THE SCENERY OF ITHACA

and the

Head Waters of the Cayuga Lake

Portrayed by Different Writers,

and Edited

By THE PUBLISHER

ITHACA, N.Y.:

SPENCE SPENCER

1866

LICK BROOK.

Where is Lick Brook? How do you go to Lick Brook?

Who discovered Lick Brook? These were the questions

that were frequently asked in the summer of the Year

of Grace, 1864. It came out conversationally, that a

few people had been there, in the early summer of that

year. Upon being questioned,— It was a "Wonderful

place." "It was Beautiful." It was a "Fearful place."

“You must go there." "Don’t think of going." "You

never can get there." "Do go by all means." These, and

similar, were the answers. They were very indefinite, but

very well calculated to heighten the questioner’s curiosity.

A party started one warm summer morning, to go to

Lick Brook. They were provided with baskets and a

LICK BROOK.

bottle, and it being ascertained also, that one of the party

carried a pistol, it was declared safe to proceed.

They started on the road, known in the vernacular as,

"the way to Buttermilk Falls." Do you know the way?

No! You have been there? No!! Has any one of us

been there? No!!!

Following the highway, up the valley, for perhaps

three quarters of an hour, and meeting with no greater

danger than a passing rail road train, (ladies are never

alarmed at sight of a train of cars; oh no!) they were

suddenly and with great presence of mind, stopped in

the vicinity of a farm house, and one of the number

dispatched to scour the country, and collect information.

The result was, to open the nearest and most convenient

gate, and turn into a lane. It does not seem to be the

custom of the country to ask permission of a man to

drive into his fields and lanes; but if the astonished pro-

prietor makes his appearance, to shout, "Is this the way

to Lick Brook ?" and apply the whip. They went on.

The stream ran over the road, and the road ran through

the stream. They clasped their hands, looked despair-

ingly in one another’s faces, and safely forded; found

themselves in a marsh, in a thicket, and then in the stream.

They flanked a tree, and went ingloriously around a

stump, and over a log, and crossed the stream several

times more, and being now accustomed to danger, never

discovered that the horses were running away. One was

speculating on the chances of petroleum, the indications

being an oily, green substance on the little pools of water;

and another, on the probable value of the crops raised,

and the fine opportunity for investing in real estate, and

water privileges. The horses were sensible animals, how-

ever, and finally yielded to a judicious amount of bit, and

brake, and rather forcible persuasion. The road, what

Scenery of ITHACA.

there was of it, now giving signs of discontinuing, they

hailed a Iandsman, an "original settler" probably, for he

was felling a tree, were advised to stop soon and try a

different kind of locomotion. The horses were therefore

tied up, and the baskets and valuables left to their keep-

ing, a sarcastic individual quoting an Arab proverb.

“They are safe; give yourself no uneasiness, O Effendi;

there is not a Christian in the country."

They next climbed a fence. There are things more

easy of accomplishment than to get a large party over a

fence, and while they were engaged in falling over it,

getting caught in it, anathemizing it, one of the party,

(who carried a fishing pole and a private bottle), was

accidentally lost. All efforts to find him were vain,

and the party were reluctantly compelled to go on

without him. They were now breast high in a this-

tie patch. There is a law in the statute book against

thistles. There was, and may be now, a law in Connec-

ticut, that "a man should not kiss his wife on ye Sabbath

day." It is very easy to make laws, but how about

enforcing them?

Struggling through the thistles, taking care to keep

within hailing of each other (otherwise there might have

been more lost), they came upon the rocky bed of a

small stream, and went stumbling on, over large stones

and small atones, and going around stones, and, in fact,

it was all stones. And here a great diversity of opinion

arose, was this small stream the Brook? or should they

follow the larger stream?

They followed the smaller, now shut in by high banks,

and with the mental certainty on the part of at least one

that they were all wrong, were going wrong, and must

be wrong, they turned a projecting cliff, and lo! “The

First Fall of Lick Brook.” The larger stream was after-

LICK BROOK..

ward, by consulting “the oldest inhabitant,” found to be

“the Inlet” — the Inlet of Cayuga Lake.

Exclamations of surprise and rapture followed. “Beau-

tiful,” “Lovely,” “Is this Lick Brook?” “How glad I

am I came,” “What a nice place for dinner.” And it

was lovely, a circular basin shut in by wall of rock, a

little water falling in cool spray over green and mossy

rocks straight down to the bed of the stream below.

The most venturesome knew at a glance they could go

no further. The “Fall” was unscalable, insurmount-

able, and they all sat down on the broad, cool, rocky

floor, to wonder and admire.

When the stream is high (as afterward seen), and pours

over a flood of spray, falling like a veil, it would seem that

the nymph of the stream was sporting in bridal robes.

“Another Fall ?" “The Upper Fall ?" "How can

you get there ?" And wondering glances at the the walls

of rock attested the consternation of the party.

Rested and refreshed (and regaled with fragrant birch,

by one of the junior members, who had not as yet left

his youth far back), they retraced their footsteps, and

stood at the foot of a mighty Hill. A Hill? surely a mis-

take. Not long since a little girl of twelve summers, in

coming from the opposite direction, exclaimed, “Auntie,

must we go over that mountain before we get to Ithaca?”

And this was the mountain. Formidable it looked; but

with brave hearts, and resolute looks, and long drawn

breaths, they essayed to climb. The strongest and most

determined went ahead, and with the exhortation to

“keep in file,” and “make a path as you go,” they went

“onward and upward.” Short skirts and no encum-

brances, and soon the bushes were loaded with cloaks,

capes, mantles, and parasols and all the extras. It was

hard work; but a hand occasionally held out from

SCENERY OF ITHACA.

before, and an energetic push from behind, encouraged

the lingering and laggard. One after another they

dropped down to rest in an open space near the bank,

and to take note of each other’s haps and mishaps.

Breath taken, and a chance to look about, and down,

right down below was the Fall they had left.

Upward and onward, an occasional pause for breath,

a little time to rest, to grumble, to remark on the weari-

ness of pleasure seeking, to wish impossibilities. The

invalid gave signs of despair, could go no further; but

encouraged and persuaded, perhaps threatened also (for

there was one who carried arms), still struggled on, and

the top of the mountain was gained.

Here one gave out entirely, and becoming deaf to en-

treaties and remonstrances, the ties of friendship and

family affection, was reluctantly abandoned to his fate.

The invalid still kept on. “0! you leader of forlorn hope,

what do you deserve for having inveigled me into this?”

Downward now, down to the bed of the stream. It is

easier to go down than up. You have only to shut your

eyes and fall as far as possible, it will not be very far, for

the low branches of the trees shut in on every side and

arrest your progress. The invalid groaned; but looking

down saw that one enterprising individual had already

gained the desired haven, and was bathing his brow in

the the cool water. The effect was electric. Water

treatment was that invalld’s hobby, and she paused not

again, until she was herself under treatment.

In the bed of the stream again. Shut in by walls of

solid rock on one side, and on the other by a steep wooded

bank; woe to one who should attempt to climb it. The

cool water murmured with a pleasant sound, and over-

head was a glimpse of the blue sky, and the pleasant

outer day.

LICK Brook.

Following up the ravine, very pleasant and easy, and

stooping under the trunk of a gigantic tree, that extended

from bank to bank, at the right is a deep chasm,tunnelled

out by winter frosts and melting snow, and summer

showers dripping through the “jointed structure of the

rock.”

Still onward, forgetting fatigue and all the other ills of

life in wondrous admiration, and suddenly - " the Great

Fall.” Words are powerless. One by one they sink

down on the firm rock floor, to gaze and wonder at the

“Beautiful Fall,” “Beautiful Fall.”

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

Falling straight down from the upper air, and the

sunlight and the world above, broken only by the slight

projection of a strata of harder rock near the base, the

bright mountain stream comes down, down, broken into

white mist and spray, robes for a hundred water-nymphs.

“Noon glows on the Lake,

Noon glows on the fell,

Awake thee, awake,

‘White Maid of Avenel.”

How high? Ah! none can climb that steep, straight

cliff. Rock bound and enchanted, — was that the shadow

of Medusa’s head?

Taghkanic Fall is 215 feet high, said one. 215 feet,

how high is this? If Taghkanic Fall is 215 feet, emphati-

cally remarked the man who carried the pistol, this is, this

is 250 Proven to a demonstration, carried by acclamation.

The act to take effect immediately.

Our geologist was not there, or we should have known

the kind of rock, how old, how far back in the “Painozoic

Age,” how much older than the coal, and how much

younger than the trilobites were its fossils. That is, if a

SCENERY of Ithaca

geologist ever gives a direct answer to a direct question.

The State geology says it belongs to the “Chemung

Group.” Very definite that; and the State geology is

unquestionable authority, and also says that it abounds in

“Felicities.” This party, at least, had no reason to dis-

belleve it. The invalid recovered, and rejoiced again in

health and good spirits.

Is it possible that this stream flows from that fountain,

to find which Ponce de Leon and his grand cavailers

sacrificed their lives?

The friend left on the mountain was remembered and

regretted, but one recalling that he loved Shakspeare well,

and knew by heart every “soliloquy,” trusted that in

that old friend he would find good company.

Slowly, and with long, lingering glances, they bade

good-bye to the “Beautiful Fall,” went down the glen,

drank from the deep pool, and climbed again to upper

air. They found their friend, not yet fossilized, gathered

up the scattered garments thrown by in the toilsome

ascent, and, with the exception of a serious misfortune

that befel one of the number (Mem., never wear paper

collars to Lick Brook), reached in safety and excellent

spirits the foot of the mountain. They were here rejoined

by the “lost one,” in a state of great indignation. He

had not found trout, nor a pretty girl, nor “any peaches,”

nor any other good thing; had been talked back to by a

saucy boy, and was excessively indignant at having been

deserted.

Luncheon. Ah, how good it was. The chickens and

the ripe tomatoes, and the bottle, and the pears, and all

the other good things, and — away.

Beautiful waterfalls, beautiful day, kind friends and

true, they will be a pleasant memory forever.

It has been ascertained that- when the present elderly

LICK BROOK.

people of the burg of Ithaca were young, they were in

the habit of visiting Lick Brook, but not bringing up

their children to follow in the footsteps of their fathers

(that is not the custom now), it was forgotten. Having

been recently rediscovered, they have recalled their lost

youth, its pleasures and pic-nics, and also the memory

of Lick Brook.