from the form of the rock overhanging the river, and of the hill
that falls from thence down to the water, it has been found
impracticable to lay out the place in right-angled parallelograms.
A right-angled parallelogramical city, such as are Philadelphia and
the new portion of New York, is from its very nature odious to me.
I know that much may be said in its favor--that drainage and gas-
pipes come easier to such a shape, and that ground can be better
economized. Nevertheless, I prefer a street that is forced to
twist itself about. I enjoy the narrowness of Temple Bar and the
misshapen curvature of Picket Street. The disreputable dinginess
of Hollowell Street is dear to me, and I love to thread my way up
the Olympic into Covent Garden. Fifth Avenue in New York is as
grand as paint and glass can make it; but I would not live in a
palace in Fifth Avenue if the corporation of the city would pay my
baker's and butcher's bills.

The town of Ottawa lies between two waterfalls. The upper one, or
Rideau Fall, is formed by the confluence of a small river with the
larger one; and the lower fall--designated as lower because it is
at the foot of the hill, though it is higher up the Ottawa River--
is called the Chaudiere, from its resemblance to a boiling kettle.
This is on the Ottawa River itself. The Rideau Fall is divided
into two branches, thus forming an island in the middle, as is the
case at Niagara. It is pretty enough, and worth visiting even were
it farther from the town than it is; but by those who have hunted
out many cataracts in their travels it will not be considered very
remarkable. The Chaudiere Fall I did think very remarkable. It is
of trifling depth, being formed by fractures in the rocky bed of
the river; but the waters have so cut the rock as to create
beautiful forms in the rush which they make in their descent.