Would someone know if The Lake District in Central New York by Rev. R.B.Welch--' The Ladies Repository' might be available by interlibrary Loan? Thanks. C.J.Sheldon NY-CENTRA-D-request@rootsweb.com wrote: > > ------------------------------------------------------------------------ > > > NY-CENTRA-D Digest Volume 05 : Issue 121 > > Today's Topics: > #1 The Lake District of Central NY 18 [Bill Hecht <wsh6@cornell.edu>] > > Administrivia: > To unsubscribe from NY-CENTRA-D, send a message to > > NY-CENTRA-D-request@rootsweb.com > > that contains in the body of the message the command > > unsubscribe > > and no other text. No subject line is necessary, but if your software > requires one, just use unsubscribe in the subject, too. > > To contact the NY-CENTRA-D list administrator, send mail to > NY-CENTRA-admin@rootsweb.com. > > ______________________________ > > > ------------------------------------------------------------------------ > > Subject: > The Lake District of Central NY 1864] > From: > Bill Hecht <wsh6@cornell.edu> > Date: > Fri, 02 Sep 2005 10:22:59 -0400 > To: > NY-CENTRA-L@rootsweb.com > > To: > NY-CENTRA-L@rootsweb.com > > > http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~springport/pictures139/13997.htm > > SOURCE: LADIES REPOSITORY October 1864 > > Page 601 > > THE LAKE DISTRICT IN CENTRAL NEW YORK > > TEE 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, tbe 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 Caynga. 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. Pitting is > > the apostrophe addressed by the author of > > “Prontenac” 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 Palls, 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 wit.h 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 bight, 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 bight 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 one’s 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://adserver03.ancestry.com/RealMedia/ads/click_lx.ads/www.rootsweb.com/freepages/724811955/Bottom/default/empty.gif/34323432626537363433313834663730> > > > <http://adserver03.ancestry.com/RealMedia/ads/click_lx.ads/www.rootsweb.com/freepages/2086677340/Position1/default/empty.gif/34323432626537363433313834663730> >