and Nevada, and he has afforded me the following interesting bit of random recollection. “Wallace was held dear in every Western mining camp. He was a banjoist, and when the miners heard him coming down the road, singing the old ’49 songs, there used to be a general cry of ’Here comes Wallace!’ and work would stop for the day. In ’The Girl of the Golden West’ [1905] I introduced a character in memory of the ’Jake’ Wallace of long ago; I gave him the same name, made him sing the same songs, and enter the poker-saloon to be greeted in the same old hearty manner. When negotiations were under way between the great composer Puccini and myself for ’The Girl of the Golden West’ to be set to music, I took him to see a performance of the play. As we sat there, I could feel no perceptible enthusiasm from him until _Jake Wallace_ came in, singing his ’49 songs. ’Ah!’ exclaimed Puccini, ’_there_ is my theme at last!’” Of Mrs. Bates and her ill-fated husband he gives this reminiscence: “Both Mrs. Bates and her husband were sterling actors [they were players of respectable talent, well trained in the Old School--W.W.]. Mrs. Bates was a slight little woman, full of romance and for the greater part of our acquaintance much given to melancholy. I look back on her prime, and I know of no actress who gave a more satisfactory interpretation of _Camille_ than she did. Her _Marie Antoinette_ was also very impressive. Mr. and Mrs. Bates soon left for Australia, but before they went, as a token of friendship, I was given many manuscript plays and costumes which the two would not need. Soon after Mr. Bates was mysteriously murdered. Many months passed, and I heard that Mrs. Bates was again in San Francisco, staying at the Occidental Hotel. So I called upon her. ’I only have Blanche to live for now,’ she said, and while we sat there she called for her little daughter to come to her. That was my first meeting with my future star. Thereafter little Blanche was put to school, and I went on the road with Mrs. Bates, playing _Armand Duval_ to her _Camille_. Then I lost sight of her for some time until at last one day I was walking with ’Jimmie’ Barrows, when he began to tell me of a famous actress who was boarding at his house. ’Her name is Mrs. Bates,’ declared ’Jimmie,’ and when I went home with him I found my old friend again. Blanche had pulled out, like a fast growing flower, blithesome and gay; but her mother seemed to have parted with the last drop in the cup of her happiness, and during our entire tour showed the nervous strain she had experienced during the awful times in Australia. ’It is so difficult for me to go back to the different theatres and tread the stages we played on so often together,’ she would say. ’I seem to see Frank’s face everywhere, in the shadows of the wings and out in the cold empty spaces of the auditorium when we are rehearsing. I wonder who struck him down.’