THE KING IN U.S.A.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LXXIII, 10 June 1939, Page 2

THE KING IN U.S.A.

A NEW ZEALANDER LOOKS AT NIAGARA FALLS HIGHLIGHTS IN THE ROYAL TOUR (By Elsie K. Morton) “I know of no other one thing: in the world so beautiful, so glorious, so powerful,” that was how Anthony Trollope summed up his impressions of Niagara Falls over half a century ago. Their Majesties, the King and Queen of England, have visited Niagara this week, and this visit gives rise to the interesting reflection that quite possibly the most imposing falls either of them had seen, until this week, are our own Huka Falls. No English, Scottish, nor European waterfall has the turbulent beauty, nor the headlong swirl and rush of the glass-green Huka and its famous rapids. It is too early in the season for the Canadian mountain torrents to be at their best, so that it is most probable that as King George ana Queen Elizabeth stood looking at Niagara, their thoughts travelled back to a certain bright afternoon twelve years ago, when a long procession of Royal cars paused on the way from Wairakei to Taupo, so that the Duke and Duchess of York might see the Huka Fplls.

It is the fashion nowadays, with some travellers, to suppress a yawn when anybody mentions Niagara. But it is not Niagara’s fault that it has been advertised, publicised, commercialised to the bitter limit. Sensation mongers may hurl themselves over in barrels, tightrope walkers prance across that awful brink trundling wheel-barrows, power houses may be built to harness a portion of that terrific force, but all these indignities are forgotten when one gazes entranced upon Niagara for the first time. A DAZZLE OF GLORY Their Majesties viewed the Falls by daylight. By sheer good fortune. I reached Niagara at night, after a long, fourteen-hour journey from Montreal. It was very dark when I walked out oast the brightly lit shops on the Canadian bank of the river. I had no idea ir which direction to look for the Falls, but earth and heaven seemed to tremble with their thunder. But I stood silently on the brink of the chasm, awed, and conscious only of a feeling of complete insignificance. Gradually I became aware of a vast abyss of blacker darkness sweeping up from the shadowy depths beneath me. Suddenly—the miracle! A superb crescent of gleaming white leaped out of the night, forming a horizon of glowing, magical splendour between heaven and earth. Niagara flood-lit!

Like some superb piece of stage scenery, dramatic, awe-inspiring, the sweeping contours of the cataracts of the American and Horseshoe Falls stood revealed in a dazzle of glory. The mistclouds rising from the pools beneath were pillars of white fire leaping up from the unfathomable blackness below to tfee darkness above. I gazed enthralled. as though my eyes could not take in the full glory of the vision, and suddenly—it was gone! Some unseen, puny hand had pressed a button, pulled a lever. Onf billion, four hundred and forty million candle power snuffed out at a touch! Niagara thundered on in darkness.

Early next morning,l walked down the splendid promenade that skirts the steep cliffs on the Canadian side of the river. No hurried tourist trip of an hour would show me all I wanted to see of Niagara! All day I would stay, look up to the Falls from below, feel their driving spray wet on my face, look down into the boiling whirlpool of their rapids from the air. Through a lacy screen of gold and crimson autumn leaves, I looked across at the American Falls, gleaming now in sunlit splendour. A flock of white sea-birds wheeled above the chasm with shrill cries that sounded plaintively above the mighty roaring of the waters. Farther up the gorge, a little vessel was fighting her way through the maelstrom at the foot of the Horseshoe Falls. The Maid of the Mist! All my life I had longed to board that little ship and look up at Niagara from her deck! ON THE MAID OF THE MIST A steep track zig-zagged down the cliff to the landing place. Twenty minutes later, enveloped from head to foot in a black hooded oilskin, I joined a group of weird-looking beings seated on stocls on the upper deck of the Maid like a party of Klu Klux Klanners at a funeral. As we steamed down stream to take the turn, I was shown the single remaining piece of decking of the famous Falls Bridge that collapsed so dramatically under ice-pressure earlier in the year. In a few moments, we crossed to the American Falls, nosing close to the mighty Rock of Ages and the thunderous-echoing Cave of the Winds. Then we turned up river to the Horseshoe Falls.

Close up to the first mighty leap of water we crept; drenched with spray, deafened with the thundering of the waters, I looked into the heart of a vast, unbroken cataract of green crystal rimmed with silver and bordered with clouds of shimmering mist.

Then out into the waves again, now surging high around us, so that for one thrilling moment we were caught in the current, and staggered and shook beneath a broadside buffeting. Then we swung round, and pitched-and-tossed our way onward into the tumult of the great pool ahead. In that moment, I was comforted to remember having read in a small leaflet the night before, that the Maid of tto Mist had been making that same trip for over half a century, and had carried hundreds of thousands of trippers to the foot of the seething cataract without a single mishap of any kind, which, on the whole, was a very sound piece *of publicity! ACROSS IN AN AERO CAR Later in the afternoon I entered a big cage known as the Spanish aero car, which held sixty people and was hauled across the river at a height of over a hundred feet above the Niagara Whirlpool, where the lordly river emerges from the narrow gorge of the upper reaches, widens out into an immense pool, and takes an almost right-angle turn. As we swung out from the banl* and hung suspended dizzily above the foaming rapids, I was told by the con-

ductor tnat the car was supported by six wire ropes, any one of which would take the full weight, and after that I found the trip so exciting and enjoyable that I decided to request the New Zealand Government to erect an aerocar line across Aratiatia Rapids. Huka Falls, and Milford Sound, without delay.

Twenty minutes later, slightly dizzy but undaunted. I entered a taxi and ciossed the bridge into the United States, paying twenty-five cents for the privilege of entry, and another twentyfive for the added privilege of departure. My chauffeur, who spoke excellent English, aided me with the American Immigration and Customs officials, and as we sped amicably towards America’s share of Niagara, he told me he had been for many years a butler at Arundel Castle, but found life there rather boring, so decided to try the New World. But there was a certain eagerness in his voice, a look in his eyes, as I told him of a recent visit to the stately home of the Norfolks, and he asked me questions that took us a long way beyond the New World’s frontiers. A DREAM COME TRUE The American Niagara is not to be compared with the Canadian Here on the very brink of the river are ugly factories, smokestacks, and an aluminium works and railway yards. The first thing I noticed in a stroll round American Niagara was the amazing number of souvenir shops, most of which made a specialty of Scotch tweeds and English bone china. Why people should want to come to Niagara Falls to buy Scotch clothing and eggeups and cake plates of English bone china will ever remain for me one of life’s unsolved problems! I said goodbye to Niagara w’hen the glory of sunset filled the narrow gorge with floating clouds of golden mist. As my train thundered out into the gathering darkness. I felt that for once, a dream had really come true. Many of earth’s glories had I already seen, many still lay ahead, but I knew that no gi eater beauty would my mortal eye* behold than that of Niagara’s majestic loveliness flashing out of the blackness of night