4 Falls of the Niagara. 



like a smoke in distantly burning woods, and designating the 

 sublime scene over which it is immediately hanging. I know 

 not that I was afterwards more strongly atiected, even by the 

 Falls themselves, than I was by the sight of this ever changing 

 and yet never absent guide, this cloudy pillar, this floating, 

 evanescent, and yet eternal testimony, which pointed out to 

 me the exact spot which had been for so many years as a 

 shrine to thousands, which I had heard of and read of so 

 long, and which I had myself so often visited, though not in 

 person, yet with my reverential wishes, with my mind, and 

 with my heart. Childhood came back to me, with its indis- 

 tinct, but highly wrought and passionate images ; maps were 

 unrolled ; books were opened ; paintings were spread ; 

 measurements were recalled ; all the efforts which the art of 

 man had made, all the tributes which his spirit had offered, 

 at the call of the great cataract ; all these associations, with 

 other dream-like thoughts of the wilderness, the lake, and the 

 stream, rose up unbidden and with power within me, as I 

 steadfastly regarded that significant, far off mist, and knew 

 that I, too, was soon to stand on the consecrated spot, and 

 see, and feel. 



A mile or two is soon passed, and now we turn a little from 

 the road to the right, in order to have a near view of the 

 rapids. These occupy the whole breadth of the river, from 

 shore to shore, and extend half a mile back from the Falls, 

 and are formed by the rush of the entire body of waters down 

 a rough bed, the descent of which in the course of this half 

 mile is fifty feet. Here all is tumult and impetuous haste. 

 The view is something like that of the sea in a violent gale. 

 Thousands of waves dash eagerly forward, and indicate the 

 interruptions which they meet with from the hidden rocks, by 

 ridges and streaks of foam. Terminating this angry picture, 

 you distinguish the crescent rim of the British Fall, over which 

 the torrent pours and disappears. The wilderness and the 

 solitude of the scene are strikingly impressive. Nothing that 

 lives is to be seen in its whole extent. Nothing that values 

 its life, ever dares venture it there. The waters refuse the 

 burden of man, and of man's works. Of this they give fair 

 and audible warning, of which all take heed. They have 

 one engrossing object before them, and they go to its accom- 

 plishment alone. 



Returning to the road, we ride the last half mile, ascending 

 gradually, till we come to the public house.* A footpath 

 through the garden at the back of the house, and down a 



* Forsyth's Hotel 



