Tony Hart was the name of the lad of melody, after he had fired the Cannon. From the time he became associated with Edward Harrigan until the name of Harrigan and Hart became famous from coast to coast, that boy caused more joy and sunshine by his delightful gifts than any artist of his time. To refer to him as talented was an insult. Genius was the only word that could be applied. He sang like a nightingale, danced like a fairy, and acted like a master comedian. No dialect was too difficult for him--Irish, Negro, Dutch, German, Italian became his own, and one lost sight of the individual in the truthfulness of portrayal. His magnetism was compelling, his personality charming. He had the face of an Irish Apollo. His eyes were liquid blue, almost feminine in their dove-like expression. His head was large and round and covered with a luxurious growth of brown curly hair which clustered in ringlets over a strong brow. His feet and hands were small, his smile almost pathetic. His disposition turned December into May. This was the lad who sang, danced and acted himself into the hearts of America during the seventies and early eighties. Tony Hart was the friend of all mankind and my especial pal. I have loved three men in my life, and he was two of them. I miss him greatly, especially on the 25th of each July. We both were born on that day and during a period of twenty years we exchanged telegrams, letters or cables of loving friendship. He went away many years ago, but his memory will always linger with me. We laughed and sang together for twenty years and when they took him away to join the seraphs, nature discarded the mold that fashioned him. She could find no one worthy to fill it. When poor Tony left us the stage was seen through tears; an artist had gone to join the past masters; the world had lost a man and I, man's greatest treasure--a friend. After leaving Harrigan and Hart, Eliza and I made up our minds to go on our own. I knew my limitations and her reputation. She had previously made one or two journeys into stardom alone and I thought it would be a good idea to organize a company featuring her. I would be in her support. Our finances prohibited a production sufficiently elaborate for a burlesque organization so we determined to have a play written on the lines of The Vokes Family skits and Salsbury's Troubadors which were then playing successfully throughout the country, I interested a ne'er-do-well playwright named George Murray. We collaborated and brought out a little play called "Cruets" into which we injected all the little stunts in which we excelled (and all others that we could crib!). Thus we started out on our first starring tour, her name heading the company. We played through the New England circuit where we had previously appeared in "Evangeline." Our proceeds the first week went away beyond our most iridescent expectations. We cleared in the neighborhood of two thousand dollars profit.