My son, George Blake, lived in San Bernardino, where he played in the Opera House orchestra and was leader of the Seventh Regiment band. My son William, alarmed at my condition, had written, unknown to me, to his brother, saying that I had worked long enough and that he should send for me. I was surprised when I received the word, "Mother, come," not aware he knew the condition. I had many hours of thought before I could decide when my voice was not even impaired, to give up my life's work and be a drone in the hive. At last I yielded to the desire of my sons to go south. I promised on condition that I came unheralded. I supposed I was going so far away no one knew me. Alas, this world is small, so it behooves us all to make our reputation without fault. I sent in my resignation to Calvary and the Synagogue musical committees, and bade good-bye, I supposed, to music and old associations forever. I would never be able to describe the deep sorrow that was depicted on the countenance of pastor and people, rabbi and congregation and the members of the young peoples' societies of the church with whom I had labored for so many years and assisted in their successful efforts from season to season. It was the heroic battle of my life to voluntarily cut loose from all that had been so auspicious during my many years of service. I was held in great affection by the people of San Francisco, who always gave me the most cordial welcome whenever I appeared in the churches or concert halls or took part in patriotic exercises.