"Her education, of course, will have to be continued," I thought; "but hardly in an American convent."
One May morning Winifred took leave of her teachers and school friends, and we set out direct for Niagara. When we reached the Falls, she was for a time wholly lost in wonder. The stupendous mass of falling water seemed to produce upon the little girl a curious impression of bewilderment.
"Oh, it is grand, grand!" she said. "This America is a wonderful place."
Winifred and I had, as it were, a surfeit of beauty; and so by the afternoon our exclamations of wonder and delight became exhausted, and we could only look out upon the lovely and varied panorama in silence. But we were roused to excitement as the afternoon sun began to take a downward slope and we neared the far-famed Rapids. The passengers braced themselves as if for certain danger (though in reality there is comparatively little) as the steamer rushed into the great masses of foaming water with a lurch and a bound that sent a tingle to every nerve. Onward she dashed, the speed seeming to become more terrific as we descended the river in the direction of Montreal. It is a thrilling, though delightful, experience. As for Winifred, she seemed to enjoy the situation thoroughly. Not a shade of alarm crossed her face, while many of the older passengers were visibly agitated. From the steamer's deck we took a last glimpse of the city, lying golden in the sunset, with the figure of Our Lady of Good Help on the tower of Bonsecours church, stretching wide its arms in benediction over the great river which Cartier discovered.
At dawn we were nearing Quebec, and rushed out of our cabins for a first sight of the Gibraltar of America. We flew past Levis, Sillery, and, rounding Cape Diamond, suddenly beheld the ancient walls, the colossal rock crowned by the citadel, with Lower Town, squalid if picturesque, at its feet. Landing, Winifred and I took a calèche to the Chateau Frontenac, where we breakfasted.
Recrossing the American borders, we made a short trip through the White Mountain region, exulting in those glorious scenes. At New York we rested a day or two in our old quarters, and did a good deal of shopping; for had we not Granny and Niall and Father Owen to think of, not to speak of Barney and Moira, the landlord of the inn, and other Wicklow notables? No one was to be forgotten.
After this we went into Pennsylvania, one of the most wonderful of all the States, and crossed the far-famed Horseshoe bend in the Alleghanies. Winifred looked fearlessly down into the vast chasm and saw with composure the end of our train on the other side of the ravine. It was a sight upon which few could look unmoved. We saw something of the wonders of the mining and coal districts, and the beauty of the Delaware and Lehigh.
We continued our breathless journey to Washington, where we remained a few days to rest. It is a beautiful city, refreshing to mind and body, though somewhat warm at that season of the year; but its noble dwellings, its public monuments, surpassed and overtopped by the Capitol, have a wonderful charm.
One evening we were strolling along in the very shadow of that classic pile when Winifred said:
"Barney and Moira will think I've been in fairyland if I tell them half of all I have seen; but I love dear Ireland best, after all."