ll round the
coast-line. Whether this process of desiccation is as rapid throughout
the continent as, in a letter to the late Dean Buckland, in 1843, I
showed to have been the case in the Bechuana country, it is not for me
to say; but, though there is a slight tradition of the waters having
burst through the low hills south of the Barotse, there is none of a
sudden upheaval accompanied by an earthquake. The formation of the
crack of Mosioatunya is perhaps too ancient for that; yet, although
information of any remarkable event is often transmitted in the native
names, and they even retain a tradition which looks like the story of
Solomon and the harlots, there is not a name like Tom Earthquake or Sam
Shake-the-ground in the whole country. They have a tradition which may
refer to the building of the Tower of Babel, but it ends in the bold
builders getting their crowns cracked by the fall of the scaffolding;
and that they came out of a cave called "Loey" (Noe?) in company with
the beasts, and all point to it in one direction, viz., the N.N.E. Loey,
too, is an exception in the language, as they use masculine instead of
neuter pronouns to it.

If we take a glance back at the great valley, the form the rivers have
taken imparts the idea of a lake slowly drained out, for they have cut
out for themselves beds exactly like what we may see in the soft mud
of a shallow pool of rain-water, when that is let off by a furrow.
This idea would probably not strike a person on coming first into the
country, but more extensive acquaintance with the river system certainly
would convey the impression. None of the rivers in the valley of the
Leeambye have slopes down to their beds. Indeed, many parts are much
like the Thames at the Isle of Dogs, only the Leeambye has to rise
twenty or thirty feet before it can overflow some of its meadows. The
rivers have each a bed of low water--a simple furrow cut sharply out
of the calcareous tufa which lined the channel of the ancient lake--and
another of inundation. When the beds of inundation are filled, they
assume the appearance of chains of lakes. When the Clyde fills the holms
("haughs") above Bothwell Bridge and retires again into its channel,
it resembles the river we are speaking of, only here there are no high
lands sloping down toward the bed of inundation, for the greater part of
the region is not elevated fifty feet above them. Even the rocky banks
of the Leeambye below Gonye, and the ridges