It was one of those bright, glorious days which the poet Herrick calls the “bridal of the earth and sky.”  From a heaven intensely blue, the sun, without a cloud, “looked like a God” over his dominions.  Some rain had fallen in the night, and the weather suddenly clearing up towards morning, had hardened the moisture into ice.  Every bush, every tree, the fences, were covered with a shining mail, from which and from the crisped surface of the snow, the rays of the sun were reflected, and filled the air with a sparkling light.  Transmuted, as by a magician’s wand, the bare trees were no longer ordinary trees.  They were miracles of vegetable silver and crystal.  Mingled among them, the evergreens glittered like masses of emerald hung with diamonds.  Aladdin, in the enchanted cavern, saw not so brilliant a spectacle.

The narrow road which led to the Falls descended a declivity, where it left the main street until it came to within a few feet of the surface of the river, then curving round the base of the hill, it skirted the winding margin of the stream until it ascended another hill, on the top of which, from a platform of level rock, one of the finest views was commanded.  The path was slippery with ice, and in descending the declivity the arm of Bernard was necessary to support the uncertain steps of his companion.  It was with a sort of tremor he offered it, of which Faith was all unconscious.  She took it without hesitation, and stepping cautiously over the glazed surface, and laughing at each other’s slips, the young couple pursued their walk.  On their right was a steep hill, rising in some places to a height of one hundred feet above their heads, covered over, for a considerable distance along the road, with the perennial beauty of the graceful hemlock and savin, now resplendent in jewels; and on the left the Yaupaae, its frozen level hid in snow, out of which the trees and shrubs on the little islands raised their silver armor glittering in the sun.  In the distance, and visible from the greater part of the road, the river, in a narrow chasm, dashed down the rocks.  An unusual quantity of snow had lately fallen, which, having been succeeded by heavy rains, had swollen the stream to more than double its ordinary size.  It was evident that, what in the language of the country is called a freshet was commencing.  Such is the name given to those swellings of the water, the most formidable of which commonly occur in the month of February, or early in the Spring, when the overcharged rivers, bursting their boundaries and overflowing the neighboring lowlands, sometimes occasion great damage to property, sweeping away bridges, and mills, and dams, with irresistible violence.

The roaring of the Falls had been long distinguishable, but, it was not until the first curve in the road had been turned, that they came into sight.”

“Look!  Faith,” cried Bernard, as they burst into view; “did you ever see them more magnificent?”