Ogdensburg is an active port on the St. Lawrence about twenty miles
below Brockville, having a railroad through the Adirondacks over to
Rouse's Point on Lake Champlain. Here flow in the dark-brown waters
of the Oswegatchie, the Indian "Black River," coming out of those
forests, which commingle in sharp contrast with the clear green
current of the greater river. Prescott, antiquated and time-worn, is
on the Canadian bank. The shores are generally low, with patches of
woodland and farms, and the St. Lawrence below Ogdensburg begins to go
down the rapids, having tranquil lakes and long wide stretches of
placid waters intervening. The first rapid is the "Galop," flowing
among flat grass-covered islands, with swift moving waters, but a
small affair, scarcely discernible as the steamboat goes through it.
The next one, the "Plat," is also passed without much trouble, and
then a line of whitecaps ahead indicates the beginning of the "Long
Sault," the most extensive rapid on the river. This is the "Long
Leap," a rapid running for nine miles, its waters rushing down the
rocky ledges at a speed of twenty miles an hour. All steam is shut
off, and the river steamer is carried along by the movement of the
seething, roaring current, the surface appearing much like the ocean
in a storm. The rocking, sinking deck beneath one's feet gives a
strange and startling sensation, and looking back at the incline down
which the boat is sliding, it seems like a great angry wall of water
chasing along from behind. An elongated island divides the channel
through the "Long Sault," and there are other low islands adjacent;
the boat, swaying among the rocks over which the waves leap in fury,
being now lifted on their crests, and then dropped between them, but
all the while gliding down hill, until still water and safety are
reached at Cornwall. Here begins the northern boundary of New York,
which goes due east through the Chateaugay forests across the land to
Lake Champlain, and large factories front the river, getting their
power from the waters above the rapid.
Below Cornwall, which has an industrial population of some seven
thousand, and the Indian village of St. Regis opposite, the St.
Lawrence is wholly within Canada, and far off to the southeast rise
the dark and distant Adirondack ranges. Soon the river broadens into
the sluggish Lake St. Francis, at the head of which two well-known
Adirondack streams flow in, the Racquette and St. Regis Rivers. The
ancient village of St. Regis has its old church standing up
conspicuously with a bright tin roof, for the air is so dry that tin
is not painted in the Dominion. The bell hanging in the spire was sent
out from France for the early Indian mission, but before landing, the
vessel carrying it was captured by a colonial privateer and taken into
Salem, Massachusetts. The bell, with other booty from the prize, was
sold and sent to a church in Deerfield, then on the Massachusetts
frontier. The St. Regis Huron Indians heard of this, and making a long
march down there, recaptured their bell, massacred forty-seven people,
and carried all the rest who could not escape, one hundred and twenty
of them, including the church pastor and his family, captives back to
Canada. Thus they brought the bell in triumph to St. Regis, and it has
since hung undisturbed in the steeple, although the Indians who now
hear it have become very few. The lake is twenty-eight miles long and
very monotonous, although a distinguishing landmark is furnished by
the massive buildings of St. Aniset Church, seen from afar on the
southern shore.
Coteau, at the end of the lake, has a railway swinging drawbridge,
carrying the Canada Atlantic Railroad over, and below is another
series of rapids. These are the "Coteau," with about two miles of
swift current, making but slight impression; and then the "Cedars,"
"Split Rock," and the "Cascades." The "Cedars" give a sensation, being
composed of layers of rock down which the boat slides, as if settling
from one ledge suddenly down to another, producing a curious feeling.
It was here, in 1759, that General Amherst, by a sad mishap, had three
hundred troops drowned. The "Split Rock" rapid is named from enormous
boulders standing at its entrance, and a dangerous reef can be
distinctly seen from the deck as the steamer apparently runs directly
upon it, until the pilot swerves the boat aside, seemingly just in
time. Then, tossing for a few moments upon the white-crested waves of
the "Cascades," the steamer glides peacefully upon the tranquil
surface of Lake St. Louis, which is fifteen miles long, and receives
from the north the Ottawa River. Each little village on the banks of
the lake and rivers is conspicuous from the large Roman Catholic
Church around which it clusters, the steep bright tin roof and spire
far out-topping all the other buildings. At the lower end of the lake
a series of light-ships guide vessels into Lachine Canal, which goes
down to Montreal, avoiding Lachine rapids, three miles long, the
shortest series, but most violent of them all. Here, at the head of
the rapids, stood the early French explorer, sent out to search for
"the road to Cathay," and looking over the great lake spread out
before him, with a view like old ocean, he shouted "La Chine!" for he
thought that China was beyond it. The Canadian Pacific Railway bridge
spans the river, and skirting the southern shore is the Indian town of
Caughnawaga, with its little old houses and light stone church, the
"village on the rapids." The steamboat then slides down Lachine
rapids, the most difficult and dangerous passage of all, though it
lasts but a few minutes--the exciting inclined plane of water, with
rocks ahead and rocks beneath, indicated by swift and foaming
cataracts running over and between them, and by stout thumps against
the keel, sometimes making every timber shiver, and the apparent
danger giving keen zest to the termination of the voyage. These rapids
passed, the current below quickly floats the steamboat under the great
Victoria tubular bridge, carrying the Grand Trunk Railway over, and
the broad stone quays of Montreal are spread along the bank, with rank
after rank of noble buildings behind them, and the tall twin towers of
Notre Dame Cathedral rising beyond, glistening under the rays of the
setting sun.