On awaking here in the morning, I
rejoiced to hail the beams of a fine warm sun breaking
into my little chamber; it had been a stranger for
the last few days; and the weather, after having been
prematurely hot, had at once jumped back into March,
and become wet, boisterous, and cold to a most provoking
degree.
After an early breakfast we set out,
with the din of the waters sounding an alarum in our
ears, and directing our steps.
Immediately on quitting the hall of
the Retreat, we entered upon a grove of fine trees
overhanging the bed of the torrent, and thence descended
by several flights of ladders planted en echelon,
for some hundred and sixty feet, until we at last
stood on a level with the swift dark stream, and,
looking upwards, beheld the forest high overhead bending
from either side, with a narrow strip of clear blue
sky drawn between. The first fall was visible
about five hundred yards to our left; its waters tumbling,
as it seemed, over the tops of the intervening trees,
to whose foliage the late heavy rains had restored
the freshness of early spring.
Looking about from this first point,
I could have readily imagined myself standing upon
the floor timbers of a first-rate ship buried in a
wooded ravine, so evenly were the sides of the rock
scooped out; and this impression was assisted by narrow
layers of different strata, which ran in slightly
curved lines placed at equal distances, giving the
effect of the ship’s sheer and planking, whilst
through her entrance or cloven bow the white foam
rushed.
Walking upward, along a narrow strand
of bare rock, with the forest pressing on you, as,
bent almost double in some places, you stoop beneath
the overhanging cliff on which it grows; then for a
time closely shouldering the precipice, walk upon
a ledge or projecting shelf of from one to three feet
wide, the current below boiling and whirling along
the while, of dazzling brilliance; I at one moment
counted five rainbow arches, perfect and imperfect.
What a succession of “Maidens of the Mist”
might a lover of romance conjure up from these vexed
waters on a fine moonlight night!
Proceeding onwards, you, on quitting
this point, descend once more into the river’s
bed; and here the resistless power of the torrent when
at its full is made manifest by the ruin which on
all sides marks its headlong course. Trees of
the largest growth lie twenty feet above its ordinary
level; some with their roots uppermost, others sustained
athwart the arms of their sturdier fellows, here decay
and rot amidst their living leaves.
Passing the second fall, we mounted
a few steps to a resting-place, named the “Rural
Retreat;” and here, from a little box perched
on the point of a huge rock which abuts right upon
the great abyss, we had a scene before us and about
us of great wildness and grandeur; whilst high over
all waved the original forest, contemporary with the
continent itself,trees beneath whose shade
the sachems of the warlike Mohawks had feasted and
legislated.
The last fall lies about a quarter
of a mile above this point; and immediately below
is a dangerous pass, where the vast mass of falling
water is hurled in its course against a deeply-serrated
rock, over which rock the curious visitor is obliged
to tread, making a step across an angle formed by
the boiling whirlpool, clinging to a stout chain, and
closely shouldering the rock; the river passing below,
with a motion anything but composing for a nervous
man to cast a sidelong glance upon. At all points
of peril, however, lines of chain are securely riveted,
affording a dependable holdfast; which after rains
is indeed absolutely necessary, where a single faux
pas would be fatal.
A little to our left the water of
the river was collected into a basin of about one
hundred yards’ diameter; overflowing which, it
found a narrow outlet between two rocks, and thence
precipitating itself in a flood of the colour of amber,
was bridged by rainbows dazzling to look upon, although
a person of ordinary nerve has nothing to encounter
really dangerous; yet, at this point, a very few years
back, an accident of a fatal nature did occur, and
under circumstances which give to it a melancholy
interest and will ever keep it as a legend of the place.
A family party, consisting of father,
mother, son, two daughters, and the betrothed of one
of the latter, a fine girl of seventeen, arrived in
company at the “Retreat,” where the parents
decided upon remaining whilst the rest of the company
explored the more adventurous route succeeding.
On went the young people in high glee,the
last fall was at length achieved; here, after standing
for a moment upon the table rock against which the
strength of the fall bursts, one by one the attentive
lover handed the merry girls up the dizzy step:
he turned to offer to his young betrothed the last
and dearest act of gallantry, but the rock was naked;
the object of his care, who but the instant before
smiled in his face, was here no longer.
Not a soul of the party had witnessed
any movement of their vanished companion. Absorbed
by the scene, they were struggling onward beneath
the overhanging cliff, when the arrival of the distracted
lover, his mad gesticulations and horror-stricken
looks, recalled them to hear his loss and aid his
search.
For a few minutes the hope that she
had turned back, or concealed herself to cause a false
alarm, held the worst conclusion at bay: but,
on reaching a little cove a few yards lower down, this
hope was crushed, and conviction of her fate placed
before them; for here, quietly floating on the smooth
eddy, lay a gaily-trimmed bonnet. It was at once
recognised: the lover sprang into the river, snatched
it up, and found within its hollow the comb of her
they sought.
She had, in truth, slipped from off
that giddy ledge, and, sinking at once below the influence
of the whirlpool, lay calmly upon its rocky bed.
Next day, after much perseverance,
the body was found, and rescued from beneath the very
point off which she must have fallen; not a feature
was discomposed, as it is said, or a garment ruffled:
to use the words of my informant, who for thirty years
has listened to the roar of this torrent, “She
looked just as though she had lain down to sleep in
the rain, where I saw her, stretched out upon the
ledge here.”
The details of this story were given
to me with added interest by the narrator, from the
circumstance that, the very day previous, two of the
party alluded to had revisited the spot for the first
time since the chance which made it to them so memorable.
Our guide, I believe, related the
particulars of one or two other accidents; but after
this I had ears for no more. That the young and
happy maid should in one moment be snatched from a
world to her so bright and beautiful, and engulphed
down deep in that cold pool, her brothers in her sight,
her lover by her side, yet no hand held forth to save
her, was a picture too sorrowful to be shifted for
any other. I could not indeed forget it during
the remainder of the day, and the rush of the water
no longer roused me to exertion. From this spot
we turned, and retraced our steps to the hotel.
Our next morning was devoted to an
excursion down the stream, to a spot where a saw-mill
was at work and a strong rude bridge in progress; we
crossed upon it, unfinished as it was, and in a meadow
upon the west side, Herkimer county, I believe, saw
two youngsters herding a couple of fine cows.
I called them to me, but the girl, at the sight of
my companion and myself, ran off like a lapwing; the
boy, a redheaded chubby rogue, about twelve years
of age, was however soon persuaded to approach.
When we questioned as to where his mammy lived, he
pointed over the meadow to a thicket from out of which
a little column of light smoke was rising; but in
reply to one or two other queries, after a scratch
or two at his head, our little squire boldly bolted
out “No English!”
And sure enough not another word could
we coax out of him: he was, however, quite willing
and able to make it up in good Irish, and much did
I regret not being able to have a “goster”
with him. From one of the carpenters at work
on the bridge I learned that the mother spoke only
Irish, but that she managed her dairy and farm admirably;
and that the father, who was just able, as they expressed
it, “to tell what he wanted,” worked at
the mill, and got “a heap o’ money jobbin’
about at one thing or t’other.”
These poor people had been in this
neighbourhood about three years: they had arrived
here destitute, friendless, ignorant even of the language
of the country; but they were industrious and persevering,
and at this time may have been said to possess independence;
for they were owners of sixty acres of excellent land,
a cow or two, a few sheep, with poultry, pigs, and
other evidences of pastoral wealth. The situation
of their little cottage might be envied by many a
wealthy builder in search of a beautiful site, and
the country about them is perfectly healthy.
We this day met at the hotel a new
arrival or two, and sat down in company to a very
neat dinner: the trout here is excellent, and
the butter the best out of Philadelphia.
On the 2nd of July we left this comfortable
house; and it was not without reluctance I so soon
bade farewell to the Falls of Trenton, which, beautiful
in themselves, are surrounded by a country possessing
so much attraction that I felt a strong desire to become
more intimate with it.
My companion, Mr. H ,
having met with a couple of friends here who were
journeying our way, it was proposed that we should
join company as far as Niagara, taking to our own
use an extra. This we readily procured at Utica;
the postmaster agreeing to forward the party to Buffalo
by a route we laid down, for the sum of seventy-five
dollars, the distance being nearly two hundred miles.
We were by our agreement entitled to halt as long
as we chose at any place on our route, and, moreover,
were to be driven at the rate of seven miles per hour
at the least.
All these points being duly arranged,
we left the thriving city of Utica in as heavy a storm
of rain as could well fall, the weather having once
more become cold and cheerless: a more dismal
night I never would desire to encounter. The
rate of travelling soon fell below the minimum of our
stipulated pace: to do the drivers justice, this
was owing to no fault of theirs, but the roads were
cut into gullies broad and deep, and the tumbling
we got would have been of vast service to a dyspeptic
subject. The state of the weather was the more
to be regretted as we were passing through some of
the best cultivated farms in this State; and, notwithstanding
the disadvantageous nature of the medium through which
I saw the land, this character appeared to me well
deserved.
The farmhouses were very numerous,
generally built of good brick, and putting forth strong
claims on admiration in the shape of various ornamental
flourishes; an ambition which distinguishes the rural
architecture indeed of all this State, giving evidence
of the ease and growing wealth, if not of the purest
taste, existing amongst the proprietary.
Syracuse we passed through in the
middle of the storm and the darkness of night; and
about six A.M. were safely landed under the ample portico
of the hotel at Auburn, celebrated for its prison,
regulated upon what is called the “silent system.”
Whilst my companions were making toilet
I set forth to visit this penal abode, the character
of which is made sufficiently evident as you approach
the lofty walls that encompass so much of misery and
guilt. At regular distances upon these battlements
I perceived sentry-boxes, with men keeping watch,
musket in hand.
A small sum is here paid for admittance.
On my arrival at the lodge, I was informed that the
prisoners were at breakfast, during which time visitors
were prohibited: I therefore had to wait some
minutes in this place; and, except the occasional
fall of a heavy bolt, did not hear a sound; the very
turnkeys seemed infected by the system which it was
their duty to enforce, and they moved in and out in
silence, or spoke in monosyllables hardly above a
whisper.
Following the gaoler, I was passed
within the square at the very moment when the prisoners
were moving out from their breakfast-hall on the way
to renew their several labours; and the sight was to
me one of sickening melancholy.
They were marched from the building
in squads, using what is called the “lock-step,”
and were jammed together as close as they could possibly
tread: they moved in quick-time, and fell out
singly, or in pairs, as they arrived at the point
nearest to the scene of their employment.
I observed that, notwithstanding the
regularity of labour, and the unquestionably wholesome
diet provided here, the faces of the individuals composing
these ruffian squads were uniformly pale and haggard;
yet, on saying so much to my guide, I was assured that
disease is comparatively rare amongst them, and that
many who enter here with broken constitutions recover
their bodily vigour and are made whole men again.
The cleanliness of this prison-house,
the convenient distribution of its various offices,
and, indeed, the evident excellence of its general
arrangement, must strike every stranger with admiration,
and doubtless presented to the commissioners of inquiry
recently appointed from England many hints worthy
of adoption for home use. Of the merits of the
system itself it does not become me to speak; it has
been well considered by wise and worthy men, who continue
to watch over its working with a philanthropic spirit;
but I confess that the impressions I received from
my visits to these prisons were anything but in its
favour.
At eight A.M. we quitted Auburn, the
weather clear and mild: we crossed the head-water
of the Seneca Lake upon a well-built bridge, a mile
and a quarter in length, and, with this exception,
observed no point of interest until we approached
the Lake of Geneva.
This is one of the lions of this route,
and in no way disappointed our raised expectations.
Gradually winding about the eastern bend of the lake,
the road affords to the traveller a continuous view
of the location of the little city; and certainly
nothing was ever more happily chosen than the fine
hill over whose side it is built, its streets rising
gradually from the edge of the clear water in which
they are reflected.
Entering the main street, I observed
that the stores were large and substantially built;
there was a great bustle, and an air of business too,
about most of them, which it was pleasant to look upon.
The hotel at which we drew up was a large, well-appointed
house: the landlord, finding that we were strangers,
civilly invited us to ascend to the gallery upon the
roof; and certainly the view it afforded was one I
should have been sorry to miss.
The environs appear to possess an
unusual number of tasteful villas; on all sides these
might be distinguished, giving and receiving adornment
from the situation. The lake itself looked like
a huge mirror; and from its polished surface was clearly
reflected every turn of its shores, and each cloud
that floated over it. Its characteristics are
softness and repose; of a certainty it must have been
a feminine spirit that presided at the creation of
this spot, for its features are all of gentleness and
beauty.
At Canandaigua we stopped to dine
at a very large, and, I should imagine, good hotel:
the landlord was exceedingly obliging. The regular
dinner of the house was long past, but he managed to
get us a very tolerable meal; and what was wanting
in this he made up by giving us an excellent bottle
of wine.
In the environs of this place, as
at Geneva, I observed a number of well-built and neatly-appointed
villas; indeed, this sort of country residence is
better kept, and built in better taste, in this western
country than I have elsewhere observed in the States.
About nine P.M. we arrived at Avon
Springs; and here we called a halt for the night,
not a little pleased with the prospect of a comfortable
bed, which the appearance of the inn gave promise of.
This place is a good deal frequented
of late years by invalids, its mineral waters being
found of great service in dyspepsia,the
most crying complaint of the country next to the removal
of the deposits, and certainly more universal.
I here found my excellent friend R d,
who, together with his young bride, had accompanied
his father-in-law, who was desirous of testing the
salubrity of these springs. He described the surrounding
country as beautiful, and the little place itself
as agreeable enough for a short sojourn.
The fourth of July, the anniversary
of American Independence, was to be duly celebrated
by a ball, for which my friend had received an invite
printed upon the back of the nine of hearts; a medium
now obsolete in England, but conserved here in its
integrity.
A less amusing remembrancer of the
glorious event began to parade the avenue at an early
hour in the shape of a patriotic drummer, having an
instrument, to judge by its sound, coeval with the
first fight for that freedom it was beaten to celebrate.
If anything could have kept me awake, this cracked
drum would; and, in truth, I had my fears, when, on
entering my room, I heard my hero ruffing it away immediately
in front of the window; but they were groundless apprehensions,
though his efforts were varied and unceasing, for
I undressed to the tune of the “Grenadiers’
March,” stepped into bed to the “Reveille,”
and dropped fast asleep to the first part of “Yankee
Doodle!”
At six A.M. of the 4th we were once
more in motion; the vapours of night were yet hanging
thick and low; but through the dense atmosphere, as
we rolled down the avenue, I heard the indefatigable
functionary, who composed the military band of Avon,
determinately beating “Hail Columbia!”
At the village of Caledonia we found
that a ball was afoot, and we pushed on eagerly for
Buffalo, anticipating, from the importance of the
place and the wealth of its citizens, something in
the way of display worthy of their loyalty and of
the occasion.
Between Le Roy, a town of remarkable
neatness, and Batavia, I encountered my first sample
of a corduroy-road, or, as it is sometimes facetiously
termed, a Canadian railway.
Our driver, a merry fellow, called
out that we must look out “not to get mixed
up of a heap,” and rattled at it. I did
not require much experience to decide that travelling
over a road of corduroy was by no means going on velvet;
but the effect was not so bad as I had expected to
prove it: by holding fast, one could keep one’s
seat tolerably well, without much fear of dislocation;
but I would strongly recommend any man having loose
teeth, to walk over this stage, unless he desires to
have them shaken out of his head.
From Batavia the road is execrable,
and the country without a feature to interest or amuse,
uncultivated, wild, and dismal. It was about half
an hour before sunset when we entered Buffalo, the
City of the Lakes, the entrepôt for these inland
oceans.