TRENTON FALLS.
On awaking here in the morning, I rejoiced to hail the beams of a fine warm sun breaking into my little chamber; it had been a stranger for the last few days; and the weather, after having been prematurely hot, had at once jumped back into March, and become wet, boisterous, and cold to a most provoking degree.
After an early breakfast we set out, with the din of the waters sounding an alarum in our ears, and directing our steps.
Immediately on quitting the hall of the Retreat, we entered upon a grove of fine trees overhanging the bed of the torrent, and thence descended by several flights of ladders planted en échelon, for some hundred and sixty feet, until we at last stood on a level with the swift dark stream, and, looking upwards, beheld the forest high overhead bending from either side, with a narrow strip of clear blue sky drawn between. The first fall was visible about five hundred yards to our left; its waters tumbling, as it seemed, over the tops of the intervening trees, to whose foliage the late heavy rains had restored the freshness of early spring.
Looking about from this first point, I could have readily imagined myself standing upon the floor timbers of a first-rate ship buried in a wooded ravine, so evenly were the sides of the rock scooped out; and this impression was assisted by narrow layers of different strata, which ran in slightly curved lines placed at equal distances, giving the effect of the ship's sheer and planking, whilst through her entrance or cloven bow the white foam rushed.
Walking upward, along a narrow strand of bare rock, with the forest pressing on you, as, bent almost double in some places, you stoop beneath the overhanging cliff on which it grows; then for a time closely shouldering the precipice, walk upon a ledge or projecting shelf of from one to three feet wide, the current below boiling and whirling along the while, of dazzling brilliance; I at one moment counted five rainbow arches, perfect and imperfect. What a succession of "Maidens of the Mist" might a lover of romance conjure up from these vexed waters on a fine moonlight night!
Proceeding onwards, you, on quitting this point, descend once more into the river's bed; and here the resistless power of the torrent when at its full is made manifest by the ruin which on all sides marks its headlong course. Trees of the largest growth lie twenty feet above its ordinary level; some with their roots uppermost, others sustained athwart the arms of their sturdier fellows, here decay and rot amidst their living leaves.
Passing the second fall, we mounted a few steps to a resting-place, named the "Rural Retreat;" and here, from a little box perched on the point of a huge rock which abuts right upon the great abyss, we had a scene before us and about us of great wildness and grandeur; whilst high over all waved the original forest, contemporary with the continent itself,—trees beneath whose shade the sachems of the warlike Mohawks had feasted and legislated.
The last fall lies about a quarter of a mile above this point; and immediately below is a dangerous pass, where the vast mass of falling water is hurled in its course against a deeply-serrated rock, over which rock the curious visitor is obliged to tread, making a step across an angle formed by the boiling whirlpool, clinging to a stout chain, and closely shouldering the rock; the river passing below, with a motion anything but composing for a nervous man to cast a sidelong glance upon. At all points of peril, however, lines of chain are securely riveted, affording a dependable holdfast; which after rains is indeed absolutely necessary, where a single faux pas would be fatal.
A little to our left the water of the river was collected into a basin of about one hundred yards' diameter; overflowing which, it found a narrow outlet between two rocks, and thence precipitating itself in a flood of the colour of amber, was bridged by rainbows dazzling to look upon, although a person of ordinary nerve has nothing to encounter really dangerous; yet, at this point, a very few years back, an accident of a fatal nature did occur, and under circumstances which give to it a melancholy interest and will ever keep it as a legend of the place.