The Rapids begin about half a mile above the cataract; and although the breadth of the river might at first make them appear of little importance, a nearer inspection will convince the stranger of their actual size, and the terrific danger of the passage. The inhabitants of the neighbourhood regard it as certain death to get once involved in them; and that, not merely because all escape from the cataract would be hopeless, but because the violent force of the water among the rocks in the channel, would instantly dash the bones of a man in pieces. Instances are on record of persons being carried down by the stream; indeed there was an instance of two men carried over in March last; but no one is known to have ever survived. Indeed, it is very rare that the bodies are found; as the depth of the gulf below the cataract, and the tumultuous agitation of the eddies, whirlpools, and counter currents, render it difficult for any thing once sunk to rise again; while the general course of the water is so rapid, that it is soon hurried far down the stream. The large logs which are brought down in great numbers during the spring, bear sufficient testimony to these remarks. Wild ducks, geese, &c. are frequently precipitated over the cataract, and generally re-appear either dead, or with their legs or wings broken. Some say that water-fowl avoid the place when able to escape, but that the ice on the shores of the river above often prevents them from obtaining food, and that they are carried down from mere inability to fly; while others assert that, they are sometimes seen voluntarily riding among the rapids, and, after descending half-way down the cataract, taking wing, and returning to repeat their dangerous amusement.--_American Work_. * * * * * BRIDAL, CANZONET. Sir Knight, heed not the clarion's call, From hill, or from valley, or turretted hall; Cease, holy Friar, cease for awhile The anthem that swells through the fretted aisle; Forester bold, to the bugle's sound Listen no longer, though gaily wound, But haste to the bridal, haste away, Where love's rebeck is tuned to a sweeter lay. Sir Knight, Sir Knight, no longer twine The laurel-leaf o'er that bold brow of thine; Friar, to-day from thy temples tear The ivy garland that sages wear; To-day, bold Forester, cast aside Thy oak-leaf crown, the woodland's pride, And bind round your brows the myrtle gay, While the rebeck resounds love's sweetest lays. Sir Knight, urge not now the gallant steed O'er the plains that to honour and glory lead; Friar, forget thy order's vow, And pace not the gloomy cloisters now. Chase no longer with bow and with spear, Forester bold, the dappled deer, But tread me a measure as light and gay As ever kept lime to the rebeck's lay. _Neele's Romance of History_. * * * * * THE GATHERER "I am but a _Gatherer_ and disposer of other men's stuff."--_Walton_.