tries to look across, to strain his eyes and to see beyond that white mist which obscures everything; but it is an impossible task, and he can but guess the width of the Falls, slightly horseshoe in shape, from the green trees which seem so far away on the opposite bank, and are only caught sight of now and then as the wind causes the spray to lift.  At the same time his attention is fixed by a new wonder, the much-talked-of rainbow.  Never varying, never changing, that perfect-shaped arc is surely more typical of eternity there than anywhere else.  Its perfection of colours seems to be reflected again and yet again in the roaring torrent, and to be also an emblem of peace where all is turmoil.  We were hurried away to remove our wet rainproof coats and to dry our hats and faces in the brilliant sunshine.  It seemed as if the Falls guard their beauties jealously, and do not allow the spectator to gaze on them without paying the price of being saturated by their spray.  For the next two hours we were taken from one point of vantage to the other, and yet felt we had not seen half of even what is known as the north side.  We were shown the barely commenced path leading right away down to the edge of the foaming, boiling gorge, which is to be known as “The Lovers’ Walk,” and from its steepness it occurred to me that these same lovers will require to possess some amount of endurance.  We examined from afar the precipitous Neck jutting right out opposite the main cataract, its sides running sheer down to unfathomable depths of water, which has caused this rocky formation to be called “The Knife’s Edge,” and along which, up to the date of our visit, only two men had ventured.  We saw the actual site for the existing railway-bridge, which site had only been finally selected a few days before by two of the party who were with us.[46] The travellers over this great work now see all we saw on that long morning, and a great deal more besides, while the carriage windows are soused by the all-pervading spray, thus carrying out one of Mr. Rhodes’s cherished sentiments.  Finally—­musing at the marvellous and confusing twists and turns of the river, changing in character and appearance so as to be wellnigh unrecognizable—­we walked on a hundred yards, and came upon a deep, deep gorge, rocky, barren, and repelling, at the bottom of which, sluggish and dirty in colour, a grey stream was winding its way, not a hundred yards wide, but of unfathomable depths; and this represented the Zambesi after it has taken its great leap, when, bereft of all life and beauty, it verily looks tired out.  This gorge continues for forty miles, and so desolate is the surrounding country, that not only is it uninhabited by man, but even game cannot live there.  The shadows were lengthening and the day was approaching its close.  Early on the morrow we were to leave for the northern hunting grounds.  We regained our canoe, and paddled away to our temporary camp.