ssary for you to go to a judge with this
document. He will read it, and if there is a real grievance, he will have
it put right. Even the Queen's army might be ordered away from a place,
by a few policemen, if a judge so directed.'

The chiefs would often say afterwards: 'Oh, Sir George Grey explained to
us, all about the advantages under which we held the land. He told us
that the Queen, herself, could not turn us off the ground, without going
to the supreme courts which dispensed justice in her name. If a claimant
were found not entitled to a piece of land, he would be removed by the
Queen's officers. But if he had right behind his claim, why, he would be
maintained in it by those officers.'

'Some people,' Sir George made comment, 'declared it absurd that I should
instil those ideas into the minds of the natives, but, in reality, it
resulted in their having far more respect and regard for the Queen.'
Assuredly, his policy made the Kaffirs eager to get land titles, and
these were always another link binding them to good behaviour. It was the
contrivance of the silken thread, wound here, there, everywhere, as
against the other method, of a horse-hair halter.

Should some swashbuckler have contrary views on native administration, he
could relieve his fierceness by tracing the word 'Hottentot' to its
origin. Sir George had an amusing story of Cape Town in controversy on
this term, which the Hottentots had always insisted did not belong to
their forefathers.

'With a desire to solve the problem,' he related, 'I suggested that
people in Cape Town should be asked to write papers on the name. This
proposal was carried out, and a small sheaf of essays came in response.
Well, I was looking over an old Dutch dictionary, and there I found
"Hottentot" described as meaning "Not speaking well; a stammerer." The
name, apparently, had been conferred by the early Dutch settlers, in
South Africa, upon the natives first met, on account of the stuttering
noise these caused in speaking. All the competitors wanted to have their
papers back, in order, as they pleaded, to make a few corrections.'

Again, that was a process which Sir George was ever willing to apply to
himself. Yet, being very human, he loved to make the corrections in his
own fashion, like the essay-writers at Cape Town. There, at the foot of
Africa, he sat, bold and cautious, leading the What-Was onward to the
What-Ought-To-Be. He might be compared to a charioteer drivi