We arrived at Niagara to-day from Buffalo, and put up at the Clifton House. It will not be expected that I should tell what my first feelings and impressions were on beholding this thrice-glorious cataract, for I hardly am, in the least, conscious of what they were myself. I only know this; it scarcely seemed to me at all like what any painting or any description had represented it to be, except only in the shape of the great Canadian Fall.

When the train we were in stopped, the roar of the cataract burst on our ears most majestically. It was a moment of intense excitement, and on we hastened, and stood very shortly within a few feet of the verge of the American Fall, and looking on to the magnificent Horseshoe. There we were in the audience-chamber of the great Water King. If one saw the sun for the first time, could one describe it? Do not expect me yet to say anything of Niagara; at least anything to the purpose. The garrulous mood will very likely come on me presently; when, perhaps, I shall quite tire the reader with my rhapsodies, so that he may have cause to wish all my powers of expression were still frozen up by awe and admiration, like the notes in the horn, as related of Baron Munchausen.

What a wonderful thing can water become! One feels, on looking at Niagara, as if one had never seen that element before.