The phrase "Lesser Waterfall" 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.