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At last, let us suppose, we have landed our traveller at the town of Winnipeg, the half-way house of the Continent, the capital of the Prairie province, and, I trust, the future centre of the Dominion. Having had so much of water, having now reached the home of the buffalo, he naturally, like the extenuated Falstaff, 'babbles of green fields' and careers in imagination over the primeval grasses of the prairie. Not at all. We take him down to the quay and ask him which he will ascend first, the Red River or the Assineboine: two streams, the one five hundred miles long, the other four hundred and eighty, which so happily mingle their waters within the city limits. After having given him a preliminary canter up these respective rivers, we take him off to Lake Winnipeg, an inland sea three hundred miles long and upwards of sixty broad, during the navigation of which for many a weary hour he will find himself out of sight of land, and probably a good deal more indisposed than ever he was on the Lake of the Woods or even the Atlantic.

At the north-west angle of Lake Winnipeg he hits upon the mouth of the Saskatchewan, the gateway to the northwest, and the starting-point to another one thousand five hundred miles of navigable water, flowing due east and west between its alluvial banks. Having now reached the foot of the Rocky Mountains, our traveller, knowing that water cannot run up hill, feels certain his aquatic experiences are ended. He was never more mistaken. We immediately launch him upon the Athabaska and Mackenzie rivers, and start him on a longer trip than any he has yet undertaken, the navigation of the Mackenzie river alone exceeding two thousand five hundred miles. If he survives this last experience, we wind up his wanderings by a voyage of one thousand four hundred miles down the Fraser river, or if he prefer it, the Thompson river, to Victoria in Vancouver.

Now in this enumeration those who are acquainted with the country are aware that, for the sake of brevity, I have omitted thousands of miles of other lakes and rivers, which

water various regions of the north-west; but the sketch I have given is more than sufficient for my purpose; and when it is further remembered that most of these streams flow their entire length through alluvial plains of the richest description, where year after year wheat can be raised without manure, and without sensible diminution in its yield, and where the soil everywhere presents the appearance of a highly cultivated suburban market-garden in England, enough has been said to display the agricultural riches of the territories I have referred to, and the capabilities they possess of affording happy and prosperous homes to millions of the human race.

LORD DUFFERIN.

FLOWER DE LUCE.

BEAUTIFUL lily, dwelling by still rivers,
Or solitary mere,

Or where the sluggish meadow-brook delivers
Its waters to the weir!

Thou laughest at the mill, the whirr and worry
Of spindle and of loom,

And the great wheel that toils amid the hurry
And rushing of the flume.

Born in the purple, born to joy and pleasance
Thou dost not toil nor spin,

But makest glad and radiant with thy presence
The meadow and the lin.

The wind blows, and uplifts thy drooping banner,
And round thee throng and run

The rushes, the green yeomen of thy manor,
The outlaws of the sun.

The burnished dragon-fly is thine attendant,
And tilts against the field,

And down the listed sunbeam rides resplendent
With steel-blue mail and shield.

Thou art the Iris, fair among the fairest,
Who, armed with golden rod,

And winged with the celestial azure, bearest
The message of some god.

Thou art the Muse who, far from crowded cities,
Hauntest the sylvan streams,

Playing on pipes of reed the artless ditties
That come to us as dreams.

O flower de luce, bloom on, and let the river
Linger to kiss thy feet!

O flower of song, bloom on, and make for ever
The world more fair and sweet.

H. W. LONGFELLOW.

THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.

PART I.-FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

ON Friday, November 1st, 1872, just before reaching the village of Niagara Falls, I caught, from the railway train, my first glimpse of the smoke of the cataract. Immediately after my arrival, I went with a friend to the northern end of the American Fall. It may be that my mood at the time toned down the impression produced by the first aspect of this grand cascade; but I felt nothing like disappointment, knowing, from old experience, that time and close acquaintanceship, the gradual interweaving of mind and nature, must powerfully influence my final estimate of the scene. After dinner we crossed to Goat Island, and, turning to the right, reached the

southern end of the American Fall.

The river is here studded

with small islands. Crossing a wooden bridge to Luna Island, and clasping a tree which grows near its edge, I looked long at the cataract, which here shoots down the precipice like an avalanche of foam. It grew in power and beauty. The channel spanned by the wooden bridge was deep, and the river there doubled over the edge of the precipice, like the swell of a muscle, unbroken. The ledge here overhangs, the water being poured out far beyond the base of the precipice. A space, called the Cave of the Winds, is thus enclosed between the wall of rock and the falling water.

Goat Island ends in a sheer dry precipice, which connects the American and Horseshoe Falls. Midway between both is a wooden hut, the residence of the guide to the Cave of the Winds, and from the hut a winding staircase, called Biddle's Stair, descends to the base of the precipice. On the evening of my arrival, I went down this stair, and wandered along the bottom of the cliff. One well-known factor in the formation and retreat of the cataract was immediately observed. A thick layer of limestone formed the upper portion of the cliff. This rested upon a bed of soft shale, which extended round the base of the cataract. The violent recoil of the water against this yielding substance crumbles it away, undermining the ledge above, which, unsupported, finally breaks off, and produces the observed recession.

At the southern extremity of the Horseshoe is a promontory, formed by the doubling back of the gorge excavated by the cataract, and into which it plunges. On the promontory stands a stone building, called the Terrapin Tower, the door of which had been nailed up because of the decay of the staircase within it. Through the kindness of Mr. Townsend, the superintendent of Goat Island, the door was opened for From this tower, at all hours of the day, and at some hours of the night, I watched and listened to the Horseshoe Fall. The river here is evidently much deeper than the American branch; and instead of bursting into foam where it

me.

quits the ledge, it bends solidly over, and falls in a continuous layer of the most vivid green. The tint is not uniform; long stripes of deeper hue alternating with bands of brighter colour. Close to the ledge over which the water rolls, foam is generated, the light falling upon which, and flashing back from it, is sifted in its passage to and fro, and changed from white to emerald green. Heaps of superficial foam are also formed at intervals along the ledge, and are immediately drawn into long white streaks. Lower down, the surface, shaken by the reaction from below, incessantly rustles into whiteness. The descent finally resolves itself into a rhythm, the water reaching the bottom of the fall in periodic gushes. Nor is the spray uniformly diffused through the air, but is wafted through it in successive veils of gauze-like texture. From all this it is evident that beauty is not absent from the Horseshoe Fall, but majesty is its chief attribute. The plunge of the water is not wild, but deliberate, vast, and fascinating. From the Terrapin Tower, the adjacent arm of the Horseshoe is seen projected against the opposite one, midway down; to the imagination, therefore, is left the picturing of the gulf into which the cataract plunges.

THE FALLS OF NIAGARA.

PART II.-BENEATH THE FALLS.

On the first evening of my visit, I met, at the head of Biddle's Stair, the guide to the Cave of the Winds. He was in the prime of manhood-large, well-built, firm, and pleasant in mouth and eye. My interest in the scene stirred up his, and made him communicative. Turning to a photograph, he described, by reference to it, a feat which he had accomplished some time previously, and which had brought him almost under the green water of the Horseshoe Fall. 'Can you lead me there to-morrow?' I asked. He eyed me inquiringly,

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