These are regions of possibility, and as we drove along before our now
friendly wind I could not but speculate on the future. Here are wide
tracts of fertile soil watered by abundant rains. The temperate sun
warms the life within the soil. The cooling breeze refreshes the
inhabitant. The delicious climate stimulates the vigour of the European.
The highway of the sea awaits the produce of his labour. All Nature
smiles, and here at last is a land where white men may rule and prosper.
As yet only the indolent Kaffir enjoys its bounty, and, according to the
antiquated philosophy of Liberalism, it is to such that it should for
ever belong. But while Englishmen choke and fester in crowded cities,
while thousands of babies are born every month who are never to have a
fair chance in life, there will be those who will dream another dream of
a brave system of State-aided--almost State-compelled--emigration, a
scheme of old age pensions that shall anticipate old age, and by
preventing paupers terminate itself; a system that shall remove the
excess of the old land to provide the deficiency of the new, and shall
offer even to the most unfortunate citizen of the Empire fresh air and
open opportunity. And as I pondered on all these things, the face of the
country seemed changed. Thriving ports and townships rose up along the
shore, and, upon the hillsides, inland towers, spires, and tall chimneys
attested the wealth and industry of men. Here in front of us was New
Brighton; the long shelving ledge of rock was a seawall already made,
rows of stately buildings covered the grassy slopes; the shipping of
many nations lay in the roadstead; above the whole scene waved The Flag,
and in the foreground on the sandy beach the great-grandchildren of the
crossing-sweeper and the sandwich-man sported by the waves that beat by
the Southern Pole, or sang aloud for joy in the beauty of their home and
the pride of their race. And then with a lurch--for the motion was still
considerable--I came back from the land of dreams to reality and the