Sir Henry Pottinger left Cape Town on the 10th February, 1847, in the "President" flag-ship, Admiral Dacres, and an address was presented to him on his landing at Algoa Bay, by the inhabitants of Port Elizabeth, to which he replied in a manner that evinced his determination to meet the difficulties before him unflinchingly. Whilst Sir Henry Pottinger was receiving and replying to the addresses of the inhabitants of Algoa Bay, Sir Peregrine Maitland, his family and suite, were embarking at Cape Town for England. Every demonstration of respect towards the ex-Governor and Lady Sarah Maitland, was displayed by the inhabitants, who pressed forward to offer a kind farewell. On the 24th of February, the guns from the battery above the Drostdy Barracks announced the arrival of Sir George Berkeley, K.C.B., the newly appointed Commander-in-Chief of Her Majesty's forces on the South African frontier; and, on the 27th, another salute told of Sir Henry Pottinger's approach to the then immediate seat of Government, Graham's Town. The registration system has not succeeded. A farmer misses his cattle, sheep, and horses, or his garden is trampled down, or stripped of its produce. He represents the case to the officer of the line, or the Burgher in command of the nearest post, or bivouac. A patrol is ordered; the spoor is traced, and the men enter the thick bush, creeping on their hands and knees. They first come on the ashes of a fire, and the _debris_ of a meal; the eyes of a savage scout gleam through a screen of mimosa thorns, and then disappear; there is a rush through the bush, a Kaffir exclamation of "Ma-wo!" a stray shot or two from the enemy, fired with deadly intent, but unsuccessfully generally, from the very desire to take unerring aim, a volley from the patrol, then a chase to no purpose; for, shortly after, the savages utter a yell of defiance from some distant or impracticable pass, or more frequently vanish in silence, leaving, perhaps, the traces of blood, the Kaffirs possessing extraordinary vitality, and rivalling, though in a different sense, that celebrated British Corps, the "Die Hards." The deserted bivouac of the enemy is then examined, and the booty that presents itself as a reward of toil and courage, consists of the bones of an ox, the remnant of a roasted goat, or sheep, some trophies from Burn's Hill, in the shape of an artillery powder-bag, part of a leather belt, a few stray assegais, perchance a good hair-trigger gun, some filthy karosses, and a registration ticket or two, setting forth how Cana, or Weni, or Tuti, Number 300, or 3000, etc, had "surrendered himself at Fort Hare, or Fort Peddie, on such a day, 1847," the said surrender, by the way, having been followed up on some occasions by a gift of cattle recaptured by the troops on the very morning perhaps that it was presented to the said Cana, Weni, Tuti, etc, etc.