But what I liked best was to sit on Table Rock, close to the great fall.

There all power of observing details, all separate consciousness, was quite lost.
Once, just as I had seated myself there, a man came to take his first look.

He walked close up to the fall, and, after looking at it a moment, with an air as if thinking how he could best appropriate it to his own use, he spat into it.
This trait seemed wholly worthy of an age whose love of _utility_ is such that the Prince Puckler Muskau suggests the probability of men coming to put the bodies of their dead parents in the fields to fertilize them, and of a country such as Dickens has described; but these will not, I hope, be seen on the historic page to be truly the age or truly the America.

A little leaven is leavening the whole mass for other bread.
The whirlpool I like very much.

It is seen to advantage after the great falls; it is so sternly solemn.