See America First Part 27

The strange beauty of the ocean is comprehended long before one reaches its sh.o.r.es. Mountain peaks are seen from afar, blending imperceptibly with the horizon; at first only their faint outlines are revealed as you gradually approach. You have, perhaps, been looking for a rough country with great glacier- sculptured walls or imposing rugged scenery on nearing the falls. You do not suspect they are near and if you approach Prospect Point in an automobile, you are in sight and sound of them ere you are aware.

Here the vast panorama is presented to you. You are hardly prepared for so much at once. One gentleman, on being asked what effect the falls had upon his wife, replied: "She was struck speechless." Whereupon the other gentleman said: "I shall bring my wife tomorrow." Had Niagara this beneficent effect upon both s.e.xes who gaze upon it, one is almost certain that its number of visitors instead of one million, would amount to many millions annually, and "there would be more of heaven on earth, before it is journeyed to."

Those who can see no beauty in Niagara (may the Lord pity such) may still be rewarded by learning that this river is the boundary between the United States and Canada and was therefore the scene of many stirring conflicts between the Mother Country and her young but plucky, wayward, willful child. Nearby, on the Canadian side, are the battlefields of Chippewa, Lundy's Lane and Queenstown Heights. On the steep bank of the river on the top of a well-wooded height stands a graceful Doric shaft erected by the British in memory of their commander, General Brock, who fell on the battlefield of Queenstown Heights October 12, 1812. The monument has a lightning rod on it and on being asked the reason for this a fellow traveler replied: "It is because he has such striking features."

A trip to Niagara is not complete without a visit to the old fort. How beautiful the tree bordered road leading from Niagara along the river to its outlet at Lake Ontario! At first you catch glimpses now and then through the tree and bush covered banks of the river. The scenery along the river about half way between Niagara and the lake consists of beautiful homes with the orchards, vineyards and fields that stretch away over the level valley.

As you approach Fort Niagara you will see the post's cemetery.

On the river between the cemetery and the fort is a lighthouse and near it, under the walls of the old fort, a government life- saving station. Entering the government ground the road winds through a beautiful grove in which are located the officers'

homes. The barracks are adjacent to these and the road skirts the parade grounds just beyond.

At right angles with the river and lake is located Fort Niagara.

This old fort is entered under an arched driveway, which may be closed by two ma.s.sive doors. Its walls are fourteen feet high and four feet thick, built of stones that have been laid without mortar. It has been remarkably well preserved. It was built by the French approximately on the site occupied by LaSalle and Denouville. It was taken by the British in 1789 and held by them as a base of warfare against the American frontier during the war of the Revolution. It was then occupied by the Americans.

You will be impressed with the old Lombardy poplars that were planted by the French along the lake. Here they have stood, buffeted by the winds of more than two centuries until they resemble grim, st.u.r.dy warriors who have known many conflicts.

They stand near the water's edge, defiant still, like brave soldiers unable to move farther, who have faced about to meet the enemy. With their few scattered limbs still pointing upward, they seem almost as old as the fort itself. Nature was kind and had clothed their few aged limbs with bright green leaves, which will retain their tints almost as long as any deciduous trees.

But why recall these tales of bygone days when the British and the Americans were engaged in these terrible struggles? Let us go back to the falls where a voice at once grand and awesome speaks of a day so old we have no record, save the geological hieroglyphics; those vast ma.n.u.scripts written on the tables of rocks by the hand of Time.

On going to Niagara for the first time, one fears that his impression will not be great, for has he not heard from childhood, that name reiterated a thousand times until it has lost much of its glamour? Then, too, has he not seen pictures of Niagara in his geography and heard his older brothers tell about it until its grandeur seems, from what he had at first pictured in fancy, to lose much of its significance? "But like sunsets, mountains, lakes and some people he may know, who are still strikingly beautiful though common, he will find a significance in the real Niagara like these."

You will perhaps be advised not to follow the beaten trail and rush to Prospect Point, but save the best portion of the trip for the last. Through the park to Goat Island bridge you go in eager antic.i.p.ation to learn whether your fancy had pictured with accurateness the real scene. From this ma.s.sive stone structure you gaze up the river and behold the so-called American rapids.

Here the view awes one into silence. Even the "Isn't it lovely?"

and "oh, how wonderful!" types of people can scarcely say more than "Niagara!" Strange, too, it is that one seldom hears the word "scrumptious." Perhaps the people have chosen the adjective we heard a German use, who on being asked how he enjoyed the view from the bridge replied, "Bully."

America should be justly proud that one of her great natural wonders has views like this. You gaze enraptured at the swishing, swirling, lapping ma.s.s of water above you, that falls from a series of terrace-like cascades. As it draws nearer, you are impressed by the glorious display of the wild, raging waters around you. How slowly you walk across the bridge, still noting the turbulent ma.s.s of water rushing past with amazing velocity and grand display of power.

Directly in front of the bridge you will see a vast flat rock over whose polished surface the water comes tumbling in a great fan-shaped ma.s.s, which is as grand as anything at Niagara. The waters loom up at this point like some majestic living creature who is marshaling his forces for the final plunge after they have been scourged and seem impatient and glad to escape. To gaze down at this place, one seems to be near some "vast and awful Presence." The writhing, seething waters seem always advancing, yet never arrive; hurrying to escape but never are gone; halting against stones still ever are moving; seeming changeless across the flood of years.

Your companions who have contracted that strange disease, not "Hookworm," but "Americanitis," tell you it is exceedingly beautiful here, but you must hurry on as your time is limited.

One wonders if a certain time was set for the sculpturing of Niagara. Slowly you move on, turning away reluctantly from a scene so fair; pausing again to look at the beautiful elms and willows that grow so near the edge of the stream, their drooping branches almost touching the wild swirling waters, as if trying to get a fleeting glimpse of their own beauty.

On one of the small islands you catch a glint of metallic blue and you see a kingfisher alight on the limb of a dead pine tree that hangs over the water. He is gazing so intently at the swift rushing waters below him that you almost fancy he is attracted by the view. Suddenly he darts from his perch and, holds himself poised in mid-air until he sights a fish. He drops like a plummet and disappears. He quickly reappears and flies to a near- by rock with a fish, where he beats it to pieces and devours it.

You forget about going so slowly until some one admonishes you that the rest of your party are treading the various paths of Goat Island. You hurry now and are soon among your friends.

What a beauty spot is this group of islands and islets! It is only half a mile long and contains but seventy acres. But where in all this universe does one's fancy take such long aerial flights or the mind become conscious of such grandeur and power?

You seem to wander in fairyland where the wild throng of many voiced waters are telling aloud, "Nature's industry to create beauty and usefulness." Lower and sweeter the voices, too, are rising like musical incense to the Creator, pouring out their pa.s.sionate songs which tell of joy and enthusiasm in silvery cataracts of melody, pitched in a higher key, yet not unlike Niagara. You hear the cardinal's rich flute-like song of "What, what cheer!" ringing from a wild grapevine. Again he seems to say "Come, come here!" Whether it be an invitation to all mankind or just a message to his coy mate you know he learned it from the same teacher as Niagara, and their voices are alike full of rarest melody. The leisurely golden chant of the wood thrush, where the misty spray and cool shadows enfold you, seems like a spirit voice speaking audibly to you, and the song- sparrow sends his sweet wavering tribute to tell you he, too, enjoys the shady nooks of Niagara.

Here if we could only interpret aright are still small voices speaking of divine love and infinite beauty, just as audibly as the more powerful voice of Niagara.

At the edge of Goat Island are numerous rocks where you may get a remarkable view of the rapids; "and the forest invites the lover of trees to linger long amid its dim-lighted aisles, where he will find for his vivid imagination an ideal place for reverie."

On inquiring why Goat Island is thus named you will perhaps be told that it was once owned by a man who pastured several animals on it; among them a goat, which perished during a severe winter. Any one visiting the Falls during the winter, when a cold wind sweeps across the island, can readily see how they "got this man's goat."

The earliest description of the Falls is that by Father Hennepin, a Franciscan monk, who with LaSalle visited it in 1678 and published this account of it: "Betwixt Lake Ontario and Erie there is a vast and prodigious column of water which falls down after a manner surprising and astonishing, inasmuch that the universe does not afford a parallel. 'Tis true--Italy and Switzerland boast of some such things; but we may well say that they are sorry patterns when compared to this of which we speak.

At the foot of the horrible descent, we meet with the Niagara river, which is not above a quarter of a league broad, but is wonderfully deep in some places. It is so rapid above the descent that it violently hurries down the wild beasts, while endeavoring to pa.s.s it to feed on the other side, they not being able to withstand the force of the current, which invariably casts them headlong about six hundred feet high.

"This wonderful downfall is composed of two cross streams of water, and two falls with an aisle sloping along the middle of it. The waters which fall from this horrible precipice do foam and boil after the most hideous manner imaginable, making an outrageous noise more terrible than that of thunder." One can easily see that the imaginative and excitable Frenchman is under the spell of the great cataract.

But let us return to the island and follow the path that winds among the trees until Stedman's Bluff is gained. Your reverie is broken by the news that you are near this point. You go hurriedly now and your speed is accelerated by hearing the noise of the falls.

"Crowds of people fill the cool woodland paths; dark evergreens and aged beech trees form a leafy screen on which the sunlight falls, making a trembling, shifting mosaic as the branches open and close in the pa.s.sing breeze." The air is filled with melody and redolent with the breath of the pine that is mingled with various wild flowers. Here one is impressed with the awe he feels while treading the dim aisles of some vast cathedral. Your attention is diverted for a brief time by a species of flower unknown to you. You pause long enough to recognize it, then hurry on scarce noting the livid green of the waters going to their fate, swiftly and with unbounded freedom, as if glad to escape some pursuing demon of the watery underworld. One almost feels sad as he watches the waters dash in utter helplessness over the awful precipice.

Following the sh.o.r.e line from this point you come to a spiral stairway that leads to the little wooden bridges that connect the various rocks. Many visitors still go in front of that superb sheet of water called, "The Bridal Veil." But owing to an accident resulting in the death of three people, they no longer permit visitors to enter the Cave of the Winds. A huge rock whose estimated weight is many tons fell from above, crushing the luckless victims. Even though you do not go behind the falls this trip is full of fascinating interest. The Cave of the Winds is situated between Luna and Goat Islands, at the foot of the rock. At the present site of the Falls the edge of the cataract is formed by a stratum of hard limestone reaching to a depth of about eighty feet; and by the action of the spray the softer shaly strata below have been hollowed out so as to form this cave. It is about one hundred feet wide, one hundred and sixty feet high, and about one hundred feet across.

You will perhaps go from here to a very commanding point known as Porter's Bluff. Here, when the wind is favorable, you are away from the drenching spray of the Falls. Here, too, the American Falls are seen in all their grandeur. They shoot free from the upper edge of the cliff, owing to the velocity they have acquired in descending from the rapids above. As this vast ma.s.s of water strikes the rocks below, loud, thunder-like detonations are heard not unlike the reverberating tones of the breakers of the ocean. There is a mellowness in the sound that is soothing rather than a deafening roar as some seem to think.

At one point in the American Falls the water strikes a projecting shelf of rock a short distance below the upper ledge and is pulverized yet finer, making it gush out in silvery plumes, which are worn to l.u.s.trous threads of marble whiteness.

They form long gauzy streamers as fine as sifted snow, giving to it the name of "Bridal Veil." No bride ever wore a veil of such delicate and exquisite texture unless it was some water sprite, fit creature to be adorned with such gauzy and wind-woven drapery. Only the fairy looms of Nature can produce lace-like gossamer films of such intricate and varied designs.

>From this point the colors of the American Falls are superb. How remarkably soft and fine they are! The pearl-grey, snow-white, lavender and green ma.s.ses seem to mingle together, blending imperceptibly from one to the other, making a novel and beautiful effect that surpa.s.ses the rarest dreams of the most gifted decorative painter. The extreme beauty of delicate and striking variety of coloring, like evening skies and sunset seas, baffle any attempt at description. When the morning sunbeams stream through the mist of the Falls their exquisite tones of purple and gray and the marvelous fineness of the American Falls come to one like a revelation.

One can never forget his morning visit to the American Falls when the sunlight comes from the required angles, heightening the beauty of the whole wild ma.s.s of waters, sifting in ravishing splendor through the clouds of drifting spray. What an artist Nature is! One has seen nothing in the delicate colored wing of night moths, in the purple bloom of the ocean, the color of autumn woods or clouds of fair Italian skies, that could rival this "evanescent bow" in exquisite fineness. A huge ma.s.s of lovely colors, like an arch of glory, rises from the boiling spray near you, while a breeze causes the larger ma.s.s to waver from color to color and mingle with the trees on the Canadian sh.o.r.e. A secondary bow with softer colors is visible like a long remembered dream you have had with which you a.s.sociate some real event of life.

What a sublime view we get from the Terrapin Rocks! "Here are tremendous flat-shaped boulders left here ages ago, when those vast geological forces were at work hewing out this gorge. Here you gaze through ever rising columns of spray into the bright green water. Here the velocity is amazing and in its deep ba.s.s roar that, "night and day, weeks, months, years and centuries, speaks in the same mighty voice," you gain the real might and majesty of Niagara. Here you will have that trinity of grandeur, power, and beauty indelibly impressed upon your memory. Here, too, you gaze again in silence and admiration at the awful ma.s.s of troubled water. The marvelous flood of livid green waters rushes into the yawning abyss below, where it is broken into fine spray that rises like steam from an immense cauldron. One feels an irresistible fascination at this point but all good things must end and you reluctantly turn away.

Now you find yourself observing the wild flowers, ferns, and gra.s.ses with which the cliffs are clothed. All along these inaccessible walls are "hanging gardens" whose ma.s.ses of the dainty fern make smaller Niagaras of brightest verdure. Virginia creeper and various vines throw down long ropes of green, as if to help their flower friends up the steep walls; thatching their sides with softest beauty. The bluemint, b.u.t.terfly weed and harebell venture far out along the slightest ledges where only a few, "who are willing to gain beauty as well as bread by the sweat of their brows observe them."

People are after all more interesting than natural phenomena.

Here some will sit through the long summer hours discussing morals, industry, women's suffrage, the immortality of the soul or some item about the latest divorce scandal, while the sublimity of Niagara lies all unnoticed before them. One feels as if his senses were playing him false, and that he is back again in some particular town, the memory of which is painfully familiar, where from daylight till dawn and dawn till daylight such timely topics are discussed from that loafer's haven, the village store.

Goat Island is said to be covered with verdant forest, but it is no longer verdant, for it shows the ravages of those who wish some one to know they had visited Niagara. Important news, this, that requires those beautiful registers of G.o.d's own building for its recording. The large majestic beech trees, among whose verdant branches the orioles and tanagers poured forth their rich notes once whispered from all their wealth of emerald leaves invitations to the weary to come and enjoy the sanctuary of healing coolness and restful shade and shelter. Many were the travelers who left the hot, dusty highways for the cool, dewy carpet of velvety moss in the woodland solitude, where numerous wild flowers and sweet-scented ferns filled all the air with fragrance. The n.o.ble beech trees throw up their naked branches as if pointing ghostly fingers of accusation to the carelessness and indifference of those vandal days. Now these decaying emblems stand scarred and desolate, "Monuments to fond hearts and foolish heads."

"Here, as in by-gone days, no song of bird or wealth of plumage gladdens its forlorn branches; no lovely flowers or shade-loving moss and fern make patches of emerald and gold;" no weary pedestrian turns aside from the hot, dusty path where the heated air flows in tremendous rays unless to decipher some name on the bark where Nature in pity is covering the scars with the lovely woodbine.

Some people evidently spent more time in laboriously carving their names than in viewing the wondrous beauty of the Falls.

When they perchance do gaze at them one can almost hear them shooting, "Behold us, Niagara, we are here," or "Just as we expected, only a big pile of water." Better it were to leave a living tree like the palm that the loving hands of Queen Victoria planted in the Hiles' estate at Cannes, France. Here groups of weary American soldiers gazing up at its lovely fronded foliage, then out over the deep blue Mediterranean, beheld a sunset sky like a more vast sea of amethyst through which a few orange colored clouds were idly drifting. They forgot for a time the horrors of war and as they caught a view of the far-flushing Alpine peaks that appeared like vast walls of alternate shades of crimson and purple rising from a golden sea of light they joined in the twilight prayer of the universe to Him who made such wondrous beauty for the delight of man.

It was here that Victoria showed by her queenly life the right to her t.i.tle. Her memory still remains verdant in the hearts of her countrymen whom she showed in a thousand acts of charity and n.o.bleness that "The crown does not make the queen."

Memories of delight steal o'er you as you recall again the many n.o.ble trees at Mt. Vernon. Just north of the brick wall of the flower garden are two magnificent tulip trees towering in their stately grandeur far above their companions; filling their branches with a wealth of creamy bell-shaped blossoms which like innumerable swinging censers scatter delicious incense on the pa.s.sing breeze. The master of those beautiful and s.p.a.cious grounds has long since departed; but when we gaze upon those magnificent trees planted by his hands we seem to catch the spirit of the man whispered by all their green leaves, melodies clearer and sweeter than any music we had heard before.

We have been straying from the Falls but as we said people are more interesting.

At the edge of the Canadian channel are the Three Sister Islands, so named because the three daughters of General Whitney were the first white women to cross to the outer island long before the bridges were built.

The river below the Falls is very narrow and the descent is very steep, about three-quarters of a mile below the suspension bridge. Here a sudden turn in the channel causes the waters to impinge against the Canadian sh.o.r.e, where they have made a deep indentation, and to rush back to the American side in a great whirl or eddy, rendered more furious by the uneven bed of the river, and the narrow s.p.a.ce into which it contracts. "Here the most terrific commotion of any of Niagara's tumultuous demonstrations is seen. The frenzied waters form a seething vortex, the terror of the most daring navigators." Here the hissing, clashing, seething, upswirling ma.s.s of water where it strikes the rocks is whirled in swift eddies as if drawn downward by some awful river monster below. The waves produced are like the billows of the ocean, and have the same quality of loud booming tones, possessing the same wild exuberance of motion. The pa.s.sionate torrent swirls in wild ecstasy around the rocks, springing aloft and tipping the waves with a silvery radiance or clashing its emerald waters in plumes of spray. One never tires gazing at the waters leaping and gliding like living creatures as they dash themselves to pieces on the rocks, or listening to the swash and gurgle of the rapid waters or the keen clash of heavier waves.

In Niagara we have a wonder that typifies the rugged grandeur, the restless, tireless energy of the Western World. In contemplating it one almost invariably thinks of New York city, that human Niagara, where the restless, crowding, surging waves of humanity are dashed against the rough crags of adversity where many are crushed and broken in body and spirit. Others are drawn into the swift stream of compet.i.tion and are plunged over the precipice of financial gloom, where they seek solace in the whirlpool rapids of society, till at last with blighted hopes and ruined lives they go plunging into the abyss of despair, as if glad to escape some pursuing demon of financial disaster or more hideous monster of social vice. Only a few great and magnanimous souls show in the rainbows of a kindly beneficence that they have seen the beauty and grandeur of Niagara.

Between Whirlpool Rapids and the American Falls the water seems to rest in a quiet reach, where it grows calm and composed before it enters upon its boisterous journey at the rapids.

An electric car runs along the edge of the bluff, high above the waters of the gorge, pa.s.sing the cantilever bridge, completed December, 1883, which carries a double line of rails. About one hundred yards away is another steel arch railroad bridge.

"Before you reach these bridges you will see the outlet of the great tunnel through which pours a miniature Niagara, the water that has pa.s.sed through the turbine wheels of the great powerhouse up the river, and which has furnished power for running factories and electric railways in Niagara Falls, Buffalo, and other neighboring cities." When one sees how the great cataract has been harnessed and made to develop thousands of horse-power for driving the industries of man, he marvels almost as much at man's ingenuity as at the Falls themselves.

The waters at the Falls plunge into an abyss about one thousand feet wide, and during the next seven miles make a descent of about one hundred and four feet through a deep ravine with perpendicular banks rising to a height of from two hundred to three hundred and fifty feet, the breadth of the river varying from two hundred and fifty to four hundred yards. It is a thrilling experience to view.

More glorious is Niagara in the garish light of a cloudless day, slipping and rushing in wildest extravagance from the rapids above. But at night the beauty is enchanting. There is a dim veiled grandeur as in viewing mountains from a great distance.