t is absurd also. "The
Thunder of the Waters" can neither be painted upon canvas nor described
in words. It is composed on a scale too large for human understanding. A
giant might find some amusement in its friendly contemplation. A man can
but stand aghast at its sound and size, as at some monstrous accident.
He may compare the Fall on the American side with the Horse-shoe on the
Canadian. He has no other standard of comparison, since Niagara not only
transcends all other phenomena of its kind, but also our human vision
and imagination. When you see the far-tossed spray lit up with a
flash of iridescence, you catch at something which makes a definite
impression; and you feel the same relief that a man may feel when he
finds a friend in a mob of strangers. To heap up epithets upon this
mysterious force is the idlest sport. Are you nearer to it when you
have called it x "deliberate, vast, and fascinating"? You might as well
measure its breadth and height, or estimate the number of gallons which
descend daily from the broad swirling river above. A distinguished
playwright once complained of Sophocles that he lacked human interest,
and the charge may be brought with less injustice against Niagara. It
is only through daring and danger that you can connect it with the human
race; and you find yourself wondering where it was that Captain Webb was
hurled to his death, or by what route the gallant little "Maid of the
Mist" shot the rapids to escape the curiosity of the excise officer.

Nothing is more curious in the history of taste than the changed view
which is taken to-day of natural scenery. Time was when the hand
and mind of man were deemed necessary for a beautiful effect, A wild
immensity of mountain or water was thought a mere form of ugliness; a
garden was a waste if it were not trimmed to formality; and a savage
moorland was fit only for the sheep to crop. The admiration of Father
Hennepin, the companion of La Salle, and the first white man who ever
gazed upon Niagara, was tempered by affright. "This wonderful Downfal,"
said he in 1678, "is compounded of Cross-streams of Water, and two
Falls, with an Isle sloping along the middle of it. The Waters which
fall from this horrible Precipice do foam and boyl after the most
hideous manner imaginable, making an Outrageous Noise, more terrible
than that of Thunder; for when the wind blows out of the South, their
dismal roaring may be heard more than Fifteen Leagues off." These