On Sir George Berkeley reaching Fort Hare, on the 22nd of June, Sandilla sent him a few cows as a peace-offering for his late offence, saying, that "the account was fairly balanced in the late affray with his people--two being killed on either side; and he therefore hoped nothing more would be said about it." Sir George Berkeley returned to Graham's Town a few days after, and it being determined to trust no longer to Sandilla's promises, it was resolved to commence active operations against him in August or September. Meanwhile Sir Henry Pottinger published a proclamation, dated 7th August, declaring Sandilla a rebel, and no longer under the protection of the British Government, and calling on all to assemble in Commandos against him; the final clause related to the neutral tribes, and closed in these words: "I do strictly, solemnly, and unqualifiedly enjoin and command all persons heaping allegiance to her Majesty, to refrain from molesting such neutral (or friendly) Kaffirs, and to consider the protection of them and their lives and property to be a paramount duty." So, now, this headstrong savage became a hunted outlaw. He who had vowed to drive the white man to the sea,--that white man who should not "taste of the Tyumie waters,"--had not now a resting-place for his head! The remembrance of an interview I once had with Tola [Tola, Dodo, Eno, Moshesh (Moses), will be recognised as patriarchal names] occurs to me at this moment. It was in a picturesque spot near Colonel Somerset's residence at Post Victoria, in the centre of a large bower, which had been constructed round some splendid trees. What had once been a fair pasture land for Tola's herds, was now worn with the tread of soldiers' feet; the stir of the camp filled the air which once breathed over a comparatively silent space, and not far from us a band played Irish tunes, to which Tola's Kaffir councillors and attendants listened with a grave silence, unmoved at the grotesque attitudes of Hottentot children. On a rustic bench sat Tola, with his kaross wound round him; his face resembled that of a wolf--his eyes glaring and the teeth projecting, and his hair, dressed with red clay, looked more like a knitted worsted wig than anything else. There were other ladies present besides myself, and also some officers. I asked Tola if he belonged to the war-party? He replied, it was only the young men of Kaffirland who were for war,--he loved peace. He is the freebooter of his tribe! "Why," I asked, "are the young men permitted to raise their voices above the old ones?" "The young men are numerous, and hold the assegai." "Well, have the old men no power to restrain them from throwing it?" I inquired. "If so, Young Kaffirland will soon have the voice in council, and there will be little wisdom."