The Great Lakes are the greatest wonder of Middle America. It is the largest group of lakes in the world and the biggest body of fresh water. It is hard to grasp that a land should contain several freshwater seas so big that a ship can steam out of sight of the shore for a day or more or even founder[1] in giant waves, as happens from time to time.

　　Yet there they are, these changing lakes. From the map, one can see water spilling eastward and southward. Ontario, the only Canadian province that fringes them, sprawls along their northern coasts, and eight states of the U.S. crowd their lower shores.

　　Let us approach the lakes the best way: We should get on board a ship and start from the Lake Ontario. It is the smallest of the Great Lakes, but compared with the other lakes, Ontario is more illusive. This Niagara Falls with its sheer thunderous drop has been an illusive barrier between this and other lakes, and the St. Lawrence sluicing out[2] its eastern end draws Ontario's attention seaward[3].

　　The Welland Canal, 27 miles long, with eight locks to lift the ship over the Niagara Falls Escarpment to Lake Erie, has beautiful scenery on both sides. The ship drifts between backyards, orchards, and the back porch of a small farmhouse. Then, the ship breaks through the last lock and goes into Lake Erie.

　　Erie has a reputation for treacherous flash storms. The shallowest of the lakes, it can be pale as glass, and as smooth. Then a few hours later it can be insensately churning[4] under a fugitive sky. Its shores are low-lying, its beaches are narrow, but it is succulently pastoral.

　　After a day's sailing, the ship passes the Detroit lighthouse at dusk. Detroit lies beside us now, an immense suffusion of light, sound of machine and people.