How, to help this girdling of the whole world with beneficent influences,
through the medium of the Anglo-Saxon? Sir George turned him on his Mount
Pisgah, first in New Zealand, later in South Africa. He had been looking
at the scored, furrowed, violent past. It had worked out its meaning, nor
was there doubt as to the bearing of that message upon the future.
At Pisgah's highest peak the sun shone, only there were mists, which it
did not pierce, in the valleys below. Just, it caught one wisp of the
vapour, and twirled it about in the wind. The errant thing flung into a
sign--Federation of the English-speaking People; and was gone.
Sir George Grey dipped for a Grand Pacific Isles Protectorate, and a red
noose from Downing Street strangled it. He dipped for a Federated South
Africa, and the red noose caught himself. That is, he was recalled from
his Cape Governor-ship on account of his projects. Ah, that he had been
permitted to go on with them! All the gold of the Randt would not have
weighed in the scales like that.
True, he was returned to South Africa, which clamoured angrily at his
recall, but, as he said, 'It was with strict injunctions to stop my
federation schemes, for these would not be tolerated.'
They were a generation too soon. Yet, their author had already drawn on
posterity in order to develop English colonies.
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