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- 270 REMINISCENCES OF OLD VICTORIA
I thanked her and telling her that I would look it over she withdrew. I could not help contrasting the first with the last visitor. The one had attracted me by her artful and flattering tongue, the skilful use of her beautiful eyes and the pressure of her hand on my coat sleeve; the other by the modesty of her demeanor. The timid shyness with which she presented her poem had caught my fancy. I looked at the piece. It was poor, not but what the sentiment was there and the ideas were good, but they were not well put. As prose it would have been acceptable, but as verse it was impossible and was not worth anything.
The next was Christmas Day. It was my first Christmas in Victoria. Business was suspended. All the stores were closed. At that time in front of every business house there were wooden verandahs or sheds that extended from the fronts of the buildings to the outer edges of the sidewalks. One might walk along any of the down-town streets and be under cover all the way. They were ugly, unsightly constructions and I waged constant warfare against them until I joined the aldermanic board and secured the passage of an ordinance that compelled their removal. Along these verandahs on this particular Christmas morning ever-green boughs were placed and the little town really presented a very pretty and sylvan appearance. After church I went to the office and from the office to the Hotel de France for luncheon. The only other guest in the room was a tall, florid-faced young man some-what older than myself. He occupied a table on the opposite side of the room. When I gave my order M. Sere remarked, "All the regular boarders but you have gone to luncheon and dinner with their friends. Why not you ?"
CHRISTMAS DINNER IN VICTORIA 271
" Why," I replied, with a quaver in my voice, " the only families that I know are dining with friends of their own, whom I do not know. I feel more homesick to-day than ever before in my life and the idea of eating my Christmas dinner alone fills me with melancholy thoughts."
The man on the other side of the room must have overheard what I said, for he ejaculated :
" There's two of a kind. I'm in a similar fix. I have no friends here?at least with whom I can dine. Sup-pose we double up ?"
" What's that ?" I asked.
" Why, let us eat our Christmas dinner together and have a good time. Here's my card and here's a letter of credit on Mr. Pendergast, Wells Fargo's agent, to show that I am not without visible means of support."
The card read, " Mr. George Barclay, Grass Valley."
" Why," I said, " you are from Grass Valley. How strange. I saw two people yesterday?a lady and her 'child '?who claimed to have come from Grass Valley."
" Indeed," he asked; "what are they like ?"
" The mother says she is a Russian princess. She calls herself Mme. Fabre and says she is a widow. She is very handsome and intelligent and "?I added with a shudder?" has the loveliest eyes?they bored me through and through."
My new friend faintly smiled and said, " I know them. By and bye, when we get better acquainted, I shall tell you all about them. Meantime, be on your guard."
After luncheon we walked along Government to Yates Street and then to the Colonist shack. And as I placed the key in the lock I saw the young lady who had submitted the poetry walking rapidly towards us. My
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