lence and gloom, is now animate with joy and
revelry.

The upper fall, as determined by the rude means of measurement at our
command, is one hundred and fifteen feet in height. The river approaches
it through a passage of rocks which rise one hundred feet on either side
above its surface. Until within half a mile of the brink of the fall the
river is peaceful and unbroken by a ripple. Suddenly, as if aware of
impending danger, it becomes lashed into foam, circled with eddies, and
soon leaps into fearful rapids. The rocky jaws confining it gradually
converge as it approaches the edge of the fall, bending its course by
their projections, and apparently crowding back the water, which
struggles and leaps against their bases, warring with its bounds in the
impatience of restraint, and madly leaping from its confines, a liquid
emerald wreathed with foam, into the abyss beneath. The sentinel rocks,
a hundred feet asunder, could easily be spanned by a bridge directly
over and in front of the fall, and fancy led me forward to no distant
period when such an effort of airy architecture would be crowded with
happy gazers from all portions of our country. A quarter of the way
between the verge and the base of the fall a rocky table projects from
the west bank, in front of and almost within reaching distance of it,
furnishing a point of observation where the finest view can be obtained.
In order to get a more perfect view of the cataract, Mr. Hedges and I
made our way down to this table rock, where we sat for a long time. As
from this spot we looked up at the descending waters, we insensibly felt
that the slightest protrusion in them would hurl us backwards into the
gulf below. A thousand arrows of foam, apparently _aimed at us_, leaped
from the verge, and passed rapidly down the sheet. But as the view grew
upon us, and we comprehended the power, majesty and beauty of the scene,
we became insensible to danger and gave ourselves up to the full
enjoyment of it.

Very beautiful as is this fall, it is greatly excelled in grandeur and
magnificence by the cataract half a mile below it, where the river takes
another perpendicular plunge of three hundred and twenty feet into the
most gloomy cavern that ever received so majestic a visitant. Between
the two falls, the river, though bordered by lofty precipices, expands
in width and flows gently over a nearly level surface until its near
approach to the verge. Here a sudden convergence in the