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Victoria Falls, the scene of this undertaking, are situated in the Zambesi river, which runs in a generally easterly direction and empties into the Indian ocean. The falls are about six hundred miles in a bee line from that body of water and perhaps fifteen hundred from the Cape of Good Hope. The cape of Cairo railway, as originally planned would have crossed the Zambesi further down stream. A year or two ago the route was altered so as to intersect the river at the falls. The line has been in operation as far as Buluwayo for several months and is expected to reach Zambesi during the coming summer or autumn.
From a comparison made by Francis Fox, who describes the project at length in "Cassier's Magazine" for April, it appears that the height of Victoria Falls is from four hundred to four hundred and twenty feet, while that of Niagara is not far from a hundred and sixty feet. The entire width of the former is a mile, or twice as great as that of the latter. When at a flood height the volume of water in the Zambesi is about double that of Niagara. Estimates of the available power of a fall must take account of both the amount of fluid and the change of level, or "head." Hence it is thought that the great African cataract is good for between thirty and thirtyfive million horse power, or five times as much as Niagara, and at no dry times. of the year is it less. Like the great majority of the rivers, no doubt the Zambesi experiences great variations in power from one season to anothermuch greater, in fact, than the overflow of the great lakes.
Those who are familiar with the shape of the American cataract remember that it is divided by Goat Island into unequal portions. The narrower, on the, New York side, presents an almost straight front. The wider one, or Canadian fall, is concave, owing to the greater rapidity of wear in the middle than at the edges. Victoria Falls present a straight front all the way across although three islands at the crest separate the streams into four unequal parts. The roar of the cascade can be heard for a long distance, and Livingstone reports
having seen columns of spray therefrom when he was four or five miles away. Curiously enough, some of the natives of that region attributed this noise to the wrong cause, and asked Livingstone if in his own country there was such a thing as "smoke that sounds."
A unique feature of this wonderful formation is that the water, after descending, disappears so completely that it seems to go down into the earth. All the way across the river, scarcely more than one hundred feet from the falls, is a wall of rock, equalling them in height, apparently damming the way completely, When the enormous fissure into which the water plunges is surmounted by clouds of spray, the utmost skill is required to solve this mystery. Careful examination finally reveals a narrow opening in that solid barrier, and this is the upper end of the gorge which is said to extend for twenty miles. At its entrance the water descends further, and as the passage is probably partially choked with masses of rock, the turbine and dynamo would have a capacity of 5,000 horse power, like the first ones installed at Niagara, and that a conduit eight feet in diameter would be adequate to drive each wheel. The number of "units" introduced will depend, of course, on the demand for electricity.
Perhaps the first use made of the power obtained here will be to work mines. The nearest of these will be in the coal deposits of Wankle, from fifty to one hundred miles to the southeast. The work of drilling, pumping and hoisting in mines is now being done by electricity in several places in the United States and England. In a certain sense coal and water power are rivals, but it is not at all unlikely that the Zambesi will help develop the fuel resources of South Africa, which in turn will prove exceedingly valuable in operating the transcontinental railway system. A little further away to the northward are the beds of copper, possibly the most extensive in the world. Here too there should be a use for power on a large scale. One hears much talk of trying to work the gold mines of Johannesburg with electricity from the same source.
In time, no doubt, chemical and other manufacturing industries will spring up in the immediate vicinity of Victoria Falls, just as they have at Niagara, and create a large local market for the out
THE CANYONS OF THE HEART.
By ED. E. SHEASGREEN.
It was a beautiful day in the mountains. The valleys, wherein were the silvery ribboned streams, the most delicate foliage, the sound of pulsing life, pointed ever upward to the wooded ranges where the great, tall pines and firs, the heroes of many a stormy blast, flashed out fresh and green, and like a mighty organ would moan, tremble, whistle and thunder whenever touched by the countless though invisible fingers of the wind. These great ranges pointed to the peaks where is no vegetation, where all is bleak and bare, where is only rock and boulder and yawning chasm. In turn these peaks pointed to those famous heads that for centuries, ages, have stood out bold and strong, characters that tell of the creation; tell of that time when they, too, were lowly― when they were of the valley-of the wooded range of the desert heights.
These hoary heads of the backbone of the continent stood out grand, glistening, sparkling, bedecked in jewels such as no human monarch ever wore, each jewel flashing to each where the lofty pinnacles raised in all their antique splendor, stood silent in the summer's sun.
As the sun moved further toward the Western Range, the tints and hues of the mountain gems changed and out of the beauties of them, there opened to the vision of a sleeper on the wooded slopes, a canyon which lies directly down through the center of the range of the human heart. This canyon is ancientas ancient as the race of man; yet is it ever young; still is it ever old. It is a most secret place and contains the mysteries of life. For in it first is seen the springtime of planning when the waters
put of the electric generators. The men who have fostered the project, though, have been considering the possibility of transmitting power for long distances, perhaps hundreds of miles.
of life flow new along the budding shore and the murmur is soft and gentle. Then gradually as the floods of life increase from the melting of the snows of ages, grand, unique, wonderful castles lift their turrets high from among the surrounding crags. And there is joy and gladness, for it is the summertime of dreaming. Then the flowing of the stream becomes weaker, the foliage seared and brown and the castles of the Peaks give way to lowly dwellings in the Canyon's many little vales. The air is not so clear and the frost has sealed things in its grasp for it is the autumn time of reflection. Every day the frost comes closer, nips harder, the happy stream is locked' and the habitations of the canyon become icebound; while gently over all falls the blanket of the snows of winter, covering the whole place with its wonderful death-like silence, where it will stay till again the springtime of youth draws from this frozen store.
But as the canyon opened to full view there was seen the beauties of the beginning of life and love. It showed the depths of the bottomless pits of hell, the heights of the throne of heaven. This living gorge was beautiful in its ruggedness of truth; in its streams of happiness; in its shade trees of sympathy; in its uplands of hope; its high hills of ambition; its far, lonely and freezing peaks of fame.
Far down its pleasant ways came the whispered words of love; the chime of wedding bells; and echoing up through
any years came the "hush-a-byes" and "lull-a-byes" of the happy days of motherhood. How they thrilled, how they soothed and sought for lodgement
forever in the breast of the babe. Soon were heard the happy shouts of childhood and there could be seen its many forgotten paths leading from the pure stream of life; while further along the way and up from the banks, traced by the blazings along the way, could be seen the road of youth reaching to a fuller life; and the marks were love and ambition and thoughts of success, over which wafted soft and gentle breezes of goodness bearing the precious odors of kind words, a helping hand, honor, truth and charity. Some of these paths ran far up the side and over to the beckoning peaks of fame. Others, after running up against some great wall or boulder of opposition or defeat, died there, or was lost in some tangle or labyrinth of the undergrowth of indifference. Happy songs came floating outward, such as thrill the heart with joy and would enchant one to linger in this canyon forever and forever.
But ah! a change came creeping over the valley!
The happiness of the sunshine was passing; the shades of night were gathering; cleads hung low, and the air, heavy with fogs, blotted out the uplands and hills and even the towering peaks. The whole place seemed filled with the dampness of failure. No more were heard the songs of motherhood, or childhood, or the youth in his ambitious pursuit; but instead could be heard the dripping of tears, that trickle to the clouded river of life from the rocks of bitter disappointment. Back and forth between the walls of the canyon, echoed and reechoed the harsh, mean, angry words of strife. The strong winds of passion howled with the cursings and wailings of those who had lost faith in life. tumult began to grow fearful! sharp flashings of the lightning of anger was continuous in the roaring canyon; while peal on peal of the thunder, o contention jarred the foundations of t. range and tears of the disappoint d 1 forsaken flooded the cold black pass.
for their dead; the prayers of mothers for their wayward children; the stifled screech and then the splash of those who jump and sink forever in the rushing waters of the whirlpool; the grinding of souls of men and women and children as they toil, and sweat, as they starve for heartless human monsters. In a whisper came the almost silent prayers of the aged that they might not waken on the morrow. Down in the deep black places where were but the horrors of the dark and the storm, were found the rough, jagged rocks of jealousies, unholy loves, hates, angers, the stench of poverty, the hypocracies of society, and all the dead things of the past and thoughts that crucify a Christ and drive souls to the deepest pits of sin. Creeping, skulking, tripping in the darkest recesses of the canyon were the skeptical who had lost faith in a true life. Their ravings and rantings were lost in the roar of the echoing place as the blast beat up the walls of the canyon, which seemed so high that no force of life or thought could scale them, out over the high hills of ambition and even lashed about the lonely peaks of fame.
But clouds and storms can not always last and soon the stars began to leap forth from their hidden places, while the moon smiled out among the breaking cloud waves. Peace once more reigned in the canyon. Clear was the starstudded sky. This place, once dark and cold and full of conflict, was now quiet and beautiful and mysterious in the possessions of the past. The roar of the storm, its raging and fury now had given way to hymns of praises sung in the quavering voices of the dying; to parting kisses of those who were to journey to a far country; to promises to meet in a better land. The heads of those whose thoughts had reached from the Northern Star to the Southern Cross and far beyou, cank to lasting sleep. In the enchanted light, aged couples could be
walking hand in hand down to order of the river, while others folved who were to bid them farewell. And those left behind, longing to go
h the loved ones, yet clinging to the shares of the living, beheld a new day