You will be impressed with the old Lombardy poplars that were
planted by the French along the lake. Here they have stood,
buffeted by the winds of more than two centuries until they
resemble grim, sturdy warriors who have known many conflicts.
They stand near the water's edge, defiant still, like brave
soldiers unable to move farther, who have faced about to meet
the enemy. With their few scattered limbs still pointing upward,
they seem almost as old as the fort itself. Nature was kind and
had clothed their few aged limbs with bright green leaves, which
will retain their tints almost as long as any deciduous trees.
But why recall these tales of bygone days when the British and
the Americans were engaged in these terrible struggles? Let us
go back to the falls where a voice at once grand and awesome
speaks of a day so old we have no record, save the geological
hieroglyphics; those vast manuscripts written on the tables of
rocks by the hand of Time.
On going to Niagara for the first time, one fears that his
impression will not be great, for has he not heard from
childhood, that name reiterated a thousand times until it has
lost much of its glamour? Then, too, has he not seen pictures of
Niagara in his geography and heard his older brothers tell about
it until its grandeur seems, from what he had at first pictured
in fancy, to lose much of its significance? "But like sunsets,
mountains, lakes and some people he may know, who are still
strikingly beautiful though common, he will find a significance
in the real Niagara like these.
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