eakened by the imperfect glimpses that could be caught
of the cataract from the road.

* * * * *

We hope our young readers do not think us so presumptuous as to attempt
to give them a description of the Falls of Niagara; one of the sublimest
spectacles with which this fair earth is embellished. Neither can we
attempt to define the emotions of our travellers. We find in Edward's
and Julia's journals, noted with an accuracy and taste that does them
great credit, all the constituent parts of this great whole--a poet or
a painter might perhaps weave them into a beautiful picture.

The vehement dashing of the rapids--the sublime falls--the various
hues of the mass of waters--the snowy whiteness, and the deep bright
green--the billowy spray that veils in deep obscurity the depths
below--the verdant island that interposes between the two falls, half
veiled in a misty mantle, and placed there, it would seem, that the eye
and the spirit may repose on it--the little island on the brink of the
American fall, that looks amidst the commotion of the waters like the
sylvan vessel of a woodland nymph gaily sailing onward; or as if the
wish of the Persian girl were realized, and the 'little isle _had_
wings;'--a thing of life and motion that the spirit of the waters had
inspired.

The profound caverns with their overarching rocks--the quiet habitations
along the margin of the river--peaceful amid all the uproar, as if the
voice of the Creator had been heard, saying "It is I, be not afraid."--The
green hill, with its graceful projections, that skirts and overlooks
Table-rock--the deep and bright verdure of the foliage--every spear of
grass that penetrates the crevices of the rocks, gemmed by the humid
atmosphere, and sparkling in the sun-beams--the rainbow that rests on
the mighty torrent--a symbol of the smile of God upon his wondrous work.

"What is it, mother?" asked Edward, as he stood with his friends on
Table-rock, where they had remained gazing on the magnificent scene for
fifteen minutes without uttering a syllable, "what is it, mother, that
makes us all so silent?"

"It is the spirit of God moving on the face of the waters--it is this
new revelation to our senses of his power and majesty which ushers us,
as it were, into his visible presence, and exalts our affections above
language.

"What, my dear children, should we be, without the religious sentiment
that is to us as a secon