But this wasn't all. At the very same time, by the very same act, Labrador, Keewatin & Co. set Niagara Falls up in business. In those days there was a Niagara river but no Niagara Falls; at least not the one we know to-day. The ice filled the Ontario Valley so that the streams flowing into it had to turn around and flow south. The Niagara River was one of these streams. Then, as the ice melted, it poured loads of extra water into Lake Erie, so that it was some 30 feet higher than it is at present and began draining out through the new Niagara River, over the rocks that make the falls. [Illustration: A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF NIAGARA This is a bird's-eye view of the Niagara region. Where the river crosses a bed of limestone below Buffalo, and again where it crosses another just above the crest of the falls, some of the rock has been dissolved away, thus making it rougher, so that slight rapids have formed. Then comes the mighty plunge, after which the water flows through a gorge for about seven miles. Where the gorge bends abruptly at right angles is the great eddy called "The Whirlpool." ] NATURE IS THE ART OF GOD "Nature," as Sir Thomas Browne so finely said, "is the art of God." And nowhere is this art more striking in its beauty than in the work done by the glaciers. Those wonderful falls and the blue inland seas we call the Great Lakes, and thousands of smaller lakes scattered all over where the glaciers came, are only a part of this art work. The main ice sheets, you notice, didn't reach down among the mountains of California, but these mountains had small glaciers of their own in those days, just as they have now. Only they were much larger then because, as we have seen, it was such a snowy time all over the northern world. Listen to what these home-made glaciers of California did, and listen to how John Muir tells it: [Illustration: AND TO THINK WE DID IT ALL!] "It is hard," he says, "without long and loving study, to realize how great was the work done. Before the glaciers came, the range"--he is speaking of the Sierras--"was comparatively simple; one vast wave of stone in which a thousand mountains, domes, canyons, ridges, and so forth lay concealed." To carve them out of the stone "nature chose for a tool, not the earthquake or the lightning, but the tender snow flowers, noiselessly falling through unnumbered centuries. The snowflakes said, 'Come, we are feeble; let us help one another. Marching in close, deep ranks let us roll away the stones from these mountain sepulchres, and set the landscape free.'" It is evident that this was all in the Great Plan of things. For the rocks had to be of a certain kind and laid in a certain way for the little members of this art society of the sky to work these landscapes out. And the rocks were so made and laid when they were at least a mile below the surface on which the glaciers set to work.