This view is taken from the American side, and presents the debouchure of the waters of Niagara into Lake Ontario, from a point of great advantage. The vastness of the lake beyond, the tremendous agony which the still foaming waters have just escaped at Niagara, and the remoter journey of three thousand miles by which they have sought the sea from their fountains in the west, form a back-ground of imagination to this view, which, realised on the spot, give it a very thrilling interest. It is in itself, however, a landscape of unusually bold character; and the lofty and curving banks of the river are in keeping with its powerful flow, and the immense volume it pours into the lake.

Fort Niagara, on the opposite side, was erected by the French so late as 1751, and was looked upon by them as the key to all these inland seas. They had possession of it about eight years. In the beginning of July, 1759, General Prideaux, with his troops, reinforced by the Indian auxiliaries under Sir William Johnson, advanced to Niagara without the least hinderance—the enemy here not being in sufficient force to throw any impediments in the way. About the middle of July he commenced the siege, which he carried on with great vigour till the twentieth, when he was killed in the trenches. Sir William Johnson, who succeeded him, pressed the siege with great vigour.

In the three thousand miles between the Atlantic and the Rocky Mountains, there may be said to be three water-steps formed by the different levels of Lake Ontario, Lake Erie, and Lake Superior. Niagara and the Genessee river fall over the middle step, the edge of which is formed by the brow of a bed of limestone, computed to be four hundred and ten feet above the level of Lake Ontario. Saint Lawrence may thus be said to take but three leaps from the Rocky Mountains to the ocean—an agility which, one would suppose, might have saved the holy martyr from his gridiron.

The ledge over which these two celebrated falls are precipitated, comes out of Canada from an immense distance, and keeps its course along the shore of Lake Ontario, in a direction nearly due east. At the Genessee Falls, as at Niagara, the descent to the lake is between the walls of a tremendous ravine, the grandeur of which seems to have had no terror for the souls of manufacturers. The thriving village of Rochester stands round the lip of the fall; and if you talk to the inhabitants of the beauty of the cascade, they stop your mouth, and strike calculation dumb, with the number of sledge-hammers, nail-cutters, mill-stones, and cotton-jennies, it carries; the product per diem; the corresponding increase of population, et cetera et cetera—the only instance in the known world of a cataract turned, without the loss of a drop, through the pockets of speculators.

The armorial ensigns of the Lady Elizabeth de Clare, Foundress of the Society called after her name are,—or, three chevronels gules. The chevron, of which the chevronel is the diminutive, is a very common charge in heraldry; common as it is however, heraldic writers seem much divided in their opinions as to what was the exact object which the chevron was originally intended to represent. As the explanation which we shall propose of the origin of this charge will be in a great measure new, we feel pleasure in offering it to the notice of our heraldic readers through the medium of this work.

The root of the word chevron, in old writings spelt cheveron, we conceive to be aronde, which is an ancient term in architecture, used still in France for the principal timbers which support the tiles in the roofs of houses. This word aronde is itself probably derived from the Latin Hirundo, since the timbers, when erected and united on the building, resemble the forked tail of that bird. As some of the older heraldic writers have considered the chevron to represent the roof of a house, up to this point we may be said to be in agreement with them. The arondes or principals, however, which terminated the roof and formed the gable ends at each extremity, are composed of stronger and heavier beams than the intermediate timbers; they are also usually found decorated with finials at their point of junction and ornamented on their face with carved weather-boards.

The passage of the Canal, under the lofty bluff which springs at this place from the edge of the Mohawk, is one of the most beautiful of the many beautiful features disclosed to the voyager on this great outlet of the West. No traveller sees a greater variety of fine objects within the same distance than the follower of the Canal from Schenectady to Buffalo; and certainly none sees them with more ease and comfort to himself. The packet-boats are long drawing-rooms, where he dines, sleeps, reads, lolls, or looks out of the window; and if in want of exercise, he may at any time get a quick walk on the tow-path, and all this without perceptible motion, jar, or smell of steam. Of all the modes of travelling in America, the least popular and the most delightful, to our thinking, is travelling on the Canal.

One of the descriptions of scenery through which the Canal passes, and one which is, we believe, peculiar to our country, is what are called openings. When one of these plains is seen at a little distance, a traveller emerging from the forest naturally concludes that it is the commencement of a settled country; and as he advances towards it, is instinctively led to cast his eye forward to find the town or village of which it is the outskirt.

There are several considerable promontories which intrude into Lake Winipiseogee, and on one of them is built the town of Centre Harbour. The lake is near the middle of the state of New Hampshire, of a very irregular form, and at the western end is divided into three large bays. There are nine townships on its borders, of which Centre Harbour, the largest, is on the north-west side. The waters of the lake in some places, are unfathomable, but abound with fish. It will still be some years, probably, before the navigation of this body of water will become of much importance.

Beside the beauty of nature, which is prodigal on the borders of this lovely lake, there is little of interest beyond what is found in the recollections of the Indian wars. Penhallow's History, which till lately has been a rare book, has rescued New Hampshire from the obscurity in which some of the other states remain, on these curious and interesting subjects. One wonders, in reading of the critical adventures of the early settlers, what offset the country could give them against such a frail tenure of life. “At one time,” says the journal, “the people of Dunstable were advised of a party of two hundred and seventy Indians that were coming upon them.[…]

This beautiful town is situated on the eastern bank of the Susquehannah, opposite the village of Wyoming, celebrated in the “Gertrude” of Campbell. Like all the towns in this picturesque valley, it possesses fine points of picturesque beauty, and exhibits the thrift and agricultural prosperity which, all over the United States, contrast so strongly with the recent and unforgotten tales of the primitive wilderness.

There is a book, of which many copies do not now exist, entitled, “Observations made by John Bartram, in his Travels through Pennsylvania to the Lake Ontario,” which presents a very wild picture of this part of the country in 1743. His companions were Mr. Weisar, a Mr. Evans, and a Delaware chief, called Shickalamy, and the object of their journey was to reconcile some differences between the English and the different Indian nations on that frontier. The dignity of their character as envoys from the English procured for them a kind reception, and the sight of many ceremonies not commonly seen by travellers. On their arrival on the banks of the Susquehannah, they were entertained by a hunting party of Indians, who served them up a roasted bear. Apropos to this, he describes the following superstition:—

“As soon as the bear is killed, the hunter places the small end of his pipe in its mouth, and, by blowing in the bowl, fills the mouth and throat full of smoke.[…]

The Indianesque, but not very pretty name, in which this lovely body of waters rejoices, has been once or twice changed, but the force of usage has uniformly triumphed. Dr. Dwight called it Sullivan's Lake, after Major-General Sullivan, formerly governor of the State; and the adjoining waters of Winipiseogee, he named Lake Wentworth, after another governor; but both have fallen into disuse, and the original names have reverted.

The great defect in American Lakes, generally, is the vast, unrelieved expanse of water, without islands and promontories, producing a fatigue on the eye similar to that of the sea. Squawm and Winipiseogee Lakes are exceptions to this observation. They are connected by so narrow an isthmus that five hundred dollars, it is said, would pay the expense of uniting them: and their islands together amount, it is said also, to exactly three hundred and sixty-five. As this singular coincidence has been remarked of several other lakes, however, the assertion seems rather apocryphal.

Some of the very loveliest scenery in the world lies about these two lakes, yet they are seldom visited. The country around is fertile, and sufficiently cultivated to soften the appearance of wilderness, which it might receive from the prevalency of forest, and the luxuriance of vegetation; but the mountains, which form its background from every point, shutting it in like an amphitheatre, seem to seclude it from the flow of population.

Thomas Cranmer was born at Aiselacton, Aslacton or Alacton, in Notts. July 2, 1489. The family traced its descent from the Conquest. When he was very young his father died, and his mother sent him to Cambridge at the age of 14. After taking the first degree, he became Fellow of Jesus College about 1520. About a year afterwards he married one whom his enemies have called “Black Joan, or Brown Joan, living at the Dolphin”; his friends say she was a “gentleman's daughter”: probably the true condition of the lady lay between these two descriptions. Fuller in mentioning the circumstance says, “this gave occasion to that impudent lie of the ignorant Papists, that he was an ostler”, but he adds, taking advantage of the term in his usual happy manner, “indeed he with his learned labours rubbed the galled backs, and curryed the lazy hides of many an idle and ignorant friar.” In the MS. Chronology in Jesus College is this notice: “A Papistis dictus per ludibrium stabalarius, quòd ænopolæ neptem uxorem duxerat. Qui quæso vocarent Christum natum in stabulo.” Being compelled “valedicere Collegio”, says the old MS.,–“being outed of his fellowship” says Fuller, he obtained the place of Divinity reader in Buckingham Hostel, as Magdalene was then called. ‘Brown Joan’ however died at the end of the year.