me giddy,
and were fain to go away holding on to the ground.

Now, though the edge of the rock over which the river falls does not
show wearing more than three feet, and there is no appearance of the
opposite wall being worn out at the bottom in the parts exposed to view,
yet it is probable that, where it has flowed beyond the walls, the sides
of the fissure may have given way, and the parts out of sight may be
broader than the "white cord" on the surface. There may even be some
ramifications of the fissure, which take a portion of the stream quite
beneath the rocks; but this I did not learn.

If we take the want of much wear on the lip of hard basaltic rock as of
any value, the period when this rock was riven is not geologically very
remote. I regretted the want of proper means of measuring and marking
its width at the falls, in order that, at some future time, the question
whether it is progressive or not might be tested. It seemed as if
a palm-tree could be laid across it from the island. And if it is
progressive, as it would mark a great natural drainage being effected,
it might furnish a hope that Africa will one day become a healthy
continent. It is, at any rate, very much changed in respect to its lakes
within a comparatively recent period.

At three spots near these falls, one of them the island in the middle,
on which we were, three Batoka chiefs offered up prayers and sacrifices
to the Barimo. They chose their places of prayer within the sound of the
roar of the cataract, and in sight of the bright bows in the cloud.
They must have looked upon the scene with awe. Fear may have induced
the selection. The river itself is to them mysterious. The words of the
canoe-song are,

"The Leeambye! Nobody knows
Whence it comes and whither it goes."

The play of colors of the double iris on the cloud, seen by them
elsewhere only as the rainbow, may have led them to the idea that this
was the abode of Deity. Some of the Makololo, who went with me near to
Gonye, looked upon the same sign with awe. When seen in the heavens
it is named "motse oa barimo"--the pestle of the gods. Here they could
approach the emblem, and see it stand steadily above the blustering
uproar below--a type of Him who sits supreme--alone unchangeable, though
ruling over all changing things. But, not aware of His true character,
they had no admiration of the beautiful and good in their bosoms. They
did not imitate His benevolence, for they w