like the commas and semicolons
in the paragraph,--mere stops. Yet I suppose it is not so to the
absent. At least, I have read things written about Niagara, music, and
the like, that interested _me_. Once I was moved by Mr. Greenwood's
remark, that he could not realize this marvel till, opening his eyes
the next morning after he had seen it, his doubt as to the possibility
of its being still there taught him what he had experienced. I
remember this now with pleasure, though, or because, it is exactly the
opposite to what I myself felt. For all greatness affects different
minds, each in "its own particular kind," and the variations of
testimony mark the truth of feeling.[A]

[Footnote A: "Somewhat avails, in one regard, the mere sight of beauty
without the union of feeling therewith. Carried away in memory, it
hangs there in the lonely hall as a picture, and may some time do its
message. I trust it may be so in my case, for I _saw_ every object far
more clearly than if I had been moved and filled with the presence,
and my recollections are equally distinct and vivid." Extracted from
Manuscript Notes of this Journey left by Margaret Fuller.--ED.]

I will here add a brief narrative of the experience of another, as
being much better than anything I could write, because more simple and
individual.

"Now that I have left this 'Earth-wonder,' and the emotions it
excited are past, it seems not so much like profanation to analyze
my feelings, to recall minutely and accurately the effect of this
manifestation of the Eternal. But one should go to such a scene
prepared to yield entirely to its influences, to forget one's little
self and one's little mind. To see a miserable worm creep to the brink
of this falling world of waters, and watch the trembling of its
own petty bosom, and fancy that this is made alone to act upon him
excites--derision? No,--pity."

As I rode up to the neighborhood of the falls, a solemn awe
imperceptibly stole over me, and the deep sound of the ever-hurrying
rapids prepared my mind for the lofty emotions to be experienced. When
I reached the hotel, I felt a strange indifference about seeing the
aspiration of my life's hopes. I lounged about the rooms, read the
stage-bills upon the walls, looked over the register, and, finding the
name of an acquaintance, sent to see if he was still there. What this
hesitation arose from, I know not; perhaps it was a feeling of my
unworthiness to enter this temple which