At the top of the fall they seem to burst forth in
irregular spurts from some grand, throbbing mountain heart. Now and then
one mighty throb sends forth a mass of solid water into the free air
far beyond the others which rushes alone to the bottom of the fall with
long streaming tail, like combed silk, while the others, descending in
clusters, gradually mingle and lose their identity. But they all rush
past us with amazing velocity and display of power though apparently
drowsy and deliberate in their movements when observed from a distance
of a mile or two. The heads of these comet-like masses are composed of
nearly solid water, and are dense white in color like pressed snow, from
the friction they suffer in rushing through the air, the portion worn
off forming the tail between the white lustrous threads and films of
which faint, grayish pencilings appear, while the outer, finer sprays of
water-dust, whirling in sunny eddies, are pearly gray throughout. At the
bottom of the fall there is but little distinction of form visible. It
is mostly a hissing, clashing, seething, upwhirling mass of scud and
spray, through which the light sifts in gray and purple tones while
at times when the sun strikes at the required angle, the whole wild
and apparently lawless, stormy, striving mass is changed to brilliant
rainbow hues, manifesting finest harmony.
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