in anything that renders them conspicuous, no matter how vulgar that display may be.  If one must have a fools’ paradise, generally known as a honeymoon, this is about as pleasant a place as any other for it; and, as there are several runaway couples stopping here, and the place is just on the border, this is doubtless the American Gretna Green, where silly women and temporarily-infatuated men can marry in haste, to repent at leisure.”

Mr. Heathcote gave his camera enough to do, as may be imagined.  He and Sir Robert traced the Niagara River from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario, and photographed it at every turn, made careful estimates of its length, breadth, depth, the flow of currents, scale of descent to the mile, wear of precipice, and time necessary for the river to retire from the falls business altogether and meander tranquilly along on a level like other rivers.  They arrayed themselves in oil-skin suits and spent an unconscionable time at the back of the Horseshoe Fall, roaring out observations about it that were rarely heard, owing to the deafening din, and had more than one narrow escape from tumbling into the water in these expeditions.  They carefully bottled some of it, which they afterward carefully sealed with red wax and duly labelled, intending to add it to a collection of similar phials which Sir Robert had made of famous waters in many countries.  They went over the mills and factories in the neighborhood, and Sir Robert had long confabs with the managers, of whom he asked permission to “jot down” the interesting facts developed in the course of their conversations, surprising them by his knowledge of mechanics and the subjects in hand.

“Man alive! what do you want with those?” said he to one of them, a keen-faced young fellow, who was showing him the boiler-fires.  He pointed with his stick as he spoke, and rattled it briskly about the brick-work by way of accompaniment as he went on:  “Such a waste of force, of money! downright stupidity!  You don’t want it.  You don’t need it, any more than you need an hydraulic machine tacked to the back of your trains.  You have got water enough running past your very door to—­”

“I’ve told that old fool Glass that a thousand times,” broke in the young man; “but if he wants to try and warm and light the world with a gas-stove when the sun is up I guess it’s no business of mine, though it does rile me to see the power thrown away and good coal wasted.  If I had the capital, here’s what I’d do.  Here.”

Seizing Sir Robert’s stick, the enthusiast drew a fondly-loved ideal mill in the coal-dust at his feet, while Sir Robert looked and listened, differed, suggested, with keen interest, and Mr. Heathcote gave but haughty and ignorant attention to the talk that followed.

“Yes, that’s the way of it; but Glass has lived all his life with his head in a bag, and he can’t see it.  I am surprised to see you take an interest in it.  Ever worked at it?” said the man in conclusion.