Arrival at Niagara.—Falls Village.—View from Goat Island. —Biddle's Tower.—Sublime Voyage in the "Maid of the Mist."
Falls of Niagara. We leave what questions upon this point remain open, to be settled by wiser minds, and hasten on to the Falls. We caught a few glimpses of the green waters from the windows of the car, and in a few minutes were in the midst of the tumult of porters at the village, more clamorous for our ears than the dull roar of the cataract near by. The fasting upon the lake and the early morning ride had given us a glorious appetite for breakfast, and as soon as it was appeased we sallied out, guide-book in hand, to see the celebrities. These have been described a thousand times. Poets, painters, travelers, historians, philosophers, and penny-a-liners have vied with each other in magnifying this wonder, and as I can not (if I would) "add one cubit to its stature" for the credulous, a thought concerning its sublimity and beauty for the romantic, a hue to the high coloring of others for the sentimental, or a new fact or theory for the philosophical, I shall pass among the lions in almost perfect silence, and speedily leave the excitements of this fashionable resort for the more quiet grandeur and beauty of the Mohawk Valley, once the "dark and bloody ground," but now a paradise of fertility, repose, and peace.
We crossed the whirling rapids and made the circuit of Goat Island. In this route all the remarkable points of the great cataract are brought to view. From the Hog's Back, at the lower end of the island, there is a fine prospect of the river below, and the distant Canada shore beyond. The almost invisible Suspension Bridge, like a thread in air, was seen two miles distant; and beneath us, through the mist of the American Fall, glorious with rainbow hues, the little steam-boat, the "Maid of the Mist," came breasting the powerful current. We looked down from our lofty eyrie (literally, in the clouds), through the mist veil, upon her deck, and her passengers appeared like Lilliputians in a tiny skiff. From the southern side of the island we had a noble view of the Horse-shoe Fall, over which pours the greater portion of the Niagara River. The water is estimated to be twenty feet deep upon the crown of the cataract. Biddle's Tower is a fine observatory, overlooking, on one side, the boiling abyss below the fall, and standing apparently in the midst of the rushing waters as they hurry down the rapids above. We spent two hours upon the verge of the floods, in the shadows of the lofty trees that cover the island, but these scenes were tame compared with what we beheld from the "Maid of the Mist" toward noon. We rode nearly to the Suspension Bridge, and, walking down a winding road cleft in the rocks, reached the brink of the river at the head of the great rapids above the whirlpool. There we embarked on the little steam-boat, and moved up the river to the cataract. As we approached the American Fall, all retreated into the cabins, and, the windows being closed, we were soon enveloped in spray. It was a sight indescribably grand. As we looked up, the waters seemed to be pouring from the clouds. A feeling of awe, allied to that of worship, pervaded us, and all were silent until the avalanche of waters was passed. The beautiful lines of Brainerd came vividly up from the shrine of memory, and aided my thoughts in seeking appropriate language:
"It would seem
As if God poured thee from his 'hollow hand,'
And hung his bow upon thine awful front,
And spoke in that loud voice which seemed to him
Who dwelt in Patmos for his Savior's sake,
'The sound of many waters,' and had bade
The flood to chronicle the ages back,