"When I remember all
The friends so linked together
I've seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather.

"I feel like one who treads alone
Some banquet hall deserted;
Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead--
And all but he departed."

I have applied this to my visit to Smith's Hall, of which I shall
tell you. Since the death of my old friend, William P. Sayward, some
months ago, I have reflected often on the fact that I was the last of
that little band. The other night I woke up, and remained awake for
some time; and my thoughts wandered to pioneer days, and from that to
the gathering of pioneers this year, which, I understood, was to be
a more extended gathering than usual. I thought I should like to be
there for the sake of old times, but could not make up my mind to
brave the disagreeable weather at this time of year.

After considering the matter, I decided to write, if I did not go;
and, further, I decided to pay a visit to Smith's Hall first. So next
morning I called on Mr. Kinsman, who kindly showed me upstairs, and
over the old place. I might well say, "the old place," for it looked
old and deserted, like the banquet hall spoken of by Moore.

With my mind's eye I pictured the scene of thirty-five years ago--I
was at the hall early, being enthusiastic on the subject, and noted
each well-known face as the guests came up the stairs and took their
seats, until about forty had collected.

There was Thomas Harris, who had been the first mayor of the city. He
was very stout, and complained of the exertion in climbing up the
stairs, which was passed off as a joke, of course.

There was Major McDonell, a retired army officer; Robert H. Austen, a
pioneer of San Francisco, whose uncle, Judge Austen (an early
resident), had been a prominent member of the "vigilance committee"
of San Francisco in the early fifties, when men were tried by that
committee, condemned to death, and hanged, as I myself was a witness
to on two occasions.

There was William P. Sayward, the father of Joseph Sayward, and one
of the best men Victoria ever produced; Patrick McTiernan, a
well-known business man; Captain Gardner, one of Victoria's pilots;
Henry E. Wilby, father of the Messrs. Wilby of Douglas Street,
who was Portuguese Consul, and a resident of Esquimalt; Jules Rueff
and E. Grancini, both Wharf Street merchants; Andrew C. Elliott, a
barrister, and afterwards premier of the province; Honore Passerard,
a F