That so many years should have passed without the Bishop’s having discovered how greatly his views and those of his friend differed in first principles as to the government of the people, is due partly to the fact that the two met but seldom, and then at regular expected intervals, and partly because no great crisis had previously taken place to prove the principles of either in that respect. Their regular interviews were upon Sundays, when the Bishop, going into Pietermaritzburg for the cathedral service, invariably spent a couple of hours with his friend. During these comparatively short meetings doubtless Mr. Shepstone’s real personal regard for the Bishop caused him temporarily to feel somewhat as he did, and, where he could not do so, to refrain from entering upon political discussion. The sympathy with Mr. Shepstone which existed in the Bishop’s mind prevented the latter from looking more closely for himself into matters which he believed to be in good hands, and which did not naturally fall within the sphere of his duties; while the comparatively trivial character of the cases with which the native department had hitherto dealt, was not such as to force their details before a mind otherwise and fully employed. The Langalibalele expedition, however, opened the Bishop’s eyes. While it lasted, although deeply deploring the loss of life on either side, and feeling great indignation at the atrocities perpetrated on ours, he did not doubt that Mr. Shepstone had done all he could to avert the necessity of bloodshed, and expected to find him, upon his return to Pietermaritzburg, much grieved and indignant at the needless amount of suffering inflicted upon his people, the greater portion of whom must be entirely innocent, even although the charges against their chief should be proved. The discovery that Mr. Shepstone entirely ratified what had been done[20] was the first blow to his friend’s reliance on him. The mockery of justice termed a trial, granted to Langalibalele, was the next; and the discovery of how completely he had misconceived Mr. Shepstone’s policy closed the intimacy of their friendship. It soon became apparent that the trial of the chief was indeed to be a farce—a pretence, meant to satisfy inquiring minds at home that justice had been done, but which could have but one result, the condemnation of the prisoner, already prejudged by a Government which, having declared him to be a rebel and having treated him as such, was hardly likely to stultify itself by allowing him to be proved innocent of the charges brought against him.