No level was observed; it seemed to be a
mere track along waste land, running through holes, over hillocks and
stumps of trees. We were one hour and three-quarters in going a short
seven miles. If I had been better acquainted with the neighbourhood, I
might, as I only found out when it was too late, have crossed the bridge
at Niagara Falls, spent three hours in sight of Niagara, proceeding to
Queenston in time for the steamer by the Canada cars!
On our way to Lewiston we met forty of these four-horse stages. I caught a
distant view of the falls, and a nearer one of the yet incomplete
suspension bridge, which, when finished, will be one of the greatest
triumphs of engineering art.
Beyond this the scenery is very beautiful. The road runs among forest
trees of luxuriant growth, and peach and apple orchards, upon the American
bank of the Niagara river. This bank is a cliff 300 feet high, and from
the edge of the road you may throw a stone into the boiling torrent below;
yet the only parapet is a rotten fence, in many places completely
destroyed. When you begin to descend the steep hill to Lewiston the drive
is absolutely frightful.
