40 THROUGH CANADA 



I took the first opportunity of re-visiting Niagara. 

 More than a score of years ago, during a holiday in 

 the United States, I saw the magnificent spectacle for 

 the first time. The setting of the Falls had under- 

 gone some change meanwhile. A bridge linked Goat 

 Island with the mainland, and commercial obtrusive- 

 ness along the shores had left its desecrating marks 

 in huge and unsightly buildings. 



But the Falls, ah ! nothing could spoil them. The 

 deep diapason of their roar had not grown less. The 

 myriads of crystals, dazzling in their brightness, 

 still rolled over the precipice and thundered into 

 the yawning abyss, ever athirst with insatiable 

 greed. The mist still veiled the cataract, and the 

 spray bow formed its complete circle ; no segment 

 this, but an infinite round, in keeping with infinite 

 marvel. 



I walked through the Cave of the Winds, and 

 heard the shrieking as of ten thousand fiends, and 

 was whipped with the water lashes of offended 

 spirits. I watched the rapids below the Falls, 

 seething and foaming as if the water had grown mad, 

 with the great leap across the precipice. The power 

 that lies hidden in this world's wonder has made its 

 appeal alike to superstition and science, in the one 

 case working tragedy, in the other utility. We see 

 the young Indian girl set adrift in her canoe, laden 

 with fruit and flowers, and swept across the Falls, 

 the annual offering to the great Manitou, which 



