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.
Go down to the end of that wooden bridge, seat yourself on the
rail, and there sit till all the outer world is lost to you. There
is no grander spot about Niagara than this. The waters are
absolutely around you. If you have that power of eye-contrio which
is so necessary to the full enjoyment of scenery, you will see
nothing but the water. You will certainly hear nothing else; and
the sound, I beg you to remember, is not an ear-cracking, agonizing
crash and clang of noises, but is melodious and soft withal, though
loud as thunder. It fills your ears, and, as it were, envelops
them, but at the same time you can speak to your neighbor without
an effort. But at this place, and in these moments, the less of
speaking, I should say, the better. There is no grander spot than
this. Here, seated on the rail of the bridge, you will not see the
whole depth of the fall. In looking at the grandest works of
nature, and of art too, I fancy it is never well to see all. There
should be something left to the imagination, and much should be
half concealed in mystery. The greatest charm of a mountain range
is the wild feeling that there must be strange, unknown, desolate
worlds in those far-off valleys beyond. And so here, at Niagara,
that converging rush of waters may fall down, down at once into a
hell of rivers, for what the eye can see.
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