a considerable change in their shape; indeed slight variations constantly occur. It is also the opinion of the author I have quoted that they have diminished considerably in height, probably a hundred feet, but that there is no reason to suppose them to have been formerly in one unbroken fall, as they now are.

The first mention made of these falls was by Father Hennepin, a French missionary, in 1675. I will give a part of his quaint and exaggerated description: "Betwixt the Lake Ontario and the Lake Erie, there is a vast and prodigious cadence of water, which falls down after a surprising and extraordinary manner, insomuch that the universe does not afford its parallel. This wonderful downfall is about six hundred feet high, and composed of two great cross streams and two falls of water, with an island sloping across the middle of it. The waters which fall from this horrible precipice do foam and boil 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 this dismal roaring may be heard more than fifteen leagues off; the Niagara river at the foot of the falls is more than a quarter of a league broad."

There is already a sad list of fearful accidents at this place, though for so short a time frequented by

civilized man; the last few years have been fertile in them; perhaps the most horrible of all was one which happened in May, 1843. A Canadian of the village of Chippewa was engaged in dragging sand from the river three miles above the falls; seated in his cart, he backed the horses into the water, ignorant of the depth; it sank, but a box on which he sat, floated, and was soon driven by a high wind off from the land into the strong but smooth current; he, being unable to swim, clung to the box. A boat was on the shore, but by the mismanagement of the bystanders it was let loose into the stream, and floated past the unhappy man, empty and useless. There was no other for two miles lower down; beyond that, aid was impossible. The people on the beach, instead of hastening to get a boat ready in time below, ran along the shore talking to him of help, which their stupidity rendered of no avail; he knew that he was doomed-"I'm lost! I'm lost!" sounded fainter and fainter as the distance widened. This dreadful protraction lasted nearly an hour, the stream being very slow at first, he scarcely appears to move, but the strength increases, the waters become more troubled, he spins about in the eddies, still clinging with the energy of despair to his support. He

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passes close by an island, so close that the box touches and stops for one moment—but the next, it twists slowly round and is sucked into the current again. The last hope was that a boat might be ready on the shore at Chippewa ; it was vain, there were none there but frail canoes all high up on the beach; by the time one of them was launched, the boldest boatman dared not embark.

For, but just above the falls, they saw the devoted victim, whirled round and round in the foaming waves, with frantic gestures appealing for aid; his frightful screams pierced still through the dull roar of the torrent-"I'm lost! I'm lost!"

He is now in the smooth flood of blue unbroken water, twenty feet in depth, the centre of the Canadian fall. Yet another moment, he has loosed his hold; his hands are clasped as if in prayer; his voice is silent. Smoothly, but quick as an arrow's flight, he glides over and is seen no more, nor any trace of him from that time.

On Iris island is found one of the very few burying-grounds which are known to have belonged to the departed race; a considerable number of skeletons have been dug up there, all placed in a standing or sitting posture. When this place, of such difficult and perilous access, was chosen by the

simple Indians, it must have been from a strong wish that the precious ashes should remain undisturbed. None can now ever know how long they have slept the sleep which even the roar of Niagara cannot awaken.

There was one splendid moonlight night during my stay. At eleven o'clock I went off to Table Rock, took up the favourite position, looked and wondered. There were no boring guides or chattering visitors to mar the effect: the light was not sufficiently strong to reveal the fungi of the place; I was opposite to the Great Fall, saw it and nothing else; unless occasionally, when my eyes followed the soft faint spray, "the everlasting incense of the waters," which rose up against the deep blue sky, undisturbed by the slightest breath of wind. Through its delicate gauze the bright stars twinkled with undimmed lustre, while the full moon shining down, tinted it with the tender shades of the lunar rainbow.

But, unsoftened by this fair colouring, unsoothed by the gentle silence of the autumn night, the great torrent roared, plunged, and dashed over its leap, in stillest calm as in wildest tempest, the same ever. The fresh springs of life and feeling must be thoroughly dried up in the heart of the

man who does not know a new sensation when he

looks upon Niagara.

I found, by looking at my watch, that in apparently a very short time it had got very late; the spray and the damp grass had wetted me; the night air chilled me, "foolish old man that I am:" so, coughing, and drawing my woollen comforter tighter round my throat, I turned towards the hotel, stopping many a time to look back. But little space for sleep was left me before the morning sun warmed into life the noise and bustle of the house. My journey recommenced that day.