rfall" naturally associated itself in our minds
with something more wonderful, and we questioned the guide on the
subject, who, instead of answering directly, invited us to follow him.
We did so, winding round the corner of a huge column; but no cataract
met our inquiring gaze. "Wait you here," said the boy, "or rather go on
into that recess, while I run up the face of the cliff, and lift the
sluice." The idea of a sluice, as connected with one of the most
sublime of nature's productions, was too ludicrous. It reminded us of a
miserable little affair, not far from Schandau, on the road to the
Kuhstall, which the delighted Saxons exhibit to you as one of the
wonders of their land, and for the display of which you are charged one
groschen. For this Saxon cataract consists of a stream of water, a size
or too more voluminous than that which may, at any time, be seen
winding its way along the groved outsides of the streets in one of our
fifth-rate boroughs in England. Yet the Saxons make the most of it. By
means of a deal fence they dam it up on the top of a rock, perhaps
twelve feet high, and so keep it till some pleasure-seeking stranger
happens to approach the spot. Then, after exciting his curiosity to the
utmost, an old man leaves the wanderer in the road to gaze about in
vain, not only for the cataract, but for any place where a cataract
might be expected to exist. Yet the stranger must not begin to murmur
too speedily. All at once a cracked voice bids him attend. He turns
round; the sluice is raised, and out comes a volume of water, of all
things in creation most resembling that which in the old town of
Edinburgh follows on the exclamation, "Garde loo!" I advise the
astonished traveller not to indulge his admiration too long. If, in the
intensity of his ardour, he keep the sluice open more than ten minutes,
not only does the waterfall fade and disappear before his own eyes, but
a month may elapse ere it shall be in a fit state to be exhibited
again.

All these brilliant images took possession of our fancies as soon as
the boy had uttered the unlucky word "sluice;" and smiling to one
another, we made up our minds to rest contentedly where we were. But we
did not adhere to this determination. In a few minutes there came upon
us a noise like the growling of distant thunder; by-and-by the fall of
water was loudly and fiercely distinct, and we knew, to our extreme
surprise, that this was a very different affair from the ca