WATERFALLS.

A WATERFALL, as the name implies, is the descent of a body of water over a precipice to the plain below. This falling of the water, as a schoolmaster would say, is owing to the natural inequalities on the face of the country through which the stream passes. It follows, therefore, that we can only hope to find waterfalls in mountainous districts. England has not many moun tains, and has proportionately few waterfalls; she can, however, boast of a few interesting if not mighty ones, Scotland, being more mountainous than England, has more waterfalls. One of the largest in Scotland is known as the Falls of Foyer, where the water falls some two hundred and twelve feet, or a distance greater than the height of the Monument of London.

Waterfalls in their descent are very various. In some the water dashes in one unbroken column from the top of the mountain to the bottom; in others, falling over an irregular rock, it leaps from ledge to ledge, spraying at each step, till it reaches the bottom merely a foaming shower. Others again, from the rapidity of the stream, will form a complete arch in their descent, under which people may pass untouched-the water rushing over their heads.

The finest waterfalls in Europe are to be found in Norway and Sweden, where the water in some cases falls no less than one thousand feet; but these carnot be compared to the waterfalls of America. The largest and grandest in the world are those of Niagara. These are situated on the River Niagara, between Lakes Ontario and Erie. The water here falls in two enormous sheets, one six hundred and the other two

hundred yards wide. It has been calculated that no less than 113,000,000 gallons of water fall every minute. If this be correct, as much water falls every minute as is contained in the Thames between London and Southwark bridges,

Such are the wonders of other lands, but we must not lose sight of those of our own, which, though smaller, are pearer to us, and have therefore greater interest. So we shall finish this hasty and not very good account with the following description of an English waterfall by one of our own poets :

How does the water come down at Lodore ?
Here it comes sparkling,

And there it lies darkling;
Here smoking and frothing,
Its tumult and wrath in,

It hastens along, conflictingly strong,
Now striking and raging, as if a war waging
In caverns and rocks among.

And gleaming and streaming, and steaming and beaming,
And rushing and flushing, and gushing and brushing,
And flapping and rapping, and clapping and slapping,
And curling and whirling, and purling and twirling,
Retreating and meeting, and beating and sheeting,
Delaying and straying, and playing and spraying,
Advancing and prancing, and glancing and dancing,
Recoiling, turmoiling, and boiling and toiling,

And thumping and bumping, and jumping and plumping,
And dashing and flashing, and splashing and crashing,
And so never ending, but always descending,
Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending,
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar-
And this way the waters come down at Lodore.

THE NEEDLEWOMAN AND THE

ACTRESS.

ONE morning about last autumn, a poor sempstress was sitting in her lonely room in New York. She was young, and had seen better days, but now she depended for all her living on her needle, and often could not even get enough to do. On this occasion she had not had anything to do for several days, and was getting short both of food and money. It was an anxious moment with her, but she knew the Lord, and had just laid all her wants before him with more than usual earnestness. Suddenly there was a gentle knock at the door, and in stepped a young lady, full of life and gaiety, carrying a large parcel. "Can you sew for me?" said she. "I am in haste to have some work done, and I will pay you well for it if you can do it soon."

"I shall be but too happy to do so," said the poor sempstress, with a smile; "this is just what I have been praying for." She opened the parcel and saw very rich and gaudy dresses before her.

"I am an actress," said the young lady, looking at the sempstress with surprise, as she noticed her embarrassed and hesitating manner. "I am under an engagement to play in the theatre at Philadelphia; and these dresses must be altered; and these must be made at once," rattled out the thoughtless young lady; "and I will pay you very handsomely for your labour."

"I do not know about doing this work," said the poor sempstress. "I have prayed for work this very morning, it is true, for I am in distressing need of it; but I do not know about doing this," said she, hesitatingly.

"Why ?" said the actress.

THE NEEDLEWOMAN AND THE ACTRESS. 133

"Because I feel that in doing this work I should be serving the devil instead of serving the Lord Jesus," answered the sewing girl meekly.

"But did you not pray for work ?"

"Yes."

"And has not this come in answer to your prayer ?" "I do not know; it seems as if it had; but I feel as if I ought not to do it."

"Well! what will you do about it? How will you decide ?"

"I will lock my door, and I will kneel down here, and ask my heavenly Father to direct me what to do. He will tell. Will you kneel with me?"

Said the sewing girl, in relating the circumstances, "I scarcely expected she would comply with my request; but she kneeled at once."

The poor working woman poured out her heart to God, and spread before him frankly the perplexities of her mind. She was very urgent in her supplications and entreaties, to be so directed that she might fall into no sin, whatever way she decided. She went forward in her prayer with the simplicity of a little child, not dreaming of any effect which it was having upon the mind of the young actress, till, in the agony of her spirit, she threw her arms around the neck of the suppliant, and exclaimed, "Oh! do not pray any more about the dresses, but pray for me, for I am such a wicked girl."

The praying young woman was taken by surprise. She did not know whether her visitor was in earnest or whether she was in jest. She went on in her simple prayer, telling the Lord the new doubts which were in her mind as to the sincerity of the actress; for she really thought she might be trifling with her and with the

134 THE NEEDLEWOMAN AND THE ACTRESS.

subject of prayer. So she prayed that if the actress were not in earnest, she might there on the spot become so ; and if she were in earnest, she might there and then give herself to the Lord Jesus to be his servant for ever. She prayed that she might be convinced of the sinfulness of her present manner of life and forsake it, as the work of the great adversary of souls, and that henceforth she might lead a new life, of honour to God, and usefulness to her fellow-creatures.

They rose from their knees together-the actress and the sewing woman; they stood regarding each other a moment in silence.

"I shall not let you do this work," said the actress ; 66 no one shall do it."

"What will you do?" inquired the sewing woman. "I will leave it as it is."

"How about your engagement in Philadelphia ?”

"I will write to the manager, that I cannot play for him, but I will pray for him."

"How long have you been connected with the stage ?” "Five years; and I have become exceedingly attached to my profession. I never thought to leave it. I followed it with an enthusiasm which swallowed up my life. I never loved anything so well. But I shall quit the stage for ever. I shall never put foot upon it again."

"But what will you do with these unfinished gar

ments ?"

"I will keep them in just their present state. They shall remain as they are while I live and have the control of them, as a memento of this hour and this room, and of God's mercy in arresting me just here, and just as he has."

"What will you do now ?" still asked the sewing