At Albany and Troy the houses were very small. The play of “The Christian” had its first production in Albany, turning people away, and with thirty curtain calls. There Mr. Caine had banked upon a great reception. The receipts were small, but he was making $500 a day on “The Christian.” then running in New York. Why, I said, should he let a little thing like that worry him. I tried to convince him that so far as money was concerned he did not need it, and that it just happened to be an inopportune time that we visited Albany; in other cities it would be all right. We had fair business in Rochester, a large house in Toronto, an overflowing house in Cleveland, and a matinee in Detroit before a crowded house. Wherever Mr. Caine went, there were invitations for all sorts of social affairs, which he accepted and enjoyed very much. I learned, while on this trip, that to have him at his best was at a dinner or social club after his performance. There could not be a more delightful, brilliant, entertaining man in conversation. In Chicago he reserved an evening for the Manxmen residents of that city, who gave him a dinner. They were all from the Isle of Man, his native land. They talked Manx, ate Manx, and drank Manx (principally water). It was a strange crowd, and Mr. Hall Caine towered above everybody else in it. His was the only speech, as no one else there could talk. It was an interesting occasion. [Illustration: F. MARION CRAWFORD] F. Marion Crawford is a man I love very much. I have the honor to call him friend. Had this popular author adopted a career of politics rather than the vocation of letters, he would have secured for himself a position in the councils of the republic almost equal in influence to that which he occupies as a writer of healthy and invigorating novels. Fortunate in possessing a commanding presence, he has added to this an uninterrupted flow of choice and vivid language, and natural gestures which emphasize his magnificent word-pictures and carry conviction to those who listen to his appeals to manliness and universal tolerance. He is a man who at all times has spoken his mind on religious subjects, with pride of strong conviction unmixed with defiance; a lecturer who handles his subject in a manner that is at once captivating, judicious, and wisely moderate. He breathes the very spirit of his novels--the spirit of human brotherhood, with hatred for all things petty and mean. F. Marion Crawford carries his own stationery and pen and ink, and never writes with any other. He uses a “Falcon” pen, and has written every word of every novel with the same penholder. He was always writing. His “Ave Roma Immortalis” was written during this lecture tour. In a copy that he signed and presented to me he wrote, * * * * * “TO THE MAJOR: “From his friend and old lecturer, “F. MARION CRAWFORD.