wish to be still a child--if that were possible.

All this is on the way to the Falls of Montmorency. These falls
are placed exactly at the mouth of the little river of the same
name, so that it may be said absolutely to fall into the St.
Lawrence. The people of the country, however, declare that the
river into which the waters of the Montmorency fall is not the St.
Lawrence, but the Charles. Without a map I do not know that I can
explain this. The River Charles appears to, and in fact does, run
into the St. Lawrence just below Quebec. But the waters do not
mix. The thicker, browner stream of the lesser river still keeps
the northeastern bank till it comes to the Island of Orleans, which
lies in the river five or six miles below Quebec. Here or
hereabouts are the Falls of the Montmorency, and then the great
river is divided for twenty-five miles by the Isle of Orleans. It
is said that the waters of the Charles and the St. Lawrence do not
mix till they meet each other at the foot of this island.

I do not know that I am particularly happy at describing a
waterfall, and what little capacity I may have in this way I would
wish to keep for Niagara. One thing I can say very positively
about Montmorency, and one piece of advice I can give to those who
visit the falls. The place from which to see them is not the
horrible little wooden temple which has been built immediately over
them on that side which lies nearest to Quebec. The stranger is
put down at a gate through which a path leads to this temple, and
at which a woman demands from him twenty-five cents for the
privilege of entrance. Let him by all means pay the twenty-five
cents. Why should he attempt to see the falls for nothing, seeing
that this woman has a vested interest in the showing of them? I