the reporters, and in the afternoon I
made my speech.

I was introduced at His Majesty's Theatre, by a delightful woman, a
relative of the well known Lady Drummond--Mrs. Huntley Drummond--and
spoke to a lady-like assemblage in a blizzard of draughts. To quote my
beloved and early friend, Mr. John Hay, "I chill like mutton gravy," and
had it not been for my chairwoman who left the stage to bring me my fur
boa, I must have contracted a permanent catarrh which would have reduced
my voice to a whisper. I was relieved--a feeling which I thought the
audience shared--when my lecture was over.

His Majesty's Theatre is an odious place to speak in, and whether from
the fatigue of a night journey, or the refinement of my female
listeners, I formed an unfavourable impression of the intellectual
manners and vitality of Montreal. When I retired to the wings of the
stage I pointed out to Mrs. Drummond two women in the front row whose
attention and enthusiasm had made all the difference to me during the
lecture. One had a masculine face, with an earnest and beautiful
expression, and her neighbour was a lovely creature.

"Those," she said, "are Mrs. Hayter Reed and Mrs, Lawford."

Luckily for me they came up to the green room, accompanied by Oswald
Balfour--Military Secretary to the Governor General--followed by an old
man with a huge bag of golf clubs, and several other friendly people.
The old man showed me a photograph of my father given to him on the
links at Carnoustie, which touched me deeply; and my friends in the
front row, after embracing me on both cheeks, assured me they had been
thrilled by all that I had said, and only longed to see more of me. Mrs.
Drummond--a woman of rare intellect--joined in this praise, and after
Oswald--whose mother, Lady Francis Balfour, is the finest woman speaker
in England--said that my voice-production, general manner and delivery
were professional, I retired from a quelling and critical company.

My host that night was Sir Frederick Taylor, and I met Lady Drummond and
Mr. Charles Hosmer in his beautiful house. He was more than kind to me,
and I found that they knew most of my personal friends. When Lady
Drummond said that I had a beautiful smile, and the papers that I had a
golden voice, I felt less exhausted on my journey to Ottawa.

No one who has not been on tour in America can imagine the fatigue of
crowded elevators, shaky trains, and perpetual travelling.

IX: IN CANADA'S CAP