s's home. The
central figure, so often referred to in the foregoing pages, was no
more, and one soon perceived that the void left by that giant spirit, so
inseparably connected with vast enterprises, could never be filled. This
was not merely apparent in the silent, echoing house, on the slopes of
the mountain he loved so well, in the circle of devoted friends and
adherents, who seemed left like sheep without a shepherd, but also in
the political arena, in the future prospects of that extensive Northern
Territory which he had practically discovered and opened up. It seemed
as if Providence had been very hard in allowing one individual to
acquire such vast influence, and to be possessed of so much genius, and
then not to permit the half-done task to be accomplished.

That this must also have been Mr. Rhodes's reflection was proved by the
pathetic words he so often repeated during his last illness: "So little
done, so much to do."

Groot Schuurr was outwardly the same as in the old days, and kept up in
the way one knew that the great man would have wished. We went for the
same rides he used to take. The view was as glorious as ever, the
animals were flourishing and increasing in numbers, the old lions gazed
placidly down from their roomy cage on a ledge of Table Mountain, the
peacocks screamed and plumed themselves, and the herd of zebras grazed
in picturesque glades. Nothing was changed there to outward appearances,
and one had to go farther afield to see evidences of the dismay caused
by the pillar being abruptly broken off. Cape Town itself, I soon noted,
was altered by the war almost beyond recognition. From the dull and
uninteresting seaport town I remembered it when we came there in 1895,
it seemed, seven years later, one of the busiest cities imaginable, with
the most enormous street traffic. The pavements were thronged, the shops
were crowded, and numerous were the smart, khaki-clad figures, bronzed
and bearded, that were to be seen on all sides. The Mount Nelson Hotel,
which had been opened just before the war, was crowded with them--some
very youthful, who had early acquired manhood and selfreliance in a
foreign land; others grey-headed, with rows of medal ribbons, dimmed in
colour from exposure to all weathers, whose names were strangely
familiar as recording heroic achievements.

At that time Sir Gordon Sprigg, of the Progressive Party, was in power
and Prime Minister; but he was only kept in office by the B