“Bunny” Pays For a Visit to Niagara Falls

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 230, 17 December 1927, Page 24 (Supplement)

“Bunny” Pays For a Visit to Niagara Falls

(Written for THE SUN by BARBARA HYMS)

BVER had travel-fever? words of mine can describe the agony the patient goes through when the only known opiate—money —is absent. As the unexpected generally happens, I will briefly relate how I found the opiate and abated the fever. From now onward I shall always feel friendly toward the humble, rabbit for a number of them nobly laid down their lives to make a warm fur coat which eventually found its way on to, and then off, my back. For a few weeks I was the proud owner of the white bunny coat, but as my travel-fever was mounting, there was nothing to do but to sell it. The coat received many names and much criticism, according to the section of the fur trade I visited. To the man who received the raw skins from the trapper it was merely “vite rabbit.” To the man who dressed skins—"passing fair.” He had neither interest in nor use for anything already dressed. To the man who made them up, "I have nothing to do wif made-up goods”—(candid, if disheartening). To the second-hand dealer: “Poor coat, I will give you £l. It’s not worth that.” But to the girl to whom I sold it for £l2 it was “Divine."

The fever from which I was at this time suffering was a craving to see for myself the much-talked of Niagara Falls. I went —and was very disappointed, for although I could truthfully say that from my youth up I was familiar with photographs of the falls, yet nowhere upon arrival could 1 discern a familiar landmark. I found upon inquiry that for some years the stock views supplied to far and distant lands were all taken from TJncle Sam's side, not only that, but the camera man “shot” the falls in such a manner as to eliminate anything which would form a common denominator for comparison, hence the disappointment of the average Visitor and the exclamation “How small they are.” Let me here warn those who want to forget man and marvel at Nature, viewing the cataract, to take smelling salts. Below the falls on Canada’s side, and facing the mighty torrent, has been erected a corset factory, truly a concrete proof of woman’s superiority over man. Within those walls and deaf to the mighty roar, are damsels working hard to aid woman the world over in her battle against Nature’s intended outlines to her figure . . . even a portion of the torrent itself is used on the side of erring woman to supply electric motor power! If you also want to see the falls through Nature’s glasses undefiled, then go to bed at dusk, pull down the blind, arrange to be called in the morning and then sleep; but do not, oh, do not play Peeping Tom once it is dark. If you do, you will see strange, crude colours flashed upon the falls, at moments making you feel that any pent-up waters Hell may own have burst their levees. This is when the red light appears. Then follows a sickly blue-green. As you gaze at the water you hear the words: “And the sea shall give up its dead,” —at]

least the noise is like the sea and your imagination is tuhed-in ready for any long-distance flight of fancy. No, be healthy. See the falls always under Nature’s searchlight, but if you are keen on rainbows then follow me to the house at the edge of the cataract—Canadian side —and push open the door. Be sure your purse is handy. After purchasing a dollar ticket, pay no more; come down the lift, just an ordinary elevator and then, according as to sex, go to the right or left. The sex of small boys is determined by the parent, who is in the habit of most often getting his or her own way. Probably, in most cases, little boys go with their sisters to the left; but the order of the bath is the same. “Boots off.” Then rubber ones, sizes too small or too large are pushed on the feet by a wan woman, tired of living under the falls and only waiting till she makes enough in tips to come up to the sunshine for good. "Hats off” next: a white paper cap is rammed on the head. Next, all things superfluous in the eyes of the wan woman, are removed. You are invited to leave your purse although the management will not be responsible—but you do not because of the powder puff and cigarette case inside. You are now enveloped in a black oilskin coat and hood. Only your nose, probably pow-

dered, shows. You then either slosh out or go carefully according to the wan woman’s idea of the size of your feet. Once out you meet your friends or you don’t. A few steps down a passage looking like the entrance to a coal tunnel you meet a hand-painted notice bearing the inscription: “Push—Open.” Your mother always said you were brave. Now’s the time to prove it, for, as you read the notice a most terrifying roar greets you.

I think if some of the mediaeval people who described Hell so vividly had taken a trip here they would have changed their background for the roar of Niagara from underneath is uncanny enough to call not only sinners to repentance but everyone else. Having said “Open Sesame” as timidly as the young bride says “I will,” you go through into the tunnel—noise all

around you; you are under, above and in the falls at the same moment; you cannot help saying to yourself as you stand in the centre of it all: "What is man that Thou are mindful of himt A few yards down the tunnel which is carefully, lighted is a shaft of daylight and on you hasten with the same sensations running down your spine that Orpheus had as he neared the mouth of the tunnel; just as you, in your turn, reach the light and turn to look behind, you are soused with spray. Another hand-painted sign here greets you: “Great Cataract” — an unwelcome piece of information. The last thing you want to bo told down here at the bottom of all things is that the Great Cataract is hurtling itself down on top of you. You venture to put your nose a little nearer the hole in the wall and it seems, as you look upward, that someone from above is pouring down dirty washing-up water. The tumbling mass looks black and cheerless, but away to your left as you peep out, if the sun happens to be shining above, you get a vision never to be equalled or forgotten—the land of the end of the rainbow. Rainbow upon rainbow forms and remains until the sun goes in. The rushing water to your right is sparkling like diamonds as the sun catches the breaking cataract. The

beauty of Niagara undoubtedly lies in its shape, but certainly this view from the bottom between the falling waters is fascinating. The wet though welllighted tunnel goes on further, which reveals that man has blasted from the rock four peepholes for the benefit of the dollar-ticket holder. It is amusing to stand a little in the shadow near the Great Cataract hole and to watch the others now coming down the tunnel. Timid women tightly hold the tunnel rail and utter falsetto shrieks as they get their shower bath; boys in their teens just let out a healthy yell, while fond fathers ever mindful of their families, ejaculate—- “ Look out—be careful.” Obviously they are just as surprised as the rest, because there’s nothing to be careful of.

It was the end of March when I visited the falls and regular tourists j were still either hibernating or tickling their jaded palettes in some | southern sea while the fall played on unceasingly to empty houses. The ice

from tlie Great Lakes was breaking, great hummocks came sailing down the river as far as the head of the falls, and then disappeared over the edge only to reappear lower down the gorge near the International Bridge, where the broken pieces formed a solid ice wall with the freed w r aters rushing underneath. It was fascinating to ■watch the ice pieces come up to the surface and join the wall; the moment that they bumped on, a bit chipped off elsewhere and was forthwith caught and carried swiftly down to the rapids below.

If you are determined to see the falls from the American side and if you haven’t paid your head tax because, like me, you couldn’t afford it, and if again it is for natural and neither commercial nor political reasons that you want to cross over, then I say unhesitatingly “follow me.” Walk down to the low level bridge and quietly get on the (New York) Niagara tram; hand the conductor the exact return fare, but do not speak. Your accent will betray you and he may be for all you konw, in touch with the Customs man at the upper bridge and get so much for each one he .spots trying to “bootleg” it over. If you hand him the exact fare, he will know, if he thinks at all, that you are no stranger, else you would have asked the fare and he would probably have told you more. Arrived at the American end, the Customs men will board the tram and ask of each in turn a simple enough, though, curious, question: “Where from?”

Be wise and behave like a native. Say “Falls” and nothing more. The Canadians, who have free entry, say “Falls,” and the Americans, “Niagara.” Bo not behave like a young girl friend of mine and when asked “Where from?” with quite unnecessary pride replied, “London.” “Beg pardon, Madame,” said the official, “You can’t cross, you must get out and go back.”

Take my tip and look bored about so : common a thing: as a waterfall. Try! hard to look composed as the street: car once more goes on and when you ' get off a few yards further on make at once for Goat Island and go to the j platform at the very end, which sticks j out over the falling water itself. Once ! across the line you can go where you 1 like, although at first you feel like an escaped convict and expect to be , stopped every moment. If you are I wise you'll stay on Uncle Sam’s side so long as your slender means last, for it will be more by good luck than anything else that you will get across again so easily. Truly my coat of 15 white rabbit skins had proved a friend and I registered a heathenish vow on the return j trip to encourage both the breeding as ! as well as the trapping of bunnies i for fur coats. BARBARA HYMS.