Part 13

The icicles, pending from the sides of the banks contiguous to the falls, are, in the winter season, so tinged with the sulphurious particles which are mingled with their strata, as to present, when stricken by the rays of the sun, a scintillating and bluish glare.

A more particular account of the falls is deemed unimportant. I have endeavoured to give such a description as comported with my ideas and feelings, whilst in view of them. These falls are, no doubt, a great natural curiosity; and they will excite in all {79} much admiration and awe. But many of the descriptions which travellers have given of them, are erroneous in point of fact, and ridiculous in point of imagery. An English writer says, that their “noise and vapour would scarcely be equalled by the simultaneous report and smoke of a thousand cannon.” It is true, that the roar of the falls can at times be heard for thirty miles, or perhaps further; and that their exhalations have been seen at the distance of ninety miles; but these circumstances exist only under peculiar states of the atmosphere, and the causes of them produce, upon the spot, a much less comparative effect. The falls, however, are indeed tremendous; and they constitute the only visible discharge of four vast inland seas.

Tradition says, that the falls of Niagara have, for a great length of time, been receding;—that they were originally situated at the foot of the rapids near Lewistown, a distance of seven miles from their present position.[73] This idea is no doubt correct. Masses of rock must, from time to time, have been shaken from the top and sides of the falls, by the continual abrasion of the rapids. It is to be presumed, that the falls will continue to move up towards Lake Erie; lessening the waters of the upper lakes, and increasing those of the lower, in proportion as the descent of the bed of the river above the present situation of the falls may be greater, and the obstructions in it less. In the course of many centuries, the falls will, probably, reach Lake Erie itself; in which case the upper lakes may be partially drained, and Lake Ontario be overflown. It has been asserted, that this lake fills once in seven years. As to the time, this must be a whim; but there is reason to believe that the lake occasionally fills, because its sources are numerous and great, its discharge is not very ample, and high north-east winds, which frequently prevail here, retard the {80} progress of the water towards the river St. Lawrence.

I may here more particularly notice Lake Ontario. Its length is about one hundred and seventy miles, and its breadth about sixty miles. It contains a great many islands, nearly all of which are situated at the easterly end of the lake. The principal islands are Amherst, Wolf, Gage, and Howe. The land on the north-east coast of this lake is low, and in some places marshy; near Lake Champlain, however, the country is somewhat mountainous.

One of the islands in the river Niagara, of which I have spoken as contributing to a division of the falls, is called Goat Island. It belongs to Judge Porter, and contains about eighty acres.[74] Its soil is excellent, and its timber valuable. From the main land to this island a bridge has recently been built; and I understand, that a hotel is soon to be erected on the island, for the accommodation of those who may visit the falls.

The whole length of the river Niagara is about thirty-eight miles. Its width is various. From Lewistown to the falls it is very narrow, its banks high, and its bed consists of solid limestone. Above the falls the river, in some places, is three miles wide, and contains several large islands. Here its banks are low. At the ferry, about two miles from Lake Erie, the river is only about one mile wide; and near the falls it again contracts, and thereby so compresses the water as greatly to increase its velocity. The average depth of the river is from twenty-five to thirty feet. The rapidity of its current, from the ferry to within a short distance of the falls, is about six miles an hour; but just above the former its motion is much quicker. The navigation of the river, above the falls, is very dangerous.

The principal of the islands just mentioned are {81} Navy, Grand, and Buck-horn. The growth of timber upon them is principally hard wood, and their soil is of a superior quality. Grand island is fifteen miles in length.

From the falls of Niagara I proceeded to Buffalo. The distance from the former place to Black Rock, is about twenty-two miles.[75] The way to it is through a gloomy wood, between the trees of which one may occasionally see the river. Here the aspect was dreary. The snow was still very deep; the weather cold, windy and wild; the river presented a green appearance, was partially covered with masses of ice, and violently agitated by the spirit of an approaching storm. In this situation I met three Indians. We were thinking of a shelter.—We passed each other, only with a mute and sympathetic glance.

In the vicinity of the Lakes Ontario and Erie deeper snows fell, during the last winter, than had ever been known there; and the severity of the cold was without a parallel. Many people on the Lakes, and in the woods were frozen to death. A hunter, who went into the wood for an afternoon, was so frozen as to render necessary the amputation of his feet; and it was not uncommon, in the upper part of the state of New-York, to see men, in consequence of the frost, moving upon crutches.

It may be well for me here to mention some additional facts, in relation to the country through which I have passed since leaving Vermont. The face of it, from the Green Mountains to Niagara River, is rather level than mountainous; there are, however, many high and steep hills. On both sides of the Mohawk north and south, and from sixty to one hundred miles west from Albany, there are a number of considerable hills. In the vicinity of these, particularly near Scoharie, the soil is of an inferior {82} quality. West of this to Lake Ontario is an extensive level, interspersed with gradual and gentle swells. Some of the slopes are extensive, and result in spacious flats, many of which are very rich. This is particularly the case on the Genessee. The north-easterly part of the State is hilly, and even mountainous; but some portions of this section of the country, especially near Black River, is very fertile. West of the Genessee, and more decidedly so in the vicinity of Buffalo, the soil is not remarkably good; but on both sides of the river, along Lake Ontario, the land is much better. In various other parts of the state the soil is almost inexhaustibly rich; but, as is the case in all extensive tracts of country, there are here some poor lands. Generally speaking, the state is of immense force in point of agriculture; and the means of conveying it to market are ample. North and South, the Hudson, possessing a deep stream and gentle current, extends from New-York, the great maratime depo of the state, to the mountains between Lake Champlain and the St. Lawrence. From about the centre of this river, north and south, the Mohawk reaches to within a very short distance of Lake Ontario; and between Lake Champlain and Lake Erie, east and west, there are a great many small lakes and rivers, which tender their waters to the public spirit of the state. It is the object of New-York to draw to herself the trade of Vermont and the Canadas.

The western part of this state, was, during the revolution, inhabited by the Six Nations of Indians, among whom were the Mohawks, a fierce and powerful tribe. Most of these nations aided the British during this great contest; and the state, in many places, suffered much from their ravages.[76]

The land in this state is generally well timbered. The principal growth is the several kinds of oak, {83} sugar and curled maple, walnut, beech, black and white ash, birch, hickory, bass, sassafras, and several other kinds. One cannot but regret the loss of so much excellent timber, as is destroyed in our new settlements by clearing.

All the western waters are well stored with fish and fowl. Those of the former in Lake Ontario are principally white fish, and black bass; and in some of its tributary streams, there are salmon; but they are of an inferior quality. In the west too, large quantities of sugar are made from the sap of the maple; and in the woods are found bee hives containing an almost incredible quantity of honey. A kind Providence has also provided for our brethren of the west, innumerable salt springs, which produce fine white salt. This article can, in some cases, be bought at the works, at twenty cents a bushel.

The day after leaving Niagara Falls, I arrived at Black Rock, proceeded on to Buffalo, and following a creek of this name, crossed a bay of Lake Erie on the ice. I should have crossed the Niagara at Black Rock, for the purpose of viewing Fort Erie, but the wind was so high that no boat could have reached the opposite shore. This was a great disappointment to me. My heart had prepared a laurel for the warrior’s tomb.—The graves of Gibson and Wood tell us how to die for our country.[77] The private soldier too, humble in station, yet lofty in spirit, deserves the tribute of a tear.—I must say more in his behalf: comparatively speaking, his sufferings have been unnoticed, his gallantry unrewarded, his grave neglected. Who achieves our victories?—the private soldier. What fills the breach in the ramparts of his country?—his dead body. In eulogizing and rewarding the leaders of our armies, let us not forget the more frequent sufferings, and the equal merits of the private soldier.

{84} The battles of Chippewa, Niagara and Erie, are full of fame.

On my way to Buffalo, I passed Fort Schlosser,[78] and also a small battery at Black Rock. Here the traveller is sensibly impressed by the contrast, between the present solitary aspect of the adjacent country, and the scenes which it presented, during those military operations here, which furnish so bright a page in the records of American prowess:—then, the splendour and roar of battle!—Now, the death-sleep of the warrior, and the crimson shroud!

The distance from Black Rock to Buffalo is only two miles. The latter place was destroyed by the enemy during the last war;[79] but since then it has been rebuilt, and now contains many elegant houses. Buffalo is a considerable place for business. Its situation is central, with respect to the trade of the City of New-York, and that of the upper Lakes.

When I arrived at Buffalo, I had travelled twenty-four miles, without meeting any habitation, excepting a very few scattering log huts. Some of these were destitute of provisions; and at others of them a piece of bread, and a drink of water cost me two York shillings. Not far from this place, my dogs, knowing no law but that of nature, and having forgotten my lecture to them upon theft, helped themselves to the first repast presented, leaving their master to foot their bills. According to the phraseology of our Grand Juries, they very modestly “took, stole, and carried away” a piece of beef of the weight of three pounds, with an intention to convert the same to their own use. Hue and cry was immediately made, not by the Hundred, nor by the Posse Commitatus, but by the power of the kitchen. Notwithstanding carelessness, on the part of Mrs. Vixen, was the cause of this disastrous event; yet numerous apologies were tendered to her, and {85} her lord, for the purpose of appeasing their vindictive spirit: the thieves, at the same time, were dividing the spoil behind some neighbouring snow-bank. The value of this sacrifice to canine hunger, was of no consequence to the traveller; but in this rare instance, money could not purchase pardon; and my dogs were obliged to remain at some out-post until I renewed my march.

On Buffalo creek, which I have already mentioned and which is connected with Lake Erie, there is an Indian village inhabited by the Senecas. This tribe have a numerous settlement on the Genessee river, and several others in the north-westerly part of Pennsylvania; but their numbers are rapidly decreasing, and they are probably the most worthless tribe in North America.[80]

In leaving Buffalo, I crossed, as before stated, a Bay of Lake Erie on the ice. The distance across this Bay is about eight miles. For four and twenty hours previous to my reaching the Lake, appearances indicated a violent storm. It commenced as I passed through Buffalo, and continued until after I had crossed the Lake. Such a snow storm I had never witnessed;—indeed such a snow storm can scarcely be imagined. There was, for hours, a constant whirl of snow, without the least cessation. At noon it was night; the way could not be seen:—there was danger of perishing.

My arrival on the other side of the Bay excited much curiosity.

Lake Erie was, at this time, fast bound in ice. The whole country, excepting the evergreens, presented the aspect of perpetual congelation. The freezing of Lake Erie probably arises, in part, from its being shallow. Its greatest depth does not exceed fifty fathoms.

This Lake derives its name from the Eries, a tribe {86} of Indians once dwelling upon its borders.[81] The scenery of its banks is rather picturesque. The traveller sees many points of land extending into the Lake; much level country; and a few considerable hills. This Lake is about three hundred miles in length, and seven hundred in circumference. Following the course of it, on the American side, the distance is full four hundred miles. The growth of timber here is, generally, similar to that east of Buffalo; but the soil is of greater fertility, and of easier cultivation. It contains too, considerable limestone; and much animal and vegetable substance. On the American side of the Lake there is an abundance of game.

The islands of the Lake are numerous. Some of them are Grose Isle, Isle Bois Blanc, St. George’s, Ship, Sandusky, Turtle, Put-in-Bay, and the Three Sisters.

In some of these islands there are subterraneous passages, which abound with petrifactions. In that called Put-in-Bay there is a considerable cave, which I shall by and by describe.

On the 26th of February I had commenced the long and solitary way, bounded on my right by Lake Erie, presenting an ocean of ice, and on my left by a vast wilderness. In looking back I remembered toils and privations, which had put my resolution to the test; and in contemplating the prospect before me, the swamps of the Sandusky and Miami forcibly presented themselves. Along the American side of the Lake, especially the lower part of it, there are many townships; some of them, however, are very inconsiderable, some are known only on paper, and between the former are large districts of country in a wilderness state. Some of the settlements are visited in the summer season by small vessels on the Lake.

{87} In travelling from Buffalo to Detroit, I marched upon the Lake about fifty miles. Sometimes I travelled near its margin, and sometimes at the distance of thirty or forty miles from it. These numerous courses were taken, to enable me to see various parts of the country, and also for the purpose of obtaining game.

The New-York line, west of Buffalo, is about forty miles from this place. The principal creeks within this line, and which are connected with Lake Erie are Eighteen Mile, Catheraugus and Silver Creek. Near to the mouth of the Catheraugus is another settlement of Seneca Indians.

The State of Pennsylvania is bounded by this Lake for the distance of about fifty miles. The land here is very good. Presque Isle, situated about twenty miles from the New-York line, is a considerable village, and will become a place of importance.[82]

Until about the first of March the weather was uninterruptedly severe; and although the country is generally infested with bears and wolves, and furnishes almost every kind of game, I had not, previous to this period, seen anything, relative to this particular, worthy of remark. All nature, fast bound in the icy arms of winter, was mute. I looked towards the Lake, but it spake not. I asked a reason of the trees, but even their branches did not whisper to me.—The traveller was the only living thing. Upon the bosom of the Lake he could see, that in the very frolic of its waves, a sudden and bitter chill had fixed in disappointment the smile of its delight.—Thus man, in the unsuspecting season of happiness, feels the deadly pressure of unrelenting sorrow.

Leaving the Pennsylvania line, I entered the celebrated Connecticut Reserve, called New Connecticut.

{88} The original charter of Old Connecticut embraced a large section of that part of the North-West Territory, which lies south of Lake Erie. In 1786 this state ceded to the general government all her territory west of Pennsylvania, excepting the tract now constituting New Connecticut. This tract is bounded North by Lake Erie, South and West by Ohio, and East by Pennsylvania. It is 120 miles long and 72 broad; making about 4,000,000 of acres. The country here is level, with occasional swells; and the soil is a rich loam and clay mixed with sand. It contains no small stones; but ledges and quarries are numerous. It abounds in various kinds of hard wood; but pine is seldom seen here. With emigrants, this tract of land is in high repute.

The principal rivers in New Connecticut is the Grand, and Cayahoga.[83] The latter enters Lake Erie about forty miles east of the river Huron. On its banks is situated a village, inhabited by the Cayuga Indians. The river is navigable for boats; and its mouth is wide and deep enough to receive considerable vessels from the Lake. The mouth of Grand River is about seventy yards wide; but there are obstructions to its navigation, particularly at its mouth.

Early in March I experienced a long storm of rain. My garments, after a while, became wet; which circumstance rendered my situation uncomfortable. I travelled, during the whole of the storm, in the belief that continual motion was necessary to preserve my health. No one can take cold in the worst of weather, during an active arterial circulation. It is in a sudden check of this impetus, that severe colds are experienced, and diseases contracted.

Having passed several small rivers, besides the Grand and Cayahoga, I arrived, on the 4th of March, at Rocky River. The weather was still rather {89} moderate, and thinking it would be dangerous to cross this stream upon the ice, I passed along its southerly side and went upon the Lake. This course was fortunate, inasmuch as it placed me in a very interesting situation. It was late in the afternoon when I reached the Lake; and it was my intention to travel upon it until the evening, and then pass into the woods. Soon after leaving the river, however, I found the banks of the Lake very high and steep. I pushed on. This tremendous ridge of perpendicular rock proved to be several miles in length. I was not aware, that it was the celebrated scene of storms, shipwrecks, and savage offerings. Night approached. The prospects around me were sublime. I was upon a glare of ice. Upon one side was a congealed ocean, apparently unlimited, and on the other a gloomy bank fifty feet in height, entirely perpendicular, and pending from which were huge icicles.—I speak within bounds: they were twenty feet in length, and as large as a hogshead. The severity of the weather had been unparalleled. It had rained,—it had frozen. The night was dark. To ascend the banks was impossible:—they seemed to be the everlasting battlements of nature! The weather was still moderating; the ice of the Lake cracking in every direction, and producing a noise like distant thunder. The solitude of my situation was profound. I was in the midst of a world, and it appeared to have been made but for one man. I walked with caution, hoping yet to meet a ravine in the banks. At length I heard, at a little distance, a sullen stream pouring its scanty waters into the hollow Lake. I paused,—was bewildered,—was lost. The stars presented a gloomy aspect, and shed an ineffectual light. My situation was truly enviable!—There is a charm in desolation; and in the season of danger, the human {90} soul triumphs in the conviction of its own indestructibility.

After being apprised of the existence of the stream, I, with much caution, moved upon my hands and knees towards the shore, presuming that there was a valley through which the stream entered the Lake, and by which I might reach the summit of the bank. I soon affected this object, and entered the wood. I did not, however, sleep much: my imagination had become active, and I passed most of the night in weaving the web of fancy.

The adventure of the preceding evening was calculated to call forth much _enthusiasm_. This, I know, is a term which alarms the ear of dullness; but the indulgence of this native quality of the heart is not inconsistent with the due influence of the understanding. What is it but an admiration of those principles of mind, and those views of nature, which may be traced to that Being in whom is the perfection of every great and good attribute? Upon a vicious, or mean object it never looks but with the eye of compassion and sorrow. I may be permitted to enlarge a little upon this subject.

Enthusiasm is the reverse of mental and moral insensibility. In the home of the heart it trims the lamp of intellect, and pants after true greatness. In mind it perceives perennial existence, and in matter only the temporary and humble dwelling place of its discipline. Immortality is the holy land of its aspirations, and disinterestedness the altar of its sacrifices. In self controul it displays its power, and the obedience of the passions is the trophy of its victories. All Nature is the temple of its worship, and in the inspiration of its hopes it finds the source of its humility. During the convulsions of the physical world, it sits in the composure of faith, and in the awe of admiration. In religion it dwells with {91} humble rapture upon the Star of Bethlehem, and gratefully acknowledges the spirit of grace. In philanthropy it sees in every man a brother, and loves to do him good. In patriotism it views, in the tombs of ancestors, the sanctity of home; and in the protection of innocence, it courts a bloody sacrifice. In love too, its happiness is productive of piety, and the tenderness of its sentiments is equalled only by the purity of its motives.