NIAGARA. 139 



and it alternately gathered and disappeared. An eminent 

 friend of mine often speaks of the mistake of those phy- 

 sicians who regard man's ailments as purely chemical, to 

 be met by chemical remedies only. He contends for the 

 psychological element of cure. By agreeable emotions, he 

 says, nervous currents are liberated which stimulate blood, 

 brain, and viscera. The influence rained from ladies' eyes 

 enables my friend to thrive on dishes which would kill 

 him if eaten alone. A sanative effect of the same order I 

 experienced amid the spray and thunder of Niagara. 

 Quickened by the emotions there aroused, the blood sped 

 exultingly through the arteries, abolishing introspection, 

 clearing the heart of all bitterness, and enabling one to 

 think with tolerance, if not with tenderness, on the most 

 relentless and unreasonable foe. Apart from its scientific 

 value, and purely as a moral agent, the play was worth the 

 candle. My companion knew no more of me than that I 

 enjoyed the wild ness of the scene; but as I bent in the 

 shelter of his large frame he said, " I should like to see 

 you attempting to describe all this." He rightly thought 

 it indescribable. The name of this gallant fellow was 

 Thomas Conroy. 



We returned, clambering at intervals up and down, so 

 as to catch glimpses of the most impressive portions of the 

 cataract. We passed under ledges formed by _tabu-la- 

 masses of limestone, and through some curious openings 

 formed by the falling together of the summits of the rocks. 

 At length we found ourselves beside our enemy of the 

 morning. Conroy halted for a minute or two, scanning 

 the torrent thoughtfully. I said that, as aguide, he ought 

 to have a rope in such a place; but he retorted that, as no 

 traveler had ever thought of coming there, he did not see 

 the necessity of keeping a rope. He waded in. The 

 struggle to keep himself erect was evident enough; he 

 swayed, but recovered himself again and again. At length 

 he slipped, gave way, did as I had done, threw himself 

 toward the bank, and was swept into the shallows. Stand- 

 ing in the stream near its edge, he stretched his arm 

 toward me. I retained the pitchfork handle, for it had 

 been useful among the boulders. By wading some way in, 

 the staff could be made to reach him, and I proposed his 

 seizing it. "If you are sure," he replied, "that, in case 

 of giving way, you can maintain your grasp, then I will 



