no such intention; but we were all
tempted farther and farther over the rocks, nearer and nearer to the
sheet, till the puffing away of the spray gave us glimpses of what was
behind, and made us feel that this was the right day and hour. Mrs. F.'s
chest was not very strong, and this was no enterprise for a child; so
Dr. F. and I were to be the favoured ones. We ascended to the guide's
house, and surveyed the extraordinary costume in which we were to make
the expedition. Stout socks and shoes (but I would recommend ladies to
go shod as usual), thick cotton garments reaching to the feet, green
oilskin jackets and hats; in this mountaineer sort of costume is the
adventure to be gone through. As the guide's wife was assisting me, she
hoped I had enjoyed myself since I was last at the falls.
"Were you aware that I had been here before?"
"Yes, madam, I remember you well."
"Why, how is it possible that you should remember me among the thousands
of people who have been here in two seasons? We were not acquainted,
were we?"
"No, madam; but one evening you stopped and admired my cow."
"Did not this trumpet help you to remember me?"
"No, madam; I never saw it before."
How many ways there are to people's hearts! I now remembered having
remarked to a companion on the beauty and docility of a cow which a
woman was milking. The good wife had treasured up my observation as a
personal compliment.