I found a number of typos in theis and corrected them the best I could A few plant refferences in Aurora area worth a read http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~springport/pictures139/13997.htm SOURCE: LADIES REPOSITORY October 1864 Page 601 THE LAKE DISTRICT IN CENTRAL NEW YORK By Rev. R. B. WELCH. CAYUGA LAKE AND TAGHKANIC FALLS. THE Lake District in Central New York deserves to be better known by American tourists and scholars, and especially by the citizens of the Empire State. Two great rail- ways, the Central on the north, and the Erie on the south, skirt its whole extent; while a double line of steamers ply daily upon the waters of Cayuga, Seneca, and Canandaigua Lakes, to convey passengers to and fro from these great thoroughfares, and at the same time to regale them with purest air and en- chanting, scenery on the way, or bear them to localities where they would gladly linger amid inviting villas, beautiful rural retreats, charm- ing ravines, and waterfalls wild and grand. This entire lake region is one of the most at- tractive in the world. In fertility it equals the valley of the Nile; in beauty, the lake dis- trict of Northern Italy; in agricultural capa- bility and advancement, the better portions of England; and in legendary interest, the High- lands of Scotland. After spending a few days at Trenton Falls whose charm grows upon us with each re- newed visit, we pushed forward to Cayuga, the largest of the group of five sister lakes, reserv- ing Skaneateles and Owasco for our return. It is desirable to tarry awhile, if the tourist can, at Canoga, or Aurora, or Cayuga, and ac- quaint himself with the surrounding country, and catch a sail at eventide, or a row by moon- light, or sunrise on the waters of the placid lake. Eighty-five years ago there was not a single white residence in Cayuga county; now it is one of the most populous and thriving coun- ties in the State. Aurora is noted as the place of the first house built in the county. Near the spot is New Park, the residence of Mr. Wells, of the Express Company. It ranks among the first class of residences along the Hudson, and, from a good point of observation below the town, reminds one of country seats in England. The visitor will be, perhaps, no less at- tracted by the taste and elegance displayed by the Morgans, and he will not willingly fail to visit the celebrated garden of Dr. Thompson, and gather a sprig from a genuine cedar of Lebanon, and the Paulonia of India, which flourish as luxuriantly on the shores of Cayuga as in their native climes. An excursion of three miles down the lake to Levanna, will bring him to Angleside, the resi- dence of Mr. Grinnell. Here the agriculturist will be delighted with one of the best farms in the county, or the State; and the lover of na- ture with a charming view of the lake and the shore ten miles in either direction. Here mer- chant-princes are wont to congregate for rest from the strife and toil of metropolitan life, and hither Washington Irving did aforetime resort to enjoy leisure and letters, the gentle loveliness of nature embellished with the skill- ful decorations of cultivated taste. Across the lake is Canoga, a quiet village, noted for its historic associations. Its beauti- ful Indian name signifies sweet water,” and was applied by the dusky men of the forest to a famous spring a mile from the lake, near which Red Jacket, the celebrated chief, was born, in 1750. His Indian name, like all In- dian names, was significant—” Sa-go-ye-wat- “"He keeps them awake;"” and long did his sleepless vigilance keep alive the savage watch-fires, and stimulate to fury the revenge- ful spirit of his tribe. The oak-tree, which tradition marks as the place of his birth, is a leafless, dead trunk; but the spring is yet living, and sparkles with bubbles of nitrogen gas which leap forth from the bottom at the slightest disturbance from above. It is dis- tinguished as one of only a few springs of this kind in the world. Its waters are clear and sweet as when the Indians first named it Canoga. And now at sunset, if the tourist seat him- self in a row-boat, a short pull at the oars will bring him in full view of the great Central Railroad, as it sweeps across the foot of the lake in a semicircle of more than a mile, trav- ersed at this hour by puffing engines and gi- gantic trains from the East and the West, rushing forward with their smoky banners as if for deadly conflict; while from the South, on the bosom of the lake, are seen the stars and stripes floating from the deck of an approach- ing steamer. Here and there on the clear wa- ters, as they reflect the blue heavens and the fleecy clouds, appear the snowy sails of the lake-boats, moving slowly now, but expecting the breeze which is sure to spring up from the south at midnight; while just in front, between the advancing steamer and the hurrying train, rises up a grand old skeleton, one mile and a quarter in length, reaching from shore to shore the ghost of the Cayuga bridge that died during the monetary crisis of 1857, after a prosperous and honorable life from September 5, 1808. It was a twin child of the State with the Erie Canal, begotten by the practical genius of Dewitt Clinton, eighteen months to its birth, at an expense of $150,000. But it repaid its cost a score of times, and will be re- membered by the East and the West as a com- mon benefactor, and erelong the public voice will demand that its waste places he restored. An unreliable ferry is but a sorry substitute for this substantial convenience. Personally I have no reason to complain, as in the absence of a bridge and the delay of the ferry, my friends made a virtue of necessity, and, with the sunrise, rowed me across the lake to meet the early steamer or the train. I chose the former, and in the early morning steamed up the lake toward Ithaca, a name quite diverse from Canoga, in association reviving the mem- ory, not of a savage but a classic warrior, im- mortalized by the first of epic bards as the prudent Ulysses.” This inland lake is by no means to he de- spised. It is as large as the lakes of Italy, as beautiful though not as grand as those of Switzerland, and more enriched by legend than those of the British Isles. A peculiarity in which it surpasses all of these is the exuberant forests and rich, cultivated farms that diversify and adorn its shores on either side. As we advance we review the places already men- tioned. And now our steamer, appropriately named Aurora, nears Park Island, a brilliant eme- rald on the bosom of the lake, and the single jewel worn by the gentle Cayuga. This island is a lovely spot, far enough from the shore to furnish a pleasant row or charming sail; supported by the rock, and defended by it against the dash of the waters; bordered by thrifty elms of twenty Summers, that wave their welcome to the visitor; while the bright- est verdure covers the little island, presenting a fairy lawn which invites the gay to pleasure and the weary to repose. Park Island is, of course, a favorite resort for the old and the young from all the region adjacent. Small as it is, it appeared to me larger than Meggenhorn, the single island that graces Lucerne, the lake of the four Swiss Can- tons, and more beautiful. Upon the little island of Meggenhorn the friends of freedom reared a monument to William Tell, the founder of Swiss liberty; apd here on Park Island from a lofty standard there waves the Kational flag, the emblem of American liberty. Fitting is the apostrophe addressed by the author of “"Frontenac"” to the islet and the lake: “"Sweet silvan lake ! one single gem Is in thy liquid diadem; No sister has this little isle To give its beauty nile for smile; With it to bear the blue-bird sing, ‘Wake, leaves and flowers I here comes the Spring!’ With it to weave for Summer’s tread Mosses below and flowers o'erhead; With it to flash to gorgeous skies The opal pomp of Autumn dyes, And when stern Winter’s tempests blow, To shrink beneath his robes of snow." As we advance the lake widens, till at one point it is, at the lowest estimate, three and a half miles, and, as the captain of the Aurora averred, four miles from shore to shore. And now it bends gracefully to the east, so as to relieve the monotony and close the direct line of view, only to open up a charming surprise as the steamer rounds the promontory. Grad- ually the lake contracts in width, the shores grow bolder, and here and there a gorge breaks down from the summit of the western ridge to the water level, combining sublimity with beauty. But there is a feature of the lake scenery yet in store for us surpassing any thing that we have seen—ales’ too often unknown by the tourist, and therefore passed by unnoticed— which would itself repay the traveler for a journey across the State, if there were nothing else worth seeing along the entire way. I refer to Taghkanic Falls, ten miles below the head of the lake. The steamboat lauding is unpretentious and by no means attractive; but the number that land there is steadily in- creasing, and will continue to hereafter as it becomes better known, till the accommodttions shall become the best on the lake. A few rods from the shore, and quite out of sight from the steamer, the tourist is suddenly confronted by the mouth of a grand gorge, three hundred feet deep, perhaps one-third as broad, between perpendicular walls of sohd rock, with a waterfall pouring down its rocky bed. This gorge extends back for a mile, deep- ening and widening into the heart of the mountain with fantastic curves and overhang- ing cliffs, and a frontlet of pines on either brow. The adventurous pedestrian may thread the entire gorge with, perhaps, the single risk of wet feet as he passes from island to island on the way. Before he reaches the second, or grand fall, be will observe an almost perpen- dicular ladder of more than two hundred steps, ascending to the summit of the cliff. If he de- cline to thread the entire length of the ravine, he may make the circuit of the public road, the side of which borders the brink of the gorge, permitting him to trace its windings as he proceeds, and look down into its dizzy depths. Then he can descend from the road by the perpendicular ladder to the bottom of the ravine, on his way to the second fall. The gorge swells upward and around him into a magnificent amphitheater, echoing and re- echoing with the noise of the distant rapid and the falls. Suddenly there breaks upon his view a cataract, making a single leap of two hundred and fifty feet, from a pathway sixty feet wide and a hundred feet deep, which it has cut through the solid rock. Sometimes, when the gorge is filled with water, it is a raging cataract, shaking the firm hills with its thunder. Now, when the stream is low, it forms one of the most beautiful cascades that any land can boast. It resembles the Dust Falls of Staubbach, which is the pride of Swit- zerland; though inferior in hight, for Staubbach claims eight hundred or one thousand feet; yet it is superior to it in some other respects; its waters are nearer milky white; its hight is not so great as to dash it completely to dew dust in its fall; it has just water enough to retain some consistency, and yet descent enough to make it thin, and light, and soft as a pend- ent vail of snowy gauze with which the air is fondly sporting, and which occasional gusts from below lift into successive graceful, snowy folds, inwrought with colors of the rainbow, which float awhile before the eye ere they sink into the seething lakelet that circles below. No words, however, can convey a just idea of the commingled beauty of cascade, precipice, cliff, and gorge. The pencil has made the at- tempt, but, in the sketches I have seen, has sadly failed to do it justice. Opposite the fall stands the Taghkanic House, for the accommodation of visitors. From either story of the house the fall is visible through the leafy trees. The easy swing and rustic seats are each arranged to command a peculiar view. The perfume of the pine fills the air with a healthy fragrauce, and its whispering music floats upon the breeze. Unpretentious but most satisfactory entertainment cheers the visitor, and prepares him for an after-dinner stroll to the third falls, or succession of charm- ing cascades, eighty rods beyond, which should by no means be neglected; for these alone are sufficient to repay ones delay at Taghkanic. As I proposed to make the tour of the lakes, I had arranged only for a tarry between the morning and evening steamers for Ithaca. My only regret was, that I must bid adieu so soon to the lovely scene. It was, however, with the firm resolve that whenever I might enjoy a sail over Cayuga Lake, I would not pass Taghkanic by. Descending to the lake I rested awhile on the grassy slope to watch the approach of the steamer, just visible at the distance of twenty miles. In due season we were taken on board, beheld the headland— boldest scenery of the lake—arrayed in the glory of sunset; and as soft twilight descended we landed at Ithaca. <http://adserver04.ancestry.com/RealMedia/ads/click_lx.ads/www.rootsweb.com/freepages/2094629887/Bottom/default/empty.gif/34323432626537363433316232306430> <http://adserver04.ancestry.com/RealMedia/ads/click_lx.ads/www.rootsweb.com/freepages/1298403755/Position1/default/empty.gif/34323432626537363433316232306430>