left.

Shortly afterwards Garstin was astonished to hear that his former pupil
had set up a studio on his own account at St. Ives, a few miles away.
It was quite true. Here he sat all day long, painting pictures of St.
Michael's Mount in assorted sizes. I forget how many pictures he
finished each week, but the output was large. This is the explanation;
Johannesburg at the time contained many Cornishmen; to the average
Cornishman St. Michael's Mount is what Mecca is to the Moslem.
Garstin's shrewd disciple had his daubs framed and sent to the Rand.
Here they were all absorbed, fetching prices which left an average
profit of 5 each. And all this time Garstin's own beautiful creations
were wanting purchasers.

In 1873 rich alluvial gold was reported to have been struck in the
Lydenburg district, which was then the extreme limit which civilization
had reached in the north-eastern Transvaal. I decided to go and try my
fortune at the scene of the discovery. While passing through Pretoria I
met a man in the street whose face I thought I knew. He advanced
towards me with outstretched hand. Yes, it was Cooper the man during
whose wedding festivities the big circus-tent had been blown down. He
greeted me with great effusion, a circumstance I thought remarkable, as
I had not known him well. The day was warm, so I suggested that we
should have a drink together. He agreed with alacrity, so we adjourned
to the nearest bar.

"Well, Cooper," said I, "how are you getting on here?"

At once his face fell.

"Very badly indeed," he replied, and heaved a sigh.

"Why, what is the matter?"

"Well, the fact is, I am going to be hanged."

I thought he was joking, but it was not so; he was actually under
sentence of death. He had gone on the spree and started painting
Pretoria red some months previously. When a constable attempted to
arrest him, he drew a revolver and shot the unfortunate officer
fatally. In due course he was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to be
hanged by the neck until dead.

"But, Cooper," I queried, "why don't they hang you?"

"Well," he replied, "they don't like hanging white men up here, and
just now President Burgers is laying out a rose-garden. I understand
that kind of thing, so I go down every day and attend to the work. I
was just taking a stroll when I met you."

"Look here, Cooper," I said with emphasis, "if I were you I would clear
out without delay. The State Attorney may change his mind; some ne