This Smaller Fall Is Again
Divided; And The Visitor, Passing Down A Flight Of Steps And Over A
Frail Wooden Bridge, Finds Himself On A Smaller Island In The Midst
Of It.
But we will go at once on to the glory, and the thunder, and the
majesty, and the wrath of that upper hell of waters.
We are still,
let the reader remember, on Goat Island - still in the States - and
on what is called the American side of the main body of the river.
Advancing beyond the path leading down to the lesser fall, we come
to that point of the island at which the waters of the main river
begin to descend. From hence across to the Canadian side the
cataract continues itself in one unabated line. But the line is
very far from being direct or straight. After stretching for some
little way from the shore to a point in the river which is reached
by a wooden bridge at the end of which stands a tower upon the
rock, - after stretching to this, the line of the ledge bends inward
against the flood - in, and in, and in - till one is led to think
that the depth of that horseshoe is immeasurable. It has been cut
with no stinting hand. A monstrous cantle has been worn back out
of the center of the rock, so that the fury of the waters
converges; and the spectator, as he gazes into the hollow with
wishful eyes, fancies that he can hardly trace out the center of
the abyss.
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