The window of Mrs. Lester’s room, at the Clifton House, commanded a fine view of the falls, so that they could be enjoyed even in the moments of rest and dressing. It was a lovely day, and the walk to Table Rock is probably the most magnificent in the world, commanding as it does, through its entire length, a noble view of both falls. The sunlight on the white foaming water made it almost painful for the eyes to look upon. They sat on Table Rock and looked down upon the dazzling beauty of those falling waters so quaintly described by the French missionary, Father Hennepin, who saw them in 1678. “A vast and prodigious cadence of water, which falls down after a surprising and astonishing manner, insomuch that the universe does not afford its parallel.” They had a more extensive view of the rapids, in connection with the falls, from the observatory of the house near Table Rock. Then they went to the Pagoda, and after ascending several flights of stairs, entered a small room containing a round table covered with white muslin. Norman wondered why they had come, when the old man closed the window, and on this white table was thrown a picture that the greatest painter of earth cannot equal. Soft and beautiful, a moving picture first of the American falls, then of the brown crags of Goat Island, and the soft foliage of its forests, then of the Horse-Shoe Fall, with its brown stone tower. And while they were looking at this the little steamer Maid of the Mist, was seen making its way through the foam and spray to the foot of that mighty cataract, and then turning for its return voyage. “What a beautiful picture!” cried Norman, laughing aloud with delight; “what would not the Queen of England give for such a table in her drawing room?” “No table of mosaic or enamel can ever equal the soft tints of that lovely picture,” replied his mother. “O look there! look there!” cried Norman, as Table Rock and the road leading to it appeared on the wonderful table. “See those ladies with their parasols seated on the rock, and that little girl with her brown straw flat, and that carriage filled with gentlemen driving up there; and look at these ladies walking away; how little do they know that their portraits are painted on this table? “In old times, mother,” continued Norman, “people would have thought this a magic table, but because we know that it is a camera obscura we do not think it so wonderful.” “There is the Clifton House,” said the man, “and see that bit of foreground, masses of foliage.” “Norman, we must leave this enchanted picture, for it will soon be time for us to go back to dinner.” One more view from Table Rock, more beautiful than ever, crowned as it was with a brilliant rainbow spanning the British and American Falls, a type of the bow of peace which should unite the nations.