e
plots of ground, of whose prolificacy in diamonds he had good reason to be
aware. It must be here remarked that Rhodes was never a poor man; he could
indulge in experiments as to his manner of investing his capital. And he
was not slow to take advantage of this circumstance. Kimberley was a wild
place at that time, and its distance from the civilised world, as well as
the fact that nothing was controlled by public opinion, helped some to
amass vast fortunes and put the weaker into the absolute power of the most
unscrupulous. It is to the honour of Rhodes that, however he might have
been tempted, he never listened to the advice which was given to him to do
what the others did, and to despoil the men whose property he might have
desired to acquire. He never gave way to the excesses of his daily
companions, nor accepted their methods of enriching themselves at top
speed so as soon to be able to return home with their gains.

From the first moment that he set foot on African soil Rhodes succumbed to
the strange charm the country offers for thinkers and dreamers. His
naturally languid temperament found a source of untold satisfaction in
watching the Southern Cross rise over the vast veldt where scarcely man's
foot had trod, where the immensity of its space was equalled by its
sublime, quiet grandeur. He liked to spend the night in the open air,
gazing at the innumerable stars and listening to the voice of the desert,
so full of attractions for those who have grown to discern somewhat of
Nature's hidden joys and sorrows. South Africa became for him a second
Motherland, and one which seemed to him to be more hospitable to his
temperament than the land of his birth. In South Africa he felt he could
find more satisfaction and more enjoyment than in England, whose
conventionalities did not appeal to his rebellious, unsophisticated heart.
He liked to roam about in an old coat and wideawake hat; to forget that
civilisation existed; to banish from his mind all memory of cities where
man must bow down to Mrs. Grundy and may not defy, unscathed, certain
well-defined prejudices.

Yet Cecil Rhodes neither cared for convention nor custom. His motto was to
do what he liked and not to trouble about the judgments of the crowd. He
never, however, lived up to this last part of his profession because, as I
have shown already, he was keenly sensitive to praise and to blame, and
hurt to the heart whenever he thought himself misjudged or condem