of a place of eternal punishment, shut up his notebook in disgust, and walked off:  there was evidently no “story” to be made out of us.  After some luncheon and a bottle of Burgundy, neither Baring nor I felt any the worse for our swim, nor were we the least tired during the remainder of the day.  I have seen Niagara in summer, spring and in mid-winter, and each time the fascination of these vast masses of tumbling waters has grown on me.  I have never, to my regret, seen the Victoria Falls of the Zambesi, as on two separate occasions when starting for them unforeseen circumstances detained me in Cape Town.  The Victoria Falls are more than double the height of Niagara, Niagara falling 160 feet, and the Zambesi 330 feet, and the Falls are over one mile broad, but I fancy that except in March and April, the volume of water hurling itself over them into the great chasm below is smaller than at Niagara.  I have heard that the width of the Victoria Falls is to within a few yards exactly the distance between the Marble Arch and Oxford Circus.  When I was in the Argentine Republic, the great Falls of the River Iguazu, a tributary of the Parana, were absolutely inaccessible.  To reach them vast tracts of dense primeval forest had to be traversed, where every inch of the track would have to be laboriously hacked through the jungle.  Their very existence was questioned, for it depended on the testimony of wandering Indians, and of one solitary white man, a Jesuit missionary.  Now, since the railway to Paraguay has been completed, the Iguazu Falls can be reached, though the journey is still a difficult one.  The Falls are 200 feet high, and nearly a mile wide.  In the very heart of the City of Ottawa there are the fine Chaudiere Falls, where the entire River Ottawa drops fifty feet over a rocky ledge.  The boiling whirl of angry waters has well earned its name of cauldron, or “Chaudiere,” but so much of the water has now been drawn off to supply electricity and power to the city, that the volume of the falls has become sensibly diminished.  I know of no place in Europe where the irresistible might of falling waters is more fully brought home to one than at Trollhattan in Sweden.  Here the Gotha River whirls itself down 120 feet in seven cataracts.  They are rapids rather than falls, but it is the immense volume of water which makes them so impressive.  Every year Trolhattan grows more and more disfigured by saw-mills, carbide of calcium works, and other industrial buildings sprouting up like unsightly mushrooms along the river-banks.  The last time that I was there it was almost impossible to see the falls in their entirety from any point, owing to this congestion of squalid factories.