When we landed, the passengers all arose from their seats in the crowded boat, and made a rush to see who should be first ashore, just as though the first would see the most. The result was that one fell overboard, and another, in making a leap from the gunwale of the boat, miscalculated the distance, and alighted in water of such a depth that it just ran into his watch-pocket to see what time it was. Both were rescued, completely saturated, and terribly scared. I quietly retained my seat in the boat till the rush was over. As I stepped ashore, last of all, the boatman, whom I shall always remember gratefully for his kindness, slyly said to me:
“You are going over here for the first time, I suppose, be careful that you don’t get beat. Do not buy any thing or hire a carriage without first making your bargain, or you will be charged six prices.”
I thanked him, and treasured up his advice.
On the Canada side, a carriage-road winds its way in a serpentine course up the steep, high shore; and, on stepping from the boat I was immediately assailed by half-a-dozen drivers of carriages, who expressed a curiosity to know whether I desired to ride up or not. But I replied that I lived “just over the hill,” and would walk up. One of them winked at the other, and I passed on.
On gaining the top of the high shore, I visited Table Rock, from which prominent point I had an excellent view of the whole cataract. I was again assailed by cabmen.
“Do you want to go to Lundy’s Lane?” “Do you want to go to the Burning Springs?” “Do you want to go to the Suspension Bridge?” “Do you want to go to Brock’s Monument?” I was asked in a second.
“Yes, but I’m going to walk,” I replied.
“Walk! You can’t! It’s four miles to Lundy’s Lane.” [It’s only a little over a mile, reader. J. Smith.] “It’s five miles to the Burning Springs.” [It’s only one and a half. J. Smith.] “It’s ten miles to Brock’s Monument.” [It’s only five or six. J. Smith.] “It’s three and a half to the Bridge.” [It’s only two. J. Smith.]
“Is that all? Then I’ll walk, certainly.”
They left me—having probably come to the conclusion that I was a heathen.