DAYS ON THE NEPIGON. 



Cameron Rapids would promptly have ex- 

 hausted all those words and compelled Mr. 

 Southey to search for others; and then, 

 abandoning the almost fruitless task, he would 

 have attempted inventing new ones; and 

 finally, giving up in despair, would have said 

 to those sons and daughters: "Go look for 

 yourselves; you would never believe me." 

 The finest view, and one that many visitors 

 overlook, is about seventy-five yards above the 

 pool, where from a shelving rock one can 

 enjoy an uninterrupted survey of nearly the 

 whole length of the snow-white rapids, "silver, 

 silver, a mile of silver, going on to the sea." 

 There is an O jib way legend, possibly origin- 

 ating with a hobgoblin, that in the long, long 

 ago a trout forced a passage up that impetu- 

 ous rush of water ; but it is now conceded that 

 it was an hydraulic error, or the shadow of 

 a mackerel sky. A casual glance and momen- 

 tary reflection would readily convince the most 

 incredulous that, while even a crippled trout 

 with a running start, would encounter little 

 difficulty in coming down, any statement that 



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