Part 13

I had the good fortune to be one of the earlier pioneers, in company with a Yankee friend, Mr. Easterly, in taking photographs of the Falls; and my recollections of the manner in which we "went about," poised ourselves and cameras on "points of rock" and "ledges of bluffs," and felled trees, and lopped off branches overhanging precipices, to "gain a point," even at the distant date are somewhat thrilling. To take a photograph of what is called "Visitors' View" is safe and easy enough. You might plant a dozen cameras on the open space at the brink of the "American Fall," and photograph the scene, visitors and all, as they stand, "fixed" with wonder, gazing at the Falls, American, Centre, and Horseshoe, Goat Island, and the shores of Canada included, for this point embraces in one view all those subjects. But to get at the out-of-the-way places, to take the Falls in detail, and obtain some of the grandest views of them, is a very different matter.

I remember, when we started, taking a hatchet with us, like backwoodsmen, to take a view of Prospect Tower, on the American side of the great Horseshoe Fall, how we had to hew down the trees that obstructed the light; how we actually hung over the precipice, holding on to each other's hands, to lop off a branch still in sight where it was not wanted. The manner in which we accomplished this was what some bystanders pronounced "awful." I hugged a sapling of a silver birch, growing on the brink of the precipice, with my left arm, while friend Easterly, holding my right hand with one of the Masonic grips--I won't say which--_hung over_ the precipice, and stretching out as far as he could reach, lopped off the offending branch. Yet in this perilous position my lively companion must crack his joke by punning upon my name, and a Cockney weakness at the same time, for he "guessed he was below the _w_erge of the precipice." The branch down, and we had resumed our perpendicular positions, he simply remarked, if that was not holding on to a man's hand in _friendship_, he did not know what was.

But the _work_ was not done yet; to get the view of the Tower we wanted, we had to make a temporary platform over the precipice. This we managed by laying a piece of "lumber" across a fallen tree, and, unshipping the camera, shoved it along the plank until it was in position, balancing the shore end of the plank with heavy stones. When all was ready for exposure, I went round and stood on the point of a jutting rock to give some idea of the great depth of the Fall, but I very nearly discovered, and just escaped being myself the plummet. In the excitement of the moment, and not thinking that the rock would be slimy and slippery with the everlasting spray, I went too rapidly forward, and the rock having a slight decline, I slipped, but was fortunately brought up by a juniper bush growing within a foot of the edge. For a second or two I lay on my back wondering if I could slide out of my difficulty as easily as I had slidden into it. In a moment I determined to go backwards on my back, hands, and feet, until I laid hold of another bush, and could safely assume a perpendicular position. After giving the signal that "all was right," the plate was exposed, and I _cautiously_ left a spot I have no desire to revisit. But it is astonishing how the majesty and grandeur of the scene divest the mind of all sense of fear, and to this feeling, to a great extent, is attributed the many accidents and terrible deaths that have befallen numerous visitors to the Falls.

The Indians, the tribe of the Iroquois, who were the aboriginal inhabitants of that part of the country, had a tradition that the "Great Spirit" of the "Mighty Waters" required the sacrifice of two human lives every year. To give rise to such a tradition, doubtless, many a red man, in his skiff, had gone over the Falls, centuries before they were discovered by the Jesuit missionary, Father Hennepin, in 1678; and, even in these days of Christian civilization, and all but total extirpation of the aboriginals, the "Great Spirit" does not appear to be any less exacting. Nearly every year one or more persons are swept over those awful cataracts, making an average of at least one per annum. Many visitors and local residents have lost their lives under the most painful and afflicting circumstances, the most remarkable of which occurred just before my visit. One morning, at daylight, a man was discovered in the middle of the rapids, a little way above the brink of the American Fall. He was perched upon a log which was jammed between two rocks. One end of the log was out of the water, and the poor fellow was comparatively dry, but with very little hope of being rescued from his dreadful situation. No one could possibly reach him in a boat. The foaming and leaping waters were rushing past him at the rate of eighteen or twenty miles an hour, and he knew as well as anyone that to attempt a rescue in a boat or skiff would be certain destruction, yet every effort was made to save him. Rafts were made and let down, but they were either submerged, or the ropes got fast in the rocks. The life-boat was brought from Buffalo, Lake Erie, and that was let down to him by ropes from the bridge, but they could not manage the boat in that rush of waters, and gave it up in despair. One of the thousands of agonized spectators, a Southern planter, offered a thousand dollars reward to anyone that would save the "man on the log." Another raft was let down to him, and this time was successfully guided to the spot. He got on it, but being weak from exposure and want, he was unable to make himself fast or retain his hold, and the doomed man was swept off the raft and over the Falls almost instantly, before the eyes of thousands, who wished, but were powerless and unable, to rescue him from his frightful death. His name was Avery. He and another man were taking a pleasure sail on the Upper Niagara river, their boat got into the current, was sucked into the rapids, and smashed against the log or the rock. The other man went over the Falls at the time of the accident; but Avery clung to the log, where he remained for about eighteen hours in such a state of mind as no one could possibly imagine. None could cheer him with a word of hope, for the roar of the rapids and thunder of the cataracts rendered all other sounds inaudible. Mr. Babbitt, a resident photographer, took several Daguerreotypes of the "man on the log," one of which he kindly presented to me. Few of the bodies are ever recovered. One or two that went over the Great Horse Shoe Fall were found, their bodies in a state of complete nudity. The weight or force of the water strips them of every particle of clothing; but that is not to be wondered at, considering the immense weight of water that rolls over every second, the distance it has to fall, and the depth of the foaming cauldron below. The fall of the Horse Shoe to the surface of the lower river is 158 feet, and the depth of the cauldron into which the Upper Niagara leaps about 300 feet, making a total of 458 feet from the upper to the lower bed of the Niagara River at the Great Horse Shoe Fall. It has been computed that one hundred million, two hundred thousand tons of water pass over the Falls every hour. The depth of the American Fall is 164 feet; but that falls on to a mass of broken rocks a few feet above the level of the lower river.

Our next effort was to get a view of the Centre Fall, or "Cave of the Winds," from the south, looking at the Centre and American Falls, down the river as far as the Suspension Bridge, about two miles below, and the Lower or Long Rapids, for there are rapids both above and below the Falls. In this we succeeded tolerably well, and without any difficulty. Then, descending the "Biddle Stairs" to the foot of the two American cataracts, we tried the "Cave of the Winds" itself; but, our process not being a "wet" one, had no sympathy with the blinding and drenching spray about us. However, I secured a pencil sketch of the scene we could not photograph, and afterwards took one of the most novel and fearful shower-baths to be had in the world. Dressed--or, rather, undressed--for the purpose, and accompanied by a guide, I passed down by the foot of the precipice, under the Centre Fall, and along a wet and slippery pole laid across a chasm, straddling it by a process I cannot describe--for I was deaf with the roar and blind with the spray--we reached in safety a flat rock on the other side, and then stood erect between the two sheets of falling water. To say that I saw anything while there would be a mistake; but I know and felt by some demonstrations, other than ocular, that I was indulging in a bath of the wildest and grandest description. Recrossing the chasm by the pole, we now entered the "Cave of the Winds," which is immediately under the Centre Fall. The height and width of the cave is one hundred feet, and the depth sixty feet. It takes its name from the great rush of wind into the cave, caused by the fall of the waters from above. Standing in the cave, which is almost dry, you can view the white waters, like avalanches of snow, tumbling over and over in rapid succession. The force of the current of the rapids above shoots the water at least twenty feet from the rock, describing, as it were, the segment of a circle. By this circumstance only are you able to pass under the Centre Fall, and a portion of the Horse Shoe Fall on the Canadian side. To return, we ascended the "Biddle Stairs," a spiral staircase of 115 steps, on the west side of Goat Island, crossed the latter, and by a small bridge passed to Bath Island, which we left by the grand bridge which crosses the rapids about 250 yards above the American Fall. Reaching the American shore again in safety, after a hard day's work, we availed ourselves of Mr. Babbitt's kindness and hospitality to develop our plates in his dark room, and afterwards developed ourselves, sociably and agreeably, refreshing the inner man, and narrating our day's adventures.

I shall now endeavour to describe our next trip, which was to the Canadian side--how we got there, what we did, and what were the impressions produced while contemplating those wonderful works of nature. In the first place, to describe how we descended to the "ferry" and crossed the river. On the north side of the American Fall a railway has been constructed by an enterprising American, where the "cars" are let down a steep decline by means of water-power, the proprietor of the railway having utilized the very smallest amount of the immense force so near at hand. Placing our "traps" in the car, and seating ourselves therein, the lever was moved by the "operator," and away we went down the decline as if we were going plump into the river below; but at the proper time the water was turned off, and we were brought to a standstill close by the boat waiting to ferry us across. Shifting our traps and selves into the boat and sitting down, the ferryman bent to the oars and off we dashed into the dancing and foaming waters, keeping her head well to the stream, and drawing slowly up until we came right abreast of the American Fall; then letting her drop gently down the stream, still keeping her head to the current, we gained the Canadian shore; our course on the river describing the figure of a cone, the apex towards the "Horse Shoe." Ascending the banks by a rather uphill road, we reached the Clifton Hotel, where we took some refreshments, and then commenced our labours of photographing the Grand Rapids and the Falls, from Table Rock, or what remained of it. On arriving at the spot, we set down our traps and looked about bewildered for the best point. To attempt to describe the scene now before us would be next to folly, nor could the camera, from the limited angle of our lens, possibly convey an adequate idea of the grandeur and terrific beauty of the Grand Rapids, as you see them rushing and foaming, white with rage, for about two and a half miles before they make their final plunge over the precipice. Many years ago an Indian was seen standing up in his canoe in the midst of these fearful rapids. Nearing the brink of the terrible Fall, and looking about him, he saw that all hope was lost, for he had passed Gull Island, his only chance of respite; waving his hand, he was seen to lie down in the bottom of his canoe, which shot like an arrow into the wild waters below, and he was lost for ever. Neither he nor his canoe was ever seen again. In 1829 the ship _Detroit_, loaded with a live buffalo, bear, deer, fox, &c., was sent over the Falls. She was almost dashed to pieces in the rapids, but many persons saw the remains of the ship rolled over into the abyss of waters. No one knew what became of the animals on board. And in 1839, during the Canadian Rebellion, the steamer _Caroline_ was set fire to in the night and cast adrift. She was drawn into the rapids, but struck on Gull Island, and was much shattered by the collision. The bulk of the burning mass was swept over the Falls, but few witnessed the sight. Doubtless no fire on board a ship was ever extinguished so suddenly. The view from Table Rock is too extensive to be rendered on one plate by an ordinary camera; but the pantascopic camera would give the very best views that could possibly be obtained.

Taking Table Rock as the centre, the entire sweep of the Fall is about 180 degrees, and stretching from point to point for nearly three-quarters of a mile--from the north side of the American Fall to the termination of the Horse Shoe Fall on the west side. The American and Centre Falls present a nearly straight line running almost due north and south, while the Great Horse Shoe Fall presents a line or figure resembling a sickle laid down with the left hand, the convex part of the bow lying direct south, the handle lying due east and west, with the point or termination to the west; the waters of the two American Falls rushing from east to west, and the waters of the Canadian Fall bounding towards the north. By this description it will be seen that but for the intervention of Goat and Luna Islands the three sheets of water would embrace each other like mighty giants locked in a death struggle, before they fell into the lower river. The whole aspect of the Falls from Table Rock is panoramic. Turning to the left, you see the American rapids rushing down furiously under the bridge, between Bath Island and the American shore, with a force and velocity apparently great enough to sweep away the bridge and four small islands lying a little above the brink, and pitch them all down on to the rocks below. Turning slowly to the right, you see the Centre Fall leaping madly down between Luna and Goat Islands, covering the Cave of the Winds from view. A little more to the right, the rocky and precipitous face of Goat or Iris Island, with the "Biddle Stairs" like a perpendicular line running down the precipice; and to the extreme right the immense sweeps of the Great Horse Shoe.

Doubtless this fall took its name from its former resemblance to the shape of a horse shoe. It is, however, nothing like that now, but is exactly the figure of a sickle, as previously described. Looking far up the river you observe the waters becoming broken and white, and so they continue to foam and rush and leap with increasing impetuosity, rushing madly past the "Three Sisters"--three islands on the left--and "Gull Island" in the middle of the rapids, on which it is supposed no man has ever trodden, until, with a roar of everlasting thunder, which shakes the earth, they fall headlong into the vortex beneath. At the foot of this Fall, and for a considerable distance beyond, the river is as white as the eternal snows, and as troubled as an angry sea. Indeed, I never but once saw the Atlantic in such a state, and that was in a storm in which we had to "lay to" for four days in the Gulf Stream.

The colours and beauty of Niagara in sunlight are indescribable. You may convey _some_ idea of its form, power, and majesty, by describing lines and giving figures of quantity and proportion, but to give the faintest impression of its beauty and colours is almost hopeless. The rich, lovely green on the very brink of the Horse Shoe Fall is beyond conception. All the emeralds in the world, clustered together and bathed in sunlight, would fall far short of the beauty and brilliancy of that pure and dazzling colour. It can only be compared to an immense, unknown brilliant of the emerald hue, in a stupendous setting of the purest frosted, yet sparkling silver. Here, too, is to be seen the marvellous beauty of the prismatic colours almost daily. Here you might think the "Covenant" had been made, and set up to shine for ever and ever at the Throne of the Most Mighty, and here only can be seen the complete _circle_ of the colours of the rainbow. I saw this but once, when on board the _Maid of the Mist_, and almost within the great vortex at the foot of the Falls. A brilliant sun shining through the spray all round, placed us in a moment as it were in the very centre of that beautiful circle of colour, which, with the thunder of the cataract, and the sublimity of the scene, made the soul feel as if it were in the presence of the "Great Spirit," and this the sign and seal of an eternal compact. Here, also, is to be seen the softer, but not the less beautiful Lunar Rainbow. Whenever the moon is high enough in the heavens, the lunar bow can be seen, not fitful as elsewhere, but constant and beautiful as long as the moon is shedding her soft light upon the spray. On one occasion I saw two lunar bows at once, one on the spray from the American Fall, and the other on the spray of the great Horse Shoe Fall. This I believe is not usual, but an eddy of the wind brought the two clouds of spray under the moon's rays. Yet these are not all the "beauties of the mist." One morning at sunrise I saw one of the most beautiful forms the spray could possibly assume. The night had been unusually calm, the morning was as still as it could be, and the mist from the Horse Shoe had risen in a straight column to a height of at least 300 feet, and then spread out into a mass of huge rolling clouds, immediately above the cataracts. The rising sun shed a red lustre on the under edges of the cloud, which was truly wonderful. It more resembled one huge, solitary column supporting a canopy of silvery grey cloud, the edges of which were like burnished copper, and highly suggestive of the Temple of the Most High, where man must bow down and worship the great Creator of all these wondrous works. It is not in a passing glance at Niagara that all its marvellous beauties can be seen. You must stay there long enough to see it in all its aspects--in sunshine and in moonlight, in daylight and in darkness, in storm and in calm. No picture of language can possibly convey a just conception of the grandeur and vastness of these mighty cataracts. No poem has ever suggested a shadow of their majesty and sublimity. No painting has ever excited in the mind, of one that has not seen those marvellous works of God, the faintest idea of their dazzling beauties. Descriptive writers, both in prose and verse, have failed to depict the glories of this "Sovereign of the World of Floods." Painters have essayed with their most gorgeous colours, but have fallen far short of the intense beauty, transparency, and purity of the water, and the wonderful radiance and brilliancy of the "Rainbow in the Mist." And I fear the beauties of Niagara in natural colours can never be obtained in the camera; but what a glorious triumph for photography if they were. Mr. Church's picture, painted a few years ago, is the most faithful exponent of nature's gorgeous colouring of Niagara that has yet been produced. Indeed, the brilliant and harmonious colouring of this grand picture can scarcely be surpassed by the hand and skill of man.