‘I was in London,’ Sir George mentioned, ’at the break between my two Governorships of South Africa.  I went carefully into the matter, realising all that was at stake, and I gave the assurance, “You shall have the money this afternoon.”  I had never raised a large amount before, but I concluded that the place to go to was the City of London.  I had several thousands with my bankers, on which I could lay hands, and I supposed they would enable me, by some method of interest, to get the remainder.

’On the road to the City I met a connexion of mine, also a banker.  He asked me what I was about, and I told him.  “Why don’t you come to us?” he said.  “I have no money with you,” I replied; “and never had.”  “No,” was his response; “but you need not pass us by in this matter.  I should like to help you; come and draw a cheque for twenty thousand pounds."’

That cheque was drawn, and South Africa extracted from a grave social difficulty.  The emigrants became an admirable settlement, and most honourably made good the outlay which they had occasioned.  ’It wasn’t banking, it wasn’t business, that cheque,’ Sir George was bantered long years after; ‘but perhaps it was better.’

‘Ah!’ he laughed back, ’I’m benefiting myself now, for it seems that I returned thirty-eight shillings more than was due, and that therefore I have a balance to draw upon.’

XIII OCEANA AND THE PROPHETESS

Sir George Grey rode hard and far over the South African karoo, serving the Queen’s writ in letters of gold.  When he rode late, and the stars were ablaze, his saddle held a dreamer in dreamland.

What a lightsome new world!  The sun had bathed it in the day; night brought another radiance.  Here was the emblem of all the New World should be to the Old.  Not yet, perhaps, in the full, for there were things to do, but soon, when the outposts of empire, stretching to Australia, New Zealand, and beyond, had come into their own.  Yes, those glorious stars overhead were only meant to shine on a New World reflecting their brightness!

One winked, and Sir George smiled.  Sir John Herschel had visited the Cape to fix the southern stars.  The recollection carried Sir George Grey to the astronomer’s part in quite a different affair.  He had the tale from Herschel himself, and classed it with the somewhat relative incidents of Carlyle and Babbage.  It was worse for the victim.

‘Nevertheless,’ said Sir George, ’his statement of it to me, was marked by much humour and enjoyment.  It was the third example of my great men coming to grief through their tailor; anyhow, there lay a contributory cause.  One might have moralised to Herschel on the subject of genius and clothes; I did better, I sympathised.

’Sir John, who was living near Windsor, had been up in London, and was to return home for dinner.  It occurred to him that he might call somewhere in town, about certain magnetic instruments that were being made for him, and still reach Windsor by the dinner hour.  So he set off to the place, carrying in his hand certain small parcels, the contents of which were probably intended for the dinner.  Remembering his quaint figure, I confess I would have given something to see him scudding along the London streets on that occasion.