Camilla: A Tale of a Violin

Again the long, slow notes. Again the patient finger exercises. From the almost forgotten years she recalled the lessons of the Conservatory and the instructions of dear old Felix Simon, at sunny Nantes. He was at hand and lived in New York. He might help her. No, she did not wish it. She refused even her father’s aid. She knew herself now. Times had changed since those old days in Nantes. Music had changed. Violin playing had changed. She could not tell exactly how or why, but she felt sure it must be so. If she was to succeed she must come up with the level of the age. The standard of musical taste had changed during the seven years of blank in her artist life. The playing of the “wonder-child” would no longer please the public, much less herself. If her music was then remarkable for a child it must now be equally remarkable for a woman. No half way halting, no inferior work. She had no longer the excuse of being a child. She must win her own place alone and unaided.

Thus thinking, hoping and toiling incessantly she spent the weeks, and then the toil become a pleasure and the hope fruition. To her surprise and joy it all came back. And with it came something else. A new discovery in her art. Her violin had a new voice. A wonderful something was in its every tone. What was it? The brilliant sparkle and fire of her girlhood-music was all there. Everything had returned and with it had come a lovely spirit born of love and sorrow. She love her violin. She had known grief. Both lived in her music.

Three months of hard study and then she felt ready to once more try her fortune. The fame of her return had quickly spread, and early in 1863 a letter arrived from Carl Zerrahn the conductor of the Philharmonic Society in Boston, inviting her to play before the Society in our city. She accepted the invitation and once more stood before us, violin in hand, and surrounded by hosts of kind and true friends ready to welcome her back again.

Here begins the new artist-life in our own city and at her childhood’s second home where she had won such honors as a girl. Her first appearance was at the Music Hall on the 14th of February, and on this occasion she played the Fantasie Caprice by Vieuxtemps and the Andante et Rondo Russe by De Beriot.

On the 21st she played again and gave the Souvenir de Mozart by Alard and the Cappicco on themes from Fille du Regiment.

On the 2d of March she played a Fantasie sur Lucrezia Borgia by Stanton, the Souvenir des Pyrenees by Alard, a Duet from William Tell, for violin and piano and repeated the Vieuxtemps Fantasie caprice.

Immediately after this she was called to New York to play at the Philharmonic concerts in that city. At one of these concerts the pianist Gottschalk, who happened to be present, became so excited over her playing that he jumped upon the seat and proposed cheers for Madam Urso, and at the close of the performance introduced himself to her in the ante-room and fairly overwhelmed her with congratulations and praise. It was a great surprise and pleasure to her, as the opinion of such a musician was of real value. She now grew more confident. The promise of her girlhood might yet be fulfilled. She would take new courage and go on with the work. She would practice and study every available moment. In time she would become indeed a great artist. She would not now stop to dream of future success. She must work and work hard.

Success and triumph were near at hand and almost before she was ready to receive them, engagements to play flowed in upon her from every direction. The days of poverty and trial were over. A steadily increasing financial success followed her efforts and, taught by the sorrowful experience of her childhood, she managed her affairs with wisdom and laid the foundation of her present independence. In May she gave a concert in Boston on her own behalf at Chickering hall and played Grand duo brilliant for piano and violin, La Mucette de Portici by Wolff and De Beriot, Reverie by Vieuxtemps, Elegie by Ernst, and the William Tell Duo by De Beriot.

These were the most popular pieces of the day. They all belong to the transcription or fantasie style. Enormously difficult and well calculated to please the fancy and amuse the ear, they give a hint of Madam Urso’s ability at that time and show just about how far American culture had risen. It is interesting to notice them as we shall see how rapid and how great have been the changes in violin music in the last ten years that are included in this part of the story of a musical life.

In June she made a short tour through the Provinces and then returned to New York and spent the Summer quietly among friends and in practice upon her violin.

Nothing satisfied her in music. The true artist never is satisfied, but is ever urged onward by a noble discontent. The concert pieces demanded by the public, were not to her taste. She could do better work. She knew and played finer works than these. The people would not listen to them. She would wait. In time they would grow up to something better. In all this she was ever urged on higher and higher, trying new feats of technical skill, drawing forth even finer tones and continually advancing towards the higher standard of excellence she had set for herself. In all this she met with obstacles and difficulties. She could not have instruction from others. There were none in the country who could teach her anything and her concerts broke in upon her time seriously. She was studying for public appearance and appearing in public at the same time.

On the opening of the musical season in the fall of 1863 Madam Urso was engaged by Mr. P. S. Gilmore to play at his concerts in Boston. The summer of apparent idleness had been well spent. Her study and practice bore splendid fruit and her genius bloomed out into new and wonderful music that seemed to exhale a perfume as ethereal and delicate as it was peculiar and original. The woman’s hand and heart lived in the music. To all the brilliancy and technical skill of a man she added a feminine lightness of touch, that in airy lightness, and grace, melting tenderness and sweetness is past description. Her violin now seemed to breathe and sigh. The tears would come to the listener’s eyes he knew not why. The tears were in the tones. The sorrow of her life exhaled in chastened sweetness from the strings. Her heart ran out on her finger tips and lived in her music.

It is not surprising that at one of these concerts the musicians of Boston should have united in presenting a testimonial of respect and admiration and personal regard to her as an artist and a woman. The letter was signed by the musical people of note resident in Boston and was accompanied by a handsome gold watch.

However interesting the details of these events may seem it is impossible to dwell upon them all. We must take the more salient points in Madam Urso’s artist life, choosing such events as best illustrate her character and best explain the secret of her success that we may learn the true artistic lesson of her life and works. After traveling under Mr. Gilmore’s direction through all the principal towns of New England, Madam Urso left his company and spent the summer months in traveling in her private carriage with a small party of her own, and giving occasional concerts by the way.

She reached New York late in the fall and at once organized a new company, and visited Canada. This trip was a remarkably successful one, and extended till January, 1865. She then appeared at the Philharmonic concerts at New York and Brooklyn, and on reorganizing her company visited Northern and Central New York. She was at Syracuse at the time of the assassination of Lincoln and moved by the event composed an elegy for the violin that was afterwards performed with great success at Rochester.

The early summer of this year was spent among friends and in retirement and was entirely devoted to incessant and long continued practice. Practice upon her violin is the one thing that is never neglected. If it is not reported on every page it is because it is always present, never forgotten. This is the one price every great artist must pay for his or her position. What a commentary on our American haste to reach results does Madam Urso’s life-work present? She has genius. Genius without labor is worse than vain.

In June Madam Urso sailed in the China from Boston and passing through London returned once more to France her native land. Returned to live in dear old Paris but not in the Rue Lamartine. The city of her childhood sorrows and trials now became the city of her triumph. Her reputation both as a wonder-child and an artist had been almost wholly American. Now she was to take a bolder flight and win a European reputation. The opinions of our musical people were to be more than confirmed at Paris.

Her first appearance in Paris was at the invitation of the Count of Niewerkerke, then Minister of fine arts. The concert was a private one given at the Louvre before a select audience of artists, authors, musicians, officers and members of the government, diplomatic corps, etc. Every one appeared in uniform or decorated with medals or other insignia of rank, “and the young woman from America” whom nobody knew, and nobody ever heard, whose name even, was hardly known quietly took a seat in a corner as if she was only some stray person who had wandered into the grand assembly by some mistake. No little surprise was manifested when the Count sought her out and offered his arm to the young stranger to escort her to the seat of honor. Her violin case. It laid at her feet on the floor. If he would kindly ask a servant to bring it? Servant, indeed! No, he would be proud to carry it himself. And he did while the interest and curiosity was roused to unusual excitement, and every one asked who the young American could be that she should receive such attention. A prophet is always without honor in his own country, and the poor flute player’s daughter who had struggled through their own famous Conservatory as a child was almost unknown as a young woman. Rumors of an American reputation had invaded Paris, but who were the Americans that they should venture to hold opinions concerning Art. What did they know about music? Nothing, of course. How could such a wild, barbarous country know anything at all?

The violin was taken out and with a few strokes of her bow the almost unknown young woman was admitted to be a peer among them all. Never was an artist received with greater honors and distinction. One performance and her reputation was established. They suddenly found she was, as it were, one of themselves. France was her native land, Paris her home and so no honor they could bestow upon her would be too great. Pasdeloup, the orchestral director, was present and then and there invited her to play with his famous orchestra. So it was that the doors of fashionable and artistic Europe were thrown open at one wave of the magic bow. Our artist played the great Concerto in E by Mendelssohn with Pasdeloup’s magnificent orchestra at the hall of the Conservatory and won a splendid triumph on the very spot where in the days of her poverty-tinted childhood she first drew her bow before her severe old masters who had tried so hard to bar the young feet out of the paths of art.

For a year Madam Urso remained in France studying, listening to the best music to be heard, mingling with players of her own artistic stature and, as it were, renewing her musical youth by drinking deep at the fountains that flow from one of the great art centres of the world. Dear, sleepy old Nantes was visited and once more she played in the same old place where she first drew her bow in those almost forgotten days of her childhood. Not a thing had changed. It seemed as if even the same cats sat on the sunny walls and as if the same old women filled their water jars at the fountains and toiled up and down the steep streets. There were the geraniums in the windows just as she had seen them in her childhood. Her father’s organ stood in the dusty organ loft at the church of the Holy Cross, and even the same grey cobwebs festooned the arches above the seat where she used to sit and listen to the music. All her father’s old friends came to see her and brought their grandchildren. The Town Hall would not contain the hundreds that besieged the doors to see the Rose of Montholon, the woman who had made their town famous.

Many places in France were visited, and many concerts were given in Paris and other cities. It was a life of success, honors and happiness. More than all, it was home. For all that, another home claimed her, she must return to her adopted home, and in September 1866, Madam Urso returned to this country with renewed musical strength, increased ability and her talents brought to even higher culture than ever.

Every life has its dull spots – its period of uneventful living. Even public life with its exciting experiences, perpetual change and scenes, its endless procession of new faces may in time become monotonous. The artist life of Camilla Urso has been active and varied to a remarkable degree, but to repeat the details of such a succession of concert tours would be simply wearisome. Events are of small consequence except as illustrative of character and we must only select such as serve to show the woman and the artist in her true character. On returning from Europe Madam Urso at once resumed her concerts and appeared in New York and others cities. In January, 1867, she was engaged to play the Mendelssohn Concerto at one of the concerts of the Harvard Musical Association in Boston, and in order to be present in good season for rehearsal started two days before from New York by the way of Springfield. On the road she encountered a severe snow storm and was blockaded thirty-six hours between Worcester and Boston. Determined to keep her engagement with the Harvards she pushed on as long as the train would move. Again and again they were stopped, in gigantic drifts that came up to the tops of the cars. The train people resolutely shoveled their way through and pushed on again The day of the concert came and still they were twenty miles or more from Boston. The fires gave out and not a thing could be obtained to eat or drink. Still she would not give it up. Perhaps the train would yet reach the city in time for the concert. Finally the city came in sight. The wind had blown the the snow away from the track on the marshes behind the city and the last mile was made in good time and then the train plunged into another drift just beyond the junction of the Providence Railroad and where the Dartmouth street bridge now stands. It only lacked 60 minutes of the concert hour. She would leave the cars and walk into the city. Perhaps she might be in time yet. One of the gentlemen of the party took her violin case and they set out to reach the houses on Boylston street that were in plain sight not twenty rods away. It was a desperate undertaking but she resolved to try it. She must get to the Music Hall if possible. The snow might be overcome but she had not reckoned on the temperature, and before she had gone twenty yards down the track she found her hands were rapidly freezing and she seemed ready to faint and fall in the terrible cold. The gentlemen at once took her up and after a tremendous effort succeeded in carrying her as far as the signal house. She must get into shelter or perish almost in our streets. The burly signal man saw the party and opened the door of his round house and took them in. Madam Urso’s hands were stiff and bloodless and in their fright her friends thought they were forever lost. Even Madam Urso’s strong, brave spirit was utterly broken down over the appalling disaster. Of what use was her life if the cunning of her fingers was to be thus rudely destroyed. It is small wonder that the disaster almost crushed her and brought the bitterest tears to her eyes. The grimy signal man took in the situation at once and resorted to measures that were at once as effectual as they were grotesque and amusing. Kneeling down on the floor and taking off his cap he bid the gentlemen rub her hands in his tangled and matted hair. It was a most ludicrous remedy but it worked to a charm. The gentle heat brought the blood slowly back and after half an hour’s rubbing on the man’s big head she entirely recovered.

“Thet’s the way we always does, mum. Many’s the poor brakeman’s fingers I’ve saved by rubbin ’em in some one’s thick head o’ hair.”

Whatever the philosophy of this wonderful method of treatment, Madam Urso can give her testimony to its perfect success, and within an hour she was so far recovered that she could laugh as heartily as any over the adventure. The concert hour had come and gone while the party were sheltered in the signal house on the Back Bay and there was no help for it. She had done her best and even risked her life to fulfill her engagement. There was nothing more to be done except to reach the city in safety. The signal man helped the party over the tracks and up the banks and they set out once more for Boylston Street. After a severe struggle the party reached the first house but as the cold was intense they decided to get under shelter as quickly as possible and at once rang the bell. A woman put a frightened face out the door and gave one look at the sorry looking party and slammed the door in their faces. They at once rang the next bell but here the people wouldn’t even open the door though they slyly peeped out the window at the forlorn looking party on the steps. Madam Urso’s hands were again growing intensely cold in spite of the fur gloves she had accepted from one of the gentlemen; and his own hands were bare. They must get in somewhere or perish in the storm. The next house opened to them at once, and in spite of their rather battered looks they were welcomed and offered the best the house contained. The bath-room, chambers and dining hall were free to them and it seemed as if the daughters of the house could not do enough to minister to the wants of the unhappy party. The discovery of whom they entertained only added to the warmth of the reception and finally a sleigh was found and just at night fall Madam Urso was once more with friends. Singular as it may seem, she has not found out to this day who so kindly opened their house to her in her distress. In the storm and excitement of the occasion the number of the house was forgotten and there was no name on the door. The family did not give their name and if it should so happen that they read this, they may know how pleasantly Madam Urso cherishes the memory of their kindness.

Carl Rosa who was then in Boston took Madam Urso’s place at the Harvard Concert, and on the next morning Mr. Dwight the Treasurer called and paid her the usual honorarium, just as if she had been present. Madam Urso remained in Boston and appeared at the next concert as she makes it a rule always to fulfill every engagement to the letter, whatever may be the expense and inconvenience it may cause her.

Immediately after the little adventure in Boston, just mentioned, Madam Urso was engaged by Mr. P. S. Gilmore to travel through the New England States. This tour was a very successful one and at its close she spent the Summer quietly at Saratoga and Long Branch. The season of 1867 and 1868 was an exceedingly busy one and engagements were made in all parts of the country with uniform success. In the Spring she found the labor and travel were telling upon her health, and in June she sailed once more for Europe where she spent three months in Bologne and Paris, in retirement. Though not giving concerts she practiced as steadily and earnestly as her health would permit. The quiet sea-shore life at Bologne, the drives on the beach and the charming social life rested her fully and in September she was once more ready to resume her profession in this country. To report it all is quite beyond our limits. Engagements to play crowded upon her from all parts of the country, and every concert seemed to be more successful than the last. One given as a complementary testimonial to Madam Urso by the musicians of Boston, in January 1869, brought out all her friends and packed the Music Hall with an audience such as it never saw before. About the same time she was elected an honorary life member of the Philharmonic Society of Philadelphia. This Summer, like the last, was passed in Bologne and Paris and was wholly devoted to study and practice, with some recreation.

CHAPTER II.

THE SILVER BRICK

On the 24th of September (1869) Madam Urso started from Paris for a new and untried field. Stopping one week only in New York she pushed on towards the Pacific and landed in San Francisco on the 22d of October. Only four weeks from Paris to San Francisco including six days in New York. This will illustrate her power of physical endurance, and the experience that followed this rapid journey will serve to show her business capacity, her executive talents, and her indomitable energy. The seven months passed in California make one of the most remarkable episodes of her life and it must be examined in some detail.

The party took rooms at the Occidental Hotel and the very first evening Madam Urso was honored by a serenade, though no announcement of her arrival had been made. Certainly, the musical people of the Pacific Slope were eager to welcome her. It seemed so, for on announcing a concert at Platt Hall, there was a greater demand for tickets than had ever been known in that part of the country for any entertainment whatever its character. Three more concerts were given with every available seat and standing place occupied, and then three sacred concerts on successive Sunday evenings at the California Theatre, were announced. All of these concerts were of a classical character, the first of the kind ever given in the State and to bring them out properly the best talent to be found was engaged, including the Brignoli Opera Troupe then traveling in California.

Never in her experience had concert giving been more successful and profitable than here. It seemed as if she had captured all their hearts and brought the golden State to her feet by one wave of her violin bow. Deeply sensible of the feelings of respect and admiration entertained for her by the people she resolved in some way to testify her appreciation and to give material expression of her thanks. She looked about for some worthy institution upon which she could bestow the benefit of a series of concerts, or musical festival. After some investigation and private correspondence Madam Urso wrote the following letter that was dated at the Occidental Hotel, San Francisco, December 1st 1869.

To the President and Board of Directors of the Mercantile Library Association of San Francisco:

Gentlemen: The present embarrassment of your Society having come to my knowledge, and wishing in some suitable manner to show my gratitude to the people of this city for the kindness and appreciation I have met with during my visit, I have thought of no better method to do so than in offering you the benefit of a grand musical entertainment such as I originally intended giving here, with the sincere hope that it may prove a help towards relieving the Mercantile Library of its present difficulties.

Should my offer be accepted, I will, gentlemen, consecrate all my time during the two months necessary for its preparation, to make it a grand success. I am gentlemen, Yours obediently

    CAMILLA URSO.

This generous offer was at once accepted and without delay the officers of the Association, the city government, and in fact, the whole community united with her to make the proposed festival one of the great musical events of the Pacific Slope. Boston had given its musical festival, why not San Francisco? There, it had been comparatively easy. Here, it was an undertaking almost too vast and difficult for comprehension. There was not a choral society in the State. If there were a few choirs of male voices they had never sung together and though there were many individual singers and performers in different parts of the State they had never been brought together. A hall must be prepared, the orchestra drilled, the music for the chorus selected and printed, and the whole festival lasting three days be planned, laid out, and carried into effect.

Never before has a single woman been so made a queen over an army of men, women and children. The moment the event was announced the Occidental Hotel was besieged by editors, musicians, officials, contractors, carpenters, decorators, chorus masters and a hundred others who thought they might be of use in some way. Madam Urso held high state in her rooms and heard each one in turn, gave him her commands, and bid him move on to his appointed work. The Mechanics’ Pavilion, a huge wooden structure erected for the Mechanics’ Institute Fair in 1868, was still standing. Orders to take it down had been given, but at her request they were revoked and a host of carpenters swarmed into the building and began to remodel it for the great Festival. Railroads, Hotels, and Telegraph companies were ready to obey her every wish in regard to the reception of the great company to be assembled. The State arsenal opened at her command and a whole park of artillery was ready to speak at the wave of her baton. An organ was built to order, and a drum more portentous than the Gilmore affair was manufactured. The firemen met to pound the anvils in the “anvil chorus” and Camilla herself drilled them in the work. And at the head of it all was the one woman, mistress of the whole kingdom, and with the resources of a State at command. As if this was not enough she personally assumed the entire expense and was responsible for the whole vast sum of thousands and thousands of dollars that the festival involved. Had it been a failure the Mercantile Association would not have lost a dollar. Every bill was in her own name, be it for organ, contractors, printing music books or agents’ fares by rail or boat.

The event exceeded expectation and was one of the most marked musical successes ever recorded. On Washington’s birth-day, February 22d, 1870, ten thousand people filled the Mechanics’ Pavilion to listen to Camilla Urso’s concert. A chorus of twelve hundred composed the choir, and an orchestra of two hundred good musicians furnished the accompaniment for the choral members.

The programme was popular in its character and each piece was given with unexpected effect. The concert was opened at half past two by the performance of Von Weber’s Jubilee Overture by the orchestra under the direction of Mr. Harold, the conductor of the festival. This was followed by a chorus for men’s voices by the united singing societies of the State. Next the orchestra and military bands gave a selection of national airs and at the end the chorus and the entire audience rose and sang “My country ’tis of Thee.” The chorus, organ and orchestra then united to give the chorus “Night shades no longer,” from Moses in Egypt, which was given in a skillful and effective manner. A chorus of men’s voices from “Eurianthe” with horn obligato was next performed and then came the Anvil Chorus, with chorus, bands, orchestra, organ, battery and all the bells in the city united for accompaniment.

It was an event in its way and the irrepressible enthusiasm peculiar to the Californians found vent in cheers and the waving of hats, handkerchiefs and whatever was in hand. Certainly Madam Urso had never in her whole experience seen such enthusiasm and she may have well wondered if it was not all some strange, fantastic dream. The band gave a selection from “Tannhauser” and then the concert closed with the “Star Spangled Banner” given with cannon, big drum, church bells, organ and great chorus.

The concert on the second day was honored with an audience of fifteen thousand persons, the largest assembly that had ever met in California. The programme began with the overture to “Ali Baba” which was followed by the “Gloria,” from Mozart’s Twelfth Mass. Then the orchestra gave two movements from the symphony in C, by Gade. “Sleepers wake,” from St. Paul, and the “Prayer,” from “Moses in Egypt,” were next given in such a superior manner by the chorus, that the last number won an encore.

At this point Madam Urso appeared and met with a reception that for wild enthusiasm and fervor has probably never been exceeded by any concert audience. The very proper coldness and passiveness of Eastern audiences finds small favor beyond the mountains. The fifteen thousand people met under that roof tendered her an ovation the like of which has probably never been given to any artist in the world. Respect and love for the woman who had done so much for them, admiration for her genius, and gratitude for her splendid efforts in behalf of the Mercantile Association roused the people to a pitch of excitement almost past belief. For a few moments it seemed as if they would never cease cheering, nor stop piling the mountains of flowers at her feet.

Then she took her violin and played for them, giving the Beethoven Concerto. The building was too vast for all to hear her instrument but they listened in eager silence and at the close there was another tempest of applause and showers of flowers till the stage about her was literally “knee deep in fragrance.” She was twice called out after the performance, but the excitement and fatigue were too much for her and she declined to play again.

The chorus – “The Heavens are Telling,” the overture to “Der Freyschutz,” the Anvil Chorus, and the “Hallelujah” chorus, from the Messiah concluded the entertainment and the vast audience quietly dispersed.

The third day of the Festival was perhaps the most remarkable of all. The chorus on this day consisted of two thousand public school children, under the musical direction of Mr. Elliot, of San Francisco. The programme consisted of orchestral selections and choruses from the song books used in the public schools, sung by the children. The Hall was packed to its utmost limits and the concert was a perfect success, both in the high character of the music given, and the excellent manner with which it was rendered. We have Madam Urso’s testimony that the singing of the children was fully equal to the singing heard in the schools of Boston and other Eastern cities. Madam Urso played a selection of popular airs, including “Home, Sweet Home,” and the national melodies, to the great delight of the young chorus, and the immense audience assembled to hear them. This children’s concert was very successful and to gratify the great number of people who wished to attend it was repeated on the following Saturday.

On Thursday evening the seats were removed from the Pavilion and a grand ball was given in compliment to Madam Urso. The next day, Friday, the chorus and the orchestra volunteered and gave her a benefit concert. Like the other concerts of the Festival it was a great success, and gave fifteen thousand people an opportunity to listen to her playing, and to testify to their admiration of her work in their behalf. With the children’s concert on Saturday afternoon the Festival week was brought to a successful close. There was not an accident to mar the pleasure of the occasion and the cause of music in California received an impulse that may be felt to this day. The Mercantile Library received a gift of $27,000 as the result after every bill had been paid and everything promptly and thoroughly cleared up.

In looking at this singular episode in the life of Madam Urso we hardly know which to admire the most, the business skill and energy that carried it through to a financial success, the womanly qualities that could win and hold the willing services of so many people in every walk of life or the artistic culture and insight that arranged the programme so as to at once please and instruct. The concerts were not too classical to drive the people away nor were they wholly popular. In all Madam Urso’s art life it has always been her aim to lift up and instruct her hearers. First allure the people with simple music that they can understand and then give them something from the masters, something a little above their comprehension; a taste of classical music. They would receive a little of the pure and true art and in time they would learn to ask for nothing else. If she gave them nothing but high art they would be repelled and would not listen to any art at all. The concerts in California and those of the festival were arranged on this plan, and she remained on the Pacific coast long enough to see the wisdom of her method and to find that the people came to hear her gladly when she preached the gospel of true and high art. She has ever pursued this high aim and has lived to see a remarkable change come over the American people in their love of music. Of this more farther on.

Soon after the festival Madam Urso made an extensive concert tour through the interior towns of California and everywhere met with a most flattering reception. The musical societies that had sprung into existence at her command to assist in the festival turned out to welcome her in every town, the general interest in music that the event had awakened throughout the State seemed to have spread to most remote and out of the way corners among the mountains, and every town seemed to try to out-do the rest in showing her attention and in crowding her concerts. At Virginia City the choral Society gave her a reception and elected her an honorary member of their association. Each member was expected to wear a badge of a miniature silver brick. They presented her with a real silver brick, (life size) and as it was too heavy to wear or even lift from the floor, they presented two bricks of smaller size, in the shape of ear rings. Certainly it was a most extraordinary present, in admirable keeping with the place and the people.

After visiting all the principal places of interest among the mountains and having a most delightful and interesting journey, Madam Urso returned to San Francisco in May. Here she gave a few concerts and on the 16th of the month started once more for Paris and taking with her, the famous silver brick, a most beautiful diamond pendant, and gold chain, a gift from San Francisco friends, the respect and good wishes of thousands of people whom she had charmed with her music and her warm heart, and $22,000 in gold as the net result of her visit.

On the 18th of the following month she was once more in the quiet of her own home in Paris.