From the Falls to Lake Ontario
These American rivers of ours have their messages, historical, economic,
and social, to both reader and loiterer. And, too, are not these streams
so very much alive that through the years their personalities remain
practically unchanged, while generations of loiterers come and go on
forever? Are not the eccentricities of these great living forces forever
recurrent, however whimsical they may seem, to us as we stop for our
brief instant at the shore?
The word Niagara stands to-day representing power; the most common
metaphor used, perhaps, to represent perpetual irresistible force is
found in the name Niagara. Now it is admitted that nothing is more
interesting than to observe the contradictions noticeable in most strong
personalities. View the Niagara from this personal standpoint. I think
its most attractive features may be summed up in a catalogue of its
eccentric contradictions. It is famous as a waterfall, yet its greatest
beauty is to be found in its smallest rapids. Its thundering fall
outrivals all other sounds of Nature, yet you can hear a sparrow sing
when the spray of the torrent is drenching you; the "noise" of Niagara
is often spoken of as the greatest sound ever heard, yet most of the
cataract's music has never been heard because it is pitched too low for
human ears. Niagara's Whirlpool is a placid, mirrored lake compared to
the rapids above and below it and brings from the lips of the majority
of sightseers, looking only at the surface of things, words of
disappointment. The great message and influence of the foaming cataract
and rapids and terrible pool, to all awake to the finer meanings, as has
been so beautifully brought out by Mr. Howells, should be one of
singular repose. The louder the music the more certain the strange
influence of this message of quiet and calm.
Take, for instance, what is so commonly called the roar of Niagara, but
which ought to be known as the music of Niagara, first at the Rapids and
then the Falls.
There is sweet music in Niagara's lesser rapids. Mrs. Schuyler Van
Rensselaer observes, most felicitously:
It is a great and mighty noise, but it is not, as Hennepin
thought, an "outrageous noise." It is not a roar. It does not
drown the voice or stun the ear. Even at the actual foot of the
falls it is not oppressive. It is much less rough than the sound
of heavy surf--steadier, more homogeneous, less metallic, very
deep and strong, yet mellow and soft; soft, I mean, in its
quality. As to the noise of the rapids, there is none more
musical. It is neither rumbling nor sharp. It is clear,
plangent, silvery. It is so like the voice of a steep
brook--much magnified, but not made coarser or more harsh--that,
after we have known it, each liquid call from a forest hillside
will seem, like the odour of grapevines, a greeting from
Niagara. It is an inspiriting, an exhilarating sound, like
freshness, coolness, vitality itself made audible. And yet it is
a lulling sound. When we have looked out upon the American
rapids for many days, it is hard to remember contented life amid
motionless surroundings; and so, when we have slept beside them
for many nights, it is hard to think of happy sleep in an empty
silence.
[Illustration: Goat Island Bridge and Rapids.]
A most original and interesting study of the music of the great Falls
was made some years ago in a more or less technical way by Eugene
Thayer.[7] It had been this gentleman's theory that Niagara had never
been heard as it should be heard, and his mission at the cataract was
accomplished when there met his ears, not the "roar," but, rather, a
perfectly constructed musical tone, clear, definite, and unapproachable
in its majestic proportions; in fact Mr. Thayer affirms that the trained
ear at Niagara should hear "a complete series of tones, all uniting in
one grand and noble unison, as in the organ, and all as easily
recognisable as the notes of any great chord in music." He had heard it
rumoured that persons had been known to secure a pitch of the tone of
Niagara; he essayed to secure not only the pitch of the chief or ground
tone, but that of all accessory or upper tones otherwise known as
harmonic or overtones, together with the beat or accent of the Falls and
its rhythmical vibrations.
All the tones above the ground tone have been named overtones or
harmonics; the tones below are called the subharmonics, or
undertones. It will be noticed that they form the complete
natural harmony of the ground tone. What is the real pitch of
this chord? According to our regular musical notation, the
fourth note given represents the normal pitch of diapason; the
reason being that the eight-foot tone is the only one that gives
the notes as written. According to nature, I must claim the
first, or lowest note, as the real or ground tone. In this
latter way I shall represent the true tone or pitch of Niagara.
How should I prove all this? My first step was to visit the
beautiful Iris Island, otherwise known as Goat Island. Donning a
suit of oilcloth and other disagreeable loose stuff, I followed
the guide into the Cave of the Winds. Of course, the sensation
at first was so novel and overpowering that the question of
pitch was lost in one of personal safety. Remaining here a few
minutes, I emerged to collect my dispersed thoughts. After
regaining myself, I returned at once to the point of beginning,
and went slowly in again (alone), testing my first question of
pitch all the way; that is, during the approach, while under the
fall, while emerging, and while standing some distance below the
face of the fall, not only did I ascertain this (I may say in
spite of myself, for I could hear but one pitch), but I heard
and sang clearly the pitch of all the harmonic or accessory
tones, only of course several octaves higher than their actual
pitch. Seven times have I been under these singing waters
(always alone except the first time), and the impression has
invariably been the same, so far as determining the tone and its
components. I may be allowed to withhold the result until I
speak of my experience at the Horseshoe Fall, and the American
Fall proper--it being scarcely necessary to say that the Cave of
the Winds is under the smaller cascade, known as the Central
Fall.
My next step was to stand on Luna Island, above the Central
Fall, and on the west side of the American Fall proper. I went
to the extreme eastern side of the island, in order to lose as
far as possible the sound of the Central Fall, and get the full
force of the larger Fall. Here were the same great ground tone
and the same harmonics, differing only somewhat in pitch.
I then went over to the Horseshoe Fall and sat among the Rapids.
There it was again, only slightly higher in pitch than on the
American side. Not then knowing the fact, I ventured to assert
that the Horseshoe Fall was less in height, by several feet,
than the American Fall; the actual difference is variously given
at from six to twelve feet. Next I went to the Three Sister
Islands, and here was the same old story. The higher harmonics
were mostly inaudible from the noise of the Rapids, but the same
two low notes were ringing out clear and unmistakable. In fact,
wherever I was I could not hear anything else! There was no roar
at all, but the same grand diapason--the noblest and completest
one on earth! I use the word completest advisedly, for nothing
else on earth, not even the ocean, reaches anywhere near the
actual depth of pitch, or makes audible to the human ear such a
complete and perfect harmonic structure.
[Illustration: Horseshoe Falls from Below.]
Remembering always that the actual pitch is four octaves lower, here are
the notes which form this matchless diapason:
[Illustration]
Mrs. Van Rensselaer tells us there is yet another music at Niagara that
must be listened for only on quiet nights. It is like the music of an
orchestra so very far away that its notes are attenuated to an
incredible delicacy and are intermittently perceived, as though wafted
to us on variable zephyrs.
It is the most subtle, the most mysterious music in the world.
What is its origin? Such fairy-like sounds are not to be
explained. Their appeal is to the imagination only. They are so
faint, so far away, that they almost escape the ear, as the
lunar bow and the fluted tints of the American Fall almost
escape the eye. And yet we need not fear to lose them, for they
are as real as the deep bass of the cataracts.
Whether it be the resounding waterfall producing this wondrous harmony
of the floods, or the most charming choral of the Rapids, the music of
Niagara on the mind properly adjusted and attuned must create a most
profound impression of repose. The exception to this rule, most
terrible to contemplate, is certainly to be found in the cases of the
unfortunates whose minds are so distraught or unbalanced that this same
call of the waters acts like poison and lures them to death.
I still think [wrote Mr. Howells in his most delightful sketch,
_Niagara, First and Last_] that, above and below the Falls, the
Rapids are the most striking features of the spectacle. At least
you may say something about them, compare them to something;
when you come to the cataract itself you can say nothing; it is
incomparable. My sense of it first, and my sense of it last, was
not a sense of the stupendous, but a sense of beauty, of
serenity, of repose.
In her beautiful description, given elsewhere in our story, Margaret
Fuller explains the effect of the Rapids by moonlight on the heart of
one who, during the day, had passed through the familiar throb of
disappointment in the great spectacle at Niagara.
Now I take it one must see in Niagara this element of repose or find in
it something less than was hoped for. To one who expects an ocean
pouring from the moon, a rush of wind and foam like that to be met with
only in the Cave of the Winds, there is bound to come that common
feeling that the fact is not equal to the picture imagination had
previously created. Take the Whirlpool; seen from the heights above, it
has that effect of sculpturesque repose [writes Mr. Howells],
which I have always found the finest thing in the Cataract
itself. From the top the circling lines of the Whirlpool seemed
graven in a level of chalcedony. . . . I have no impression to
impart except this sense of its worthy unity with the Cataract
in what I may call its highest aesthetic quality, its repose.[8]
[Illustration: "The Shoreless Sea."
From a photograph by Notman, Montreal.]
All this is most impressively true of the central wonder of the entire
spectacle, the Falls themselves. That mighty flood of water, reborn as
it dies, forms a marvellous spectacle. Writes Mrs. Schuyler Van
Rensselaer:
Very soon we realise that Niagara's true effect is an effect of
permanence. Many as are its variations, it never alters. It
varies because light and atmosphere alter. Tremendous movement
thus pauseless and unmodified gives, of course, a deeper
impression of durability than the most imposing solids. . . . As
soon as this fact is felt, the Falls seem to have been created
as a voucher for the permanence of all the world.[9]
But how conform this repose and spirit of permanency with the echoing
tones of that never-ending, never-satisfied dominant chord? How
reconcile the repose of those dropping billows with the tantalising
unrest of that for ever incomplete, unfinished recessional that has been
playing down this gorge since, perhaps, darkness brooded over the
deep--that seems to await its fulfilment in the thunders of Sinai at
that Last Day?
And what could be more human than this in any river--a seeming calm with
over it all a never-ending cry of unrest, of wonder, of unsatisfied
longing never to find repose until in that far resting-place of which
Augustine thought when he wrote:
Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.
Across the American Rapids lies the Goat Island group which divides the
waters into the two falls. Goat Island is about half a mile long and
half as wide at its broadest part, but slopes to a point at its eastern
extremity. Its area is about seventy acres. Besides this there are a
number of smaller islands and rocks varying in diameter from four
hundred feet to ten feet. Of these smaller islands five are connected
with Goat Island by bridges, as are also the Terrapin Rocks.
At the end of the first bridge is situated Green Island, named after the
first president of the Board of Commissioners of the New York
Reservation. The former name was Bath Island because of the "old
swimming hole"--the only place where one could dip in the fierce current
of Niagara without danger. Just a short distance above Green Island are
two small patches of land called Ship Island and Bird Island from
supposed resemblances to these objects in general contour, the tall
leafless trees in winter supposed to be suggestive of masts. These
islands were formerly both connected with Goat Island by bridges; one,
known as "Lover's Bridge," from its romantic name was so greatly
patronised that both bridges were destroyed by the owners on account of
danger.
On Green Island formerly stood the immense Porter paper-mill, which not
only contributed its own ugliness to the beautiful prospect but also ran
out into the current long gathering dams for the purpose of collecting
water. All this was removed when the State of New York assumed control.
Passing from the bridge and ascending the steps which lead to the top of
the bank, the shelter house is reached. All around and, in fact,
covering nearly all the island, is the primeval forest in its ancient
splendour--fit companion of the Falls, which defy the puny power of man.
[Illustration: Rustic Bridge, Willow Island.]
Occasional glimpses of the river may be had through the dense foliage as
one proceeds to Stedman Bluff, where one of the grandest panoramas to
be seen anywhere on earth bursts upon the view. Here one appreciates the
beauty of the American Fall better than at Prospect Point. Turning
towards the American shore stone steps lead down to the water's edge,
and thence a small bridge spans the stream separating Goat Island and
Luna Island, so called from the fact that it has been considered the
best place from which to view the lunar bow. The small stream dividing
these islands in its plunge over the precipice forms the "Cave of the
Winds." Half-way across Luna Island is to be seen a large rock on whose
face have been carved by an unknown hand the following lines:
All is change.
Eternal progress.
No Death!
The author of the sentiment is unknown, but no one has more truly voiced
the spirit of the great cataract. From the edge of the cliff on Luna
Island is to be obtained the finest view down the gorge. Along the front
of the American Fall are to be seen the immense masses of wave-washed
rocks which have fallen from the cliff above. From rock to rock stretch
frail wooden bridges, the more important of which lead to the cave.
Luna Island is the last point which one can reach from Goat Island
toward the American shore. Proceeding toward the Canadian Fall, one
reaches at a short distance the Biddle Stairs. Here a break in the
foliage reveals a grand view down the gorge with the Canadian Fall
directly in front. A stairway leads to a wooden building down which runs
a spiral stairway to the rocks below. This stairway received its name
from Nicholas Biddle, of old National Bank fame, who proposed this
means of reaching the rocks below and offered a contribution for its
construction. The offer was rejected, but his name was given to the
structure. A trip to the rocks below this point is well worth while,
difficult though it be; the descent of the spiral stairway is eighty
feet. Turning to the right one comes out upon a ledge of rock with the
roaring waters below and the line of the cliff above, along the top of
which objects appear at only half their real size. Passing around a
short curve there bursts upon one's view the fall which forms the Cave
of the Winds--a most beautiful sheet of water. The passage of the cave
can hardly be described by the pen. Here one is assailed on all sides by
fierce storms and clouds of angry spray. The cave seems at first dark
and repelling, for in this maddening whirl of wind and water one is at
first almost blinded; but as soon as the eye becomes accustomed to the
darkness, it can follow the graceful curve of the water to where it
leaves the cliff above. The dark, forbidding, terraced rocks are seen
dripping with water. The passage of the cave is too exciting to be
essayed by persons with weak hearts, but the return across the rocks in
front of it on a bright day is genuinely inspiring. Here the symbol of
promise is brought down within one's very reach; above, around, on all
sides are to be seen colours rivalling the conception of any
artist--whole circles of bows, quarter circles, half circles, here
within one's very grasp. The far fabled pot of gold is here a boiling,
seething mass of running, shimmering silver. If possible, more glorious
than all else, up above, along the sky-line, there appears the shining
crest of the American Fall, glimmering in the sunlight like the silvery
range of some snow-covered mountains.
[Illustration: The Cave of the Winds.]
In size the cave is about one hundred feet wide, a hundred feet deep,
and about one hundred and sixty feet high. At one point in the cave, on
a bright day, by standing in the very edge of the spray, one becomes the
centre of a complete circle of rainbows, an experience probably
unequalled elsewhere.
About half-way between the stairway and the cave is the point from
which, in 1829, Sam Patch made his famous leap, elsewhere described.
On the side of the Horseshoe Fall is to be found a fine position from
which to view the mighty force of the greater mass of waters. For some
distance along the front of the fall immense masses of rock have
accumulated. The trip over these rocks is fraught with danger and is
taken by very few. For those who care to take the risk, the sight is
well worth the effort. Just above at the crest are Terrapin Rocks, where
formerly stood Terrapin Tower. Professor Tyndall went far out beyond the
line of Terrapin Rocks to a point which has been reached by very few of
the millions of visitors to this shrine. Passing along the cliff toward
Canada, Porter's Bluff is soon reached, which furnishes one of the
grandest views of the Horseshoe Fall. Fifty years ago, from this point
one could see the whole line of the graceful curve of the Horseshoe;
since that time the rapid erosion in the middle of the river (where the
volume is greatest) has destroyed almost all trace of what the name
suggests. The sides meet now at a very acute angle, the old contour
having been entirely destroyed.
One of the most interesting experiments conducted under these great
masses of falling water was essayed by the well-known English traveller
Captain Basil Hall in 1827. It seems that Babbage and Herschel had said
that there was reason to expect a change of elastic pressure in the air
near a waterfall. Bethinking himself of the opportunity of testing this
theory at Niagara during his American tour, Captain Hall secured a
mountain barometer of most delicate workmanship for this specific
purpose. In a letter to Professor Silliman the experimenter described
his experience as follows, the question being of interest to every one
who has attempted to breathe when passing behind any portion of this
wall of falling water:
I think you told me that you did not enter this singular cave on
your late journey, which I regret very much, because I have no
hope of being able to describe it to you. In the whole course of
my life, I never encountered anything so formidable in
appearance; and yet, I am half ashamed to say so, I saw it
performed by many other people without emotion, and it is daily
accomplished by ladies, who think they have done nothing
remarkable.
You are perhaps aware that it is a standing topic of controversy
every summer by the company at the great hotels near the Falls,
whether the air within the sheet of water is condensed or
rarefied. I have therefore a popular motive as well as a
scientific one, in conducting this investigation, and the
result, I hope, will prove satisfactory to the numerous persons
who annually visit Niagara.
As a first step I placed the barometer at a distance of about
150 feet from the extreme western end of the Falls, on a flat
rock as nearly as possible on a level with the top of the
"talus" or bank of shingle lying at the base of the overhanging
cliff, from which the cataract descends. This station was about
30 perpendicular feet above the pool basin into which the water
falls.
The mercury here stood at 29.68 inches. I then moved the
instrument to another rock within 10 or 12 feet of the edge of
the fall, where it was placed, by means of a levelling
instrument, exactly at the same height as in the first instance.
It still stood at 29.68 and the only difference I could observe
was a slight continuous vibration of about two or three
hundredths of an inch at intervals of a few seconds.
So far, all was plain sailing; for, though I was soundly ducked
by this time, there was no particular difficulty in making these
observations. But within the sheet of water, there is a violent
wind, caused by the air carried down by the falling water, and
this makes the case very different. Every stream of falling
water, as you know, produces more or less a blast of this
nature; but I had no conception that so great an effect could
have been produced by this cause.
I am really at a loss how to measure it, but I have no
hesitation in saying that it exceeds the most furious squall or
gust of wind I have ever met with in any part of the world. The
direction of the blast is generally slanting upwards, from the
surface of the pool, and is chiefly directed against the face of
the cliff, which being of a friable, shaly character, is
gradually eaten away so that the top of the precipice now
overhangs the base 35 or 40 feet and in a short time I should
think the upper strata will prove too weak for the enormous load
of water, which they bear, when the whole cliff will tumble
down.
These vehement blasts are accompanied by floods of water, much
more compact than the heaviest thunder shower, and as the light
is not very great the situation of the experimenter with a
delicate barometer in his hand is one of some difficulty.
By the assistance of the guide, however, who proved a steady and
useful assistant, I managed to set the instrument up within a
couple of feet of the "termination rock" as it is called, which
is at the distance of 153 feet from the side of the waterfall
measured horizontally along the top of the bank of shingle. This
measurement, it is right to mention, was made a few days
afterward by Mr. Edward Deas-Thompson of London, the guide, and
myself with a graduated tape.
While the guide held the instrument firmly down, which required
nearly all his force, I contrived to adjust it, so that the
spirit level on the top indicated that the tube was in the
perpendicular position. It would have been utterly useless to
have attempted any observation without this contrivance. I then
secured all tight, unscrewed the bag, and allowed the mercury to
subside; but it was many minutes before I could obtain even a
tolerable reading, for the water flowed over my brows like a
thick veil, threatening to wash the whole affair, philosophers
and all, into the basin below. I managed, however, after some
minutes' delay to make a shelf or spout with my hand, which
served to carry the water clear of that part of the instrument
which I wished to look at and also to leave my eyes
comparatively free. I now satisfied myself by repeated trials
that the surface of the mercurial column did not rise higher
than 29.72. It was sometimes at 29.70 and may have vibrated two
or three hundredths of an inch. This station was about 10 or 12
feet lower than the external ones and therefore I should have
expected a slight rise in the mercury; but I do not pretend to
have read off the scale to any great nicety, though I feel quite
confident of having succeeded in ascertaining that there was no
sensible difference between the elasticity of the air at the
station on the outside of the Falls and that, 153 feet within
them.
I now put the instrument up and having walked back towards the
mouth of this wonderful cave about 30 feet, tried the experiment
again. The mercury stood now at 29.68, or at 29.70 as near as I
could observe it. On coming again into the open air I took the
barometer to one of the first stations, but was much
disappointed though I cannot say surprised to observe it full of
air and water and consequently for the time quite destroyed.
My only surprise, indeed, was that under such circumstances the
air and water were not sooner forced in. But I have no doubt
that the two experiments on the outside as well as the two
within the sheet of water were made by the instrument when it
was in a correct state: though I do not deny that it would have
been more satisfactory to have verified this by repeating the
observations at the first station.
On mentioning these results to the contending parties in the
controversy, both asked me the same question, "How then do you
account for the difficulty in breathing which all persons
experience who go behind the sheet of water?" To which I
replied: "That if any one were exposed to the spouts of half a
dozen fire engines playing full in his face at the distance of a
few yards, his respiration could not be quite free, and for my
part I conceived that this rough discipline would be equally
comfortable in other respects and not more embarrassing to the
lungs than the action of the blast and falling water behind this
amazing cataract."
[Illustration: The American Fall.
From a photograph by Notman, Montreal.]
It is almost impossible to conceive of the immense mass of water
tumbling over this precipice. It has been estimated in tons, cubic feet,
and horse-power, but the figures are so large as to stagger the human
mind. Out there at the apex of the angle, the water, over twenty feet
deep, is drawn from almost half a continent, forming a picture to make
one's nerves thrill with awe and delight, where the international
boundary line swings back and forth as the apex of the angle formed
sways from side to side.
Just off the shore of the island are seen Terrapin Rocks. Why this name
was applied is uncertain. These rocks are scattered in the flood to the
very brink of the fall and in the titanic struggle with the rush of
waters seem hardly able to maintain their position. Upon these rocks on
the very brink of the Falls in 1833 was erected, by Judge Porter,
Terrapin Tower, for many years one of the centres visited by every
person journeying to the Falls. From its summit could be seen the wild
rapids rushing on toward the precipice; below shimmering green of the
fall. Down, far down, in the depths beneath was the boiling, seething
caldron, from which arose beautiful columns of spray. From this
position, forty-five feet above the surface of the water, probably a
more comprehensive view of the many features of Niagara could be
obtained than from any other point. Forty years later it was blown up,
not because it was unsafe, as alleged, but that it might not prove a
rival attraction to Prospect Point. Recently suggestions have been made
looking toward the restoration of this ancient landmark, but no definite
action has been taken.
Over a half-century ago, almost opposite this tower on the Canadian
side, was to be seen the immense Table Rock hanging far out over the
current below. On the 25th of June, 1850, this large mass of rock fell.
Fortunately the fall occurred at noon with no loss of life; it was one
of the greatest falls of rock known to have taken place at the cataract,
for the dimensions of the rock were two hundred feet long, sixty feet
wide, and a hundred feet deep. Like the roar of muffled thunder the
crash was heard for miles around.
It was from the Terrapin Rocks to the Canadian side that Blondin wished
to stretch his rope, elsewhere described, and it was over the very
centre of Niagara's warring powers he desired to perform his daring
feat, looking down upon that shimmering guarded secret of the "Heart of
Niagara." The Porters, who owned Goat Island, however, refused to become
parties to what they considered an improper exposure of life and Blondin
stretched his cable farther down the river, near the site of the
crescent steel arch bridge.
[Illustration: Remains of Stone Piers of the "First Railway in
America"--the British Tramway up Lewiston Heights, 1763.]
Standing upon these rocks and looking out over that hurrying mass of
waters, it seems almost impossible to imagine any power being able to
stop them; but on the 29th of March, 1848, the impossible happened, the
Niagara ran dry. From the American shore across the rapids to Goat
Island one could walk dry-shod. From Goat Island and the Canadian shore
the waters were contracted to a small stream flowing over the centre of
what was then the Horseshoe; only a few tiny rivulets remained falling
over the precipice at other points. The cause of this unnatural
phenomenon was wind and ice. Lake Erie was full of floating ice. The day
previous the winds had blown this ice out into the lake. In the evening
the wind suddenly changed and blew a sharp gale from exactly the
opposite direction, driving the mass of ice into the river and gorging
it there, thus cutting off almost the whole water supply, and in the
morning people awoke to find that the Niagara had departed. The American
Fall was no more, the Horseshoe was hardly a ghost of its former self.
Gone were the rapids, the fighting, struggling waters. Niagara's
majestic roar was reduced to a moan. All day people walked on the rock
bed of the river, although fearful lest the dam formed at its head
should give way at any moment. By night, the warmth of the sun and the
waters of the lake had begun to make inroads on the barrier and by the
morning of the next day Niagara had returned in all its grandeur.
However cold Niagara's winter may be, the moan of falling water here can
always be heard, though at times the volume is very small. The winter
scenes here often take rank in point of wonder and beauty with the
cataract itself. When the river is frozen over below the Falls the
phenomenon is called an "Ice Bridge," the blowing spray sometimes
building a gigantic sparkling mound of wonderful beauty. The island
trees above the Falls, covered by the same spray, assume curiously
beautiful forms which, as they glitter in the sun, turn an already
wonder-land into a strange fairyland of incomparable whiteness and
glory.
A short distance up the river along the shore a position just opposite
the apex of the Falls is reached. Here, along the shore of the island,
the waters are comparatively shallow, but toward the Canadian shore
races the current which carries fully three fourths of Niagara's volume.
Out in the very midst of the current is a small speck of land, all that
is now left of what was once Gull Island, so named from its having been
a favourite resting place for these birds, which can hardly find a
footing now on its contracted shores. From what can be learned of the
past history of this island, it must have occupied about two acres three
quarters of a century ago. Its gradual disappearance shows to what
degree the mighty forces of Niagara are removing all obstacles placed in
their path. Goat Island is gradually suffering the same fate. At points
the shore line has encroached upon the island to a distance of twenty
feet in a half-century. At this point the carriage road used to run out
beyond the present edge of the bluff.
Passing on along the shore of the island, Niagara's scenery is present
everywhere. At quite a distance up stream the Three Sister Islands are
reached. These islands were named from the three daughters of General P.
Whitney, they being the first women to visit them, probably in winter
when the waters were low.
[Illustration: Amid the Goat island Group.
From a photograph by Notman, Montreal.]
To the first Sister Island leads a massive stone bridge. From this
bridge is to be obtained a fine view of the Hermit's Cascade beneath.
This little fall receives its name from having been the favourite
bathing place of the Hermit of Niagara, a strange half-witted young
Englishman by the name of Francis Abbott who lived in solitude here for
two years preceding his death by drowning in 1831, during his sojourn at
the Falls.
These three islands are replete with small bits of scenery and
overflowing with beauty. In them are to be found the smaller attractions
of Niagara; not so much of the stern majesty and awful grandeur, but
smaller and more comprehensible features come before the view following
each other in rapid succession. On the second Sister Island is one point
which should be visited by every one. Just before reaching the bridge to
third Sister Island, by turning to the right and proceeding along a
somewhat difficult path for a short distance one comes to a point at the
water's edge and finds lying right below him the boiling waters with
their white, feathery spray; here also is the small cataract between the
second and third islands fed by the most rapid although small stream of
Niagara. From this point is to be obtained one of the most varied of
scenic effects of any point at the Falls. The scenery from the third
Sister must be seen to be appreciated. From its upper end one looks
directly at the low cliff which forms the first descent of the Rapids.
Here the waters start from the peaceful stream above on their maddening
race for the Falls. Out along the line of the cliff the waters deepen
and increase in rapidity toward the Canadian shore. Just below this
ledge, probably three hundred feet from the head of the island, the
current is directed against some obstruction which causes it to spout up
into the air, causing what is called the Spouting Rock.
Many have been the changes wrought by the waters themselves since white
men knew the Falls; but a thousand years hence the visitor to Niagara
will behold the main fall not from Terrapin Rocks or Porter's Bluff, but
from this third Sister Island. The Rapids then shall have almost
entirely disappeared, but their beauty will be compensated for by the
additional grandeur of the fall itself. The gorge will have widened and
the fall itself shall have added fifty feet to its height, making it two
hundred feet high. Third Sister Island should be gone over thoroughly,
for it offers some of the finest views, especially of colouring, above
the Falls, and many of them.
Niagara owes its sublime array of colour to the purity of its water.
Nothing finer has been written on this subject than the words of the
artist Mrs. Van Rensselaer, whom we quote:
To this purity Niagara owes its exquisite variety of colour. To
find the blues we must look, of course, above Goat Island, where
the sky is reflected in smooth if quickly flowing currents. But
every other tint and tone that water can take is visible in or
near the Falls themselves. In the quieter parts of the gorge we
find a very dark, strong green, while in its rapids all shades
of green and grey and white are blended. The shallower rapids
above the Falls are less strongly coloured, a beautiful light
green predominating between the pale-grey swirls and the snowy
crests of foam--semi-opaque, like the stone called aquamarine,
because infused with countless air-bubbles, yet deliciously
fresh and bright. The tense, smooth slant of water at the margin
of the American fall is not deep enough to be green. In the
sunshine it is a clear amber, and when shadowed, a brown that is
darker, yet just as pure. But wherever the Canadian fall is
visible its green crest is conspicuous. Far down-stream, nearly
two miles away, where the railroad-bridge crosses the gorge, it
shows like a little emerald strung on a narrow band of pearl.
Its colour is not quite like that of an emerald, although the
term must be used because no other is more accurate. It is a
purer colour, and cooler, with less of yellow in it--more pure,
more cool, and at the same time more brilliant than any colour
that sea-water takes even in a breaking wave, or that man has
produced in any substance whatsoever. At this place, we are
told, the current must be twenty feet deep; and its colour is so
intense and so clear because, while the light is reflected from
its curving surface, it also filters through so great a mass of
absolutely limpid water. It always quivers, this bright-green
stretch, yet somehow it always seems as solid as stone, smoothly
polished for the most part, but, when a low sun strikes across
it, a little roughened, fretted. That this is water and that the
thinnest smoke above it is water also, who can believe? In other
places at Niagara we ask the same question again.
From a distance the American fall looks quite straight. When we
stand beside it we see that its line curves inward and outward,
throwing the falling sheet into bastion-like sweeps. As we gaze
down upon these, every change in the angle of vision and in the
strength and direction of the light gives a new effect. The one
thing that we never seem to see, below the smooth brink, is
water. Very often the whole swift precipice shows as a myriad
million inch-thick cubes of clearest glass or ice or solidified
light, falling in an envelope of starry spangles. Again, it
seems all diamond-like or pearl-like, or like a flood of flaked
silver, shivered crystal, or faceted ingots of palest amber. It
is never to be exhausted in its variations. It is never to be
described. Only, one can always say, it is protean, it is most
lovely, and it is not water.
Then, as we look across the precipice, it may be milky in
places, or transparent, or translucent. But where its mass falls
quickly it is all soft and white--softer then anything else in
the world. It does not resemble a flood of fleece or of down,
although it suggests such a flood. It is more like a crumbling
avalanche, immense and gently blown, of smallest snowflakes;
but, again, it is not quite like this. Now we see that, even
apart from its main curves, no portion of the swiftly moving
wall is flat. It is all delicately fissured and furrowed, by the
broken edges of the rock over which it falls, into the
suggestion of fluted buttresses, half-columns, pilasters. And
the whiteness of these is not quite white. Nor is it
consistently iridescent or opalescent. Very faintly, elusively,
it is tinged with tremulous stripes and strands of pearly grey,
of vaguest straw, shell-pink, lavender, and green--inconceivably
ethereal blues, shy ghosts of earthly colours, abashed and
deflowered, we feel, by definite naming with earthly names. They
seem hardly to tinge the whiteness; rather, to float over it as
a misty bloom. We are loath to turn our eyes from them, fearing
they may never show again. Yet they are as real as the keen
emerald of the Horseshoe.[10]
One should walk through the New York State Reservation, which extends
for some distance above the commencement of the Rapids, to get a more
complete view of the scenery above the Falls, the wooded shores of Goat
Island, the swiftly moving waters, the broad river, the beginning of the
Canadian Rapids, and the Canadian shore in the distance. On up the river
at a distance are to be seen those forest-clad shores of Navy Island and
Grand Island.
On the Canadian side of the river, after crossing the steel arch bridge
just below the Falls, beautiful Victoria Park is first reached. From
this position a new and entirely different view of the American Fall is
obtained from almost directly in front. Turning and going up the river a
fine view of the Horseshoe is obtained from a distance. Just opposite
the American Fall is Inspiration Point, from which the best view of the
Falls is to be obtained. From here one can watch the little _Maid of the
Mist_ as she makes her trips through the boiling waters below.
[Illustration: Horseshoe Falls from the Canadian Shore.
From a photograph by Notman, Montreal.]
On up the river one wanders, past Goat Island, whose cliff is seen from
directly in front. Just before reaching the edge of the Horseshoe the
position of old Table Rock is seen. Little is left of this old and once
famous point for observing Niagara's wonders. Several different falls of
immense masses of rock, one of which has been mentioned, have reduced it
to its present state. Here the Indian worshipped the Great Spirit of the
Falls, gazing across at his supposed home on Goat Island; and here comes
the white man to look upon the wonders of that mighty cataract with a
feeling almost akin to that of his red brother. Here one could stand
with the maddening waters rushing beneath, the Falls near at hand, its
incessant roar assailing the ears while the spray was wafted all round.
Little wonder that the red man worshipped, or that the white man looks
on with feelings of awe, admiration, and wonder.
Passing on up the river and around the pumping station for the
neighbouring village, one reaches the point at the water's edge from
which the "Heart of Niagara" can best be seen, where millions of tons of
water are continually pouring over the cliff and causing some of the
most beautiful effects produced by the spray called the "Darting Lines
of Spray" to be seen anywhere at the Falls. From this point one sees up
the river over a mile of the Rapids with their madly hurrying waters
rushing on as if to engulf everything below.
Along the water's edge, the journey should be pursued. A short distance
farther up stream, a crib work has been built as a protection to the
bank. Here is to be gained one of the finest views of the Canadian
Rapids, one feature of which can not be seen to so great advantage from
any other point. The "Shoreless Sea," as this view has been called, is a
grand and inspiring sight. Gazing up the stream the Rapids are seen
tumbling on toward one, with no land in sight. The clouds form the
sky-line and it is as if the very chambers of heaven had been opened for
a second deluge. It is, indeed, a "Shoreless Sea," tumbling on, a grand
and awful sight.
Pursuing one's way on up the river, Dufferin Islands are reached. These
are formed by a bend in the current. Here is a sylvan retreat, full of
lovers' walks and beauties of nature. Here is the burning
spring--escaping natural gas from a rift in the rock. Not far from this
point, on up the river, was fought the battle of Chippewa. About a mile
above these islands, at the mouth of Chippewa Creek, stood Fort
Chippewa, built by the British in 1790 to protect this, their most
important portage.
[Illustration: Looking up the Lower Niagara from Paradise Grove.
From a photograph by Wm. Quinn, Niagara-on-the-Lake.]
To reach the points of interest, just mentioned, on the Canadian side,
as well as those down the river, it is best to make the trip from one
scenic position to another by electric car. Returning to the Horseshoe
one will doubtless have called to his mind that about a mile back to the
left occurred the famed battle of Lundy's Lane on July 5, 1814. At the
edge of the cliff on the right was the position of the "Old Indian
Ladder," by means of which the Indians used to descend to the lower
level for the purpose of fishing. This ladder was only a long cedar
tree, which had been deprived of its limbs and had been placed almost
perpendicularly against the cliff. On down the way a short distance, the
road which leads down the face of the cliff, to the _Maid of the Mist's_
landing, is reached. Just beyond this point, at the top of the inclined
railway, is to be obtained the best view of the steel arch bridge. Just
below the bridge, opposite, on the American shore, a maddened torrent
comes pouring from the base of the cliff as if anxious to add its fury
to that of the waters round. It is the outlet of the tunnel which
disposes of the tail water from the electric power-house over a mile
above, mentioned in our chapter on power development at Niagara. The
manufacturing plants of the Hydraulic Company, the first to use
Niagara's waters to any great extent for power, are situated just
opposite.
A short distance on down the stream, and after descending a slight
incline, the point where Blondin stretched his rope across the gorge in
1859 is reached.
Next on the journey the cantilever bridge is reached. This bridge was
constructed in 1882. Just below this is the steel arch bridge, both
being railroad bridges. The second one was first constructed as a
suspension bridge by John A. Roebling, being the first railroad bridge
of its kind in the country. It has been several times replaced, the
present structure having been erected in 1897. Just below the railroad
bridges several persons have made the trip across the gorge on ropes.
Soon the Whirlpool is reached, and the madly rushing waters are seen as
at no other place on the surface of the earth. Rounding the rapids, the
car runs over a trestle work in crossing the old pre-glacial channel of
the river referred to in our geologic chapter. Here one can look down on
the waters almost directly beneath him, with the forests covering the
sloping incline of the ancient bed of the river stretching up to the
level above. Just as the car finishes the rounded curve of the
Whirlpool, at the point of the cliff at the outlet, one catches the best
view of both inlet and outlet at the same time, flowing directly at
right angles to each other. The car continues on its course, now near,
now farther back from the edge of the gorge. One catches occasional
glimpses of the bridge far below, over which the electric line passes
back to the American shore. For over three miles the car continues its
course along the cliff before the next point of special interest
presents itself in Brock's monument.
From this monument one of the finest panoramic views of the surrounding
regions can be obtained. The monument stands on Queenston Heights, with
the remains of old Fort Drummond just back of it.
All about is historic ground. On the surrounding plain and slopes was
fought the battle of Queenston Heights. Every inch of ground has some
story to tell of that struggle. The car soon begins to descend the
incline which, ages ago, formed the shores of Lake Ontario. Below, at
the end of the gorge, the river seems to forget its tumultuous rush, and
spreading out pursues a placid and well-behaved course to the lower
lake.
[Illustration: The Mouth of the Gorge.
From a photograph by Notman, Montreal.]
About half-way down the descent, the point where General Brock fell is
reached, which point is marked by a massive stone monument set in place
in 1861 by King Edward VII., then Prince of Wales. Just below to the
right is seen an old, ruined stone house which was General Brock's
shelter after being wounded, and in which was printed, in 1792, the
first newspaper of Upper Canada. The bridge is soon reached, in the
crossing of which, a fine view of the last mad rush of the waters is
gained as they issue from the gorge into the placid stream leading to
the lake below. On they come with the waves piled high in the centre,
tearing along in a mad fury, until they seem to be pacified by a power
stronger even than their own; and they glide smoothly along to the end
of their course in the lower lake.
On the American heights stood old Fort Gray, connected with the history
of the War of 1812. On the American shore was the head of navigation,
and up the cliff all the freight sent over the old portage was hoisted
by hand and later by machinery. High up on the American cliffs, half-way
between the Whirlpool and Lewiston, is the famous "Devil's Hole," an
interesting cave known among the Indians, we are told, as the "Cave of
the Evil Spirit." Here, it has been stated, geologists find some of the
clearest evidences of the former existence of the presence of the Falls
in that far day when the migration had extended thus far up the river
from the escarpment at Lewiston.
Much has been said about the rapids of the river below the Falls--the
lesser Rapids of Niagara. What of this seething, spouting, tumbling mass
that races along below these towering cliffs, maddening, ungovernable,
almost horrifying to gaze upon? It is very singular how little is said
about this torrent. They illustrate very significantly the fact that
mere power has little of charm for the mind of man; it interests, but
often it does not please or delight. In our chapter on the foolhardy
persons to whom these bounding billows have been a challenge, and who
have attempted to navigate or pass through them, are descriptions of
their savage fury and wonderful eccentricities. The most interesting
fact respecting these great rapids is the unbelievable depth of the
channel through which they race, since it sometimes approximates,
according to the best sources of information, the height of the
towering cliffs that compose the canyon. By government survey we know
that the depth of the river between the Falls and the cantilever bridge
is two hundred feet. The Whirlpool is estimated as four hundred feet
deep, and the rapids above the Whirlpool as forty feet deep; the rapids
below the Whirlpool are thought to be about sixty.
The romantic situation of the two ancient towns, Lewiston and Queenston,
at the foot of the two escarpments, on opposite sides of the river, is
only equalled by the absorbing story of their part in history when they
were thriving, bustling frontier outposts. The beauty of the locations
of these interesting towns contains in itself sufficient promise of
growth and prosperity equal to, or exceeding, that of beautiful
Youngstown, near Fort Niagara, or Niagara-on-the-Lake on the Canadian
shore. This lower stretch of river teems with historic interest of the
French era and especially of the days when the second war with Great
Britain was progressing; in our chapters relating to those days will be
found references to these points of present-day interest in their
relation to the great questions that were being settled by sword and
musket, by friend and foe, who met beside the historic river that
empties into Lake Ontario between old Fort George and old Fort Niagara.
[Illustration: The Whirlpool Rapids.]
For ease of access, romantic situation, historic interest, and many of
the advantages usually desired during a hot vacation recess, these towns
along the lower Niagara offer a varied number of important advantages;
if by some magic touch a dam could be raised between Fort Mississauga
and the American shore, rendering that marvellously beautiful stretch
of river--unmatched in some ways by any American stream--slack water,
one of the most lovely boating lakes on the Continent could be created,
whereon international regattas in both winter and summer could be held
of unusual interest. Is it supposable that this could be effected
without great detriment to either the yachting fraternity, whose sails,
from the verandah of the Queen's Royal, are always a delight, or the
steamboat interests, which could land as well at Fort Niagara, perhaps,
as at Lewiston, or at Niagara-on-the-Lake, which could be connected with
the Gorge Route. The river's current is all now that keeps the lower
Niagara from being as popular a resort of its kind as can be suggested.
All the elements of popularity are in fair measure present here, and
immensely enjoyed yearly by increasing multitudes.
A little beyond the mouth of the Niagara, just over those blue waves,
rise the spires of the queen city of Canada, Toronto. To all practical
purposes this beautiful city stands at one end of Niagara River, as
Buffalo stands at the other. Historically and commercially this is
altogether true, and we elsewhere weave its history into our record.
[Footnote 7: _Scribner's Monthly_, vol. xxi., pp. 583-6.]
[Footnote 8: _The Niagara Book_, p. 15.]
[Footnote 9: _The Century Magazine_, vol. xxxvi., p. 197.]
[Footnote 10: _The Century Magazine_, xxxvi., 198-201.]