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THE KNICKERBOCKER.

Vol. XXII. SEPTEMBER, 1843. No. 3.

THOUGHTS AT NIAGARA.

'There's nothing great or bright, thou glorious Fall!
Thou may st not to the fancy's sense recall.' Morpeth.

Numbers have labored to describe this imposing spectacle, butno pen can exhaust the subject, or do full justice to its grandeur. Itis great, indescribable, mighty; and the sensations it produces areindefinite, confused, and wholly unlike and above the emotionsraised by other scenes and other causes. It would be presumptionto offer a description; although the image of the passing momentis so deeply fixed in the mind, that all else can be dismissed atpleasure, and the imagination conduct us, as often as we will, to aseat on Table-Rock where we can again see the dashing watersroll up in billows above the verge, then gliding over, literally tumbleinto myriads of particles before they are lost in the rising spray.

One idea impressed me strongly, while enjoying this triumph ofNature's eccentricities; that the Canada Fall was to the Americanas Great Britain to the United States. Both of the same majesticpattern, equally lofty, created by the same stream, and side by side;but the former more powerful, more irresistible, more overwhelming;while the latter possesses another kind of beauty, less angry,less furious, less threatening, but yet grand and magnificent, and,take away the other fall, incomparable.

Undoubtedly in ages past this mighty tide rolled over in anunbroken sheet; but having worn away in a slow retreat to its presentposition, a rock unyielding and immovable separated

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