Returning to Kilbourn City, on the following day a trip was made to Taylor’s Glen, which is thus well described by a correspondent: “At the handsome school building on the east side of the village, a rugged path struggles down into an ordinary ‘hollow,’ which farther down and followed, opens into a grand gorge. Every step now reveals scenes and formations beside which all the boasted charms of ‘Watkin’s Glen’ become commonplace. Being neither cave nor valley, but combining all the attractions of both, it winds and twists through immense rocks in a serpentine path. At one point, far overhead, a sheet of daylight slants through a mere rift the rocks. The roof and high-arching walls are frescoed with diamond dew and dripping, drooping mosses and lichens. Groups of strange figures, carved by cataracts, washed by whirlpools ages on ages ago, ape Egyptian gods and mummies of the ancient Orient. Here a crystal spring bursts from a wall of solid stone and goes dancing down over pebbles and ferns. On through an ever-varying pathway filled with kaleidoscope-like enchantment we wandered with awe and admiration, our journey ending at a long, dark tunnel, which looks out, through a wide, cavernous window, upon the river beyond. The Lower Dells, like their companions above the village, have rocky banks, covered with vegetation, and curiously shaped formations no less interesting than the aggregation, a description of which I have but faintly accomplished. One cannot see this truly remarkable, weird, romantic and beautiful section of our land and suppress admiration. Nor will a week suffice for a thorough exploration of the caves, grottos, rocks and ravines hereabouts. Above Witches’ Gulch is a beautiful view of the river, its bluffs and many islands, a fairly comparable Lake George view. A fine drive is had north from Kilbourn to ‘Hornet’s Nest,’ ‘Squaw’s Chamber,’ ‘Luncheon Hall,’ ‘Stand Rock,’ ‘Devil’s Lake,’ and many points of interest farther up the river and in the country in this and adjoining counties.”
RAPIDS OF MONTREAL RIVER, NORTH OF LAKE SUPERIOR.—These picturesque rapids are located in the midst of a wooded dell, hemmed in and secluded by surrounding hills from the busy haunts of men. In peace and quiet they laugh and frolic and sing their merry song of rippling waters and dashing fountains through the summer days, and when winter comes they put on a dress of foamy puffs of white that sparkles and glows like a bed of diamonds in the dull rays of the northern sun.
GIANT’S CASTLE, NEAR CAMP DOUGLAS.
The whole region within a radius of thirty or more miles of Kilbourn City, particularly on the west, is full of natural curiosities, for the district was evidently at one time, in the remote past, the bed of a lake whose swirling waters carved the soft sandstones into many astounding forms, and then were assuaged by some force which geologists fail to explain, leaving these rare monuments of their work behind them. Devil’s Lake, nearby, is the relic of that vast inland sea, which no doubt was a part of the great lakes, on the shores of which are many images of wondrous shapes and size, with many of which interesting legends are connected. Thus “Sacrifice Stone,” in “Wonder Notch,” is popularly believed to be the rock on which an Indian maiden was immolated at an unknown time to propitiate the anger of the Great Spirit, while “Cleft Rock” represents the fury of the devil who, while in a passion over some act of the tribe, rose out of the lake and hurled one of his fiery darts with such poor aim that it did no other damage than split the largest stone on the shore.
Cleopatra’s Needle is likewise reputed to be the transformed and geologic remains of a very ancient Indian chief who was punished by the devil for the audacity of attempting to penetrate the mysteries of the lake; while another broken and distorted stone on the front of East Mountain is connected with a similar and indistinct tradition respecting the invidious curiosity of a squaw. But though there is no lack of superstitious beliefs among the few Indians of the district, who respect these queer formations as the relics of their forefathers, there is no more foundation for them than the mere claim that “so it has been told,” for no one has ever heard the particulars. It is a forgotten story.