A Legend of Goat Island — A Reader’s Guide

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Authors: Porter, Peter A. (Peter Augustus), 1853-1925, Porter, Cabell Breckinridge, 1881- [Illustrator] Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2016 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Hennepin, Louis, active 17th century -- Poetry; Niagara Falls (N.Y. and Ont.) -- Poetry Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 6,201

Reading time 27 min

Text sections 1

This digital edition of A Legend of Goat Island — A Reader’s Guide is described by source-level measurements including 6,201 words, 27 min estimated reading time, and 1 detected text section.

The text analysis averages about 26.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Hennepin, Louis, active 17th century -- Poetry,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #53002

A 1900 narrative poem in rhyming couplets, attributed to Father Louis Hennepin, recounting a missionary's encounter with the Neuter tribe near Niagara Falls. The verse blends formal religious diction with local landscape description, emphasizing the priest's robe, the sound of the falls, and the conversion of a chief.

Editorial Edition Score 4.4/5

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Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

File: pg53002

Read the Text

And were victorious o'er their foes.

Later on, as they were sitting In the fire's cheerful light, Shadows round them weirdly flitting, As the moon rose into sight, The stranger asked, in tones of wonder, Whence that sound of endless thunder, That dull, reverberating sound That seemed to shake the very ground?

For answer, came the Chief's command, "Be patient, you shall understand." And, knowing Indian nature well, He waited till they chose to tell.

Later yet, when chill and hoary Lay the frost upon the ground, And the moon in all her glory Bathed in light the scene around, The Chieftain rose, around him drew

The bison skin of tawny hue, And signed to the priest to follow. He led him through a dense dark wood Where many a lofty pine tree stood, Then through a winding hollow; Whence, as they suddenly emerged, The rushing rapids 'neath them surged O'er many a rocky ledge. Taking, down stream, their silent way Toward the rising cloud of spray, They reached the Cataract's edge; And, from a jutting shelf of stone, Saw Ni-a-gára, then unknown, Save to the red man's Race alone. Earth's grandest sight, conceived to be The emblem of God's majesty.

Ne'er has the scene which 'neath them lay Been chronicled aright, For no one, in a fitting way, By pen, nor pencil, _can_ portray The grandeur of that sight.

The Priest, as by the view amazed, Long at the Falls and Rapids gazed, But not a word he spoke, Then crossed himself, as if in awe, And 'twas a holy sight he saw. At last he turned him to his guide, Who stood, like statue, by his side And thus the silence broke:

"For two years past I've often longed This wondrous sight to see, And memory has oft been thronged With stories told to me By one, upon whose brow I traced God's holy Cross, a chief In whose narration I have placed An absolute belief. The glories, which I now behold, In words, somewhat like these, he told: 'Towards the Sun's ascending beam, Whoe'er his journey takes, Will reach a broad and rapid stream Which joins two mighty lakes. Midway in this river's course A wondrous fall is found Where, with an overwhelming force The waters, rushing in their might, Plunge downward o'er a fearful height With a stupefying sound. Right at the precipice so steep, Where the river takes this awful leap, Is placed an Island, small in size, But like an earthly paradise, For lovelier spot is nowhere found Than this, our Indian burial ground; Where none, unless with honor crowned, Can ever be interred. None but brave men e'er can reach It's wooded shore and rocky beach, Whereon the sound of human speech Is scarcely ever heard. For on this Isle deep-buried lie The bones of many a Brave, And Indian chiefs invariably Ask this spot for their grave. Thus it has been, in days of yore, And it is my earnest prayer, That, when this mortal life is o'er, And my soul is on the other shore, My bones may be buried there. That Ni-a-gáh-ra's mighty roar So solemn, grand and deep, May be my dirge forevermore As 'twixt its Falls I sleep.' "Since he told me I've often prayed That hither I might be led, And to my vision be displayed, In its scenic majesty arrayed, The fairest spot God ever made, This Island of the dead."

The Chief assented, "All you heard Was true to the minutest word; But one more fact I must unfold Ere all the Island's tale is told, Note its wondrous situation, 'Tis our Spirit's dread abode; 'Tis a spot that, since Creation, Coward's foot has never trod. None but warriors can reach it, Others, should they dare to try, So our old traditions teach it, As they touch its soil, they die."

"All that is false," the Priest replied, "Whoever taught you that has lied; Strong words, I know, but justified, For God alone, who gave us breath, Has power over life and death."

The Chief declared, "His faith is best Who dares to put it to the test. I judge men's faith in but one way, 'Tis what they do, not what they say. If you believe that you'll survive, I'll take you there tonight, And, if you tread its shore alive, Will own that you are right; Then, I'll believe in what you preach, And worship Him of whom you teach."

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The poem opens with a precise geographical and cultural setting: the Neuter tribe's village on the western bank of the Niagara River, above the rapids. The stranger—a priest in a 'long loose robe of reddish brown'—arrives at evening, his 'hoary locks and silvery beard' marking him as alien. The verse immediately establishes a tension between the tribe's silent, prideful warriors and the priest's patient, didactic mission. The narrator frames the story as a 'dim tradition of the race,' signaling that this is a retelling of oral legend, not a firsthand account.

The author, Peter A. Porter, uses a consistent meter and rhyme scheme (predominantly iambic tetrameter with couplets) that gives the narrative a ballad-like quality. The diction is deliberately archaic—'whence,' 'thee,' 'thou'—and the descriptions of the falls emphasize sound: 'that dull, reverberating sound / That seemed to shake the very ground.' This aural detail recurs, anchoring the supernatural or spiritual encounter in a specific, natural phenomenon.

The Priest's Appearance and Speech

The poem lingers on the priest's physical details: his 'Sacred Order's gown,' the rope 'around his waist,' and the rosary 'hanging loose and free.' These objects are described with a catalog-like precision, as if the narrator is itemizing evidence. The priest's speech is rendered in indirect discourse—'he said his errand was to teach / The glories of the Life to be'—but the poem never quotes him directly. Instead, the narrator reports that he 'spake in Indian speech,' having learned it from other tribes. This choice keeps the priest's voice mediated, emphasizing the cultural gap.

The warriors' reaction is one of 'silent wonderment' and 'reverend awe,' but also sullenness. They allow him to share their fire and food, but 'little cared they what befell / Their souls, so they but feasted well.' The poem thus sets up a contrast between the priest's spiritual urgency and the tribe's material concerns, a tension that drives the narrative forward.

The Sound of the Falls as a Narrative Device

The priest's first question to the tribe is about the 'endless thunder'—the sound of Niagara. The chief's response is a command: 'Be patient, you shall see.' This exchange positions the falls as both a physical landmark and a symbol of the unknown. The poem repeatedly references the sound: 'that dull, reverberating sound' and later 'the roar of the cataract.' The falls are never fully described visually in the excerpts; instead, their presence is felt through sound and through the island that 'divides / Niagara's tumultuous tides.'

This aural focus is a deliberate authorial choice. By emphasizing what is heard rather than seen, the poem creates a sense of awe and mystery. The falls become a character in the legend, a constant backdrop that shapes the action. The priest's mission is literally grounded in this geography: the island is where the conversion takes place, and the spray-cloud serves as a 'Baldachin'—a ceremonial canopy—over the baptism.

The Conversion Scene and Its Ritual Details

The climax of the excerpted text is the baptism of the chief. The priest 'dipped his hand in the wave' and poured water on the chief's head, saying 'Your soul I hereby save.' The poem then describes the chief kneeling and receiving the sign of the cross. The language is liturgical: 'First convert of the Neuter race,' 'the Cross's holy sign,' 'the Faith you have confessed.' The chief's conversion is presented as a personal act, but it is also a public spectacle, witnessed by the warriors who arrive by canoe.

The poem notes that the warriors 'stepped to the Chieftain's side' and stood 'in awe-felt silence.' The priest feels 'holy pride' at the sight of this 'converted warrior band.' The scene is framed as a triumph, but the poem does not explore the chief's internal motives or doubts. The conversion is described entirely from the priest's perspective, reinforcing the poem's focus on the missionary's experience rather than the tribe's.

The Poem's Structure and Limited Point of View

The poem is told in the third person, but the narrator's voice is not omniscient. The narrative is confined to what the priest sees and hears, and to the external actions of the tribe. The warriors' thoughts are only inferred: they 'listened most attentively' or 'stood in awe-felt silence.' The poem never enters the mind of any character. This limited point of view creates a sense of distance, as if the reader is observing the events from the same vantage point as the narrator.

The verse form—rhyming couplets with a regular meter—adds to this sense of control. The poem's structure is formal and predictable, mirroring the priest's orderly mission. The only break in the pattern is the occasional use of a longer line or a different rhyme scheme, which may signal shifts in tone or action. The poem's brevity (6,201 words) and its status as a 'legend' suggest that it is meant to be a single, self-contained episode, not a comprehensive history.

Readers should approach this poem as a period piece that reflects late-19th-century attitudes toward missionary work and Native American cultures. The author, Peter A. Porter, was a local historian and lawyer, and the poem was privately printed in a limited edition of 100 copies. The illustrations by Cabell Breckinridge Porter are not included in this digital edition, but the text itself offers a compact example of how verse was used to memorialize regional folklore. Pay attention to the way the poem balances religious language with landscape description, and consider how the choice of a European missionary as the central figure shapes the story's perspective.

Reading the priest’s robe beside the falls, I remembered a winter afternoon with the old Vision of Piers Ploughman. Both books carry that same patient hush—the way a habit or a dream can hold a person steady against a world’s noise. Mine had a frayed bookmark, and I still feel the calm it left. The Vision and Creed of Piers Ploughman, Volume 1 — A Closer Reading sits oddly close to that memory.