One fears his visit to Niagara will spoil his journey to
Trenton, and finds himself repeating these significant lines of
Shakespeare:
"When the moon shone, we did not see the candle;
So doth the greater glory dim the less."
But, Shakespeare never saw Trenton falls, or he never would have
written those lines. What could be more beautiful than its
lovely cascades flashing in the sun or hidden away among the
shadows among the pine and maple?
A little red squirrel barked and chattered among the pine boughs
as if reprimanding us for eating so many of the luscious
blackberries that grew near the falls. Seeing that his attempts
to make us move were of no avail, he scampered down the tree,
coming quite near us and giving vent to his outraged feelings,
punctuating each remark with a sudden jerk of his bushy red
tail, scolding and gesticulating like an Irish cop. He seemed to
be by far the most important personage of the forest, not
excepting the inquisitive bluejay who rightfully cried "thief!
thief!" at us from a maple near by. Both the red squirrel and
bluejay have been classed as villains by all Nature writers; yet
when we thought of the wonderful part they both play in
disseminating seeds far and wide, we readily forgave them their
bloody deeds and treated both with the respect due Nature's
Master Foresters, which both of them truly are.
"Gaily, freely, see me, hear me," sang a small olive colored
bird in the leafy maples above us. We agreed that his song came
to us gaily and most freely, and all heard it so well that we
paused as often amidst our berry-eating as he, while he
refrained from singing just long enough to knock a luscious
green canker worm in the head and devour it. It was the warbling
vireo we heard. What a lesson is his mingling melody with work
uncomplainingly and helping to keep the woods green and
beautiful by his constant industry, co-partner with the squirrel
and jay.
Seeing we had to leave the blackberry patch while we were able,
we departed from the place, taking a last long look at the
exquisite falls and another at the powerhouse where was made the
electricity that illuminated a certain hotel in Utica. We
thought, too, of the proprietor so blinded by the glare of his
own lamps as to exclaim: "There is no such place."
Talk about an Irish cop and you are sure to see one. Before we
were fairly started we were hailed by one; the very size of him
and his ruddy face as if a danger signal had been waved in front
of us were enough to stop the most venturesome driver. He soon
turned out to be more inquisitive than a bluejay, and although
he did not cry "thief" he hurled a volley of questions at us in
such rapid succession we could hardly find answers.
