Mr. Willis—Mr. Slingsby we mean—commences by _dating_ his visit to the Falls, with reference not to any positive or acknowledged æra, but, relatively, to an æra in his personal experience. He does not say I went in 1810—or in 1820. “It was in my senior vacation,” says he, “and I was bound to Niagara for the first time.” We are thus slyly made acquainted with a trio of items, which, when duly considered, are to give weight and character to the subsequent details. We are informed, firstly—that Mr. Slingsby has been to college—secondly, and presumptively, that he {598} graduated, (it is his senior vacation) and thirdly, that he has since paid other visits to Niagara, (he is on his way thither for the _first_ time.) But in the narration of a trip to the great waterfall, some wit, some repartee, has been thought indispensable, and wit cannot so effectively be displayed, as by means of a foil. Our author, therefore, has a companion, and describes him. He is an ugly fellow, of course—seven feet high, ill-dressed, solemn, and sensible. We now see the advantage of all this—and are prepared for the Rembrandtities of contrast. To enjoy them in perfection we must imagine Mr. Slingsby (whom we never saw) as a delicate little gentleman, with a pretty face and figure—fair, funny, fanciful, fashionable, and frisky. The friends leaving Buffalo cross the outlet of Lake Erie at the ferry, and take horses on the northern bank of the Niagara for the Falls. Mr. Slingsby during the ride, is now lost in admiration of the “noble stream hurrying on headlong to its fearful leap, as broad as the Hellespont, and as blue as the sky,” and now excessively merry at the expense of his ally and foil, “who rides along,” we are told, “like the man of rags you see paraded on an ass in the carnival.” Thus the narrative proceeds in a vein of mingled sentiment and _very-good-joke_. Let us give another example of this. “The river,” says Mr. Slingsby, “now broke into rapids foaming furiously, and the subterranean thunder increased like a succession of earthquakes, each louder than the last. [A bull.] I had never heard a sound so broad and universal. It was impossible not to suspend the breath, and feel absorbed, to the exclusion of all other thoughts, in the great phenomenon with which the earth seemed trembling to its centre. A tall misty cloud, changing its shape continually, as it felt the shocks of the air, rose up before us, and with our eyes fixed upon it, and our horses at a hard gallop, we found ourselves unexpectedly in front of a large white——hotel!”