Great changes occurring in Niagara Falls, which though slow and remittent, are no less certain to destroy the grandeur of that incomparable waterfall some time in the very remote future. It is a well-demonstrated fact that Niagara River has excavated the gorge through which it runs, and within recent years such immense masses of the ledge-stone have been detached by the gnawing waters as to cause an appreciable recession of the cataract, and a corresponding lengthening of the gorge. It is recorded that in 1818 very large fragments of limestone were wrenched from the surface-bed and cast over Horseshoe Falls, and another similar result occurred in 1855. But each year, and constantly, the erosion is marked, so that Table Rock, formerly a striking feature of the river, has been worn away so completely that no present sign of it now remains. It has been computed by Sir Charles Lyell that the average rate of recession is about one foot annually, counting for the past thousand years; but as before stated, the erosive results are spasmodic. There is now eighty feet of hard limestone composing the surface-rock, and it will probably require ten thousand years for the rushing waters to eat this away; after that, however, the wear will be rapid, and in course of centuries the falls will have disappeared, and only a tremendous gorge will remain in their stead. Many wonderful spectacles have taken place at the falls, the most interesting of which was the sending adrift of a condemned lake vessel, drawing eighteen feet of water, in 1829, which passed over the brink without touching bottom, and was dashed in pieces on the rocks below. This experiment was made to test the depth of water on the brink of the precipice.
HECTOR FALLS, WATKIN’S GLEN, IN WINTER.
There is a weary sameness to the generally level or prairie scenery which lies between the Mississippi River and New York State, if we except the rather pleasing diversity of well-cultivated farms, prosperous towns, and evidences of thrift that are everywhere noticeable. But there is more than the greatness of commercial and industrial empire to recommend New York to the sight-seer, for some of the most charming scenery to be found anywhere in the world is within her borders, matching for sublimity even the most marvelous views which we have described. And additional fascination attaches to many of her noted places on account of the Indian names which have been jealously preserved in her geography. The Mohawk Valley is at once a lovely vale and a reminder of Cooper’s “Leather Stocking Stories;” and so are her hundred rivers and lakes that bear the designations bestowed upon them, either by some of the once-powerful tribes, or which perpetuate the fame of their great chiefs, the shades of whom seem to linger about Seneca, Cayuga, Oneida, Oswego, Canandaigua, Chautauqua, Keuka, Skaneateles, over which they once skimmed in light canoes. The romance with which these beautiful waters are invested would draw us irresistibly to their shores were there no other attractions; but to these delightful traditions of a vanished people are the added charms of sylvan glades, exposing vistas of exquisite landscape, blue waters dimpled by soft winds, swift-racing streams dashing under overarching shades, and wild chasms that imprison echo and exhibit some of the most astounding results of glacial action, abetted by upheaval, depression and erosion. After picturing the wonders of Niagara, therefore, two of our party made a trip over the New York Central Line and its connection, to Geneva, a beautiful town on the north shore of Seneca Lake, which in many respects is one of the most remarkable bodies of water in the world. The lake is about forty miles in length, but it is a mere strip, rarely exceeding two miles in width, yet has the extraordinary depth of six hundred feet, so that it is evidently a basin created by the same convulsion that wrought the surprising results which render the Glens at the south end famous beyond comparison, as will be presently described. It is particularly strange that such a tremendous cleft should be made without showing a wider extent of disturbance, though the shores are a succession of promontories, sweeping back in graceful undulations and well-wooded slopes, save where industry has converted the hills into fruitful fields.
CAVERN CASCADE, WATKIN’S GLEN, IN WINTER.
The trip from Geneva to Watkins, which covers the extreme length of the lake, is comfortably and enjoyably made by means of fine steamers, which land at many intermediate points, and give summer tourists opportunity for thoroughly examining the towns and beautiful banks along the way. Watkins, which is the objective place of all pleasure travelers, has its feet bathed by Seneca Lake, and its head shaded by the brow of Buck Mountain, at whose base is the main street, running parallel therewith. Following this street a short distance, the visitor reaches a bridge that affords passage over a small stream, and proceeding along the banks of this little water-course for less than half a mile, he is suddenly confronted by a massive and lofty natural wall that prevents further progress. Stairways, however, have been built, by which we mounted to the summit of this wonderful masonry, and from that eminence surveyed the matchless scenery of Watkin’s Glen. But the view is interrupted by intervening precipices and densely wooded copses, so that to see the amazing wonders and the bewildering beauties of this marvelously diversified region a tour of its many attractions is necessary. To do this requires a pair of strong legs and good breath, for the climbing is severely taxing, though owing to the substantial and well protected stairways is never dangerous.
TERRACED FALLS, WATKINS GLEN, NEW YORK.—The most eloquent pen pauses in its futile efforts to depict the marvels, and the wonders, and the glories that are presented on every hand in Watkins Glen. In all the varied scenery of the world there is nothing to be compared to this, for here Nature seems to have done her utmost in fashioning something new and novel in the line of her handiwork for the admiration of mankind. At every footstep, for a distance of three miles along the gorge which cleaves the earth to a depth of 300 feet, some new wonder or marvelous creation is presented, each seemingly more superb than its neighbors.