108 THE GREY-WOLF. 
heightened and intensified by contrast. I may 
aptly liken it, without any attempt at word-paint- 
ing, to a stream of liquid silver flowing through a 
channel of jet. As the rays of light mingle with 
the spray, that hangs like a dense fog round the 
watery column, their prismatic colours are re- 
flected from myriads of tiny water-drops, making 
fairy rainbows, that dance in mazy clusters from 
the base to the summit of the fall. Not a tree 
or shrub is anywhere visible, nothing but rock 
and water—a scene matchless in its immensity. 
I am not. so much charmed with the beauty of 
this wild landscape, as awed and (if I may so 
express it) absorbed and lost in wonder; its 
sublime grandeur impresses me with a feeling 
that it is something more than earthly. 
As I leave the fall, to retrace my steps to where 
I have tethered my horse, a large grey wolf sits 
eyeing me greedily. Turning from a scene that 
made me feel as a diatom might be supposed to 
feel in the jaws of a whale, to stand face to face 
with a large animal, that would eat me if he 
dared, for the moment so startled me, that I 
hesitated whether I should avoid my foe or fire 
at him; the latter inclination prevailed. Drop- 
ping on one knee, I drew a steady bead upon the 
wolf; and ere the crack of the rifle was lost in the 
