Forty years since—Niagara in winter—Frozen spray—Ice foliage and ice apples—Ice moss—Frozen fog—Ice islands—Ice statues—Sleigh-riding on the American rapids—Boys coasting on them—Ice gorges.

If the first white man who saw Niagara could have been certain that he was the first to see it, and had simply recorded the fact with whatever note or comment, he would have secured for himself that species of immortality which accrues to such as are connected with those first and last events and things in which all men feel a certain interest. But he failed to improve his opportunity, and Father Hennepin was the first, so far as known, to profit by such neglect, and his somewhat crude and exaggerated description of the Falls has been often quoted and is well known. So long as "waters flow and trees grow" it will continue to be read by successive generations. The French missionaries and traders who followed him seem to have been too much occupied in saving souls or in seeking for gold to spend much time in contemplating the cataract, or to waste much sentiment in writing about it. And so it happens that, considering its fame, very little has been written, or rather published, concerning it.

Seventy years ago, the few travelers who were drawn to the vicinity by interest or curiosity were obliged to approach it by Indian trails, or rude corduroy roads, through dense and dark forests. Within the solitude of their deep shadows, beneath their protecting arms, was hidden one of the sublimest works of the physical creation. The scene was grand, impressive, almost oppressive, not less sublime than the Alps or the ocean, but more fascinating, more companionable, than either.

Niagara we can take to our hearts. We realize its majesty and its beauty, but we are never obliged to challenge its power. Its surroundings and accessories are calm and peaceful. Even in all the treacherous and bloody warfare of savage Indians it was neutral ground. It was a forest city of refuge for contending tribes. The generous, noble, and peaceful Niagaras—a people, according to M. Charlevoix, "larger, stronger, and better formed than any other savages," and who lived upon its borders—were called by the whites and the neighboring tribes the Neuter Nation.

The crafty Hurons, the unwarlike Eries, the invincible league formed by the six aggressive and conquering tribes composing the Iroquois confederacy,—the Mohawks, the Oneidas, the Onondagas, the Cayugas, the Senecas, and the Tuscaroras,—all extinguished the torch, buried the tomahawk, and smoked the calumet when they came to the shores of the Niagara, and sat down within sight of its incense cloud, and listened to its perpetual anthem. In succeeding contests between the whites, on two occasions only was nature's repose here disturbed by the din of battle—first, in the running fight at Chippewa, and again at the obstinate and bloody struggle of Lundy's Lane.

During the War of 1812, in which these actions occurred, the dense forest which lay outside of the old belt of French occupation was first extensively and persistently attacked, the sunlight being let in upon comfortable log-cabins and fruitful fields. The Indian trail and corduroy "shake" were superseded by more civilized and comfortable highways. Post routes were opened and public conveyances established. For many years, however, the two principal ways of access to Niagara were by the Ridge road, from the Genessee Falls—now Rochester—and the river road on the Canadian side from Buffalo to Drummondville.

Some forty years ago, and for many years thereafter, Niagara was, emphatically, a pleasant and attractive watering-place; the town was quiet; the accommodations were comfortable; the people were kind, considerate, and attentive; guides were civil, intelligent, and truthful; conveyances were good, and were in charge of careful and respectable attendants; commissions were unknown; "scalping" was left to the Indians; nobody was annoyed or importuned; the flowers bloomed, the birds caroled, the full-leaved trees furnished refreshing shade, and the air was balmy. Then the lowing of cows in the street, the guttural note of the swine, and the voice of the solicitor were not heard. Elderly people came to stay for pleasant recreation and quiet enjoyment; younger people to "bill and coo" and dance. Now all that is changed. A contemporary orator once described the moral status of a famous stock-jobbing locality by saying that "ten thousand a year is the Sermon on the Mount for Wall street." The same gospel is popular at Niagara.

Whoso has seen Niagara only in summer has but half seen it. In winter its beauties are not diminished, while the accessories due to the season are numerous and varied. After two or three weeks of intensely cold weather many beautiful and fantastic scenes are presented around the Falls.

The different varieties of stalactites and stalagmites hanging from or apparently supporting the projecting rocks along the side walls of the deep chasm, the ice islands which grow on the bars and around the rocks in the river, the white caps and hoods which are formed on the rocks below, the fanciful statuary and statuesque forms which gather on and around the trees and bushes, are all curious and interesting. Exceedingly beautiful are the white vestments of frozen spray with which everything in the immediate vicinity is robed and shielded; and beautiful, too, are the clusters of ice apples which tip the extremities of the branches of the evergreen trees.

There is something marvelous in the purity and whiteness of congealed spray. One might think it to be frozen sunlight. And when, by reason of an angle or a curve, it is thrown into shadow, one sees where the rainbow has been caught and frozen in. After a day of sunshine which has been sufficiently warm to fill the atmosphere with aqueous vapor, if a sharp, still, cold night succeed, and if on this there break a clear, calm morning, the scene presented is one of unique and enchanting beauty.

Winter Foliage

The frozen spray on every boll, limb, and twig of tree and shrub, on every stiffened blade of grass, on every rigid stem and tendril of the vines, is covered over with a fine white powder, a frosty bloom, from which there springs a line of delicate frost-spines, forming a perfect fringe of ice-moss, than which nothing more fanciful nor more beautiful can be imagined.

Then, as the day advances, the increasing warmth of the sun's rays dissolves this fairy frost-work and spreads it like a delicate varnish over the solid spray, giving it a brilliant polish rivaling the luster of the rarest gems; the mid-morning breeze sets in motion this flashing, dazzling forest, which varies its color as the sunlight-angle varies; and finally, when the waxing warmth and growing breeze loosen the hold of the icy covering in the tree-tops, and it drops to the still solid surface in the shade beneath,—the tiny particles with a silver tinkle and the larger pieces with the sharp, rattling sound of the castanet,—the ear is charmed with a wild, dashing rataplan, while a scene of strange enchantment challenges the admiration of the spectator.

Even more beautiful and fairy-like, if possible, is the garment of frozen fog with which all external objects are adorned and etherealized when the spring advances and the temperature of the water is raised. As the sharp, still night wears on, the light mists begin to rise, and when the morning breaks, the river is buried in a deep, dense bank of fog. A gentle wave of air bears it landward; its progress is stayed by everything with which it comes in contact, and as soon as its motion is arrested it freezes sufficiently to adhere to whatever it touches. So it grows upon itself, and all things are soon covered half an inch in depth with a most delicate and fragile white fringe of frozen fog. The morning sun dispels the mist, and in an hour the gay frost-work vanishes.

The ice islands are sometimes extensive. In the year 1856 the whole of the rocky bar above Goat Island was covered with ice, piled together in a rough heap, the lower end of which rested on Goat Island and the three Moss Islands lying outside of it, all of which were visited by different persons passing over this new route.

The ice formed on the rocks below the American Fall, stretched upward, reached the edge of the precipice just north of the Little Horseshoe, continued up-stream above Chapin's Island, spread out laterally from that to Goat Island on the south, and over nearly half of the American rapids to the north. At the brow of the precipice it accumulated upward until it formed a ridge some forty feet high. About fifteen rods up-stream another ridge was formed of half the height of the first. Every rock projecting upward bore an immense ice-cap. Around and between these mounds and caps horses were driven to sleighs, albeit the course was not favorable for quick time. The boys drew their sleds to the top of the large mound, slid down it, up-stream, and nearly to the top of the smaller hill.

On the lower or down-stream side, they would have had a clear course to the water below, at the brink of the Falls, and might have made "time" compared with which Dexter's minimum would have seemed only a funeral march. But with all Young America's passion for speed, he declined to try this route. The writer walked over the south end of Luna Island, above the tops of the trees.

The ice-bridge of that year filled the whole chasm from the Railway Suspension Bridge up past the American Fall. When the ice broke up in the spring, such immense quantities were carried down that a strong northerly wind across Lake Ontario caused an ice-jam at Fort Niagara. The ice accumulated and set back until it reached the Whirlpool, and could be crossed at any point between the Whirlpool and the Fort. It was lifted up about sixty feet above the surface, and spread out over both shores, crushing and destroying everything with which it came in contact. Many persons from different parts of the country visited the extraordinary scene.

At Lewiston the writer, with many others, saw a most remarkable illustration of the terrific power of this hydrostatic press. Just below the village, on the American side, there stood, about two rods from high-water mark, a sound, thrifty, tough white-oak tree, perhaps a hundred years old, and two feet in diameter. The ice, moved by the water, struck it near the ground and pressed it outward and upward, until it was actually pulled up by the roots—or rather some of the roots were broken and others were pulled out—and landed twenty feet farther away from the chasm.

Those who watched the operation stated that, from the time the ice touched the tree until it was landed on the bank above, the motion of the ice could not be detected by the eye.

Ice Bridge and Frost Freaks

Slowly, steadily, surely it pressed on. Suddenly there would be an explosion, sharp and loud, when a root gave way. No motion in the ice or tree could be discovered. After a lapse of two or three hours another sharp crack would give notice of another fracture. Thus the ice pressed gradually on, and in ten hours the work was done. A thousandth part of this force would pulverize a bowlder of adamant. We need not wonder, therefore, that the river Niagara keeps its channel clear.

In the ice-gorge of 1866 the ice was set back to the upper end of the Whirlpool, over which it was twenty feet deep. The Whirlpool rapid was subdued nearly to an unbroken current, which all the way below to Lake Ontario was reduced to a gentle flow of quiet waters. Never was there a sublimer contest of the great forces of nature. The frost laid its hand upon the raging torrent and it was still.

The winter of 1875 was intensely cold. The singular figures represented in the illustrations—the eagle, dog, baboon, and others—are exact reproductions of the real chance-work of the frost of that season. The long-continued prevalence of the south-west wind fastened to every object facing it a border or apron of dazzling whiteness, and more than five feet thick. The ice mountain below the American Fall, reaching nearly to the top of the precipice, was appropriated as a "coasting" course, and furnished most exhilarating sport to the people who used it. A large number of visitors came from all directions, and, on the 22d of February, fifteen hundred were assembled to see the extraordinary exhibition.

In the coldest winters, the ice-bridges cannot be less than two hundred and fifty feet thick. The ice-bridge of 1875 formed on the 6th and 7th of May, was crossed on the 8th, and broke up on the 14th—the only one ever known in the river so late in the spring.

Coasting below the American Fall