We had come between fifty and sixty miles the preceding day to St. Katherine’s, and I was a little fatigued by my ride, so that while our repast was preparing, and it was a late one, I felt no inclination to move. I was content to have reached the Falls, and satisfied with hearing their sound, and in being so near them.

When we had finished our refreshment, I was disposed to take a few glasses of wine, but the evening began to set in, and twilight grey had in her sober livery all things clad.

“If ye’re disposed to look at the waterfall to-night, Bogle, you had as well go before it be quite dark,” said my wife.

“Are not you going?” said I, somewhat surprised at the manner in which the suggestion was offered.

“Oh, there is no need; I have seen them already.”

“You have seen them?—when? how?”

“The house have given us the best bed-room, and when I was up before dinner, putting my head in order, I looked out at the window.” “Gracious! you have seen them, and calmly eating your dinner afterwards?”

“They were just under me, leaping, rolling, roaring, and jumping, like mad.”

“Mrs. Bogle Corbet, what do you say?”

“But,” she replied, “for all that, I think them, upon the whole, very neat, and ‘tis a pleasant prospect from the window.”