Part 129

“Every day, when the sun shines, you see here from ten o’clock in the morning to two in the afternoon, below the fall, and under you, where you stand at the side of the fall, a glorious rainbow, and sometimes two, one within the other. I was so happy as to be at the fall on a fine clear day, and it was with great delight I viewed this rainbow, which had almost all the colours you see in a rainbow in the air. The more vapours, the brighter and clearer is the rainbow. I saw it on the east side of the fall in the bottom under the place where I stood, but above the water. When the wind carries the vapours from that place, the rainbow is gone, but appears again as soon as new vapours come. From the fall to the landing above it, where the canoes from Lake Erie put ashore, (or from the fall to the upper end of the carrying place,) is half a mile. Lower the canoes dare not come, lest they should be obliged to try the fate of the two Indians, and perhaps with less success.

“The French told me, they had often thrown whole great trees into the water above, to see them tumble down the fall. They went down with surprising swiftness, but could never be seen afterwards; whence it was thought there was a bottomless deep or abyss just under the fall. I am of opinion that there must be a vast deep here; for I think if they had watched very well, they might have found the trees at some distance below the fall. The rock of the fall consists of a grey limestone.”

So far is Kalm’s account; to which may be added, that the body of water precipitated from the fall has been estimated to be nearly seven hundred thousand tons per minute!

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A recent traveller, Miss Wright, departing from the falls of the Gennesse river, for the purpose of seeing the Falls of Niagara, alighted in the evening at a little tavern in the village of Lewiston, about seven miles short of the place she was proceeding to. She heard the roar of the waters at that distance. Her description of the romantic scene is surprisingly interesting; viz:--

----In the night, when all was still, I heard the first rumbling of the cataract. Wakeful from over fatigue, rather than from any discomfort in the lodging, I rose more than once to listen to a sound which the dullest ears could not catch for the first time without emotion. Opening the window, the low, hoarse thunder distinctly broke the silence of the night; when, at intervals, it swelled more full and deep, you will believe, that I held my breath to listen; they were solemn moments.

This mighty cataract is no longer one of nature’s secret mysteries; thousands now make their pilgrimage to it, not through

“Lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and caves of death,”

but over a broad highway; none of the smoothest, it is true, but quite bereft of all difficulty or danger. This in time may somewhat lessen the awe with which this scene of grandeur is approached; and even now we were not sorry to have opened upon it by a road rather more savage and less frequented than that usually chosen.

Next morning we set off in a little waggon, under a glorious sun, and a refreshing breeze. Seven miles of a pleasant road which ran up the ridge we had observed the preceding night, brought us to the cataract. In the way we alighted to look down from a broad platform of rock, on the edge of the precipice, at a fine bend of the river. From hence the blue expanse of Ontario bounded a third of the horizon; fort Niagara on the American shore; fort George on the Canadian, guarding the mouth of the river, where it opens into the lake; the banks, rising as they approached us, finely wooded, and winding now hiding and now revealing the majestic waters of the channel. Never shall I forget the moment when, throwing down my eyes, I first beheld the deep, slow, solemn tide, clear as crystal, and green as the ocean, sweeping through its channel of rocks with a sullen dignity of motion and sound, far beyond all that I had heard, or could ever have conceived. You saw and _felt_ immediately that it was no river you beheld, but an imprisoned sea; for such indeed are the lakes of these regions. The velocity of the waters, after the leap, until they issue from the chasm at Queenston, flowing over a rough and shelving bed, must actually be great; but, from their vast depth they move with an apparent majesty, that seems to temper their vehemence, rolling onwards in heavy volumes, and with a hollow sound, as if labouring and groaning with their own weight. I can convey to you no idea of the solemnity of this moving ocean. Our eyes followed its waves until they ached with gazing.

A mile farther, we caught a first and partial glimpse of the cataract, on which the opposing sun flashed for a moment, as on a silvery screen that hung suspended in the sky. It disappeared again behind the forest, all save the white cloud that rose far up into the air, and marked the spot from whence the thunder came.

Two foot-bridges have latterly been thrown, by daring and dexterous hands, from island to island, across the American side of the channel, some hundred feet above the brink of the fall; gaining in this manner the great island which divides the cataract into two unequal parts, we made its circuit at our leisure. From its lower point, we obtained partial and imperfect views of the falling river; from the higher, we commanded a fine prospect of the upper channel. Nothing here denotes the dreadful commotion so soon about to take place; the thunder, indeed, is behind you, and the rapids are rolling and dashing on either hand; but before, the vast river comes sweeping down its broad and smooth waters between banks low and gentle as those of the Thames. Returning, we again stood long on the bridges, gazing on the rapids that rolled above and beneath us; the waters of the deepest sea-green, crested with silver, shooting under our feet with the velocity of lightning, till, reaching the brink, the vast waves seemed to pause, as if gathering their strength for the tremendous plunge. Formerly it was not unusual for the more adventurous traveller to drop down to the island in a well-manned and well-guided boat. This was done by keeping between the currents, as they rush on either side of the island, thus leaving a narrow stream, which flows gently to its point, and has to the eye, contrasted with the rapidity of the tide, where to right and left the water is sucked to the falls, the appearance of a strong back current.

It is but an inconsiderable portion of this imprisoned sea which flows on the American side; but even this were sufficient to fix the eye in admiration. Descending the ladder, (now easy steps,) and approaching to the foot of this lesser fall, we were driven away blinded, breathless, and smarting, the wind being high and blowing right against us. A young gentleman, who incautiously ventured a few steps farther, was thrown upon his back, and I had some apprehension, from the nature of the ground upon which he fell, was seriously hurt; he escaped, however, from the blast, upon hands and knees, with a few slight bruises. Turning a corner of the rock (where, descending less precipitously, it is wooded to the bottom) to recover our breath, and wring the water from our hair and clothes, we saw, on lifting our eyes, a corner of the summit of this graceful division of the cataract hanging above the projecting mass of trees, as it were in mid air, like the snowy top of a mountain. Above, the dazzling white of the shivered water was thrown into contrast with the deep blue of the unspotted heavens; below, with the living green of the summer foliage, fresh and sparkling in the eternal shower of the rising and falling spray. The wind, which, for the space of an hour, blew with some fury, rushing down with the river, flung showers of spray from the crest of the fall. The sun’s rays glancing on these big drops, and sometimes on feathery streams thrown fantastically from the main body of the water, transformed them into silvery stars, or beams of light; while the graceful rainbow, now arching over our heads, and now circling in the vapour at our feet, still flew before us as we moved. The greater division of the cataract was here concealed from our sight by the dense volumes of vapour which the wind drove with fury across the immense basin directly towards us; sometimes indeed a veering gust parted for a moment the thick clouds, and partially revealed the heavy columns, that seemed more like fixed pillars of moving emerald than living sheets of water. Here, seating ourselves at the brink of this troubled ocean, beneath the gaze of the sun, we had the full advantage of a vapour bath; the fervid rays drying our garments one moment, and a blast from the basin drenching them the next. The wind at length having somewhat abated, and the ferryman being willing to attempt the passage, we here crossed in a little boat to the Canada side. The nervous arm of a single rower stemmed this heavy current, just below the basin of the falls, and yet in the whirl occasioned by them; the stormy north-west at this moment chafing the waters yet more. Blinded as we were by the columns of vapour which were driven upon us, we lost the panoramic view of the cataract, which, in calmer hours, or with other winds, may be seen in this passage. The angry waters, and the angry winds together, drove us farther down the channel than was quite agreeable, seeing that a few roods more, and our shallop must have been whirled into breakers, from which ten such arms as those of its skilful conductor could not have redeemed it.

Being landed two-thirds of a mile below the cataract, a scramble, at first very intricate, through, and over, and under huge masses of rock, which occasionally seemed to deny all passage, and among which our guide often disappeared from our wandering eyes, placed us at the foot of the ladder by which the traveller descends on the Canada side. From hence a rough walk, along a shelving ledge of loose stones, brought us to the cavern formed by the projection of the ledge over which the water rolls, and which is known by the name of the Table Rock.

The gloom of this vast cavern, the whirlwind that ever plays in it, the deafening roar, the vast abyss of convulsed waters beneath you, the falling columns that hang over your head, all strike, not upon the ears and eyes only, but upon the heart. For the first few moments, the sublime is wrought to the terrible. This position, indisputably the finest, is no longer one of safety. A part of the Table Rock fell last year, and in that still remaining, the eye traces an alarming fissure, from the very summit of the projecting ledge over which the water rolls; so that the ceiling of this dark cavern seems rent from the precipice, and whatever be its hold, it is evidently fast yielding to the pressure of the water. You cannot look up to this crevice, and down upon the enormous masses which lately fell, with a shock mistaken by the neighbouring inhabitants for that of an earthquake, without shrinking at the dreadful possibility which might crush you beneath ruins, yet more enormous than those which lie at your feet.

The cavern formed by the projection of this rock, extends some feet behind the water, and, could you breathe, to stand behind the edge of the sheet were perfectly easy. I have seen those who have told me they have done so; for myself, when I descended within a few paces of this dark recess, I was obliged to hurry back some yards to draw breath. Mine to be sure are not the best of lungs, but theirs must be little short of miraculous, that can play in the wind, and foam, that gush from the hidden depths of this watery cave. It is probable, however, that the late fracture of the rock has considerably narrowed this recess, and thus increased the force of the blast that meets the intruder.

From this spot, (beneath the Table Rock,) you _feel_, more than from any other, the height of the cataract, and the weight of its waters. It seems a tumbling ocean; and that you yourself are a helpless atom amid these vast and eternal workings of gigantic nature! The wind had now abated, and what was better, we were now under the lee, and could admire its sport with the vapour, instead of being blinded by it. From the enormous basin into which the waters precipitate themselves in a clear leap of one hundred and forty feet, the clouds of smoke rose in white volumes, like the round-headed clouds you have sometimes seen in the evening horizon of a summer sky, and then shot up in pointed pinnacles, like the ice of mountain glacières. Caught by the wind, it was now whirled in spiral columns far up into the air, then, re-collecting its strength, the tremulous vapour again sought the upper air, till, broken and dispersed in the blue serene, it spread against it the only silvery veil which spotted the pure azure. In the centre of the fall, where the water is the heaviest, it takes the leap in an unbroken mass of the deepest green, and in many places reaches the bottom in crystal columns of the same hue, till they meet the snow-white foam that heaves and rolls convulsedly in the enormous basin. But for the deafening roar, the darkness and the stormy whirlwind in which we stood, I could have fancied these massy volumes the walls of some fairy palace--living emeralds chased in silver. Never surely did nature throw together so fantastically so much beauty, with such terrific grandeur. Nor let me pass without notice the lovely rainbow that, at this moment, hung over the opposing division of the cataract as parted by the island, embracing the whole breadth in its span. Midway of this silvery screen of shivered water, stretched a broad belt of blazing gold and crimson, into which the rainbow dropped its hues, and seemed to have based its arch. Different from all other scenes of nature that have come under my observation, the cataract of Niagara is seen to most advantage under a powerful and opposing sun; the hues assumed by the vapour are then by far the most varied and brilliant; and of the beauty of these hues, I can give you no idea. The gloom of the cavern (for I speak always as if under the Table Rock) needs no assistance from the shade of evening; and the terrible grandeur of the whole is not felt the less for being distinctly seen.

We again visited this wonder of nature in our return from Lake Erie; and have now gazed upon it in all lights, and at all hours,--under the rising, meridian, and setting sun, and under the pale moon when

“riding in her highest noon.”

The edge of the Table Rock is not approached without terror at the latter hour. The fairy hues are now all gone; excepting indeed, the rainbow, which, the ghost of what it was, now spans a dark impervious abyss. The rays of the sweet planet but feebly pierce the chill dense vapour that clogs the atmosphere; they only kiss, and _coldly_ kiss, the waters at the brink, and faintly show the upper half of the columns, now black as ebony, plunging into a storm-tossed sea of murky clouds, whose depth and boundaries are alike unseen. It is the storm of the elements in chaos. The shivering mortal stands on the brink, like the startled fiend

“on the bare outside of this world, Uncertain which, in ocean or in air.”[404]

[404] Views of Society and Manners in America; by an Englishwoman, 1821, 8vo.

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NAVARINO.

This is a strong town on the west coast of the Morea on the Gulf of Zoncheo, with an excellent harbour, recently distinguished by the fleet of the pacha of Egypt being blockaded there by admiral sir E. Codrington.

It is affirmed that this was the ancient Pylus, where the eloquent and venerable Nestor reigned. At the siege of Troy, according to Homer, he moderated the wrath of Achilles, the pride of Agamemnon, the impetuosity of Ajax, and the rash courage of Diomedes. In the first book of the Iliad he is represented as interposing between the two first-mentioned chiefs:

To calm their passions with the words of age Slow from his seat arose the _Pylian_ sage, Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skill’d. Words sweet as honey from his lips distill’d.[405]

It appears to have been also called Coryphasion, from the promontory on which it was erected. It was built by Pylus, at the head of a colony from Megara. The founder was dispossessed of it by Neleus, and fled into Elis, where he dwelt in a small town, also called Pylos. There was likewise a third town of the same name, and they respectively claimed the honour of having given birth to Nestor. The Pylos at Elis seems, in the opinion of the learned, to have won the palm. Pindar, however, assigns it to the town now called Navarino.

[405] Bourn’s Gazetteer.

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COUNSELS AND SAYINGS.

BY DR. A. HUNTER.

UP, AND BE DOING.

The folly of delaying what we wish to be done is a great and punishing weakness.

BE ORDERLY.

Uniformity of conduct is the best rule of life that a man can possibly observe.

MAN IS ORDERLY BY NATURE.

Is it not a matter of astonishment that the heart should beat, on the average, about four thousand strokes every hour during a period of “threescore years and ten,” and without ever taking a moment’s rest?

IN TRAVELLING BE CONTENTED.

When we complain of bad inns in poor and unfrequented countries, we do not consider that it is numerous passengers that make good inns.

ARE YOU AN ORATOR?

Chew a bit of anchovy, and it will instantly restore the tone of voice when lost by public speaking.

DO NOT FORGET.

When your memory begins to leave you, learn to make memorandums.

SHUN WILL-MONGERING.

If you induce a person to make an improper will, your conscience will smite you from the rising to the setting sun.

MARRIAGE IS A VOYAGE FOR LIFE.

One who marries an ill-tempered person attempts to lick honey from off a thorn.

AN ODD REMARK.

Women who love their husbands generally lie upon their right side.

NOTE.--I can only speak, from experience, of one; and, as regards her, the observation is true.

Vol. II.--45.

_To the Editor._

The preceding sketch was made on the 17th instant. The well stands by the roadside. The covering stones, though heavy, were at that time laid as above represented, having just before been knocked over by some waggon. Although but a poor subject for the pencil, it is an object of interest from its connection with St. John of Beverley.

“St. John of Beverley may be challenged by this county (York) on a threefold title; because therein he had his

“1. Birth; at Harpham, in this county, in the East Riding.

“2. Life; being three and thirty years, and upwards, archbishop of York.

“3. Death; at Beverley, in this county, in a college of his own foundation.

“He was educated under Theodorus the Grecian, and archbishop of Canterbury. Yet was he not so famous for his _teacher_ as for his _scholar_, Venerable Bede, who wrote this John’s life; which he hath so spiced with miracles, that it is of the hottest for a discreet man to digest into his belief.”

See “Fuller’s Worthies,” in which a lengthened account of St. John may be found.

T. C.

_Bridlington, July 30, 1827._

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Respecting the subject of the engraving, T. C. subsequently writes: “The stones over St. John’s Well were replaced when I passed it on the 9th of October, 1827.”

Concerning St. John of Beverley, not having “Fuller’s Worthies” at hand to refer to, a few brief particulars are collected from other sources. If the curious reader desires more, he may consult my authorities, and “old Fuller,” as recommended by T. C.

ST. JOHN OF BEVERLEY.

On his return from pupilage under St. Theodorus, in Kent, St. John of Beverley settled at Whitby, in the monastery of St. Hilda, till, in the reign of Alfred, he was made bishop of Hexham, which see he vacated in favour of St. Wilfrid, and sometime afterwards was seated in the archi-episcopal chair of York. He occasionally retreated to a monastery he had built at Beverley, which was then a forest, called Endeirwood, or Wood of the Deiri. In 717 he resigned the see of York to his chaplain, St. Wilfrid the younger, and finally retired to Beverley, where he died on the 7th of May, 721.[406]

According to Bede, St. John of Beverley being at a village near Hexham, there was brought to him a youth wholly dumb, and with a disorder in the head, “which entirely hindred the grouth of haires, except a few which, like bristles, stood in a thinn circle about the lower part of his head.” He desired the child “to putt forth his tongue, which the holy man took hold of, and made the sign of the crosse upon it. And having done this, he bid him speak: Pronounce, said he to him, _gea, gea_, (that is, _yea, yea_.) This the child pronounced distinctly, and presently after other words of more syllables; and, in conclusion, whole sentences: so that, before night, by frequent practice, he was able to expresse his thoughts freely.” Then St. John “commanded a surgeon to use his skill; and in a short time, by such care, but principally by the prayers and benedictions of the good prelat, he became of a lovely and chearfull countenance, adorned with beautifully curled haire, and ready in speech. This _miracle_ was wrought in his first diocese.”[407] Notwithstanding the author of the “Church History of Brittany” calls this a “miracle,” the story rather proves that John of Beverley used a judicious method to remove impediments of speech, and obtained the growth of the boy’s hair by surgical aid.

The same writer adds, on the same authority, that the wife of “a count, named Puch,” was cured of a forty days’ sickness, by John of Beverley giving her holy water, which he had used in dedicating the count’s church. Also, according to him, when the lusty men of Beverley drag wild bulls into the church-yard (to bait them) in honour of the saint, they “immediately loose all their fury and fiercenes, and become gentle as lambes, so that they are left to their freedom to sport themselves.” William of Malmsbury relates this “as a thing usually performed, and generally acknowledged by the inhabitants of Beverley, in testimony of the sanctity of their glorious patron.”

Again, it is related in the Breviary of the church of Sarum, concerning St. John of Beverley, that while he governed in the see of York, “he was praying one day in the porch of St. Michael, and a certain deacon peeping in saw the Holy Ghost sitting upon the altar, excelling in whiteness a ray of the sun:” and the face of this deacon, whose name was Sigga, “was burnt by the heat of the Holy Spirit,” so that the skin of his cheek was shrivelled up; and his face was healed by the touch of the saint’s hand: and “the saint adjured him, that whilst he lived he would discover this vision to no man.”[408]