the 'tarnel!"

I may, in juxtaposition with this, mention an Indian idea. Nothing
surprised the Indians so much at first, as the percussion for guns: they
thought them the _ne plus ultra_ of invention: when, therefore, an
Indian was first shewn a locomotive, he reflected a little while, and
then said, "I see--_percussion_."

There is a beautiful island, dividing the Falls of Niagara, called Goat
Island: they have thrown a bridge across the rapids, so that you can now
go over. A mill has already been erected there, which is a great pity;
it is a contemptible disfigurement of nature's grandest work.

At the head of the island, which is surrounded by the rapids, exactly
where the waters divide to run on each side of it, there is a small
triangular portion of still or slack water. I perceived this, and went
in to bathe. The line of the current on each side of it is plainly
marked, and runs at the speed of nine or ten miles an hour; if you put
your hand or foot a little way outside this line, they are immediately
borne away by its force; if you went into it yourself, nothing could
prevent your going down the falls. As I returned, I observed an ugly
snake in my path, and I killed it. An American, who came up, exclaimed,
"I reckon that's a _copper-head_, stranger! I never knew that they were
in this island." I found out that I had killed a snake quite as
venomous, if not more so, than a rattlesnake.

One never tires with these falls; indeed, it takes a week at least to
find out all their varieties and beauties. There are some sweet spots
on Goat Island, where you can meditate and be alone.

I witnessed, during my short stay here, that indifference to the
destruction of life, so very remarkable in this country. The rail-car
crushed the head of a child of about seven years old, as it was going
into the engine-house; the other children ran to the father, a
blacksmith, who was at work at his forge close by, crying out, "Father,
Billy killed." The man put down his hammer, walked leisurely to where
the boy lay, in a pool of his own blood, took up the body, and returned
with it under his arm to his house. In a short time, the hammer rang
upon the anvil as before.

The game of nine-pins is a favourite game in America, and very superior
to what it is in England. In America, the ground is always covered
properly over, and the balls are rolled upon a wooden floor, as
correctly levelled as a billiard table. The ladies