Our way lay through the usual gathering of stores, hotels, livery stables for the horses and ponies needed for the excursions, and curiosity dealers' shops, to the village street, as it may be termed, shadowed by fine trees, under which reposed some Indians--one of whom, an Amazon in yellow toga, went riding full gallop past us, her hair falling in a black mat on her shoulders, sitting low, in Melton style, regardless of poultry, children, and boulders, and vanishing in a cloud of dust under the trees. Then we turned to the left and crossed the river by a rustic bridge; and as I looked down into the dancing waters certain shadow-like objects flew up against the current. "Trout?" asked I. "Yes, they're trout. They take 'em--when they dew--five pounds weight. The Injuns catch 'em. We don't understand it as well." A short walk, with eyes ever up-turned, and we come out to a moraine, and, clambering up over a mass of trunks of trees and decaying timber, _the_ Falls were before us--I cannot write more--no adjective will do. "Two thousand six hundred and thirty-four feet, mind!" says the voice. "I don't care," thought we, "it's the most beautiful and wonderful water-jump ever seen by human eye." "It only remains," as they say, to state that there is first, falling over a sheet of granite straight as a wall, a considerable river, which in the plunge comes down at once 1600 feet. There, in a basin of rock, it collects its scattered forces, under cover of eternal spray and cloud, and then takes another header of 434 feet to a barrier of granite, against which it rages for a mad moment, till it swells over and escapes from control by another spring of 600 feet sheer down--and now it is free, and rushes past at our feet, a joyous flashing stream.