Miss Abbott’s name found favor all over the country. She made friends with the churches, lodges, and societies of all kinds. Her company was generally known as the attraction for the opening of all new opera houses. No combination ever travelled more miles or endured more hardships than the Abbott Opera Company, and no company of artists ever worked for such pittance of salaries. No artist ever worked harder than Miss Abbott. She would often sing seven and sometimes eight operas a week. She required no artist to do more than she did herself. She was a conspicuous auditor on every public occasion that gave opportunity. At fairs, races, ball games, athletic tournaments she seldom failed to receive demonstration of recognition, and was invariably noticed in the press the following day. She steered clear of metropolitan cities. Her value was in smaller cities and country opera houses, where she drew large crowds with light expenses. She has done “Martha” with an orchestra of a piano, violin, and cornet, and seldom had an orchestra of over six. I saw and heard her in Louisville, in “Romeo and Juliet,” with an orchestra of seven, and the house packed to its fullest capacity. [Illustration] Here is a letter of Emma’s which illustrates her managerial care: * * * * * “DEAR MR. POND: I write to tell you to be sure to see the second act of Mignon [containing toilet scene of _Styrienne_, etc.], to-night, for that is the important one for me. I know how gentlemen, who are so busy as you are, generally do. They come when the important part is all over. “In haste, “Yours faithfully, “EMMA ABBOTT.” “Be sure and let me see your wife.” * * * * * This reminds me of an incident in Louisville. I was there with Henry Ward Beecher on a Saturday night. Miss Abbott and her company were at another theatre. I attended the Abbott matinee that afternoon. I wanted to see Miss Abbott as _Juliet_ (Castle as _Romeo_), and to see and hear the “Abbott kiss,” which was their great advertising feature that season. I saw it all. Miss Abbott was in her wonderful, heavy lace _Juliet_ dress, and her blond wig with the two great braids that trailed with her skirt. It was wholly an Abbott occasion, with little to attract attention to any other members of the company. The time arrived for the kiss. It came. It was a success. It was real, and the smack sounded to the remotest nook of the gallery. After the performance that afternoon I rode to the hotel in a carriage with Miss Abbott and her husband, Eugene Wetherell, to the Gait House, where we three dined together. I had reserved a box for them at the Mercantile Library Hall lecture in the evening, which was crowded to hear Mr. Beecher. I remained near the door until some time after the lecture began, watching for “Honest Little Emma” to appear.