All of that is but one experience of Niagara. Afterwards we went on board the _Maid of the Mist_, where special clothing was once more proferred us; and this time I dressed in accordance with suggestion. On the little steamer’s deck we soon were seated, cowled and habited like a company of friars, with only our faces showing. The stout little craft crept cautiously towards the cataract. Soon we were cruising through the clouds and into the white confusion of eddies, our craft riding perceptibly deeper in water of a buoyancy reduced by myriad intermingled bubbles of air. From the _Maid of the Mist_ we saw the might and majesty of the Niagara Falls from a fresh, if somewhat hazy, point of view. Niagara is certainly a most unsuitable place for a river. First, there is that appalling, unavoidable tumble down a precipice; then, when equilibrium and composure have been recovered, and dignified progress is resumed between verdant cliffs clothed with flowers and innocence, more geographical treachery is met with. Out of the left bank a bay has been scooped, and water entering there is doomed to rush round and round, entrapped and helpless, carrying branches, leaves, and other floating objects in a monotony of aimless circles. This is the whirlpool, and residents of the neighbourhood tell you grim stories of men in canoes, women in barrels, and derelict human corpses travelling for weary hours in those dizzy waters, until some chance eddy at last brought them within reach of rescuing arms. [Illustration: NIAGARA: ABOVE THE CANADIAN FALLS] [Illustration: NIAGARA: THE CANADIAN FALLS] Still lower down, the river knows the grievous disadvantage of a channel inadequate to its bulk. Forsaking their parallel relation, the banks deflect in gradually converging lines. At once the water takes alarm. Its face puckers into wrinkles of distress, then is bedabbled with foam; and anon the panic-river, blanched with terror, flings itself forward in delirious haste, white wave climbing over white wave until, at the point of greatest restriction, one sees high piles of struggling water. Between the whirlpool and the rapids I noted strong men on the rocky banks fishing with thick rods in the fierce current. Out on the Queenston heights locusts droned in the trees on the battlefield, and wild grapes were growing on slopes that commanded a far view of fair scenery. I have concluded my cursory sketch of Canada’s greatest coal mine—white-coal mine. For a remarkable change has come over the character of Niagara Falls. In my school-days it was merely one of the wonders of the world, and of no more practical account than the Sphinx. Now it is a thing of infinite utility, and has as definite a commercial value as the bullion in the Bank of England.