212 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



At the southern extremity of the Horseshoe is a promontory, 

 formed by the doubling back of the gorge, excavated by the cataract, 

 and into which it plunges. On the promontory stands a stone build- 

 ing, called the Terrapin Tower, the door of which had been nailed up 

 because of the decay of the staircase within it. Through the kind- 

 ness of Mr. Townsend, the superintendent of Goat Island, the door 

 was opened for me. From this tower, at all hours of the day, and at 

 some hours of the night, I watched and listened to the Horseshoe 

 Fall. The river here is evidently much deeper than the American 

 branch; and, instead of bursting into foam where it quits the ledge, 

 it bends solidly over and falls in a continuous layer of the most vivid 

 green. The tint is not uniform, but varied, long stripes of deeper 

 hue alternating with bands of brighter color. Close to the lede;e over 

 which the water rolls, foam is generated, the light falling upon which, 

 and flashing back from it, is sifted in its passage to and fro, and 

 changed from white to emerald green. Heaps of superficial foam are 

 also formed at intervals along the ledge, and immediately drawn 

 down in long white striae. 1 Lower down, the surface, shaken by the 

 reaction from below, incessantly rustles into whiteness. The descent 

 finally resolves itself into a rhythm, the water reaching the bottom 

 of the fall in periodic gushes. Nor is the spray uniformly diffused 

 through the air, but is wafted through it in successive veils of gauze- 

 like texture. From all this it is evident that beauty is not absent from 

 the Horseshoe Fall, but majesty is its chief attribute. The plunge of 

 the water is not wild, but deliberate, vast, and fascinating. From the 

 Terrapin Tower, the adjacent arm of the Horseshoe is seen projected 

 against the opposite one, midway down ; to the imagination, therefore, 

 is left the picturing of the gulf into which the cataract plunges. 



The delight which natural scenery produces in some minds is 

 difficult to explain, and the conduct which it prompts can hardly be 

 fairly criticised by those who have never experienced it. It seems 

 to me a deduction from the completeness of the celebrated Thomas 

 Young, that he was unable to appreciate natural scenery. " He had 

 really," says Dean Peacock, "no taste for life in the country; he was 

 one of those who thought that no one who was able to live in London 

 would be content to live elsewhere." Well, Dr. Young, like Dr. 

 Johnson, had a right to his delights ; but I can understand a hesita- 

 tion to accept them, high as they were, to the exclusion of 



"That o'erflowing joy which Nature yields 

 To her true lovers." 



To all who are of this mind, the strengthening of desire on my part 

 to see and know Niagara Falls, as far as it is possible for them to be 

 seen and known, will be intelligible. 



1 The direction of the wind, with reference to the course of a ship, may be inferred 

 with accuracy from the foam-streaks on the surface of the sea. 



