The village of Little Falls is upon the rocky bank of the cascades, and only westward can the eye see any thing from it but rocks, and trees, and running water mingled in wild confusion. Here the high ridge of the Alleghany range, which divides the head waters of the Mohawk and the Ontario streams from the Susquehanna and other Atlantic rivers, crosses the Mohawk Valley, and in ages long past, ere the great Falls of Niagara existed, doubtless formed the crown of a cataract almost as magnificent, when the waters of Ontario covered the upper valley, and a portion of its flood here found its way into the great lake that filled the Hudson basin, whose outlet, in turn, was among the rugged hills of the Highlands at West Point and vicinity. Such is the theory of the geologist; and never had opinion stronger presumptive proofs of its correctness than are found at Little Falls. * An obstruction here, seventy feet in height, would cause the waters to overflow the Rome summit, and mingle with those of Ontario by the way of Wood Creek, Oneida Lake, and the Oswego River. The rugged shores present many incontestible evidences of abrasion by the violent action of water, thirty to sixty feet above the present bed of the river.
Many of them are circular perpendicular cavities in the hard rocks, which are composed chiefly of gneiss, granite, and hornblende. In some instances masses of stratified rocks present the appearance of Cyclopean architecture, as seen in the above cut,2 and hundreds of small cavities, far above the present bed of the
* This name was given in contradistinction to the Great Falls, now called Cohoes, at the mouth of the Mohawk.
** This is a view of a large circular cavity on the western shore of the river a few yards from the railroad, and about thirty feet above its bed. On the side of the cavity toward the river is an opening about ten feet square, and over the entrance is a massive lintel, which appears as if hewn and placed there by the hands of man. Within the large cavity, which is open at the top, are smaller ones upon its concave sides. Two of these concavities are seen in the engraving. The rocks are covered with a luxuriant growth of shrubbery, springing from the rich alluvial deposits in the fissures. An exploration of them is dangerous, for some of the fissures are broad and deep. Indian legends invest these caverns with romantic interest. One of them I will repeat, in brief, as it was told to me, for it is identified with the spot represented in the picture.
* Long ago, when the river was broader and the falls were more lofty, a feud arose between two young chiefs of the respective tribes of the Mohawk nation, the Wolf and the Tortoise. A maiden of the Bear tribe was the cause of the feud, as maidens often are. She was loved by both the young chiefs, and for a time she so coquetted that each thought himself beloved by her in return. Her father was a stern old war rior, and loved his child tenderly. Both chiefs had fought the Mingoes and Mohegans by his side, and the bravery of each entitled him to the hand of the maiden. Her affections were at length stirred by the more earnest importunities of the Wolf, and she promised to become his bride. This decision reached the ears of the Tortoise, and the embers of jealousy, which disturbed both while unaccepted suitors, burst into a flame of ungenerous revenge in the bosom of the disappointed lover. He determined to possess the coveted treasure before the Wolf should take her to his wigwam. With well-dissembled acquiescence in her choice, and expressions of warm friendship for herself and her affianced, he allayed all suspicions, and the maiden rambled with him in the moonlight upon the banks of the river when her affianced was away, unconscious of danger. The day approached for the maiden to go to the wigwam of her lord. The Tortoise was with her alone in a secluded nook upon the brink of the river. His light canoe was near, and he proposed a voyage to a beautiful little island in the stream, where the fire-flies sparkled and the whippoorwill whispered its evening serenade. They launched, but, instead of paddling for the island, the Tortoise turned his prow toward the cataract. Like an arrow they sped down the swift current, while the young chief, with vigorous arm, paddled for the western shore. Skillful as with the bow and hatchet, he steered his canoe to the mouth of the cavern here pictured, then upon the water's brink, seized the affrighted maiden, and leaped ashore, at the same moment securing his canoe by a strong green withe. The cave was dry, a soft bed of the skins of beasts was spread, and abundance of provision was there stored. At the top of the cave, far above the maiden's reach, an opening revealed a passage through the fissures to the rocks above. It was known only to the Tortoise; and there he kept the maiden many months, until her affianced gave her up as lost to him forever. At length, while hunting on the southern hills in flowery May, the Wolf saw the canoe at the mouth of the cave. It solved the question in his mind. The evening was clear, and the full moon shone brightly. He waited until midnight, when, with an arm as strong and skill as accurate as his rival's, he steered his canoe to the mouth of the cavern, which was lighted up by the moon. By its light he saw the perfidious Tortoise sleeping in the arms of an unwilling bride. The Wolf smote the Tortoise, but the wound was slight. The awakened warrior, unable to grasp his hatchet, bounded through the opening at the top of the cavern, and closed it with a heavy stone. The lovers embraced in momentary joy. It was brief, for a fearful doom seemed to await them. The Tortoise would return with power, and they had to make choice of death, by the hatchet of the rival chief, or the waters of the cataract. The latter was their choice, and, in affectionate embrace, they sat in their canoe and made the fearful leap. The frail vessel struck propitiously upon the boiling waters, and, unharmed, passed over the gulf below. Down the broad stream they glided, and far away, upon the margin of the lower lake, they lived and loved for two generations, and saw their children's children go out to the battle and the chase. In the long line of their descent, tradition avers, came Brant, the Mohawk sachem, the strong Wolf of his nation.
Gulf below Little Falls.—The Erie Canal.—Greatness of the Work.—An Indian Legend
stream, indicate the action of pebbles in eddies of water. The hills on either side rise to an altitude of nearly four hundred feet, and from that height the ancient cataract may have poured its flood. Immediately below the present cascades at the foot of Moss Island, or Moss Rock, the river expands into a. broader basin, more than one hundred feet deep, from whose depths rocky spikes, like church spires, shoot upward, some of them to the surface of the water. Into this gulf the great cataract doubtless poured its flood, while the rocky cones, too hard to be abraded, resisted the unceasing attrition of the water for ages.
I strolled along the railroad at twilight, by the margin of the rapids and of the gulf below; and before sunrise I went down upon the tow-path to view the scene in the shadows of early morning. Art and nature here vie with each other in claims upon our admiration. Here the former exhibits its wonderful triumphs, and the latter displays its beauty and grandeur. On the south side of the river is the Erie Canal, the passage for which was excavated through solid rock a distance of two miles. "This narrow defile presented the most formidable obstruction on the whole line of that great work, and it was supposed that at least two years would be required to complete the excavation. Skill and persevering industry accomplished the most difficult portion in ninety days. The waters of the canal here