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The following is a description of the famous falls of Niagara, written by a gentleman of this states

who visited them a few months since ; and although it is not given as any thing new, yet it may serve to remind some of your readers, that no inan ever repented a visit to that mighty Cataract, and may induce them to go and behold the greatest natural curiosity of which their country can boast.


Chippeway, Sept. 4, 1805. us, as it were, a profile view of the AFTER a hearty breakfast we set rock, on which our companion off (a party of four) provided with a stood. We were terrified and as. guide and a bottle of wine, to fol- tonished ; we beheld a flat rock, low the footsteps of Volney and not more than two feet thick, and Weld to the falls of Niagara, dis- of itself projecting ten feet, and the tant about two miles. The day rock under it hollowing into cav, was fine, with scarcely a breeze to erns to the water, as appeared to interrupt the smooth expanse of us fifty or sixty feet more ; we the river before us. The distant saw our companion, standing al. noise of the cataract was much be- most in air, over the dreadful Death our expectations, and all we crags below, ready, it would saw of the falls, for half a mile, was seem, with the rocks themselves the cloud of spray, which rose a. to fall! Every one involuntarily bove them. This foretold some cried out to him to retire, while great cause.

the guide, smiling at our unneces. Proceeding onwards, we come sary fears, conducts us back to the to a view of the rapids, which for further bank we had descended, half a mile above the main pitch where we stopped awhile to renothrow the immense waters into vate our moral and physical great turbulence and foam. As strength. we proceed, the banks of the river Our next object is to descend gradually become from five to fif- Simcoe's ladder,before we arrive at ty feet above the level of the river. the top of which, we have to pass Coming to a house on the bank of down the steep bank, as before, and the river opposite the falls, we leave go over a plain nearly the same as the road, and descend by an ex. in the path to Table rock. ceedingly steep path to a rich plain We followed the guide by the below; now entering a thick wood ladder, leading down a rude preciand shrubbery, very wet and mud- pice, which is continued along for dy, we pick our way to Table rock, a quarter of a mile to the falls, and the projecting point, where stran. is now the real bank of the river. gers are first carried.

Arrived at the bottom of this long Here we gaze at the mighty ladder, we got down as well as we sight of an immense river, precip. could, a height of about fifty feet itating itself one hundred and fifty further, descending over mounds feet perpendicularly into an abyss, of earth, bushes, and pieces of rock, the bottom of which (owing to the tumbled together from the precispray) cannot be seen.

pice above. Our guide, leaving one of the We are now nearly on a level party on Table rock, conducted us with the river below the falls, a small distance down, which gave which are a quarter of a mile dise tant, and the way to them exceed- issues out of the horrid cavernis ingly rough ; but, excepting one under the falls, sometimes hid us pass, not dangerous. This, I am from a sight of the falling waters confident, very few would attempt and even from each other. in any other place than this ; but Having halted, Mr. B- first the scenes around are so grand, as cautiously proceeded to get under to inspire every one with courage. the pitch, and, returning after a

When we had com within five few moments, thinks he went ahundred feet of the falls, we stop- bout twenty feet under, but was ped to survey the objects around hid neariy the whole time from us us, which are in the highest de

by the spray. gree grand and terrifick. Above I was the next to attempt, aus hung a precipice, an hundred midst the mighty terrours around, and twenty or thirty feet high, full a survey of these caverns, horrible of loose stones, which are daily as death, and where he alone falling, and the possibility, that one seemed to hold empire. Facing may fall upon you in passing, in- the whirlwind, and necessarily spires the mind with no inconsid- disregarding the pelting spray, I erable degree of alarm. Turning crept as fast as the slippery crags our backs to the precipice, we see would admit, without once stopbefore us (on the opposite side of ping to tivink of danger. I went, the river, placed on a perpendicu- as well as I could judge, fifteen or lar rock as high as the falls) Goat twenty feet under, or beyond the island, dividing the falls into two outer edge of the sheet. I durst great sheets, four or five hundred venture no farther, but, reclining feet apart. The farthest are call- in a posture between sitting and ed Little falls, and the other laying, I first seized a small stone Horse-shoe falls. The former is to bring away with me, an eternal called little, only in comparison remembrance of the place I took with the Horse-shoe falls; and not it from. This done, I paused for being so easy of access, and dis- a few moments. charging less water, is seldom vis- ...To attempt to describe my ited by strangers. Then looking, feelings, or to particularise each as our way leads, we see the main howling horrour around me, were fall, tumbling its prodigious waters vain. It is not the thousand riv, into the bed of the lower river, and ers of water, that tumble from running off wildly foaming beneath above...nor the piled-up precipice a cloud of spray in one general roar of slippery crags, on the top of and confusion, magnificent beyond which you lay...nor the furious description.

whirlwind,driving like shot thespray We now proceeded, the spray against you, threatening at each wetting us more and more as we gust to throw you into the meradvanced, and the rocks becoming oiless jaws of death below...nor the more slippery, but not dangerous. thundering roar of the cataract...not Before we arrived at the caverns, all these, that bring each its parabout one hundred feet from the ticular terrour ; but the whole of falling water, where we took our them together, striking the mind stand, we were completely drench- at once, appal the senses, and the çd by the violent beating of the weakened judgment gives way to spray against us, which, driven on the idea, that the rock above, which by the furious rushing wind, that of its if supports the mighty whole, has loosened from its foun- looking up, saw, half surprised, dations and actually started to the hoary rock still firm on its crush the whole below!

foundations, amidst this seeming .....I escaped before it fell... crush of worlds. soon found my companions, and



No. 1l.
Siva gerit frondes.-OVID.

strains of lavish encomium, the POPE was fond of imitating the mushroom poetasters of the day. ancients, though what he borrow- A writer, who with the rapidity of ed he improved, and his own a Blackmore, shall finish an epick thoughts were not inferiour to in six weeks, attracts the admiratheirs. Some very beautiful lines, tion of many, who consider celeri- . in his Elegy to the memory of an ty in writing as a proof of extraorunfortunate young lady, he seems dinary genius. The reverse of to have imitated from Ovid ; and this however is true; and the I am surprized that Dr. Warton, greatest master-pieces of writing, in his excellent edition of Pope's far from being dashed off at a hit, works, has not remarked the re- have consumed a very considerable semblance. I shall quote both the portion of time in their composition, English and Latin, that the read- Perfection is the reward of great er may judge for himself.

labour, united with great genius.

The co-operation of both can alone Fhat can atone, oh! cver-injured shade, ensure success. Without genius, Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid ? labour would be dull and insipid ; No friend's complaint, no kind domestick tear Fiezsed thy pale ghost, or graced thy mournful without labour, genius would be

absurd and extravagant. Had the By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed, By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed,

Alcander of Pope, an epick poem By foreiga hands thy humble grave adorned, which he wrote at sixteen, beer By strangers honoured, and by strangers mourned. preserved, he would probably have

been deemed a great poet by those, Though these are exquisite who now dispute his claims to that lines, (for no man, says Hume, can

character. These gentlemen rewrite verses with equal spirit and quire originality, at the expense of elegance to Mr. Pope) yet the whatever absurdity. They prefer following passage of Ovid unques- the wilderness to the garden, tionably supplied the materials.

though the latter may possess all

the beauties of nature, without her irgo ego nec lachrymas matris moritura videbo,

deformities. But true taste adNec, mea qui digitis lumina condat, erit. Spiritus infclix peregrinas ibit in auras,

mires nature only in her charms, Nec positos artus unget amica manus, not in the gross.

Neither poet Osta superstabunt volueres inhumata marinae.

nor painter would describe a Ovid's Epistles. Ariadne to

quagmire, nor expose to view

those parts of the person, which It has been the fashion, of late decency clothes. Yet nature has fears, to depreciate the poetical claims as equal to what is concealmerit of Pope, and to exalt, in ed, as to what is exhibited.


Theseus. lin. 119.

• True wit is nature to advantage drest,'

ties leave us room to doubt, wheth. not a ragged gypsy, nor a tawdryer we ought to look upon him as strumpet. High, masterly execu- the best, or as the worst of men. tion is what constitutes a preemi. On the one hand, he was a great nent writer. He exhibits the best philosopher, who knew how to thoughts, exprest in the best man- distinguish truth from falsehood, ner. When he borrows, he im- who could at one view perceive all proves ; what he imitates, he ex- the consequences of a principle, cels. He commands a certain fe. and discover how they are linked licity of style, which, though sim- together. On the other hand, he ple, is highly figurative, which was a great sophist, who underconvinces by its energy, and took to confound truth with falsecharms by its beauty. Of all the hood, and knew how to draw false ancient poets Pope most resembles inferences from the principles he Virgil. He has the same correct supported. On the one hand, a ness, the same majesty of num- man of learning and knowledge; bers, allowing for the inferiority who had read all that can be read, of a modern language. There is and remembered all that can be scarcely a page of Virgil, his remembered. On the other hand, Georgics excepted, in which we ignorant, or at least feigning to be cannot trace him imitating or so, with regard to the most comtranslating whole passages from mon things ; proposing such dishother writers, so that he has fewer culties, as had been a thousand pretensions to originality, than al- times answered, and urging objecmost any poet ancient or modern. tions, which a schoolboy could not And yet what ancient author is so make without blushing. On the universally read, or affords so one hand, attacking the most emi. much pleasure, Horace perhaps nent men, opening a large field excepted ? Pope has more origin for their labours, leading them nality than Virgil, but less than through the most difficult roads, Dryden. Yet who reads more of and, if he did not vanquish them, Dryden than a single satire and a giving them at least a great deal of single ode? Pope is the poet of trouble to vanquish him. On the the human species, the favourite other hand, a man who made use of all ages, the oracle of all pro- of the worst of authors, to whom fessions. Originality! Fiddledy he was lavish of his praises ; and diddledy.

who disgraced his writings by quoting such names as a learned

mouth never pronounced. On the BAYLE was a great and original one hand, free, at least in appeargenius. I believe, that it is not ance, from all the passions, which generally known, that his charac- are inconsistent with the spirit of ter is admirably drawn by Saurin, christianity ; grave in his discourwhich I doubt not will be more ses, temperate in his diet, austere acceptable to many readers of the in his manner of living. On the Silva, than any original remarks of other hand, employing all the the present writer. He was one strength of his genius to overthrow of those extraordinary men (says the foundations of moral virtue, atthat eloquent preacher) whom the tacking, as much as lay in his powgreatest wit cannot reconcile with er, chastity, modesty, and all the nimself, and whose opposite quali- christian virtues. On the one side,


appealing to the throne of the most might transpose the paragraphs as severe orthodoxy ; going to the you read without injury. The purest springs, borrowing his ar- style is indeed more pure and clasguments from the least suspected sical than that of Thomson, which writers. On the other hand, fol. abounds with gorgeous epithets lowing the paths of hereticks, pro- and ill-sounding compound adjecposing again the objections of the tives. But the latter has infinitely ancient heresiarchs, lending them the advantage in the superiour innew arms, and collecting together terest which he excites, in more in our age all the errours of past vigour of conception, in greater ages. May that man, who had tenderness and delicacy, and in eve been endowed with so many tal-ery poetical embellishment. I ents, be acquitted before God of the give the Seasons an annual peruill use he made of them! May that sal, and they always afford me Jesus, whom he so often attacked, fresh pleasure. I have never been have expiated his sins!'

able to read the Task a second

time. As to Cowper's producPARNELL AND VOLTAIRE. tions in rhyme, if any man can The story of the hermit, which read them at all, I shall rather apParnell tells in verse, Voltaire re- plaud his patience, than imitate his lates in prose, precisely in the same example. He seems to have no order, in his romance of Zadig. ear for harmony, so that, were we Quere, which is the plagiary, or not acquainted with his age, we have they both borrowed the story should scarcely suspect him of befrom another ? Voltaire continued ing a modern. Though there an author for more than sixty may be harmony without poetry, years, but still I think that Parnell there can be no good poetry withmust have been his senior. Few out harmony. The want of this have written so well as Voltaire on indispensible requisite constitutes such an infinite variety of subjects; the principal charge of Horace abut in every department of litera- gainst Lucilius, as the possession ture he has been excelled by some of it in a pre-eminent degree gives His immortality would have been to Virgil and Pope the exalted rank more secure, had he confined his which

they hold among the poets genius to any one species of com- of their respective countries. The position, though his temporary satires and epistles of Horace we popularity would have been less probably know not the true methextensive.

od of reading. We cannot at pre

sent discover in them that harmoCOWPER AND THOMSON. ny, the want of which he censures I am astonished that any one in Lucilius, and which, for this can prefer Cowper to Thomson. very reason, they must undoubtedThe Task is indeed a poem of con- ly possess. I once endeavoured siderable merit, exhibiting an orig- to read Cowper's Homer, but I inal cast of thought, and a strong found it an herculean task, and I imagination. But it does not pose was no Hercules. It may possess sess the same interest as the Sea. every other merit, but certainly sons, nor do I recollect any passa- wants the power of keeping its ges in it eminently beautiful. readers awake. The first lines of There is so little order and con- the Seasons are ridiculous, as they nexion in this poem, that you contain absurd imagery. Observe.

Vol. III, No. 1. с

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