Attack on Fort Niagara.

Stratagem of the French.

command then devolved

Traditions respecting the Fort. A Refuge for Tories and Indians.

upon Johnson. An army of French regulars, twelve hundred strong, drawn chiefly from western posts, and accompanied by an equal number of Indians, marching to the relief of the garrison, were totally routed by Johnson, and a large part of them made prisoners. The siege had then continued more than a fortnight, and the beleaguered garrison, despairing of succor, surrendered the next day. In addition to the ammunition and stores that fell into their hands, the strong fort itself was an important acquisition for the English. Within its dungeons were found instruments for executions or murders, and the ears of the English received many horrid tales from the captive

July 23,

1759.

Indians of atrocities committed there during French rule.

It is said that the messhouse, a strong building still standing within the fort, was built by the French by strata. The Indians were op posed to the erection of any thing that appeared like a for

gem.

tress. The French troops were kindly received by the savages, and obtained their consent to build a wigwam. They then induced the Indians to engage in an extensive hunt with some French officers, and when they returned the walls were so far advanced that they might defy the savages if they should attack them. It grew into a large fort, with bastions and ravelins, ditches and pickets, curtains and counter-scarp, covered way, draw-bridge, raking batteries, stone towers, bakery, blacksmith shop, mess-house, barracks, laboratory, magazine, and a chapel with a dial over its door to mark the progress of the hours. It covered about eight acres. A few rods from the barrier-gate was a burial-ground, over the portal of which was painted, in large letters, REST. The dungeon of the mess-house, called the black-hole, was a strong, dark, and dismal place, and in one corner of the room was fixed an apparatus for strangling those whom the despotic officers chose to kill. The walls were profusely inscribed with French names and mementoes in that language, and the letters and emblems were many of them so well executed as to prove that some of the victims were not of common stamp. When, in June, 1812, an attack upon the fort by the English was momentarily expected, a merchant, residing near the fort, deposited some valuable articles in the dungeon. He went there one night with a light, and discovered his own family name upon the walls. Like other ruins, it has its local legends. The headless trunk of a French officer has been seen sitting on the margin of the well in the dungeon; and large sums of money have been buried there, and their localities pointed out by fingers visible only to moneydiggers."

During the American Revolution "it was the headquarters," says De Veaux, "of all that was barbarous, unrelenting, and cruel. There were congregated the leaders and chiefs of those bands of murderers and miscreants who carried death and destruction into the remote American settlements. There civilized Europe reveled with savage America, and ladies of education and refinement mingled in the society of those whose only distinction was to wield the bloody tomahawk and the scalping-knife. There the squaws of the forests were raised to eminence, and the most unholy unions between them and officers of the highest rank smiled upon and countenanced. There, in their strong-hold, like a nest of vultures, securely, for seven years, they sallied forth and preyed upon the distant settlements of the Mohawk and

1 This is copied from one published in Barber and Howe's "Historical Collections of New York." They copied it from an engraving published during the war of 1812. It gives the appearance of the locality at that time. The view is from the west side of the Niagara River, near the light-house. The fort is on the east side (the right of the picture), at the mouth of the river. The steam-boat seen in the distance is out on Lake Ontario. * See De Veaux's Niagara Falls.

P

Susquehanna Valleys.

It was the depôt of their plunder: there they planned their forays,

and there they returned to feast, until the time of action came again."

The shores of Niagara River, from Erie to Ontario, abound in historic associations connected with the military operations on that frontier during the war of 1812. The battles of Chippewa, Lundy's Lane, Queenston, and Fort Erie occurred in this vicinity; but these events are so irrelevant to our subject, that we must give them but brief incidental notice as we happen to pass by their localities.

Fort Niagara was feebly garrisoned by the Americans, and on the 19th of December, 1813, a British force of twelve hundred men crossed the river and took it by surprise. The garrison consisted of three hundred and seventy men. The commanding officer was absent, the gates were open and unguarded, and the fortress, strong as it was, became an easy prey to the enemy. Sixty-five of the garrison were killed, and twenty-seven pieces of ordnance and a large quantity of military stores were the spoils of victory for the British.

1812.

It was broad daylight when our train moved from Lewiston, and across the Niagara, on the Canada shore, the heights of Queenston, surmounted by Brock's monument, were in full view. The battle that renders this towering slope so famous occurred on the 13th of October, 1812. The Americans were commanded by the late General Stephen Van Rensselaer, the British by General Sir Isaac Brock. The former were about twenty-five hundred strong; the latter numbered about the same, besides a horde of Chippewa Indians. The British were strongly posted upon the heights. At four o'clock on the morning of the 13th about six hundred Americans, under Colonel Solomon Van Rensselaer and Lieutenant-colonel Christie, crossed over in boats to dislodge the enemy. The passage was made in the face of a destructive fire, and the brave Americans rushed impetuously up the acclivity and attacked the first battery, captured it, and soon stood victorious upon the height from which they had driven the enemy. General Brock endeavored, in person, to rally his scattered troops, and was fatally wounded while leading them to the charge.' Dismayed when they saw their leader fall, they fled in great confusion. At this time Colonel Scott,' with a reenforcement of six hundred men, regulars and volunteers, crossed over; and the enemy was also re-enforced by troops from Fort George, and five hundred Chippewa Indians. The strife was fierce for a long time. The British, re-enforced, far outnumbered the Americans, and the militia remaining at Lewiston could not be induced to cross over to support their friends in the combat. Overwhelming numbers closed in upon the Americans, and, after fighting eleven hours, they were obliged to surrender. The American loss was about ninety killed and nine hundred wounded, missing, and prisoners. The behavior of many of our militia on this occasion was extremely disgraceful. Taking advantage of the darkness when they crossed in the morning, they hid themselves in the clefts of the rocks and clumps of bushes near the shore, where they remained while the fighting ones were periling life upon the heights above. The cowards were dragged out from their hiding-places by the legs, by the British soldiers, after the surrender.

The rail-road cars from Lewiston to the Falls ascend in their course an inclined plane that winds up what is evidently the ancient southern shore of Lake Ontario. Deposits of pebbles at the foot of the ridge, and many other facts connected with this physical feature of the country from Niagara to Oswego, prove conclusively, to the mind of the close observer, that this was the shore of Ontario before the great convulsion took place which formed the

1 General Brock was lieutenant governor of Upper Canada. The Legislature of that province caused a monument to be erected to his memory, on the heights near the spot where he fell. It is in a position so elevated, that it may be seen at different points nearly fifty miles distant. The monument is constructed of freestone. The base, which covers the vault wherein lie the remains of General Brock and his aid, Lieutenant-colonel John M'Donald (who was killed in the same action), is twenty feet square. The shaft rises one hundred and twenty-six feet from the ground. gunpowder on the night of the 17th of April, 1840. shaft was cracked nearly two thirds of its height.

A miscreant named Lett attempted to destroy it by
The keystone over the door was thrown out, and the

2 Now Major-general Scott, of the United States army. commanded a company in the action.

The present General Wool was a captain, and

Arrival at Niagara. Falls Village. Falls of Niagara. We leave what questions upon this point remain open, to be settled by wiser minds, and hasten on to the Falls. We caught a few glimpses of the green waters from the windows of the car, and in a few minutes were in the midst of the tumult of porters at the village, more clamorous for our ears than the dull roar of the cataract near by. The fasting upon the lake and the early morning ride had given us a glorious appetite for breakfast, and as soon as it was appeased we sallied out, guide-book in hand, to see the celebrities. These have been described a thousand times. Poets, painters, travelers, historians, philosophers, and penny-a-liners have vied with each other in magnifying this wonder, and as I can not (if I would) "add one cubit to its stature" for the credulous, a thought concerning its sublimity and beauty for the romantic, a hue to the high coloring of others for the sentimental, or a new fact or theory for the philosophical, I shall pass among the lions in almost perfect silence, and speedily leave the excitements of this fashionable resort for the more quiet grandeur and beauty of the Mohawk Valley, once the "dark and bloody ground," but now a paradise of fertility, repose, and peace.

View from Goat Island. Biddle's Tower. Sublime Voyage in the "Maid of the Mist."

We crossed the whirling rapids and made the circuit of Goat Island. In this route all the remarkable points of the great cataract are brought to view. From the Hog's Back, at the lower end of the island, there is a fine prospect of the river below, and the distant Canada shore beyond. The almost invisible Suspension Bridge, like a thread in air, was seen two miles distant; and beneath us, through the mist of the American Fall, glorious with rainbow hues, the little steam-boat, the "Maid of the Mist," came breasting the, powerful current. We looked down from our lofty eyrie (literally, in the clouds), through the mist veil, upon her deck, and her passengers appeared like Lilliputians in a tiny skiff. From the southern side of the island we had a noble view of the Horse-shoe Fall, over which pours the greater portion of the Niagara River. The water is estimated to be twenty feet deep upon the crown of the cataract. Biddle's Tower is a fine observatory, overlooking, on one side, the boiling abyss below the fall, and standing apparently in the midst of the rushing waters as they hurry down the rapids above. We spent two hours upon the verge of the floods, in the shadows of the lofty trees that cover the island, but these scenes were tame compared with what we beheld from the "Maid of the Mist" toward noon. We rode nearly to the Suspension Bridge, and, walking down a winding road cleft in the rocks, reached the brink of the river at the head of the great rapids above the whirlpool. There we embarked on the little steam-boat, and moved up the river to the cataract. As we approached the American Fall, all retreated into the cabins, and, the windows being closed, we were soon enveloped in spray. It was a sight indescribably grand. As we looked up, the waters seemed to be pouring from the clouds. A feeling of awe, allied to that of worship, pervaded us, and all were silent until the avalanche of waters was passed. The beautiful lines of Brainerd came vivid

ly up from the shrine of memory, and aided my thoughts in seeking appropriate language :

"It would seem

As if God poured thee from his 'hollow hand,'

And hung his bow upon thine awful front,

And spoke in that loud voice which seemed to him

Who dwelt in Patmos for his Savior's sake,
'The sound of many waters,' and had bade
The flood to chronicle the ages back,
And notch his cent'ries in the eternal rocks.

Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we
That hear the question of that voice sublime?
Or what are all the notes that ever rung
From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering side?
Yea, what is all the riot man can make

In his short life to thy unceasing roar?

And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him

Who drowned the world, and heaped the waters for

Above its loftiest mountains? a light wave
That breaks and whispers of its Maker's might."

Buckingham's Lines. Voyage of the Maid of the Mist. Romantic Marriage. The Whirlpool. The Suspension Bridge.

Beautifully has Buckingham expressed the reverential thoughts which fill the mind and part the lips for utterance in that majestic presence:

"Hail! sovereign of the world of floods! whose majesty and might
First dazzles-then enraptures-then o'erawes the aching sight;
The pomp of kings and emperors in every clime and zone
Grow dim beneath the splendors of thy glorious watery throne.

"No fleets can stop thy progress, no armies bid thee stay,
But onward, onward, onward thy march still holds its way;
The rising mist that veils thee, as thine herald, goes before,
And the music that proclaims thee is the thundering cataract's roar.

"Thy reign is of the ancient days, thy scepter from on high-
Thy birth was when the distant stars first lit the gloomy sky;
The sun, the moon, and all the orbs that shine upon thee now,
Beheld the wreath of glory which first bound thy infant brow!"

Our little boat, after sweeping around as near the great Horse-shoe Fall as prudence would allow, touched a moment at the landing on the Canada side, and then returned to her moorings. We felt relieved when we stood again on land, for there is some peril in the voyage; yet the wonderful scene yields a full compensation for the risk. It affords an opportunity to exhibit courage more sensibly than the foolish periling of life in clambering over the slippery rocks under the Falls, and sentiment has here some chance for respectable display. The week previous to our visit a young couple, with a parson, took passage in the "Maid of the Mist," and, when enveloped in the spray of the cataract, were united in wedlock. What an altar before which to make nuptial vows! Can they ever forget the solemn promises there made, or be unfaithful to the pledge there sealed?

The present

We visited the whirlpool, and that wonder of art, the Suspension Bridge, before returning to the village. The former is at the elbow of the Niagara River, two and a half miles below the cataract, and should never be left unseen by the visitor at the Falls. The Suspension Bridge spans the river near the head of the rapids above the whirlpool. structure is only the scaffolding for constructing the one intended for the passage of a train of rail-road cars. Numerous foot-passengers were upon it, and a coach and horses, with driver and two passengers, crossed it while we were there. The light structure bent beneath the weight like thin ice under the skater, yet the passage is considered perfectly safe. I visited it again toward evening, and made the accompanying sketch to illustrate the method of its

1

construction and its relative position to the Falls.' To attempt to sketch the Falls truthfully is vain. They have never yet been portrayed

The bridge from pier to pier is eight hundred feet long. Its breadth is eight feet. The whole bridge is suspended upon eight cables, four on each side, which pass over towers fifty-four feet high, built of heavy timbers. The towers for the large bridge will be of solid masonry eighty feet high. Each cable is eleven hundred and sixty feet long, and composed of seventy-two number ten iron wires, around which is wrapped small wire three times boiled in linseed oil, which anneals it, and gives it a coat that can not be injured by exposure to the weather, and preserves the wire from rust. The cables, after passing over the piers on the banks, are fast anchored in masonry fifty feet back of them. The suspenders are composed of eight wires each, and are placed four and a half feet apart. The bridge is two hundred feet above the water.

This view, looking up the river, comprises about one half the bridge, a portion of the bank on the Canada side on the right, the American shore on the left, and a part of the Falls, seen under the bridge, in the extreme distance.

Departure from the Falls.

A Day upon the Rail-road.

Syracuse.

Early History of that Region.

The French.

in their grandeur, and never can be. A picture can not convey an idea of their magnificence to the eye. They must be seen to be known. Art utterly fails in attempts to transfer their features to canvas, and degrades nature by its puny efforts. In their motion consists their great sublimity, and the painter might as well attempt to delineate the whirlwind as to depict Niagara in its glory.

1848.

We left Niagara early on Saturday morning, stopped in Buffalo just long enough August 19, to go from one rail-way station to another, and reached Syracuse at about eight in the evening, a distance of two hundred miles. That day's journey seems more like a dream than reality, for hills and valleys, woods and meadows, hamlets and villages, lakes and rivers, the puff of the engine, the rattle of the train, men, women, and children in serried ranks, are all mingled in confusion in the kaleidescope of memory, and nothing but a map or a Traveler's Guide-book can unravel the tangled skein of localities that was spun out in that rapid journey of fourteen hours. We remember the broad Niagara, the dark Erie with white sails upon its bosom, the stately houses and busy streets of Buffalo, the long reaches of flat, new country, dotted with stumps, from Buffalo to Attica and beyond, the stirring mart of Rochester, the fields, and orchards, and groves of lofty trees that seemed waltzing by us, the beautiful villages of Canandaigua and Geneva, the falls of the Seneca, the long bridge of Cayuga, the strong prison and beautiful dwellings of Auburn, and the golden sunset and cool breeze that charmed us as we approached Syracuse. In that flourishing city of the recent wilderness we passed a quiet Sabbath with some friends, and the next morning I journeyed to Rome.

The

Although a quarter of a century has scarcely passed since Syracuse was a village of mean huts,' it has a history connected with European civilization more than two hundred years old. At Salina, now a portion of the city of Syracuse, where the principal salt-wells are, the French, under the Sieur Dupuys, an officer of the garrison at Quebec, made a settlement as early as 1655. The Onondaga tribe then had their villages in the valley, a few miles from Syracuse, and a good understanding prevailed between them and the new-comers. jealousy of the Mohawks was aroused, and they attempted to cut off the colonists while on their way up the St. Lawrence. They, however, reached their destination in safety, and upon the borders of the Onondaga Lake they reared dwellings and prepared for a permanent colony. But the uneasiness of the Indian tribes soon manifested itself in hostile preparations, and in the winter of 1658 Dupuys was informed that large parties of Mohawks, Oneidas, and even Onondagas, were arming. Unable to procure assistance in time from Quebec, he succeeded, by stratagem, in constructing some bateaux and escaping with the whole colony secretly down the river to Oswego, and thence to Montreal.

He

Relying implicitly upon the good faith and promised friendship of the Indians, Dupuys had neglected to preserve his canoes. To construct new ones in view of the Indians would advertise them of his intentions, and bring their hatchets upon the settlement at once. therefore had small bateaux made in the garret of the Jesuit's house, and kept them concealed when finished. A young Frenchman had been adopted into the family of a chief, and had

In 1820 the late William L. Stone visited Syracuse in company with Mr. Forman, one of the earliest and most industrious friends of the Erie Canal. "I lodged for the night," says Mr. Stone, at a miserable tavern, thronged by a company of salt-boilers from Salina, forming a group of about as rough-looking specimens of humanity as I had ever seen. Their wild visages, beards thick and long, and matted hair even now rise up in dark, distant, and picturesque effect before me. I passed a restless night, disturbed by strange fancies, as I yet well remember. It was in October, and a flurry of snow during the night had rendered the morning aspect of the country more dreary than the evening before. The few houses I have already described, standing upon low and almost marshy ground, and surrounded by trees and entangled thickets, presented a very uninviting scene. 'Mr. Forman,' said I, 'do you call this a village? It would make an owl weep to fly over it.' 'Never mind,' said he, in reply, 'you will live to see it a city yet."" Mr. Stone did, indeed, live to see it a city in size, when he wrote the above in 1840, and it is now a city in fact, with mayor and aldermen, noble stores and dwellings, and a population of some 14,000.

Judge Forman was one of the projectors of the Erie Canal, and the founder of Syracuse. He died at Rutherfordton, North Carolina, on the 4th of August, 1849, aged 72 years.