The twenty-fourth president was Grover Cleveland who was elected in 1884, but was defeated in 1888 by Benjamin Harrison, and in 1892 was re-elected and inaugurated March 4, 1893. I did not take an active part in this campaign as I had never sung for a Democratic president and I would not begin with Cleveland. The next president was our beloved McKinley and in the last campaign for him I sang in the Mechanics pavilion in San Francisco to 15,000 people. I was then sixty-four years of age. I was worried a little that age would tell in such a great place, but if I failed it was for a good cause and my country. I consented to sing after much persuasion from Sam Booth and W.H.L. Barnes. I had in all my singing life never failed. I reluctantly consented, trusting to my knowledge of how to use the voice. At the appointed hour I was at the pavilion with Mrs. J.M. Case, my accompanist. When I came upon the platform I was cordially greeted by the old guard, W.H.L. Barnes, Sam Booth and thirty-five other men of the committee whom I had met in former years. After taking in the situation I was a little disturbed when I found the floor had been left for dancing and I was obliged to sing to the tiers of seats that arose as high as I could see and all that empty space to cross and one single voice to reach this great mass of people. For once I felt my voice inadequate for the effort. In the highest row of seats were several of my pupils and they were to give me the signal that my voice and words carried distinctly. I was requested to sing Vive l'America, the old civil war favorite song. I arose when announced amid a most tremendous recognition from the people of San Francisco. I was so excited I forgot my age and began my song. I had sung but one line and on looking up I saw the signal and it aroused me to my best efforts which proved most satisfactory. When I finished the policemen's sticks pounded on the floors, the band gave a grand rally, the people applauded and for many minutes nothing could be heard but the deafening demonstration and a recall was demanded. I sang Millard's Amalia from the Roman Charioteer and finished with the exultant B flat which arose in the softest touch and increased to the fullest crescendo and diminished to the pianissimo. At that moment by a prearranged plan, unknown to me, one of the most beautiful flags that ever floated was unfurled and fell in graceful folds by my side. I involuntarily seized it with my hands and finished amidst one of the greatest receptions ever given to any prima donna in my time, and I felt I was not forgotten by the people of San Francisco whom I had served for twenty-seven years. They gave me the honor to which my age and experience as a singer and patriotic charitable worker in the upbuilding of California and its institutions entitled me. Theodore Roosevelt became president on the death of McKinley. With his victory at the next election he became the twenty-sixth president of the United States.