Each of these was hung with icicles of various length, and nearly in the middle of the festoon in the deepest valley of the waves that ran parallel to each other, the stream shot from the rows of icicles in irregular fits of strength, and with a body of water that varied every moment.

Sometimes the stream shot into the bason in one continued current; sometimes it was interrupted almost in the midst of its fall, and was blown towards part of the waterfall at no great distance from our feet like the heaviest thunder-shower.

In such a situation you have at every moment a feeling of the presence of the sky.
Large fleecy clouds drove over our heads above the rush of the water, and the sky appeared of a blue more than usually brilliant.

The rocks on each side, which, joining with the side of this cave, formed the vista of the brook, were chequered with three diminutive waterfalls, or rather courses of water.

Each of these was a miniature of all that summer and winter can produce of delicate beauty.