Blair Collection > Celtic magazine > Volume 5

358 THE CELTIC MAGAZINE.
single crossing from tlie Amedcan side, and 20 from the Canadian side ;
but this is only a specimen of how they oblige you at Niagara. This was
" sell " No. 2 for my friend, from both of which I had escaped, and we
were both somewhat amused at the smallness of the swindle to which the
Americans within the sounds of Niagara can condescend.
Some most interesting reminiscences cling about the place, one or two of
which I shall place before the reader. When this vast country was pos-
sessed entirely by the Red Indian, and long before the deep solitudes of
the "West were first disturbed by the white man, it was the custom of the
Indian warriors to assemble at the Falls, and to offer a human sacrifice to
the Spirit of the Cataract, consisting of a white canoe, fuU of ripe fruits
and blooming flowers, paddled over the terrible fall by one of the hand-
somest girls of the tribe, who had that year arrived at the age of woman-
hood. It was always considered a great honour by the tribe on whom it
fell to sacrifice one of its fair ones, and it is said that even the doomed
maiden herself whose lot it turned out to be thus cruelly sacrificed
to a horrid superstition, deemed it an honour and a compliment to be
choosen to guide the frail canoe over the terrible cliff. On one occasion
the lot fell upon the only daughter of a chief of the Seneca Indians. The
Indian warrior was much pained, for even in the stoical heart of the red
man there are tender feelings which cannot be subdued, and chords which
snap if strained too tightly. He, however, showed no evidence of feeling
which could be discovered by his fellows. In the pride of endurance so
characteristic of his race, he crushed down the feelings that tore his bosom,
and no tear darkened his eye, as the preparations for the sacrifice were
going on. His wife had recently been slain by a hostile tribe. He him-
self was admitted to be the bravest among the warriors. His stern brow
seldom or never relaxed except to his lovely and blooming daughter —
now the only joy to which he clung on earth. At length the sacrificial
day arrived. The usual savage festivities and rejoicings, which preceded
the terrible doom of the fair one, were going on fast and furious. The
moon made its appearance, and silvered the everlasting cloud of spray
which rises from the turmoil of Niagara. The girl took her seat in the
canoe, which glided with its precious human freight from the bank, and
swept out into the terrible rapids above the Falls from which escape is
hopeless. The maiden calmly steered her tiny bark right out towards the
middle of the stream, while frantic shouts and yells arose from the crowd
of red warriors on the shore. The affectionate warrior chief had been
seen among the rest a few moments before. Suddenly another canoe was
seen shooting out from the banks to the middle of the awful current. It
was occupied by the Seneca chief himself, and flying under his impulse
like an arrow to destruction. It overtook the other before it reached the
precipice of the Horse Shoe FalL The eyes of the father and the child
met in one last gaze of afiection, and both canoes plunged together over
the thundering cataract into the terrible abyss below, carrying chief and
child with one bound into the depths of eternity.
In such a place it was paiuful to see and experience an amount of
Villainy and Swindling
brought to the very acme of perfection which can only be measured by
the surrounding sublimity and grandeur ; and it is more painful still to