June 26th.—This morning we descended the cliffs by a staircase and crossed to the Canadian shore. The boat was tossed about like a shell upon the whirling waves, and as they looked up at the mass of water tumbling so near them, and at the boiling water two hundred and fifty feet deep, under us, some of our fellow passengers became a little nervous. My whole soul was so absorbed in contemplating the wondrous scene, that I felt no terror. A sentinel in the scotch costume greeted our eyes when we landed telling us we were now in a strange land among another people. A winding walk up the cliff, leads you to Clifton House, a celebrated Canadian hotel. From the balconies of this house, is one of the most imposing views of the Niagara falls. You see the whole at once, while from the American side you see only a part at a time. Still, if not so grand, the view is more varied and more beautiful upon the opposite shore and from Iris Island. Every one says it is ridiculous to attempt to describe these falls, but, I have promised to give you daguerreotype views, and will endeavor to sketch the outlines—the shading, and theimpressionsof the scene can only be given by the place itself. Imagine a crescent of water a mile long, plunging with awful violence as if the foundations of the great deep had broken up again, from a cliff nearly 200 feet high. According to McKenney 15,000,000 tons of waterare poured over the rocks in 24 hours. A green island divides this fall into two unequal parts. Table rock, upon the Canadian shore is at the edge of the falls, and projects over the cliff where you may stand with nothing between you and the boiling ocean below. So close is it to the water that the waves wash over part of it, and it is almost always covered with mist and spray. If it be glory to be buried in Niagara, you may here hope for that fate, as a portion of the rock has already fallen, and a large crack shows you the remainder will soon follow. From this spot, is said to be the finest view, as the eye embraces the whole circle of waters; but, as it was one of the days when the mist takes that direction, I saw but little of this. I found myself upon a slippery rock, a shelf between heaven and earth, with waves of spray breaking over me, and a furious mist dashing into my face—a noise of waters was in my ears, a white foam rushed wildly past, and I felt as if caught up in the sky in a whirlwind and driving snow storm. We waded back through the wet grass and ran into the Pavilion to avoid the spray dripping from the eaves. This house besides being a curiosity shop is the residence of the guide who will conduct you down a long staircase, and behind the fall if you wish—as I had no penchant for being drenched, half drowned and suffocated I did not attempt this exploit. We descended this morning the American side and ventured a little behind that fall. One feels very much as an Israelite making hisexode, with a wall of water at his side ‘where the flood stood upright.’
When once in, you see a glorious chamber with dome and walls of emerald rendered transparent bythe morning sun. You might imagine yourself in one of those crystal caves where the sea nymphs congregate, beneath the arches of the sea. On the road from table rock to Clifton House, there is another building where there is a fine museum containing 4,000 specimens of Indian curiosities, animals, minerals &c., many of them from that region. The trees about here are most of them evergreen. The regular yellow pine grows here and the silver fir with its white lined leaves and purple cones and the fan leaved larch growing 100 feet high. The rocks of Niagara are secondary limestone and sandstone, abounding with veins and nodules of various minerals—among them selenite, calcareous spar—petrifactions—tufa from the cave, and many others. I believe I have sketched for you every thing regarding these falls—gigantesque phenomeneas La Vaseur calls them. Still I do not expect to give you any idea of them, for no one who ever wrote, conveyed an impression of the reality to me. I might make a pyramid of expletives, and when all the superbs beautiful’s, majestic’s and touching’s are expended, you will say when you come, ‘the half has never been told me!’ Many have been disappointed here chiefly because the scenery around the falls is not as imposing as they had imagined. Some would have a range of lofty mountains as a back scene; or a crest of naked rocks towering above the falls; but I fancy these are of the class ofcontradictionistswho make a respectable figure in conversation merely by opposing every thing. They thus obtain a hearing, are able to enter into an argument, when no other means would gain them a listener. He who formed this imposing scene is a better judgeof the sublime and beautiful. A range of mountains would materially injure the effect, as it would by contrast take away from the height of the water. The cataract would be a secondary object, but seated as it is in a level region of country, it is the first object that strikes the eye—- a gem on natures forehead. There are many drives in this neighborhood to various interesting places, such as springs, whirlpools, battlefields &c. The parade ground is also a favorite place of resort. A regiment of 700 soldiers are reviewed upon the Canadian shore. We hired a carriage at the Clifton House and after a short drive found ourselves upon a beautiful plain above the falls, surrounded by guard houses, and barracks. The plain was soon filled with soldiers, who came marching up in separate detachments from every direction. They were tall fine formed men, all of one height dressed in the Scotch costume, consisting of the short plaid skirt, stockings laced with red, cap and a cloud of black plumes. They were well drilled, and marched, counter-marched and went through all their evolutions as one man. The dress is picturesque, but must be a cold one in these regions. A pantaloon over the naked knee, I think would be an improvement. I could see soldiers, although not as well drilled, at home, so I was glad to turn my course towards that rolling flood below. From this plain is a fine view of the rapids above the cataract, and of Iris Island, which seems to have floated to the brink of the precipice, like one of the Mexican floating islands. We spent the afternoon upon Iris island. In the little curiosity shop we refreshed ourselves with delicate white strawberries grown upon the island, coveredwith rich cream. Here also we added to our stock of Indian bags and moccasins. Among the articles in the shops at the village I admired most a large living eagle which was chained to his perch. His feathers were black and white, and his beak and claws yellow, with a ruff of grey about his neck. I pitied the poor captive as he stood gazing sadly out apparently listening to the roar of the falls, and longing to be at large in his native forest once more.
The village of Tuscarora Indians is sometimes visited, much against their wishes however. The Indian nations have never lost the remembrance of their former power, and their present degradation. They look upon us as usurpers, who have wrested from them the land of their fathers, and have never forgiven us. They count themselves our prisoners, and are indignant that we should come and gaze upon them in their fallen state as objects of curiosity. Their village is built upon the high shore of Niagara about eight miles below the falls, commanding a fine prospect of the river and lake. They are under the care of a missionary who has been the means of converting fifty out of the three hundred. This tribe once belonged to the confederacy of five nations, but came originally from North Carolina, and are living upon the proceeds of the sale of their land there and their trade. Some of them are prosperous, industrious farmers, while the women embroider beautifully, with beads and stained porcupine quills, upon birch bark and deer skin. These they dispose of at the shops, and to strangers at the Hotels. Upon these occasions, I am struck with the difference between this proud race and our own. A pedler or travelling shopmancomes in, unpacks his wares, holds up every article, insists upon its worth and beauty, and urges you to buy—with the Indian it is otherwise. At our hotel, while ascending after dinner to the dining room, one is struck by the sight of a row of dark beings sitting upright upon the settees in the halls envelloped in cloaks of scarlet or black, richly embroidered with beads or adorned by pieces of tin cut in flowers and tacked on. Their eyes are fixed upon the ground, their long hair falls over their faces, and an expression of profound melancholy sits upon every countenance. You stand before them and gaze upon them, but silent, grave, and motionless they sit, like the band of conscript fathers awaiting the approach of Attila. You at last ask, ‘Have you any moccasins!’ with a dignified motion they throw open their cloaks, and their laps are filled with articles for sale. You ask the price—a low musical voice tells you the amount in a very foreign accent, and that is all I could ever obtain from an Indian woman although I made many efforts while at Niagara, and they can both speak and understand English.
I never saw but one of them smile. I asked her what she had for sale in her lap—she threw it open, and behold a pretty Indian cupid asleep in a birch cradle, swathed and bandaged in their peculiar fashion. Titania would have quarrelled for it. At my start of surprise and admiration, a moonbeam smile flashed over her face and then all was dark and gloomy as before. The celebrated Timothy Flint tells us, ‘the Indians are a melancholy musing race; whatever emotion or excitement they feel, goes on in the inner man.’ So close an observer as he was, and living so longamong them, his views can be relied on as being correct. The Indians have always been noted for their strong attachment to their children, and a stranger among them has only to praise the papoose to win his way to the parents heart.
June 27th.—I could not have believed parting with Niagara would have caused such sorrow. The lofty, and celestial emotions which are produced when in the presence of this one of God’s most beautiful creations you are unwilling to lose. You feel ‘it is good to be here’—and you dread to leave this holy ground to enter again into scenes which will do much to efface these pure emotions. A glimpse of heaven has been vouchsafed you, and most reluctantly you return to earth again. Slowly we sat out this morning to take a last farewell. We had seen it in all its brightness and we now beheld it in a sombre hue. The heavens were overcast, the mist, once of a dazzling whiteness now took a dusky tint, and hung over the cataract like a mourning veil. It was more in accordance with my feelings than to have bade her adieu while she was smiling in the ‘bright garish eye of day’—one might fancy she was sad at losing such true worshippers. But you cannot understand such feelings now, they no doubt seem ridiculous—come here, and you will experience the truth of such emotions. At two o’clock, soon after dinner, we sat out on the rail road for Buffalo. The road for some time is laid along the river bank, and gives us a fine view of the islands, rapids, and other objects of interest, as Fort Schlosser, and Chippewa,—and then a long low wooded island floating upon the bosom of the broad stream wasshown, as Navy island, the head quarters of the Canadian revolutionist in ’37 and ’38. The band have however now dispersed, and the island has returned to its parent, promising never to do so any more. It contains 700[5]acres of good land. The river now begins to expand from one mile to eight, including Grand Island in the centre. This is twelve miles in length, and contains 17,384 acres of rich land and stately timber. A neat village called White Haven stands upon its shore, containing among other buildings, a steam saw mill which furnishes ship stuff from 20 to 70 feet in length. A fine situation, for such an establishment, as there is plenty of the raw material for this manufacture in sight all around.
There are 15 or 20 islands between the falls and Lake Erie, some of them very pretty, adorned with clumps of maple, oak, or cedar. Upon one of them, Tonawanda isle, is a fine mansion with cultivated grounds and fields around it. Our road lay through a village of the same name situated upon Tonawanda creek, a small place through which runs the Erie canal. We had sufficient time to survey the beauties of Rattle-snake Island at our leisure, for, when just opposite, a part of our engine gave way, and we came to a sudden pause. The male passengers were soon out, to discover the cause, and came back with a report that we could proceed no farther, as the injury was very great. We were declared to be ‘in a pretty fix.’ A horse was procured from a house in sight, and a man was despatched upon it to Buffalo about eight miles distant. Many of the passengers sat out to walk to Black rock 4 miles a head, where they couldprocure carriages to take them to Buffalo. The rest of us remained seated in the coaches, with a hot July sun streaming through the windows. What should we do—scold at the road, or the train, or the engineers? No, an American never vexes himself about such things—he is calm and indifferent under every circumstance. Some of us fell to reading, some to napping and some to rambling. We undertook the latter, but as we were only surrounded by ploughed fields soon returned to the coach, where I busied myself in writing the above. Pray read on if it is only to repay me for my sufferings those two hours in the heat. I think I had better abuse this rail road a little, for it deserves it. Do not, however, suppose I am vexed at being left thus ‘sitting on a rail!’ The iron is ripped up in several places, causing a jolt when we strike against these land snags, and a man rides beside the engineer with a hammer to nail them down. It is the worst rail road I ever travelled over: however, as it is only used a few months in the year when Niagara is fashionable, perhaps it may not yield sufficient profit to allow much expense upon it. Something is seen coming up the road—all heads are out, and we hope to be released from our captive state—it turns out to be the return train which had been waiting for our engine and cars, and now has been obliged to take horses instead. As it was impossible to pass us, the passengers and their baggage were turned out, and placed in our coaches, to the Niagara end of which their horses were fastened. They looked very sourly at us while this was passing, thinking perhaps of the maxim of Pythagoras to his scholars—Do not remain in the highway. They wondered at us for sitting intheir highway, depriving them of their engine, and condemning them to the loss of a fine afternoon at Niagara. Some of them perhaps might have been of that whisking class of tourists who intended to return the next morning early, and to them it would be quite a loss.
A joyous shout announced the appearance of our horses, and we were soon on our way again. We passed through Black Rock, a considerable village, and then followed the Erie canal for some distance. The last two miles were upon the borders of Lake Erie which stretched away a mighty mass of green waters, to the horizon. As this was our first view of our great ‘inland seas, we gazed upon it with much interest. There are many handsome villas in the vicinity of the town commanding fine views of the lake and city; one of them, a large Gothic stone mansion, promises to be quite an ornament to the country if ever finished. At Buffalo we drove of course to the American Hotel, as its fame had reached us at home. It is a large stone building, well kept, and elegantly furnished. The drawing room is as handsome as any in the country, and the dining room is a large airy commodious apartment lighted with five large gilded chandeliers. The staircases and halls are of oak covered with copper in some places—the bedrooms, private parlors, table and attendance as good as we could find in our boasted city. There is here also a public room, hired sometimes, for concerts and lectures, which is well lighted with chandeliers and set round with green silk couches. In fact every thing is good and neat.
June 28th.—Sabbath morning—that blessed day of rest, given in mercy as a moment of repose in the wearied journey of life to the ‘world’s tired denizen!’ We felt its benefit, and rejoiced no stage horn could hurry us onward, and no bell, save the ‘church going bell’, could summon us forth. The presbyterian church is a plain building, but handsomely fitted up inside, and very comfortable. Rev. Mr. Lord is the minister, an able and pious man. We heard in the morning a very interesting discourse from Mr. Stilwell of the American Bethel Union. He delivered it in a Baptist church in which the Rev. Mr. Choules officiates when in the city. It is a neat, commodious building, the pews made of the native black walnut cushioned and lined with horse hair. A choir of good singers accompanied by instruments led the music. The society to which Mr. Stilwell belongs devotes itself to the sailor’s interest. The state of the boatmen upon the Erie canal he reported to be very wretched. There are about 25,000 boatmen and sailors employed upon the canal and in lake navigation, who were of the lowest and most worthless class of men; seeming inaccessible to all efforts for their reformation or conversion. These, mixing with the lower population of Buffalo, and other towns on their route, exerted a baneful influence. The Bethel Union attempted to send missionaries among them, but they were abused, insulted and almost discouraged. Still, as they felt it their duty, these self-denying men persevered every Sunday in addressing the men along the canal, and in presenting bibles and tracts. They soon began however to have some hope, for when the canal closed last autumn there were only two men who had refused tracts, and only three who insulted them. With this success, small as it was, they were excited to go on, hoping the Lord was smiling upon their labors. The minister most successful among them had once been a canal boy himself, and while sitting upon his horse dragging the boat, employed himself for hours in inventing new and strange oaths to surprise his fellow boatmen. The men now readily listened to him. They were conscious of their degradation, knew they were despised by all good men, and never hoped to rise. Seeing now, one of their number so bright and shining a light, they trusted a boatman’s name would not always be an object of scorn. These poor men complained to him, that they had no day of rest, as there was as much forwarding upon the Sabbath as upon any other day. The Captains of the lake boats were also obliged to struggle against this evil, and in some instances had renounced their trade upon that account, or upon remonstrance had been turned adrift for some less scrupulous Captain. The fault then seems to lie upon the forwarding merchants, whom Mr. Stillwell addressed, begging their forbearance in this respect.
It is to be hoped this address produced its intended effect, and the merchants who claim a day of repose for themselves, have granted the same to the unfortunate boatmen.[6]
June 29.—This morning we sent for a carriage and sat out to see the city and make some visits. Buffalo,although suffering with all our cities in the stagnation of trade, seems to be doing a great deal of business. The rows of shops, and handsome ware-houses, seem to contain every article necessary for comfort or luxury. It is a larger city than Rochester, but has not its air of elegance and neatness. The town was burnt by their neighbors, the Canadians, in 1814, but has since been rebuilt. The streets are wide and airy, Maine street, the principal avenue, is more than a mile in length. The churches are neat buildings, one of them, a catholic, promises, when finished, to be handsome. The court house is a solid well built edifice having pillars up to the roof. The markets are very good also. The city is well situated upon ground rising gently from the lake, the upper part being covered with handsome private dwellings, which thus obtain fine views of the lake and surrounding country, and secure for themselves room for their gardens which are very prettily laid out. There is here also a military station for the United States troops, whose barracks, comfortable brick buildings, are built around the parade ground and surrounded by a good wall. Our friend’s cottage was upon elevated ground looking down upon the green Niagara river, and enjoying a view of the lake in front, and behind an extent of country covered with the untamed forest. It was the first time I had seen a forest landscape, and I looked with much interest upon this vast plain of green leaves reaching to the distant horizon; a smoke curled in one spot telling of some settler clearing his way through the green wood. The handsomest private dwellings here do not affect the Gothic or Grecian, which had prevailed along our road, but were substantial square stone or brick buildings, having a marble portico in front, an cupola upon the top, surrounded by a fancy railing. Our drive around Buffalo was very interesting, and we wondered, as we marked such a mass of solid buildings, and depots of articles from every region in the world, and such throngs of human beings deposited in a wilderness, but a few years redeemed from the Indian, the buffalo, and the bear. What industry, what energy, has been employed to bring hither all these materials. Buffalo is a frontier town, and grand portal of the west, through which is flowing a constant stream of travellers and emigrants. This mixture of all nations in the streets, give them an unique appearance. Here you see the Indian beau with his tunic bound with a crimson sash, his hat surrounded by a circle of feathers; his deer skin pantaloons richly embroidered in barbaric patterns, while ribbons and tassels swing out from his dress at every step. After him will pass a band of United States soldiers; then a rough back-woodsman, upon a horse looking as wild as himself, its uncut mane and tail waving in the wind as he gallops violently through the streets. Then follows a party of comical German emigrants; a scarlet clad British officer; a Canadian; a Frenchman; a wild looking son of Erin; a sturdy ruddy, gaiter legged English farmer; a Tonawanda squaw with her papoose upon her back; and lastly the dainty lady traveller with her foreign abigal, and fantastically dressed children. Among the crowd I observed a curious figure—a one legged negro, wearing an old uniform coat with ruffled cuffs, ringing a bell most energetically. The old English custom of sending a bell-man to proclaimthe loss of any article, prevails here, as in some of our other towns, I believe. ‘What is lost, Sambo?’ inquired a person. ‘Your wits, massa,’ he replied quickly, setting his juvenile train off in a fit of laughter. To another inquirer, he replied, ‘My leg is lost, don’t you see’ holding up the stump. He is, I suppose a privileged wit, who, if he cannot set thetable, no doubt does thestreetin a roar. The Buffalonians are a gay social people. The unamiable fashion of exclusiveness being very little known here, for, living where the population is continually changing and where strangers are constantly claiming their hospitality, they have acquired an easyunsouciantmanner, and are ever forming social meetings to entertain the stranger. Our letters procured for us much kind attention, and we had an opportunity of witnessing this free hospitable spirit. In the afternoon one of our friends called, and we drove down where a fanciful yacht awaited us, and a pleasant party of ladies and gentlemen, for the purpose of taking us over to the ruined fort opposite the city. This is a favorite picnic haunt of the young citizens. Fort Erie is upon the Canadian shore, opposite Buffalo, just at the point where the Niagara river runs out of lake Erie. It was destroyed during the war of 1812.
I have scarcely enjoyed any thing so much as that sail over Lake Erie. The lake is here five or six miles broad. The water rushes swiftly past, as if eager to accomplish its glorious destiny of plunging over the rocks of Niagara, there to be a spectacle which nations come from afar to gaze upon. We caught the excitement which seemed to animate the water, as we were tossed upon its wavelets withquick, gay, tilting motion; and gazed with much delight at the novel objects around us. The city, with its numerous domes and spires; the bright Niagara rushing and gurgling at a rapid rate over the ledge of rocks which once was Erie’s barrier ere the waters burst their bounds—the gulls wheeling above us, or floating upon the waves; and above all, that immense lake, that mighty mass of sparkling emerald water, stretching far into the mysterious west. The air, breathing from the fresh forest and cool lake, was so refreshing that I was almost sorry when we reached the shore. Landing upon a sandy beach, we repaired to the fort, where under the shadow of a ruined wall, we seated ourselves upon the green sward, and while refreshing ourselves with the contents of our provision baskets, our discourse fell upon the hapless fate of those whose blood had dyed the fair turf around us; or upon other scenes which occurred during that border war. But now all this is over; conqueror and vanquished are both beneath the ‘clod of the valley’; the echo of the war trump has died away; the green earth smiles again as peacefully as if it had never drank the blood of the dying, and wall, and bastion, are fast crumbling into their parent elements. The lake, the sky, the shore, are no longer vexed with sights and sounds of strife. Alas! whence come wars and fighting among us? Must these things always be? Must earth’s children ever thus hack and tear each other? And we who are brethren, whose homes are in sight upon either shore of this bright lake, can we not dwell in unity? They who have opposite creeds, who differ in dress, in manner, in language, may and will rival, dislike, detest, fight and exterminate eachother; but we, who are sons of the same father, who speak the same tongue, Oh, must we be ever thus at enmity?
[7]Though ages long have passedSince our fathers left their home;Their pilot in the blastO’er untravelled seas to roam,—Yet lives the blood of England in our veins!And still from either beachThe voice of blood shall reach,More audible than speech,“We are one!”
[7]Though ages long have passedSince our fathers left their home;Their pilot in the blastO’er untravelled seas to roam,—Yet lives the blood of England in our veins!And still from either beachThe voice of blood shall reach,More audible than speech,“We are one!”
[7]Though ages long have passedSince our fathers left their home;Their pilot in the blastO’er untravelled seas to roam,—Yet lives the blood of England in our veins!
And still from either beachThe voice of blood shall reach,More audible than speech,“We are one!”
I have said this is a favorite place of resort, and here a party of gay young people came to avoid the noise of the city, and spend a quiet day with their books and work, upon the fourth of July. Their little feast was spread under the shade of the fortress, and they were in the act of drinking to the day, when they were suddenly taken captive by a band of English soldiers. It was at that unhappy time when Canada was disturbed by revolutionary projects, and it was naturally imagined they had come there purposely to insult them. It was an imprudent frolic, and they paid dearly for it; they were marched off three miles to a military station, where, after being fully examined and no signs of revolution being found upon them, they were suffered to depart and return as they best might. I relate the anecdote to show how easily we may mistake each other’s motives, and how soon ill-blood may be brewed between those who are suspicious of each other, and ready to take offence.
While we were thus discoursing, the sky grew gradually dark, and a veil of blackness was let downover the lake, giving token of a thunder shower. We were soon in the boat which tossed very much, but we had able young seamen who landed us safely just as the sun, bursting forth, smiled at our idle fears. An evening of social pleasure ended our agreeable day.
June 30th.—This morning we were again employed in rambling about the city. The situation of Buffalo is calculated to make it a great commercial mart. It is upon the high road to the west, and will command much of the business of the lakes, while the great Erie canal connects it with the Atlantic. This canal is indeed a ‘herculean achievement.’ It is three hundred and sixty-three miles in length, forty feet wide, and four deep; contains six hundred and eighty-eight feet of locks; is crossed by several fine aqueducts; and all this was completed in eight years. There are other canals connected with it. This great artery, bringing up the produce of Europe to the west, through this city, must increase its prosperity[8]and population.
At twelve o’clock this morning embarked in the steamboat Constellation for Chicago, through lakes Erie, St. Clair, Huron and Michigan, a distance of twelve hundred miles, for which we are to pay twenty dollars, ten each. The wharves as we left them presented a busy scene. We counted forty steamboats and canal boats, beside several large vessels. Among the latter was the Queen Charlotte, a stately ship of warbelonging to Canada, but degraded to the ignoble fate of a Buffalo trader. She had, it is true, lost some of her original brightness ere thus fallen, for she had been twenty-three years under water, having been sunk in a naval fight on Lake Erie, and lately raised. The wharves were loaded with produce and merchandize, while carts, boats, and men, were loading and being unloaded.
We left Buffalo with regret. Its majestic river and noble lake—its back ground of forests, gay streets, and social people, have left a vivid and pleasing picture upon our memories. A fine pier, or breakwater as they call it, of solid mason work extends 1100 feet, protecting the wharves from the waves. A light house stands upon the end of the pier. When the city had completely faded into the distant horizon we turned our gaze on our companions. Upon one corner of the deck was a promiscuous heap of chairs, children, pots, kettles, men and women, being a family moving west. That old man with a cocked hat, and large metal buttons, the young man in a blue frock, and women with embroidered stomachers and indescribable caps, sitting upon a pile of strange looking articles of husbandry, and huge unwieldy chests, is a band of emigrants from central Europe. A party of English gentleman from Canada were there, bound upon a hunting expedition to Wisconsin—another of Buffalo young men, were going to while away the summer months in a fishing excursion upon Lake Superior, a long light skiff being part of their travelling luggage. There were also tourists for pleasure, information and health like ourselves, and some few going to inspect lands which they had bought unseen. Oursteamboat is a very fine one although not of the first class. There is a handsome saloon for the ladies surrounded by a circle of state-rooms opening upon the deck—below are the eating rooms and gentlemen’s cabin, the whole fitted up with comfort and elegance. There are about 53 steamboats upon lake Erie, some of them of six hundred tons, and fitted up with every luxury and elegance, many costing from $15,000 to $120,000 each. They are built upon a fine model, and are well finished. The upholsterer’s bill sometimes amounts to $4,000. They are generally built very strong to resist the waves that run high here. The complement of men for one of these boats amounts to 40; the captain receiving $100 a month. After an excellent dinner we ascended to the promenade deck which, like our Hudson river boats is the uppermost deck, surrounded with seats. We were out upon lake Erie, and gazed around us with wonder and delight. The water was a fine dark green, which as the wind was high, was tossed in waves crested with white foam, or sparkling spray. The shores were in some places low and wooded, alternating with gentle elevations, at whose foot ran a line of yellow sand—a sky of purest azure dotted with fleecy clouds was above. What a lovely scene—
“Where shall we find in foreign landSo lone a lake, so sweet a strand?”
“Where shall we find in foreign landSo lone a lake, so sweet a strand?”
“Where shall we find in foreign landSo lone a lake, so sweet a strand?”
asks Sir Walter. This lake however is rather larger than his Scottish lake, it being 290 miles long. It has the character of being the most tempestuous of all the lakes, a fact we were soon able to verify, for in the afternoon the wind increased to a gale, and thewaves dashing against our vessel gave us each time a shock as if she had struck a rock.
The ladies soon began to feel the effects of such tossing, and one after another retired to their berths quite ill. Forty-five miles from Buffalo we stopped at the town of Dunkirk, which is the termination of the New York and Erie rail road. It commences at Hudson river 25 miles above the city of New York, a distance of 450 miles from its end. This town, under these circumstances, is rising rapidly. It has a fine circular bay having two projecting points which protect it, one and a half miles across—and is one of the best harbors upon the lake. There is also a pier within the shelter of which five large schooners were moored. We observed a rail road depot ready for the future engines and train—a church, tavern and a few stores. Several little boys came on board with pails of cherries for sale, which they disposed of at four cents a quart. Here we landed a passenger, an inhabitant of Dunkirk, who, during the voyage, had been vaunting the advantages of his town. The day would soon come, he said, when he should no longer resort to Buffalo for his goods, as the new rail road would bring all the trade to Dunkirk. Darkness drove us to our state room, which we found replete with every convenience—a circumstance much to our satisfaction as we were to spend a week in it ere we reached our destined haven. I would recommend you if you ever travel this way, to choose, as we did, a state cabin looking towards the shore, for these boats stop at every considerable town, and of course keep near the coast. In consequence of this arrangement, we could, if inclined, sit in our cabin, and through the open door, orwindow, behold the scenery at our ease; while those upon the opposite side, gazed out upon an uniform waste of waters without a shore. I thus obtained a sight of the town of Erie where we stopped during the night. Aroused by the noise, I looked from my window and saw the town distinctly by clear starlight. This town is in Pennsylvania, and is the termination of the Pittsburg and Erie canal. In the canal basin, beside canal boats, I saw a large steamboat and several schooners. Presque Isle defends the harbor. There was a large hotel brightly illuminated, and some stage coaches, awaiting the arrival of passengers. Erie stands upon a high mass of Schistose rock surmounted by a stratum of clay—the whole forty feet above the lake.[9]There is said to be here a neat court house, and several pretty houses surrounded by trees—the streets are at right angles, and the trade considerable. There was a bridge spanning the canal, which I hoped was the one where the revered La Fayette was feted. It was formed into a large tent by sails and flags, which had waved in the battle upon the lake, under which was a fine collation. Several ships of war have been built here. You will surely give me credit of being a first rate correspondent when I leave my slumbers to collect items for your amusement and edification.
July 1st.—Early this morning we found ourselves off Conneaut, which we looked upon with interest as belonging to the great state of Ohio. It is a small place, at the mouth of Conneaut creek near the boundary line between Pennsylvania and Ohio—is a smallbut flourishing place. The next town we passed was Ashtabula, or rather its landing place, the town being some miles in the interior. A wooden breakwater defends the harbor. A river of the same harmonious Indian designation empties itself into the lake sullying its pure acqua-marine, with a dark brown tint which could be distinctly seen a mile from the shore. The day is lovely—our boat glides swiftly upon her course. On one hand we have a line of green waving forest coast, where the oak, the elm, the linden, and the maple, and stately yellow birch are standing in pretty groups, or gracefully bending over the water—upon the other we have a shoreless ocean. For miles there are no signs of human existence, and then some little village appears with its invariable accompaniment, a pier, lighthouse and schooner. We passed Fairport, at the mouth of Grand river, and from thence the ground begins to rise, being a band of argillaceous schist, which extends to Cleveland. This is a beautiful town standing upon this formation mixed with sand and pebbles elevated sixty or seventy feet above the lake of which it commands a fine prospect. It was a pretty object in our view as we approached, its steeples and buildings crowning the summit of the picturesque cliff. We lay here some hours taking merchandise, thus enjoying sufficient time to examine it. The steamboat passed up, the Cuyahoga river through two piers each 1200 feet in length. Upon each side the ground arose from the river covered with the buildings of two rival towns, Cleveland and Ohio city. The business streets are upon the banks of the Cuyahoga river, and the wharves were lined with vessels, merchandise and native buckeyes, as the Ohiopeople are called after their beautiful tree. Cleveland is built upon a plain; the streets running at right-angles, wide and airy with a pretty square in the centre. There are six churches, a neat court house, banks, public library, and many handsome dwelling houses. The population is 7,000 and several newspapers and periodicals are published here.[10]It is 170 miles from Buffalo. We had been a day and a half reaching it, on account of our frequent stoppages. This being the northern termination of the Ohio canal a great deal of business is done here. Their trade in flour and wheat is very great, they having exported nearly a million of barrels of flour in one season—cotton, tobacco and other southern merchandise has passed up from the Ohio river through the canal. This canal runs the whole length of the state of Ohio to Portsmouth upon the Ohio river a distance of 309 miles. It is forty feet wide, four deep, and has 152 locks.[11]The Cuyahoga river is sixty three miles in length, and running down over the sandstone ledges which abound in that region, it has a fall of 240 feet, affording a fine water power. From Buffalo to the borders of Michigan there is a band of alluvion upon the lake shore from three to twenty miles in width. This is bounded by a ridge of rocks 40 or 50 feet high once, according to Darby and Schoolcraft, the original boundary of the lake, thus giving another proof that these lakes were once higher than at present they are. This ridge is composed of micaceous limestone, andschistose rocks, covered with farms, and groves of beech and oak which attain to a large size. Yesterday afternoon while sailing upon the lake, we observed these hills making a pretty back ground to the towns on the shore—now it trends too much to the interior to be seen. In this ridge arise waters which flow each way, some into lake Erie, and others, as the Muskingum and Alleghany, into the valley of the Ohio. This last river, becoming the Ohio, falls into the gulf of Mexico ‘upwards of twelve degrees of latitude from its source.’[12]Successive ledges orsteppesof sandstone rock lead down to the lake, over which the rivers flow in rapids or falls, making the scenery in that region very beautiful. We took in at Cleveland several barrels of flour, and nails, and Selma salt, and boxes of merchandise,—landed several passengers, and then left this interesting town. It must, I imagine be a very delightful place of residence. The Cuyahoga could be distinctly traced some distance from the shore in a long dark line.
The swell in the lake still continuing, most of our passengers had become too ill to leave their berths. A horse which was at the other end of the vessel also became affected. Our German emigrants felt it least, as they had been seasoned by crossing the Atlantic. I saw them seated upon their packages, eating brown bread and cheese as merrily as ever. Their passage costs them little as they provide their own frugal fare, and sleep upon their goods on the deck. Several others pursued this economical plan. The emigrants from the German and Swiss nations are invaluable to us and ought to be warmly received, for in industry,economy and patience, they set a very excellent example to our extravagant people. They always succeed; their settlements and farms present an admirable order and neatness, and yield a rich reward to their patient labor. The restless spirit, the excitement, caused by a hope of rising in the world, of seeing no one above him, which animates the American bosom, and many of our transplanted brethren, never agitates them. Where they plant themselves they remain, and in labor and social duties, pass the even tenor of their way. The motion, rendered it impossible to walk, or even stand unless supported, and instead of being unpleasant to me, I have seldom experienced sensations so novel and delightful. My companion being an old traveller felt no ill effects from it either. Leaning over the railing, we watched the vessel as she surmounted one huge wave to sink again as soon. The fresh western breeze, breathing perfume from the forest clad shores, exhilerated our spirits, and spread forth our star-spangled banner in a bright canopy over our heads. Two noble steamboats filled with passengers from the ‘far west’ passed us with their banners flying, the bells of the three boats ringing out their friendly salutations to each other. They are gone—the white foam of their track alone remaining to show where so many human beings had just been wafted away. How glorious was that sunset on lake Erie! Dark and stormy clouds had gradually gathered from every quarter, and now dropped down as a veil over the west concealing the sun from our view, and the lake is one vast gloomy abyss. But see—some fairy hand has touched the clouds with gold and purple and every gorgeous hue—the surface of thewater is streaked with rose, and every wave is gilded. The towers of Cleveland now distinctly painted against the dark horizon, are glittering as if cut from jewelry. Our fears of storms are vanishing, when suddenly a black terrific cloud spotted with fiery blood color, appeared in front of us, as if the Indian Manitou had arisen from the lake to arrest our progress and forbid our farther entrance into his dominions. Larger and larger it grew, until the heavens were covered with inky blackness, A terrible blast lashed the lake into fury—the waves arose in their might as if to reject us from its bosom—our vessel careened fearfully upon one side, and confusion ensued. Men hurried forward to remove the merchandise to the other side and trim the vessel—women’s heads were, from the cabin doors asking ‘what’s the matter’ and torrents of rain are surging over the deck. The awnings are buttoned down—all is proclaimed tight and right, and we retired to our state-room to listen to the wail of the wind, and write our promised journals.
July 2, 1840.
Dear E.—Rocked by the tempest we slept soundly, but arose in time to witness a glorious sunrise scene upon lake Erie. We were in the centre of the lake—no land was visible on either side, save two lonely islands, one of which was just vanishing upon the distant horizon, while the other one was only a short distance from our vessel. Suddenly a dazzling radiance shot up from the east, and in a few moments the sun came rushing from out the water as if in eager haste to greet his favorite lake. A flood of glory lighted up the green depths of Erie; tinging the foam with a thousand prismatic hues, and tipping with gold the white plumage of the birds which were soaring over our heads. The dark alleys of beech, maple, and hickory which covered the island, and its pebbly shore covered with diamond spray, were illumined with the morning rays, receiving new beauty from every touch. We were stretching from Sandusky bay upon the Ohio shore to the Detroit river; many islands werepassed, some of them quite large. Cuningham island contains 2,000 acres. They are of limestone rock covered with forest trees. Here was the scene of the famous naval battle upon lake Erie, and these peaceful glades once echoed with the cannon’s roar. I regretted not seeing Sandusky, a large and pretty town, situated upon a river and bay of the same name. Here also is the mouth of the Maumee river, or the Miami of the lakes, northern termination of the great canal which commences at Cincinnati, and is connected with the canals of Indiana.
Land began to appear upon our western quarter, and soon the State of Michigan became visible. The mouth of Detroit river was soon after seen here, five miles wide from the Canadian shore to Michigan. At Amherstburg, a small Canadian town, we stopped about seven o’clock, for the purpose of taking in wood. The flashing of bayonets and the red uniform, as the sentinel walked up and down the wharf, told us we were in a land belonging to another nation. Fort Malden is passed soon after. Upon a platform, in front of the fortress, a file of soldiers were going through their exercises, their brilliant scarlet dresses and arms, prettily flashing back the morning sun. A boat, filled with red-coated soldiers, was passing over to an island to relieve the guard which stood upon a romantic point, near his little sentry box. A large ship came rapidly down the river, with all its sails out, looking like a huge bird of prey winging his flight to the shore, adding to the variety of the scene. Detroit is a beautiful river, connecting lakes St. Clair and Erie. Its width is generally about a mile—opposite Detroit city three-fourths of a mile. The shores are very beautiful, cultivated upon each side, with several pretty islands in the centre. Upon the Canadian side we observed several French settlements, their windmills upon every point giving a novel and unique effect to the scene. We did not reach Detroit until ten o’clock, although it is only 19 miles from the mouth of the river, owing to our delay in taking in wood. The city appeared well, covering a plateau of ground elevated 40 feet above the river. Three steamboats were in sight as we approached, one being a ferry boat to the town of Sandwich, opposite. As we were to remain here some time we landed and walked about the city. The city stands upon a plain which commands an extensive view of the river and surrounding country. A broad street runs through the centre called Jefferson avenue, lined on each side with shops and hotels. At the upper end are several handsome dwellings surrounded with gardens. The churches are common in their appearance, except the catholic, which I must say was uncommon. It is a large building of unpainted wood, having two odd looking steeples exactly alike, in the centre of the front; at the back is a dome having on each side a belfrey. Adjoining this is the residence of the Bishop, a large brick building. I was disappointed in the appearance of this city. It was built by the French, you know, in 1670, and being so much older than Rochester or Buffalo, we naturally supposed it would be larger than it is. But the same causes do not operate here which influence the prosperity of the other cities. It has not the old and settled state of New York behind it, nor the great canal. Michigan, of which Detroit is the capital, has been recently settled, and that only in the southern parts. The fur trade was for years itsmain dependence, and that has of late fallen off very much. As man invades the recesses of the forest, the animals retreat before him. Detroit has, however, felt the wind in her sails, and is rapidly following after her southern sisters. Of this, the increase of population is one proof—2,222 being their number in 1830, and 1839, 9,278. Several railroads are planned out, which, when the river and lakes are filled with ice, will be of much service. Of these, the Detroit and St. Joseph are the principal—leading from this city across the State to lake Michigan, a distance of 194 miles; 33 miles are completed. Many persons take this route to Chicago, in preference to the more extensive one around the lakes. Besides these, there are in contemplation the Detroit and Pontiac; Shelby and Detroit, &c. Michigan will soon fill up, as its population has increased since 1830, seven hundred per cent.; then it was 28,600, and now, in 1840, they count 211,205. Detroit will then be the great depot of the lakes, and bids fair to rival the neighboring cities. Here we landed our German emigrants, who were bound to the rich plains of Michigan. Upon the wharf were men busily engaged packing white fish salted, with barrels, fifty of which we took on board. The white fish is a delicious fish, something the form of our shad, averaging from 4 to 10 lbs. and sometimes weigh 14 lbs. There is a great trade of this fish upon the lakes. 30,000 barrels were exported from Cleveland this season. While passing the city, when we had resumed our voyage, we observed several rows of handsome ware houses, many of which seemed as if newly erected. We also noticed a large brick building erected for the hydraulic works which supply thecity with water, it being in these lakes fit for cooking, washing and drinking. This city is the scene of one of Pontiac exploits. He was one of those brave and haughty spirits who cannot accustom themselves to the yoke of the white men. Of these, a few have appeared in latter years; Black Hawk being the last. The French he had become accustomed to, and suffered their presence in his realms, but when another nation appeared he determined to root them out the land. They were at peace apparently, but a deceitful peace, for Pontiac was organizing a confederacy against the English, who then occupied Detroit. ‘There was no sounding of the tocsin, no alarm of war given, no motion of the waves were felt,’ to quote the words of McKenney—‘In this moment of stillness, a scout returned bringing the intelligence that a large body of Indians were crossing lake St. Clair in canoes, and coming in the direction of Detroit, while numerous bands were appearing at every point.’ Pontiac appeared in the neighborhood with 3,000 warriors, who, in a friendly manner approached the fort, erected their wigwams, and commenced their Indian games, to lull all suspicion. That very band, unknown to the English, had just returned from the bloody massacre of Fort Michilimackinack, which they had surprised in the manner they now intended. Major Gladwin, however, suspected them, and admitted only six Indians at a time in the fort. The wily Pontiac at length succeeded in having a council held at the fort, and was permitted to attend with thirty-six chiefs. Their rifles were cut short and hid under their robes, with which they were to shoot down the officers and seize the fort. Were it not for the fidelity of a squaw toher master in the fort, the plan would have succeeded. As it was, they suffered severely from famine, and many were cut off who came to reinforce them, before the Indians finally retreated. Ten miles from Detroit the river gradually expands into lake St. Clair. A pretty lake—a most sweet lake—appearing small among its larger sisters, and yet it is 90 miles in circumference. The waters are cool and transparent, fringed with the graceful ash, the linden, ‘tasseled gentle,’ the beech, and the stately lioriodendron, and many other varieties. We felt reluctant to enter and ruffle the glassy surface, and disturb the profound repose which reigned around. The shores are low and there are no houses in sight. A wood cutter’s hut, and at its extremity, a light-house, were the only signs of life we saw. The trees were throwing their flickering shadows upon the placid water, or leaning over, as if to admire their own reflection so perfectly painted upon the mirrored surface,—