Colonel Lindsay having received various threats from the I'Slambie Chiefs, that they were coming with their warriors to attack his post, kept a look-out for the approach of the enemy. Several of these chiefs had, on the faith of their promises of neutrality, been received by the English at Fort Peddie with cordiality, especially Pato and Nonnebe, the latter a female descendant of General Campbell, who with his family was wrecked in the last century off the east coast of Africa, in the "Grosvenor" East Indiaman. Nonnebe's mother was the daughter of Miss Campbell, one of the General's unhappy daughters, who had been seized and retained by a Kaffir chief as his "great wife." On the 1st of May, the war-cry of the enemy sounded in the direction of the Beka Missionary Station, while the 7th Dragoon Guards were mustering on the green at Fort Peddie. From the jaded state of the horses, owing to a hurried march the day before, some delay took place in the movement of the troops, but the force under Sir Harry Darell, which had been stationed at Peddie for some time, was saddled up, and a gun, under Lieutenant Hill, R.A., was ordered to proceed immediately. Soon after, the rest of the 7th, under Lieut.-Col. Richardson, and a party of the Cape Corps under Captain Donovan, started to meet the enemy, fifty of the 91st preceding them. The Kaffirs, on their approach, burnt the mission buildings and retired into the bush, where they were safe from any present attack, nor would they leave it, though a feint hurried movement in retiring was made. In less than a month afterwards, the same _ruse_ was practised by Major Yarborough, 91st Regiment, when in command of a small body of infantry and a troop of dragoons, and with success. In this rencontre, a Kaffir Chief was severely wounded. As he fell, his people surrounded him, and, raising him up to bear him from the field, uttered the most dismal howls and lamentations. The cries of the women for the loss of their relations are mournful in the extreme, and at night the wailings of these unhappy heathens fill the air with a melancholy sound, while not far from them, the victorious warriors chant their wild war-song, and dance their savage dance in demoniac glee around the blazing watch-fires.