had to commence all over again.

The result of all this was that later we embarked with about six hundred others on the steamer Northerner for Victoria, to try and retrieve something of what we lost. I will not vouch for the accuracy of the dates or the rotation in which the incidents are related, but I have done my best after cudgeling my brain for weeks for the general result as here presented.

CHAPTER II.

THEATRICAL MEMORIES.

In looking through a trunk of old letters and other odds and ends the other day, I came across what might be considered of some interest to some of our pioneers in the sixties. The find consisted of six playbills, or, as they could very well be considered, theatrical posters, from the size; but they were such as were then given to people as they passed the doorkeeper into the old Victoria Theatre on Government Street. They measure two feet long by ten inches wide, and are like posters alongside those now used. These plays were produced in the times of Governors Douglas and Seymour, and were under their distinguished patronage.

In those days very few theatrical companies visited Victoria, except at irregular intervals, so that theatre-goers had to rely, to a great extent, on the productions of the Victoria Amateur Dramatic Club to fill up the intervals. At this date there were many well-educated and professional men here who had come from the Old Country to get rich in a short time; and, thinking the mines were close to this city, many of these joined the club. Charles Clarke was a prominent member, also W. M. Anderson, C. B. Tenniel, together with many of our young business men, viz., Arthur Keast, the brewer; Lumley Franklin, the auctioneer; S. Farwell, the civil engineer; H. C. Courtney, the barrister; H. Rushton and Joseph Barnett, of one of the banks; Ben Griffin, mine host of the Boomerang; Godfrey Brown, of Janion, Green & Rhodes; W. J. Callingham, of McCutcheon & Callingham, drapers (the latter, by the bye, was a most clever low comedian); Plummer, the auctioneer; and last, though not least, Alex. Phillips, of soda water fame. These names will all be familiar to old pioneers. As female talent was scarce, or they were loth to take part in theatricals, the other sex had to be enlisted, and I shall not forget the meeting at the Boomerang (our meeting-place) when this difficulty was met by the suggestion that your humble servant should take the part of "Emily Trevor" in "Boots at the Swan." I protested my inability, but was overruled. Not yet having occasion to use a razor, and being youthful, it was decided that I should try my hand at female impersonation, under the "stage name" of "Helen Fawcet." The result of the experiment was that I subsequently took the parts of "Julia Jenkins" in "Who Stole the Pocket-book?" and "Mary Madden" in "Henry Dunbar." This last character was a rather more difficult one than the others, and although I was perfect in my part, I was reported in the next morning’s Colonist by "Leigh Harnett" as looking very sweet, etc., but "as not speaking up," which, of course, was a serious defect. This criticism was a damper on my theatrical aspirations in female parts, for I returned to the commonplace parts of a poacher, a brigand and a footman. The performances were generally given for some charity, such as the Orphans of St. Ann, the fire department, and so forth, and were "under" the distinguished patronage of Admiral Hastings and officers of H.M.S. Reindeer, and officers of the fleet often helped us out. I see by the bills that the admission was $1.50 reserved seats, $1.00 unreserved, and 50 cents "pit," with $10 for a box. "Performance to commence promptly at 7.30." The orchestra was composed, with others, of Digby Palmer, F. S. Bushell, Gunther and Roberts, with, I think, Bandmaster Haynes. All our performances were given under the direction of R. G. Marsh, a standard theatrical manager, who, with his wife, adopted daughter, "Jenny Arnot," his son and Miss Yeoman, was a great help to us. In fact without their assistance we could not have produced plays with female characters. Not to make this too long, I will wind up by giving what I can remember of a piece called "The Merchant of Venice Preserved," by a local poet. It was full of local hits, which only those who were acquainted with politics and the questions of the day at that time will understand:

"Your loving friend,

"Antonio."

The evening of my first appearance in female character, I was dressed at home, and escorted down town with a lady on each side of me, and I can remember how hard it was for them to keep their countenance, for several times I thought I was discovered ere we reached the theatre. We all walked to and from the theatre in those days—there were not half a dozen hacks in Victoria.