and it is never too hot to be pleasant.  Game was even then practically non-existent in Matabeleland, but our object was to inspect the mines of Major Heaney’s various companies.  The country was pretty and well wooded, and we crossed many river-beds, amongst them the wide Umzingwani.  This stream is a mighty torrent during the rains, but, like many others in South Africa, it becomes perfectly dry during the winter season, a peculiarity of the continent, which caused a disappointed man to write that South Africa produced “birds without song, flowers without smell, and rivers without water.”

While camped on the banks of this vanished river, we used to hear lions roaring as evening fell, and could distinguish their soft pads in the dry sand next morning; but they were so shy that we never caught a glimpse of one, nor could they be tempted into any ambush.

During these weeks the abortive Bloemfontein Conference had been holding its useless sessions; the political world seemed so unsettled, and war appeared so exceedingly likely, that we decided to return to Cape Town, especially as Mr. Rhodes, who was expected out from England almost immediately, had cabled asking us to stay at Groot Schuurr, where we arrived early in July.  A few days afterwards I had a ticket given me to witness the opening of the Legislative Council, or Upper House, by Sir Alfred Milner.  It was an imposing ceremony, and carried out with great solemnity.  The centre of the fine hall was filled with ladies—­in fact, on first arriving, it gave one the idea of a ladies’ parliament; but in a few minutes the members filed in, shortly before the state entry of His Excellency the Governor.  Then, for the first time, I saw the man of the hour; dignified without being stiff, and looking every inch his part, he went through his role to perfection.  The speech was, as usual, utterly devoid of interest, and, contrary to the hope of excited partisans, Transvaal affairs were studiously avoided.  A few days later we went to Government House to be introduced to Sir Alfred; he at once impressed a stranger as a man of intense strength of mind and purpose, underlying a somewhat delicate physique, which was at that time, perhaps, enhanced by a decidedly worn and worried expression of countenance.  Later on I had many conversations with Mr. Rhodes about the Governor.  He used to say—­and no one was better qualified to judge—­that Sir Alfred Milner was one of the strongest men he had ever met.  “In the business I am constantly having to transact with him, connected with the Chartered Company,” he remarked, “I find him, his mind once made up, unmovable—­so much so that we tacitly agree to drop at once any subject that we do not agree on, for nothing could be gained by discussing it.  I allow he makes his decisions slowly, but once made they are irrevocable.”

Mr. Rhodes used also to say he admired beyond words Sir Alfred’s behaviour and the line he adopted in that most difficult crisis before the war.  “He assumes,” said his appreciator, “an attitude of perfect frankness with all parties; he denies himself to no one who may give him any information or throw fresh light on the situation; to all he expresses his views, and repeats his unalterable opinions of what is required.”