Life in the Clearings Versus the Bush (40 page)

“Is he handsome?”

“He has an English nose.”

“Oh, shocking!”

“A decided Anglo-Saxon face.”

“I’m sure I shan’t admire him.”

“But I’ll not anticipate. A man may be a fine looking fellow in spite of his nose. But what do you think of the Falls?”

“Well, I have not
quite
made up my mind about them. I should like to ride down to the edge of the river to look at them from below.”

“I will order a carriage to-morrow morning, and drive you down.”

“Thank you; I can do that for myself, if I have a mind to. I should like to ride down on horseback.”

“The path is too steep; no one ventures down that terrible road on horseback.”

“But I’m a capital rider.”

“No matter; they use cows for that purpose here.”

“Cows! ”

“They are very safe, sure-footed animals. All the ladies ride down to the Falls on cows.”

“Are they fools?”

“Wise women. Did not you see that fine drove of cows pass the hotel at sunset?”

“I did. I thought they were driven into the yard to be milked.”

“Why, yes; but those cows are making Mr.—’s fortune. They serve a double purpose, providing delicious butter and cream for his customers, and acting as horses for the ladies. I will pick out the most docile among them for your excursion to-morrow morning, and see it bridled and saddled myself.”

This was too much for the gravity of anyone. My son-in-law ran out of the room, and I laughed aloud. The poor girls began to find out that they were sold, and retreated into the balcony. An hour afterwards, as I was pacing through the long gallery that led to our sleeping apartment, one of the many doors on either side softly opened, and the youngest of these bright-eyed damsels stole out.

“I want to ask you a question,” she said, laying her very white hand confidingly on my arm; “were those Englishmen quizzing my sister and me?”

“Need you ask that question?” said I, not a little amused at her simplicity.

“I never suspected it till I saw your son laughing to himself, and then I guessed something was wrong. It was a great shame of those rude fellows to amuse themselves at our expense; but your son is quite a different person – so handsome and gentlemanly. We admire him so much. Is he married?”

“His wife is my daughter.”

I can’t tell why my answer struck the fair inquirer dumb; she drew back suddenly into her chamber, and closed the door without bidding me good night, and that was the last time I saw or heard of her and her companion.

“A summer spent at the Clifton House would elicit more extraordinary traits of character than could be gathered from the chit-chat of a dozen novels,” thought I, as I paced on to No. 50, the last room on the long tier.

I was up by daybreak the next morning to see the Falls by sunrise, and was amply repaid for leaving my warm bed, and encountering the bright bracing morning air, by two hours’ enjoyment of solemn converse alone with God and Niagara. The sun had not yet lifted his majestic head above the pine forest, or chased with his beams the dark shadows of night that rested within the curved sides of the great Horse-shoe. The waters looked black as they rolled in vast smooth masses downward, till, meeting the projecting rocks, they were tossed high into the air in clouds of dazzling foam – so pure, so stainlessly white, when contrasted with the darkness, that they looked as if belonging to heaven rather than to earth. Anon, that dancing feathery tumult of foam catches a rosy gleam from the coming day. A long stream of sunlight touches the centre of the mighty arch, and transforms the black waters into a mass of smooth transparent emerald green, and the spray flashes with myriads of rubies and diamonds; while the American Fall still rolls and thunders on in cold pure whiteness, Goat Island and its crests of dark pines shrouding it in a robe of gloom. The voice of the waters rising amidst the silence that reigns at that lovely calm hour, sounds sonorous and grand. Be still, O my soul! earth is pouring to her Creator her morning anthem of solemn praise!

Earth! how beautiful thou art! When will men be worthy of the paradise in which they are placed? Did our first
father, amidst the fresh young beauty of his Eden, ever gaze upon a spectacle more worthy of his admiration than this? We will except those moments when he held converse with God amid the cool shades of that delicious garden.

“That’s a sublime sight!” said a voice near me.

I turned, and found the old American gentleman at my side.

“I can see a change in the appearance of these Falls,” he continued, “since I visited them some forty years ago. Time changes everything; I feel that I am changed since then. I was young and active, and clambered about these rugged banks with the careless hardihood of a boy who pants for excitement and adventure, and how I enjoyed my visit to this place! A change has taken place – I can scarcely describe in what respect; but it looks to me very different to what it did then.”

“Perhaps,” I suggested, “the fall of that large portion of the table-rock has made the alteration you describe.”

“You have just hit it,” he said; “I forgot the circumstance. The Horse-shoe is not so perfect as it was.”

“Could these Falls ever have receded from Queenstone?” said I.

He turned to me with a quick smile –“If they have, my dear Madam, the world is much older by thousands of ages than we give it credit for; but –” continued he, gazing at the mighty object in dispute, “it is possible that these Falls are of more recent date than the creation of the world. An earthquake may have rent the deep chasm that forms the bed of that river, and in a few seconds of time the same cause might break down that mighty barrier, and drain the upper lakes, by converting a large part of your fine province into another inland sea. But this is all theory. Fancy, you know, is free, and I often amuse myself by speculating on these things.”

“Your daughter, I hope, is not ill,” I said; “I did not see her at tea last night with her little son.”

Instead of his usual shrewd smile, the old man laughed heartily. “So you take that young lady for my daughter!”

“Is she not? The child, however, must be your grandson, for he is the picture of you.”

“I flatter myself that he is. That young lady is my wife – that little boy my son. Isn’t he a fine clever little chap?” and his keen grey eye brightened at the growing promise of his boy. “I have another younger than him.”

“Heavens!” thought I, “what a mistake I have made! How M—will laugh at me, and how delighted this old man seems with my confusion! “ I am always making these odd blunders. Not long ago I mistook a very old-looking young man for his father, and congratulated him on his daughter’s marriage; and asked a young bride who was returning her calls, and who greatly resembled a married cousin who lived in the same town,
how her baby was?
And now I had taken a man’s wife for his daughter – his son for a grandson. But I comforted myself with the idea that the vast disparity between their ages was some excuse, and so slipped past one of the horns of that dilemma.

As soon as we had taken breakfast, we set off in company with the American and his little boy to pay a visit to Goat Island, and look at the Falls from the American side. The child fully realized his father’s description. He was a charming, frank, graceful boy, full of life and intelligence, and enjoyed the excitement of crossing the river, and the beauties it revealed to us, with a keen appreciation of the scene, which would have been incomprehensible to some of the wonder-seekers we had met the day before. All nature contributed to heighten our enjoyment. The heavens were so blue and cloudless, the air so clear and transparent, the changing tints on the autumnal foliage so
rich, the sun so bright and warm, that we seemed surrounded by an enchanted atmosphere, and the very consciousness of existence was delightful; but, with those descending floods of light towering above us, and filling the echoing shores with their sublime melody, we were doubly blessed!

When our little boat touched the American shore, the question arose as to which method would be the best to adopt in ascending the giddy height. A covered way leads to the top of the bank, which is more than two hundred feet in perpendicular height. Up this steep our ingenious neighbours have constructed on an inclined plane of boards a railway, on which two cars run in such a manner that the weight of the descending car draws up the other to the top of the bank. Both are secured by a strong cable. By the side of this railway, and under the same roof, 200 steps lead to the road above. I was too weak to attempt the formidable flight of steps; and though I felt rather cowardly while looking at the giddy ascent of the cars, there was no alternative between choosing one or the other, or remaining behind. The American and his little boy were already in the car, and I took my seat behind them. When we were half-way, the question rose in my mind –“What if the cable should give way, where should we land?” “You’ll know that when the tail breaks,” as the Highlander said when holding on to the wild boar; and I shut my eyes, determined not to disturb my mind or waken my fears by another glance below.

“Why do you shut your eyes?” said the American. “I thought the English were all brave.”

“I never was a coward till after I came to North America,” said I, laughing; and I felt that I ought to be as brave as a lion, and not injure the reputation of my glorious country by such childish fears.

When the car stopped, we parted company with the American and his brave little son. He had friends to visit in Manchester, and I saw them no more.

Our path lay through a pretty shady grove to the village. Groups of Indian women and children were reposing beneath the shade of the trees, working at their pretty wares, which they offered for sale as we passed by. Following the winding of the road, we crossed a rural bridge, from which we enjoyed a fine view of the glorious Rapids, and entered Goat Island.

This beautiful spot is still in forest, but the underbrush has been cleared away, and a path cut entirely round it. The trunks of these trees are entirely covered with the names and initials of persons who at different times have visited the spot, and they present the most curious appearance.

After a few minutes’ walk through the wood, we reached the bank of the river, which here is not very high, and is covered with evergreen shrubs and wild flowers; and here the wide world of tumbling waters are flashing and foaming in the sunlight – leaping and racing round the rocky, pine-covered islands, that vainly oppose their frantic course. Oh, how I longed to stem their unstemmed tides; to land upon those magic islands which the foot of man or beast never trode, whose beauty and verdure are guarded by the stern hand of death! The Falls are more wonderful, but not more beautiful, than this sublime confusion and din of waters –

Their eternal voice and motion might truly be termed the “joy of waves.”

On the American side, the view of the great cataracts is
not so awful and overwhelming, but they are more beautiful in detail, and present so many exquisite pictures to the eye. They are more involved in mystery, as it were; and so much is left for the imagination to combine into every varied form of beauty. You look down into the profound abyss; you are wetted with that shower of silvery spray that rises higher than the tree tops, and which gives you in that soft rain an actual consciousness of its living presence.

I did not cross the bridge, which extends within a few yards of the great plunge, or climb to the top of the tower; for my strength had so entirely failed me, that it was with difficulty I could retrace my steps. I sat for about an hour beneath the shadow of the trees, feasting my soul with beauty; and with reluctance, that drew tears from my eyes, bade adieu to the enchanting spot – not for ever, I hope, for should God prolong my life, I shall try and visit the Falls again. Like every perfect work, the more frequently and closely they are examined, the more wonderful they must appear; the mind and eye can never weary of such an astonishing combination of sublimity and power.

We stopped at a pretty cottage at the edge of the wood to get a glass of water, and to buy some peaches. For these we had to pay treble the price at which they could be procured at Toronto; but they proved a delicious refreshment, the day was very warm, and I was parched with thirst. Had time permitted, I should have enjoyed greatly a ramble through the town; as it was, my brief acquaintance with the American shores left a very pleasing impression on my mind.

The little that I have seen of intelligent, well-educated Americans, has given me a very high opinion of the people. Britain may be proud of these noble scions from the parent tree, whose fame, like her own, is destined to fill the world.
“The great daughter of a great mother,” America claims renown for her lawful inheritance; and it is to be deeply regretted that any petty jealousy or party feeling should ever create a rivalry between countries so closely united by the ties of blood; whose origin, language, religion and genius are the same; whose industry, energy, and perseverance, derived from their British sires, have procured for them the lofty position they hold, and made them independent of the despots of earth.