Memories of delight steal o'er you as you recall again the many noble trees at Mt. Vernon. Just north of the brick wall of the flower garden are two magnificent tulip trees towering in their stately grandeur far above their companions; filling their branches with a wealth of creamy bell-shaped blossoms which like innumerable swinging censers scatter delicious incense on the passing breeze. The master of those beautiful and spacious grounds has long since departed; but when we gaze upon those magnificent trees planted by his hands we seem to catch the spirit of the man whispered by all their green leaves, melodies clearer and sweeter than any music we had heard before. We have been straying from the Falls but as we said people are more interesting. At the edge of the Canadian channel are the Three Sister Islands, so named because the three daughters of General Whitney were the first white women to cross to the outer island long before the bridges were built. The river below the Falls is very narrow and the descent is very steep, about three-quarters of a mile below the suspension bridge. Here a sudden turn in the channel causes the waters to impinge against the Canadian shore, where they have made a deep indentation, and to rush back to the American side in a great whirl or eddy, rendered more furious by the uneven bed of the river, and the narrow space into which it contracts. "Here the most terrific commotion of any of Niagara's tumultuous demonstrations is seen. The frenzied waters form a seething vortex, the terror of the most daring navigators." Here the hissing, clashing, seething, upswirling mass of water where it strikes the rocks is whirled in swift eddies as if drawn downward by some awful river monster below. The waves produced are like the billows of the ocean, and have the same quality of loud booming tones, possessing the same wild exuberance of motion. The passionate torrent swirls in wild ecstasy around the rocks, springing aloft and tipping the waves with a silvery radiance or clashing its emerald waters in plumes of spray. One never tires gazing at the waters leaping and gliding like living creatures as they dash themselves to pieces on the rocks, or listening to the swash and gurgle of the rapid waters or the keen clash of heavier waves.