The route to the sea via the St. Lawrence River having become a great favorite with summer tourists, we give in this connection a description of some of its principal attractions. The majestic river, whose channel is the outlet for all the waters of the great chain of inland seas, runs in a general northeasterly direction, from Lake Ontario to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, through a country full of objects of interest to the traveler and sight-seer, and by its navigability becomes the medium by which they may be reached.

Leaving Niagara Falls in the evening, sleeping cars are run, via New York Central, Rome, Watertown & Ogdensburg, and Utica & Black River Railroads, to Clayton, arriving next morning in time to connect with the palace day steamers of the St. Lawrence Steamboat Company. Should the tourist prefer to make the trip by daylight, he will find the scenery pleasant and attractive. He will thus reach Clayton in the evening, and remain until morning, proceeding as above.

The pleasures of a trip down the St. Lawrence, among the celebrated Thousand Islands, through the foaming rapids, and past the charming villages which lie along the shore, have been the theme of extravagant praise from many a summer tourist, and the constantly increasing popularity of this route is ample evidence that they do not soon grow old. You may usually find among the passengers many who have made the trip several seasons in succession, and the summer resorts of the St. Lawrence are visited by the same tourists year after year, so many and varied are the charms presented.

LAKE OF THE THOUSAND ISLANDS.

Clayton, the steamboat landing of the American Line, is upon the shore of the river where it broadens out among the group of islands of nearly double the number indicated by the name. The trip therefore
commences in the midst of beautiful scenery, to continue in a succession of delights and surprises, until its close at the wharf in Montreal. One and a half miles from Clayton is Round Island Park, occupying the island from which it takes its name. A lovelier spot is not to be found. An elegant hotel, numerous cottages, pleasant groves, splendid drives, and a beautiful water-front, are among the features that contribute to its attractiveness, and give promise of making it the resort par excellence among the island gems of this beautiful river. The association controlling the Park, while supposed to be denominational, is by no means sectarian, and the largest freedom is allowed the occupants, untrammeled by the claims or caprices of fashion, such as sometimes destroy all liberty at fashionable resorts.

THE LUXURY OF CAMP-LIFE

Is here enjoyed to its fullest extent. The beautiful groves along the shores of the island, reached by boat or the inland paths and drives, afford delightful camping-places, while the ready communication with the “haunts of civilization” places the conveniences, and even luxuries for those who desire them, within easy reach. Round Island is about a mile in length, and eight hundred to twelve hundred feet wide. Its shape is not correctly indicated by its name, it being more nearly oval than round.

In summing up the attractions of the island, we can do no better than to employ the language of one of its summer residents, who writes as follows:—

What Round Island has NOT: Marshes, mosquitoes, malaria, drinking saloons, accumulated refuse, impure air, impure water.

What Round Island has: The purest and most invigorating air, the clearest and most delicious water, the pleasantest drives, inviting walks, beautiful views, unparalleled scenery, facilities for amusement, accommodations for rest, cleanliness, healthfulness, between thirty and forty cottages, an elegant hotel, fifty-five acres of lawn, a two-mile driving track, bathing houses, and every convenience to make cottage or hotel life charming.

THOUSAND ISLAND PARK.

More widely known, perhaps, than any of the other St. Lawrence resorts, is the great camp-meeting park of the Methodist denomination bearing the above title. It is located at the upper end of Wells Island, and has rapidly grown to large proportions, combining, as it does, the religious, social and pleasure-seeking elements, often united in the same individuals. It has a large village of permanent cottages, which is greatly increased in the summer by the “cotton houses” of those who come for a brief stay, either in attendance upon the religious services or for a short respite from business in camp life. It has a post-office, public buildings, stores, and the conveniences of town life, together with boat houses, landings, dock room, etc., and being in the main channel of the river, it is readily accessible to visitors, as the boats make it one of their important landings.

WESTMINSTER PARK.

The lower portion of Wells Island is also under the control of a religious association, being owned by a regularly chartered society called the Westminster Park Association. With the usual conservatism of people of the “orthodox” faith, there is nothing of the camp-meeting order here, although services are held in Bethune chapel every Sunday during the season. The Park comprises about five hundred acres, occupying an irregular neck of upland, rising in some places to a commanding height, overlooking the scene for miles in extent. Tasteful cottages occupy the building lots into which a large portion of the Park has been divided. An elegant hotel, called the Westminster, under excellent management, is kept in first-class style, at from two to three dollars per day. Directly opposite from this park, on the New York shore, is

ALEXANDRIA BAY,

Sometimes called the “Saratoga of the St. Lawrence.” As a summer resort, it is fairly entitled to the name, being one of the most popular watering places in America. Its summer hotels are among the most commodious and attractive to be found anywhere, while private cottages and villas have sprung up on every available site, both on the shore, and on all the islands near. The facilities for fishing and boating, combined with the pure and invigorating atmosphere, and the beautiful scenery, attract to the place a tide of summer visitors, ever increasing in volume with each succeeding year. Alexandria Bay is only twelve miles from Clayton, and the approach, by boat, is charming, as the pretty cottages come in view all along the shore, succeeded by the imposing hotel fronts as the harbor is neared. Among the handsome villas, that of the late Dr. J. G. Holland. “Bonnie Castle,” is a conspicuous object, occupying a promontory which projects just below the landing.

THE THOUSAND ISLAND HOUSE,

A view of which we herewith present, is one of the finest hotels, both in point of its general arrangements and the natural advantages afforded by its location, to be found at any pleasure resort on the river. It is built on the solid rock, near the steamboat landing, and its windows command an extensive prospect, both up and down the river and across the Bay to Westminster Park. The view is still further expanded by ascending the lofty tower which adorns the center of the structure, rising 160 feet above the foundation, and surmounted with a balcony, affording an outlook of surpassing loveliness and grandeur. The hotel is the largest on the river, and will accommodate 700 guests.

Leaving Alexandria Bay, we are now in the midst of the most fashionable part of the Thousand Island group. The residences are elegant in style of architecture and general appointments, some of them being very costly, their wealthy proprietors having lavished expenditure upon them with unstinted hand. The captain will call many of them by name, the islands having received their titles mostly from their present owners and occupants, and are somewhat fanciful and often appropriate. For instance “Fairy Land” seems a fitting abode for elfin sprites, although equally attractive to humanity. Arcadia, Sport Island, Summerland, Manhattan, Imperial, Welcome, Cozy, Nobby, and a host of other cognomens, have been bestowed upon the charming spots where taste, elegance, and refinement are exhibited, as art has united with nature in making them veritable summer paradises, where, let us hope, no serpent’s trail may mar the happiness of their possessors.

The last of the Thousand Islands are called the Three Sisters, from their resemblance and proximity to each other. They are nearly opposite Brockville on the Canada shore and Morristown on the New York side, the two towns being directly opposite each other, the former the terminus of the Canadian Pacific Railway, and the latter of the Utica & Black River Railroad, needing only a bridge, with these islands as resting places for the abutments, to unite the two roads in one continuous line. Brockville, named in honor of General Brock, is called the “Queen City of the St. Lawrence,” and there is something regal in its appearance to warrant the bestowment of the title. Its glittering towers and church spires give an appearance of splendor, which the tourist will observe as a peculiarity of the Canadian cities to be seen in his trip, the metal with which they are covered retaining its brightness in a remarkable degree, owing to the purity and dryness of the atmosphere.

OGDENSBURG AND PRESCOTT.

These two cities, like those last mentioned, are opposite each other, and are both important points. Ogdensburg is the terminus of the Rome, Watertown & Ogdensburg, the Utica & Black River, and Ogdensburg & Lake Champlain Railroads, the two former coming from the West and the latter from the East. The city lies on both sides of the Oswegatchie River, at its junction with the St. Lawrence. On account of its beautiful foliage, it has been appropriately entitled Maple City. Its extensive river front, with its railroad facilities, gives it a decided advantage as a grain port. Large elevators and warehouses for the transhipment of grain and other freight from the lake steamers are among the important enterprises of the place.

The direct route to the Adirondacks from Ogdensburg is via the Ogdensburg & Lake Champlain Railroad, on the line of which is also located the recently discovered but already famous Chateaugay Chasm. As the western section of the all-rail line from Ogdensburg to Portland, this railroad is also assuming considerable importance as a tourist route to the White Mountains and other resorts, and will receive due notice in a separate chapter.

Prescott, on the opposite bank of the St. Lawrence, is connected with Ogdensburg by ferry, the boats being of sufficient capacity to transfer cars, and making regular trips. The railroad interests of this place are concentrated in the Grand Trunk and the St. Lawrence & Ottawa division of the Canadian Pacific.

Massena Landing, where passengers destined for Massena Springs go ashore, is soon passed, and now a perceptible increase is noticeable
in the velocity of the current. The interest among the passengers, if it has anywhere been allowed to flag, now becomes re-awakened, as the word goes along the line that the famous

RAPIDS OF THE ST. LAWRENCE

Will soon add zest to the journey. There are several courses of these rapids, those we are now entering being the Gallopes, which, compared with some of the others, are of but little interest, except as a foretaste of what is to come. Next we enter and pass the Rapid de Plau, and the excitement deepens as the foaming, seething waters just ahead proclaim the approach to the famous Long Sault (pronounced Soo). This is the longest of the series, being a continuous descent for nine miles, with the current running at a speed of twenty miles an hour. A canal, eleven miles in length, extends around this rapid, with seven locks, facilitating the descent of such crafts as are unable to cope with the rapids, and also permitting the return of the steamers. Four similar canals are to be met at various places along the river.

At Dickenson’s Landing, just before entering the Long Sault, the passengers are transferred to the “Prince Arthur,” a boat constructed expressly for “shooting the rapids,” which steams out from the landing, with its bow headed toward the angry waters, as if in defiance of their power. The increasing speed, and especially the perceptible descent, soon awaken the interest of the dullest among the passengers, and as the boat lurches to the right or left (or, in nautical phrase, to the starboard, or port), to escape destruction from some ledge which the trusty pilot knows how to avoid, the excitement deepens and increases, and the half hour required for the passage of the Long Sault is crowded full of alternating delight, fear and exhilaration, quickening the pulse and giving zest to the journey, not to be appreciated except by those who experience it.

At the foot of this Rapid, the placid waters of Lake St. Francis are entered, and the contrast between the tranquil surroundings and the tumult and excitement just passed through brings a grateful sense of relief, and the lovely scenery among which the boat now glides for twenty-five miles, is all the more keenly appreciated. The call to dinner, which is served during the passage of this lake, is a welcome one, and the passengers are now ready to descend to the level of things material and substantial, which they find spread in abundance in the dining saloon.

After dinner, and a quiet stroll on deck, a little more experience with rapids is in order. Passing Coteau du Lac, we enter the Coteau Rapids, descending quickly to the Cedars, Split Rock and Cascade Rapids. In passing the Cedars, a peculiar sensation is experienced, as the boat appears to settle down occasionally with great suddenness, as though about to be submerged. This is supposed to be owing to a strong undercurrent which exerts this influence on the boat as she passes from one ledge of rock to another, although they are at a safe
distance below her keel. The passage of the Split Rock Rapids seems dangerous, as indeed it would be were the pilot to forget for a moment the grave responsibility of his trust, and fail to swerve the boat at just the right moment to avoid some rock or ledge that threatens destruction to the craft.

Occasionally a raft may be seen in conflict with the rushing waters, apparently at the mercy of the current. The venturesome lumbermen generally manage, however, to “put in an oar” to good advantage in steering clear of the rocks, although not always successful in guiding their frail crafts into quiet waters. An occasional wreck is the result of these ventures, as the scattering logs in the channel attest.

The Cascades are so called from their resemblance to a series of short, leaping falls. Passing the Cascades, we enter upon another broad expanse of water, the river here widening into Lake St. Louis, receiving also the waters of the Ottawa River. This lake is twelve miles long by about six in breadth, and the ride across its quiet waters just precedes the culminating excitement of the trip,—the daring passage of the

FAMOUS LACHINE RAPIDS.

At the head of these Rapids is the pretty little Indian village of Lachine, and here comes aboard our Indian pilot, Baptiste by name, who has piloted the boats through the Lachine Rapids for forty years. These Rapids are the most perilous in all the river’s extent, on account of the devious nature of the channel, and the dangerous rocks which lie just enough below the surface to deceive any but the skillful navigator. The swarthy giant who takes the wheel at this point pays little attention to anything but the duty in hand, and that seems to demand all his energies. Casting alternate glances at him and at the rushing waters ahead of us, we involuntarily breathe the words of the hymn,

Right in our path lies a ragged rock, which threatens us with instant destruction; but a turn of the wheel at just the right moment sends our good craft a little to the left of it, and the apparent danger is past. With bated breath we watch for the next peril that looms ahead of us, to find it, like its predecessor, vanquished by the strong arm and steady nerve of the man to whom every inch of the channel is as familiar as a beaten path.

Entering once more into quiet waters, we steam on our way toward Montreal, and soon the horizon is marked with the long line of the famous Victoria Bridge, which rises higher and higher as we approach it, until we glide under it and are soon at the wharf of the American Line, at the close of a day that has been filled with a succession of delights unapproachable in a day’s experience in travel elsewhere on the American Continent.