In September 1884, at a point immediately below the Falls, I swam
Niagara with Mr. Cecil Baring, now a partner in Baring Brothers,
then an Oxford undergraduate. We were standing at the foot of the
American Falls, when we noticed a little board inscribed, "William
Grenfell of Taplow Court, England" (the present Lord Desborough),
"swam Niagara at this spot." I looked at Baring, Baring looked at
me. "I don't see why we shouldn't do it too," he observed, to
which I replied, "We might have a try," so we stripped, sent our
clothes over to the Canadian side, and entered the water. It was a
far longer swim than either of us had anticipated, the current was
very strong, and the eddies bothered us. When we landed on the
Canadian shore, I was utterly exhausted, though Baring, being
eight years younger than me, did not feel the effects of the
exertion so much. I remember that the Falls, seen from only six
inches above the surface of the water, looked like a splendid
range of snow-clad hills tumbling about in mad confusion, and that
the roar of waters was deafening.
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