Niagara Falls 



1858-61 are first seen, but to this I demur. It matters, I think, very little, 

 or not at all. Let the visitor first see it all, and learn the where- 

 abouts of every point, so as to understand his own position and 

 that of the waters ; and then, having done that in the way of busi- 

 ness, let him proceed to enjoyment. . . . 



Up above the falls for more than a mile the waters leap and 

 burst over rapids, as though conscious of the destiny that awaits 

 them. Here the river is very broad and comparatively shallow, 

 but from shore to shore it frets itself into little torrents, and begins 

 to assume the majesty of its power. . . . The waters, though 

 so broken in their descent, are deliciously green. This colour, as 

 seen early in the morning or just as the sun has set, is so bright 

 as to give to the place one of its chiefest charms. 



This will be best seen from the farther end of the island — 

 Goat Island, as it is called — which, as the reader will understand, 

 divides the river immediately above the falls. Indeed, the island 

 is a part of that precipitously-broken ledge over which the river 

 tumbles, and no doubt in process of time will be worn away and 

 covered with water. The time, however, will be very long. In 

 the mean while it is perhaps a mile round, and is covered thickly 

 with timber. . . . The bridge by which the island is entered 

 is a hundred yards or more above the smaller fall. The waters 

 here have been turned by the island, and make their leap into 

 the body of the river below at a right angle with it — about two 

 hundred yards below the greater fall. Taken alone, this smaller 

 cataract would, I imagine, be the heaviest fall of water known; 

 but taken in conjunction with the other, it is terribly shorn of its 

 majesty. The waters here are not as green as they are at the 

 larger cataract; and, though the ledge has been hollowed and 

 bowed by them so as to form a curve, that curve does not deepen 

 itself into a vast abyss as it does at the horseshoe up above. This 

 smaller fall is again divided ; and the visitor, passing down a flight 

 of steps and over a frail wooden bridge, finds himself on a smaller 

 island in the midst of it. 



But we will go at once on to the glory, and the thunder, and 

 the majesty, and the wrath of that upper hell of waters. . . . 



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