The two grand falls of the Yellowstone form a fitting completion to this stupendous climax of wonders.  They impart life, power, light and majesty to an assemblage of elements, which without them would be the most gloomy and horrible solitude in nature.  Their eternal anthem, echoing from canon, mountain, rock and woodland, thrills you with delight, and you gaze with rapture at the iris-crowned curtains of fleecy foam as they plunge into gulfs enveloped in mist and spray.  The stillness which held your senses spellbound, as you peered into the dismal depths of the canon below, is now broken by the uproar of waters; the terror it inspired is superseded by admiration and astonishment, and the scene, late so painful from its silence and gloom, is now animate with joy and revelry.

The upper fall, as determined by the rude means of measurement at our command, is one hundred and fifteen feet in height.  The river approaches it through a passage of rocks which rise one hundred feet on either side above its surface.  Until within half a mile of the brink of the fall the river is peaceful and unbroken by a ripple.  Suddenly, as if aware of impending danger, it becomes lashed into foam, circled with eddies, and soon leaps into fearful rapids.  The rocky jaws confining it gradually converge as it approaches the edge of the fall, bending its course by their projections, and apparently crowding back the water, which struggles and leaps against their bases, warring with its bounds in the impatience of restraint, and madly leaping from its confines, a liquid emerald wreathed with foam, into the abyss beneath.  The sentinel rocks, a hundred feet asunder, could easily be spanned by a bridge directly over and in front of the fall, and fancy led me forward to no distant period when such an effort of airy architecture would be crowded with happy gazers from all portions of our country.  A quarter of the way between the verge and the base of the fall a rocky table projects from the west bank, in front of and almost within reaching distance of it, furnishing a point of observation where the finest view can be obtained.  In order to get a more perfect view of the cataract, Mr. Hedges and I made our way down to this table rock, where we sat for a long time.  As from this spot we looked up at the descending waters, we insensibly felt that the slightest protrusion in them would hurl us backwards into the gulf below.  A thousand arrows of foam, apparently aimed at us, leaped from the verge, and passed rapidly down the sheet.  But as the view grew upon us, and we comprehended the power, majesty and beauty of the scene, we became insensible to danger and gave ourselves up to the full enjoyment of it.