_Chapter LI_ ANTONY (?) AND CLEOPATRA San Francisco visitors must be very careful never by any chance to abbreviate and call the city 'Frisco. The inhabitants object most strenuously if you take such a liberty. We were treated royally in a social way in San Francisco. Our performance never received such praise, press and public being alike most gracious. We were fêted, banqueted, ridden, driven, etc. In fact, those who knew of our presence made ample amends for those who knew not where we were! That small part of the public which came to see us seemed aware of our loneliness, and endeavored to lighten our heavy hearts by hearty manifestations of approval! I had the pleasure of being the honored guest at a supper given to me by that group of variously gifted men who have banded together and call themselves the Bohemian Club. What a royal set! How clever! One must ever be ready with a quick reply or chaos will surely follow. Mr. Peter Robinson of "The Chronicle" was the chairman on this occasion and with the assistance of sixty or seventy gentlemen did much toward alleviating the sorrow I naturally felt at leaving my country and my friends for the wilds of Australia. They presented me with a water-colored caricature of myself with the body of a lamb (the lamb symbolizing the Lambs Club). I was being entertained by a huge owl (the symbol of the Bohemian Club). It was a very quaint and most artistic picture and I prize it highly. [Illustration: HOW MUCH A LAMB I WAS I DIDN'T KNOW--THEN!] Mr. Tim Frawley, once a member of my company and at that time a most successful manager, also was most kind and generous to me. He gave me a supper at the same club the Tuesday previous to my sailing. The table was magnificently arranged. Huge banks of sweet peas adorned the center of the table. Intermingled were variously colored carnations and California wild flowers. Toy balloons were suspended. They were hung with red tape to which were attached little American flags, the whole held in place on the table by a delicate bronze anchor suggesting hope (I suppose). These decorations shown in a soft red light made a picture as perfect as it was harmonious. At Mr. Frawley's left sat the stately, majestic, Juno-like Maxine Elliott, one of the most beautiful women whom I had ever seen, her raven black hair and eyes in delightful contrast to the red hues that formed an aureole, as it were, above her head. There she sat, totally unconscious of the appetites she was destroying, absorbing the delicate little compliments paid her by that prince of good fellows, John Drew. How I chafed at the etiquette which prohibited my being at her side! Next to her sat the tranquil Herbert Kelcey and the dainty piece of bisque, Effie Shannon. Down the line sat the radiant and sunny Gladys Wallis, near her the gracious and emotional Blanche Bates, farther down the sweet and winsome Gertrude Elliott. It was a bevy of beauty one rarely sees.