e special train
bearing the pair making a stop at each, though the passengers, boy and
man, longed quite naturally for a sight of the Marvel of Waters which
awaited them at the end of the line.

But Pittsburgh left behind, and Buffalo (the woodbox) all but grinding
under their wheels, neither Grandpa nor Johnnie could withstand longer
the temptation to push forward to wonderful Niagara itself. With loud
hissings, toot-toots, and guttural announcements on the part of the
conductor, the wheel chair drew up with a twisting flourish--at the
sink.

And now came the most exciting moment of all. For here imagination had
to be called upon least. This Niagara was liquid. And held back its vast
flood--or poured it--just as Johnnie chose. He proceeded to have it
pour. With Grandpa's cane, he rapped peremptorily twice--then once--on
the big lead pipe which, leading through the ceiling as a vent to Mrs.
Kukor's sink, debouched in turn into the Barber sink.

A moment's wait. Then some one began to cross the floor overhead with an
astonishing sound of rocking yet with little advance--in the way that a
walking doll goes forward. This was Mrs. Kukor herself, who was
motherhood incarnate to Johnnie; motherhood boiled down into an
unalloyed lump; the pure essence of it in a fat, round package. The
little Jewish lady never objected to this regular morning interruption
of her work. And so the next moment, the miracle happened. Lake Erie
began to empty itself; and with splashes, gurgles and spurts, the
cataract descended upon the pots and pans heaped in the Barber sink.

The downpour was greeted by a treble chorus of delight from the
tourists. "Oh, Grandpa!" cried Johnnie, jumping up and down. "Ain't it
fine! Ain't it fine!" And "Fine!" chimed in the old man, swaying himself
against his breast rope. "Fine! Fine!"

One long half-minute Niagara poured--before the admiring gaze of the two
in the special. Then the great stream became dammed, the rush of its
waters ceased, except for a weak trickle, and the ceiling gave down the
sound of a rocking step bound away, followed by the squeaking of a
chair. Mrs. Kukor was back at work.

The train returned silently to Pittsburgh, the Grand Army hat was taken
off and hung in its place, the blanket was pulled up about Grandpa's
shoulders, and this one of the pair of travelers was left to take his
rest. Comfortable and swift as the whole journey was, nevertheless the
feeble, old soldier was tired. H