do no more good than the voice of the waters which you are continually
hearing."

Along the road the two walked in deep silence. The old man found it
hard to keep up with his companion, and he was at last forced to fall
behind. Soon he was alone, and then his thoughts went once more back
to the falls, and the glorious vision which was in his mind.

It was only when he reached a small building by the side of the road
that he stopped. Pushing open the door, he entered. All was dark and
silent within. The strange loneliness of the place would have smitten
any one else with the feeling of dread. But the old man never seemed
to mind it. Fumbling in his vest pocket, he found a match. This he
struck and lighted a tallow dip which was stuck into a rude
candle-stick upon a bare wooden table. One glance at the room revealed
by the dim light showed its desolate bareness. Besides the table there
were two small benches and a wash-stand, containing a granite-iron
basin. A small broken-down stove stood at one end of the room, by the
side of which was a couch. Not a scrap of mat or rug adorned the
floor. There were no blinds or curtains to the cheerless, windows, and
not a picture adorned the walls.

But the old man did not notice the desolation of the place. It was
quite evident that he was beyond the influence of earthly surroundings
for the moment. Going at once to the couch, he brought forth a roll of
paper hidden away beneath the pillow. Carrying this over to the table,
he sat down upon one of the benches and spread the paper out before
him. By the light of the candle it was easy for him to study the
carefully-made lines upon the large sheet. Eagerly he scanned the
drawings, and then placing the forefinger of his right hand upon one