hen the
'terrestrial puts on the celestial.'

Our travellers remained at the Falls for a week, that they might become
familiar with them, see them by the rising and the setting sun; by
daylight, and moonlight, and starlight, in all the radiance of the
clear, full day, and in mists and storm; and then, after offering a Te
Deum from the temple of their hearts, they left them with beautiful and
imperishable pictures traced on their memories.

In following the windings of the Niagara to Newark, they passed the
celebrated heights of Queenstown, 'where ceas'd the swift their race,
where fell the strong;' but even then, though then so recent, there were
no traces of the disastrous battle fought there. The children, whose
home was in a hill-country, and who valued a mountain as much as a
New-Englander does a 'water privilege,' rambled over the heights, and
gazed delighted on the green Niagara, which, escaped from its rocky
prison, rejoices in its freedom, sweeps freely and gracefully around the
bluff promontories that indent its course, flows past the headland,
where Fort Niagara guards the American shore, and enters Lake Ontario,
which stretches, sparkling in the distance,

"To where the sky
Stoops, and shuts in th' exploring eye."

Edward had, in common with most spirited boys, a natural taste for
military exploits. "I think," he said to his mother, "that a coward
might play the hero on these heights, or at Lundie's-lane. Only think,
mother, of fighting within the sound of the roaring of the Falls: would
it not give you grand feelings?"

"I think, Edward, if I could hear the Falls at such a moment, they would
seem to me to speak in a voice of rebuke, rather than encouragement."

"O, mother, you never seem to admire courage; but I suppose it is
because you are a woman."

"No, my dear: women have been accused of having rather an undue admiration
for what you mean by courage--fighting courage; but I confess that war
seems to me a violation of the law of God, and it appears a profanation
of such beautiful scenes as these, to convert them into fields of
battle."

When they reached Newark, the party walked up to Fort George; a slight
embankment, surrounded by a palisade, is still dignified by that name.
"This palisade as they call it, Ned," said Mr. Morris, "we should
scarcely think a sufficient defence against the batteries of pigs and
chickens."

"It has served, though, to keep the