The two important sentences of the proclamation (already quoted at p. 71), however, were capable of being adapted to an extent of which Lord Carnarvon probably did not dream. His lordship can hardly have intended the first sentence by which Langalibalele was released “from imprisonment on the island in the sea,” simply to mean that he was to be conveyed to the nearest (most dreary) mainland, and imprisoned there, within the limits of a small and barren farm, where every irritating restriction and annoying regulation were still imposed five years after. The words “he shall not return to Natal,” certainly do not imply rigid confinement to a small extent of land, where friends, white or black, are not allowed to visit him, or send the most innocent presents without tedious delay and official permission. The second sentence is an admirable specimen of South African art. The people might go to their chief if they chose, “_when that is prepared which is to be prepared_”—but which never has been yet. We give Lord Carnarvon full credit for not having the slightest notion that this clause would have no result whatever, as nothing ever would be “prepared.” Year after year has dragged on—one or two women[40] and a couple of boys being allowed, as a great favour, to join the old chief during that time. But every difficulty has always been raised about it, and not the slightest attempt has been made to enable or permit the tribe or any part of it to follow. When the chief and his son were first removed from Robben Island to Uitvlugt, a desolate and unfruitful piece of ground on the adjoining mainland, at a considerable distance from the nearest dwelling-place of any description, it was understood that the family would live in comparative liberty, being merely “under surveillance;” that is to say, that some suitable person or persons would be appointed by the Cape Government to live within reach of them, and to be answerable for their general good behaviour, for their gratification in every reasonable wish or request, and for their making no attempt to escape from the Cape Colony and return to their homes in Natal. Strict justice would have required that the chief and his people—those that were left of them—should be restored to their location, as was done in the case of the other tribe, and that both should be repaid the full ascertainable value of the property taken from them or destroyed; but politicians in these our days place “expediency” so far above justice and truth, that men who are fighting for the latter out-of-date objects may well be thankful for the smallest concession to their side.