THE CONQUEST OF NATURE 



undergo a marvelous change. Of a sudden the placid 

 waters seem to feel the beckoning of a new impulse. 

 Caught with the witchery of a new motion, they go 

 swirling ahead with unwonted lilt and plunge, calling out 

 with ribald voices that come to the ear in an inchoate 

 chorus of strident, high-pitched murmurings. Each 

 wavelet seems eager to hurry on to the full fruition of 

 the cataract. It lashes with angry foam each chance 

 obstruction, and gurgles its disapproval in ever-changing 

 measures. Even to the most thoughtless observer the 

 mighty current thus unchained attests the sublimity 

 of almost irresistible power. Could a mighty mill-wheel 

 be adjusted in that dizzy current, what labors might it 

 not perform? Five million tons of water rush down 

 this decline each hour, we are told; and the force that 

 thus goes to waste is as if three million unbridled 

 horses exhausted their strength in ceaseless plunging. 

 This estimate may be only a guess, but it matters not 

 whether it be high or low; all estimates are futile, all 

 comparisons inadequate to convey even a vague con- 

 ception of the majesty of power with which the mighty 

 waters rush on to their final plunge into the abysm. 



It is here, you might well suppose, where the appall- 

 ing force of the current is made so tangible, that man 

 would place the fetters of his harness, making the 

 madcap current subject to his will. You will perhaps 

 more than half expect to see gigantic mechanisms of 

 man's construction built out over the rapids or across 

 the face of the cataract so much has been said of 

 aestheticism versus commercialism in connection with 

 the attempt to utilize Niagara's power. But whatever 



