the St Lawrence; but such sights are not to be compared to a total eclipse, if measured by the power of stirring strong emotion. In an eclipse, all things combine to deepen the effect; there is nothing out of keeping with the grandeur and awfulness of the spectacle. In viewing the Falls of Niagara, there is much to tone down the feelings of awe and wonder. Familiarity has destroyed man's reverence; merry, laughing, picnic parties dispel the charm. Blondin exhibits his tight-rope feats in their presence. The very birds despise their terrors, and dash heedlessly into the spray, to catch the stupefied fish as they come tumbling down the liquid arch. The descent of the rapids of the St Lawrence, however daring the exploit may at first seem, fails, from the requisite accessaries, to produce a very powerful sensation. When shooting the Long Sault, or even the Lachine, or the Cedars, there is no overpowering feeling. The Indian at the wheel, with his imperturbable matterof-fact every-day expression; the old traveller, not caring to rise from the breakfast-table to look out on the tumultuous rush of waters; the air of security around, all combine to break the spell of that wonderful feat. It is quite different in the case of the total eclipse. All nature sympathises with, and enhances your feelings of awe and mysterious apprehension. The earth, seas, and sky assume a lurid, unnatural hue. An unearthly silence is felt at the moment of totality. Every living thing catches the influence, and cowers
