My contemplations were often interrupted by strangers who came down from Forsyth’s to take their first view of the falls.  A short, ruddy, middle-aged gentleman, fresh from Old England, peeped over the rock, and evinced his approbation by a broad grin.  His spouse, a very robust lady, afforded a sweet example of maternal solicitude, being so intent on the safety of her little boy that she did not even glance at Niagara.  As for the child, he gave himself wholly to the enjoyment of a stick of candy.  Another traveler, a native American, and no rare character among us, produced a volume of Captain Hall’s tour, and labored earnestly to adjust Niagara to the captain’s description, departing, at last, without one new idea or sensation of his own.  The next comer was provided, not with a printed book, but with a blank sheet of foolscap, from top to bottom of which, by means of an ever pointed pencil, the cataract was made to thunder.  In a little talk which we had together, he awarded his approbation to the general view, but censured the position of Goat Island, observing that it should have been thrown farther to the right, so as to widen the American falls, and contract those of the Horseshoe.  Next appeared two traders of Michigan, who declared that, upon the whole, the sight was worth looking at; there certainly was an immense water power here; but that, after all, they would go twice as far to see the noble stone works of Lockport, where the Grand Canal is locked down a descent of sixty feet.  They were succeeded by a young fellow, in a homespun cotton dress, with a staff in his hand, and a pack over his shoulders.  He advanced close to the edge of the rock, where his attention, at first wavering among the different components of the scene, finally became fixed in the angle of the Horseshoe falls, which is, indeed, the central point of interest.  His whole soul seemed to go forth and be transported thither, till the staff slipped from his relaxed grasp, and falling down—­down—­ down—­struck upon the fragment of the Table Rock.

—­Hawthorne:  My Visit to Niagara.

No wonder he learned English quickly, for he was ever on the alert—­no strange word escaped him, no unusual term.  He would say it over and over till he met a friend, and then demand its meaning.  One day he came to me with a very troubled face.  “Madame,” he said, “please tell me why shall a man, like me, like any man, be a ’bluenose’?”

“A what?” I asked.

“A ‘bluenose.’  So he was called in the restaurant, but he seemed not offended about it.  I have looked in my books; I can’t find any disease of that name.”

With ill-suppressed laughter I asked, “Do you know Nova Scotia and Newfoundland?”

“I hear the laugh in your voice,” he said; then added, “Yes, I know both these places.”

“They are very cold and foggy and wet,” I explained.

But with brightening eyes he caught up the sentence and continued: