were assembled; and the 91st Regiment, which had
been drawn up, presented arms, the Band played "God save the Queen," and
the Volunteer Artillery fired a salute as the Governor for the last time
stepped off African soil.

"There had been some delay at starting, the tide was ebbing fast, the
vessel had been detained to the last safe moment, and she now moved out
slowly, and with caution, past a wharf which the Malays, conspicuous in
their bright-coloured clothing, had occupied, then, with a flotilla of
boats rowing alongside, between a double line of yachts, steam-tugs and
boats, dressed out with flags, and dipping their ensigns as she passed,
and lastly, under the stern of the _Boadicea_ man-of-war, whose yards
were manned, and whose crew cheered. The guns of the castle fired the
last salute from the shore, which was answered by the guns of the
_Boadicea_; and in the still bright evening the smoke hung for a brief
space like a curtain, hiding the shores of the bay from the vessel. A
puff of air from the south-east cleared it away, and showed once more in
the sunset light the flat mass of Table Mountain, the "Lion's Head" to
its right, festooned with flags, the mountain slopes dotted over with
groups thickening to a continuous broad black line of people, extending
along the water's edge from the central jetty to the breakwater basin.
The vessel's speed increased, the light faded, and the night fell on the
last, the most glorious, and yet the saddest day of Sir Bartle Frere's
forty-five years' service of his Queen and country.

"For intensity of feeling and unanimity it would be hard in our time to
find a parallel to this demonstration of enthusiasm for a public
servant. The Cape Town people are by race and habit the reverse of
demonstrative; yet it was noticed that day, as it had been noticed when
Frere left Sattara (India) thirty years before, and again when he left
Sind twenty-one years before--a sight almost unknown amongst men of
English or German race in our day--that _men_ looking on were unable to
restrain their tears. At Sattara and in Sind the regret at losing him
was softened by the knowledge that his departure was due to a
recognition of his merit; that he was being promoted in a service in
which his influence might some day extend with heightened power to the
country he was leaving. It was far otherwise when he left the Cape. On
that occasion the regret of the colonists was mingled with indignation,
and emb