afternoon in 1872 a
small, globular, solid looking cloud passed slowly over the mine.
Otherwise, the sky was almost clear. There was not a drop of rain.

Within the space of about eight minutes the three strokes fell. The
first killed a mule just at the edge of the mine; the second struck two
men, Europeans, who were engaged in stretching a wire rope at the
western end of the mine; the third killed a Native who was sifting
gravel about fifty yards from where I was standing. The stroke pierced
his neck from back to front at the base of the skull; then it ran
across the sieve which he was holding in his hands and over which he
was bending. It melted every third wire in its course, and made a small
hole, such as might have been made with a red-hot brad-awl, through the
wood. The unfortunate victim afforded a shocking spectacle, for his
tongue swelled enormously and protruded from his mouth for about nine
inches.

I well remember the first wedding which took place at "New Rush." It
must have been in the summer of 1871. Close to my dwelling an enormous
circus tent had been pitched, and this was hired for the occasion. A
dance was held in the evening, but it ended in disaster, for a heavy
thunderstorm broke, with violent wind, and the tent collapsed on the
guests. Had a torrential rain not been falling a horrible catastrophe
might have occurred, for the reason that the festive scene was lit with
paraffin lamps. However, the canvas was so completely soaked that it
could not ignite. But the dancers were held, prone on the ground, by
the weight of the sodden material for quite a long time, and the ladies
afforded a sorry spectacle as they were hauled out, one by one, by
their rescuers. The name of the bridegroom was Cooper. I was destined
to meet him at Pretoria a few years afterwards under very extraordinary
circumstances. The episode will be related in due course.

A well-known man at Du Toit's Pan in the early days was "Old Moore." I
forget what his profession was. Moore was quite sixty years of age, and
was exceedingly corpulent; nevertheless, he was amorous to a degree.
There was a remarkably pretty barmaid at Benning and Martin's bar, and
with her Moore fell in love. This circumstance was a source of great
amusement to the local gilded youth. A plot was concocted, the lady
consenting to take part in it.

A certain D approached Moore and persuaded him that it was only fear of
her employers on the part of the damsel tha