The replies of Sandilla to various remarks and questions lately put to him are shrewd enough. On his being told, by one of the authorities, that if he attempted to escape from his confinement he would be shot, Sandilla answered that "as he had voluntarily surrendered himself, it was not likely he should run away." Soon after his imprisonment, he requested a daily allowance of wine. On being asked if he had ever been in the habit of drinking it, he said "No." Then why indulge in what he had never been accustomed to? "I am now the white man's child," replied Sandilla; "my father is wise, and I would do all things as he does." When his warriors left his "Great Place," to join the gathering in the Amatolas, he found one lingering long behind the rest. "What are you doing here?" asked the Chief; "you are like a solitary locust when the swarm has gone; so, the sooner you hop after it the better." "December 17th.--The frontier to-night is delirious with joy. The town is illuminated, and beacon lights telegraph from the hill-tops that Sir Harry Smith has arrived." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note 1. As was proved before Sir Harry, then Colonel, Smith, and published in a document signed by him, and by Captain Lacy, 72nd Highlanders, Arthur Balfour, Aide-de-Camp, and Mr Shepstone, Kaffir Interpreter. This document, dated King William's Town, February, 1836, bears the marks also of Macomo and Ganga. PART TWO, CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. RIDE IN THE WINTERBERG. I have lately ridden within the space of a fortnight--and resting half that fortnight--two hundred and fifty miles, through the country lately infested, and still haunted, by the savage enemy. It presents a glorious contrast to last year; the hand of Providence has put aside the hand of man. The majestic Winterberg mountain, nearly nine thousand feet high, rose before us in our ride, green almost to its summit. The valleys beneath us, as we passed from one mountain-top to the other, were "smiling with corn;" the grass on the plains waved as in our English meadow-lands; the woodman's axe rang in the forests, near the scene of many a bloody fray; and, although small groups of Kaffirs doubtless looked down upon us from many "a leafy nook," we passed up the steep ascents in the midst of deep jungle and impervious thickets, unmolested. On the road to Fort Hare, a spot was pointed out to me, on which a Hottentot waggon-driver had breathed his last. He was shot by the enemy, who had carried off his oxen, scarcely a month before. A fortnight after I had travelled that way, with but slight escort,-- Colonel Campbell, 91st, being the only one of our party who was armed,-- a man, formerly of the Royal Artillery, was killed by an assegai, thrown by an unseen hand, from some huts formerly occupied by some of Macomo's tribe.