To his opponents in the political world he was generous when discussing them in private, however bitter and stinging his remarks were in public.  I remember one evening, on Mr. Merriman’s name being mentioned, how Mr. Rhodes dilated for some time on his charms as a friend and as a colleague; he told me I should certainly take an opportunity of making his acquaintance.  “I am so fond of Merriman,” he added; “he is one of the most cultivated of men and the most charming of companions that I know.  We shall come together again some day.”  And this of the man who was supposed then to hate Cecil John Rhodes with such a deadly hatred that he, an Englishman born, was said to have been persuaded to Dutch sympathies by his vindictive feelings against one great fellow-countryman.  Before leaving the subject of Mr. Rhodes, I must note his intense kindness of heart and genuine hospitality.  Groot Schuurr was a rendezvous for people of all classes, denominations, and politics; they were all welcome, and they certainly all came.  From morn till eve they passed in and out, very often to proffer a request, or, again, simply to pay their respects and have the pleasure of a few minutes’ chat.  After his morning ride, Mr. Rhodes, if nothing called him to town, usually walked about his beautiful house, the doors and windows of which stood open to admit the brilliant sunshine and to enable him to enjoy glimpses of his beloved Table Mountain, or the brilliant colours of the salvia and plumbago planted in beds above the stoep.  I often call to mind that tall figure, probably in the same costume in which he had ridden—­white flannel trousers and tweed coat—­his hair rather rough, from a habit he had of passing his hand through it when talking or thinking.  He would wander through the rooms, enjoying the pleasure of looking at his many beautiful pieces of furniture and curiosities of all sorts, nearly all of which had a history.  Occasionally shifting a piece of rare old glass or blue Delft china, he would the while talk to anyone who chanced to come in, greeting heartily his old friends, and remembering every detail of their circumstances, opinions, and conduct.  Concerning the latter, he did not fail to remind them of any failings he had taken note of.  Those who were frauds, incompetent, or lazy, he never spared, and often such conversations were a source of much amusement to me.  On the other hand, those who had been true to him, and had not veered round with the tide of public opinion after 1896, were ever remembered and rewarded.  It was remarkable to note the various Dutch members of the Assembly who dropped in, sometimes stealthily in the early morning hours, or, like Nicodemus, by night.  One such gentleman came to breakfast one day, bringing as a gift two curious antique pipes and a pouch of Boer tobacco.  The pipes were awarded a place in a glass cabinet, and the giver most heartily thanked; he finally departed, well pleased with himself.  Now comes a curious trait in the man’s character.