The more we attempted to locate Trenton the more of a mystery it
became, and we confess this only heightened our interest the
more. The very act of locating a spot represented as famous and
now seemingly forgotten had a fascination about it that excited
our imagination; we fell into conjectures regarding the scenery,
vegetation, and above all, the location of this forgotten place.
"Trenton falls," we repeated to ourselves, is a poem of color
and a softly singing cataract that is embowered in the most
romantic landscape we have ever seen--we learned that from a
book of travel. "It is a mere echo of Niagara with the subtile
beauty and delicate charm, yet lacking the noisy, tumultuous
demonstrations of the greater cataract." What else? It may be
conveniently reached in a short time from Utica. The blue-book,
"beloved of tourists," did not deign to notice its existence if
it ever had one. We were not so sure but that it was only a
fanciful creation in the brain of some romantic writer. The more
we inquired concerning its location, the more we became aware
that here was a little spot of beauty for some reason forgotten,
lying within easy reach of Utica, yet unknown to the eyes of
conventional sight-seers.
After a time, we were made bold enough to venture a talk with
the tall man, who at once furnished us with the desired
information, which was as welcome to us as sight to the blind.
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