At length we departed from Queenstown; though it was late in the evening before I succeeded in getting the last squad on board. Some of the Italian choristers had been assured by Irish humorists that the streets of New York were infested by crocodiles and wild Indians; and these they were most unwilling to encounter. We had a splendid passage across. The day before our arrival in New York it was suggested to give a grand concert in aid of the sufferers by the yellow fever then raging in New Orleans. I recollect on the occasion of the concert the collection made amongst the passengers amounted to some £3 or £4. One Western gentleman asked me particularly, in the presence of the purser, if the money would really be devoted to the relief of the sufferers. He, moreover, demanded that Captain Brooks, the officer in command, should guarantee that the money would reach them. The collection was made by those two charming young pianists, Mdlles. Louise and Jeanne Douste, and by the equally charming young dancer, Mdlle. Marie Muller; and at the conclusion of the concert, in which he had encored every one of the pieces, the careful amateur from the West gave the sum of sixpence. Gerster, Minnie Hauk, Campanini, and the others were irate, at the result of their united labours; and as they thought it might injure them on their arrival in New York, were the public to know of it, they privately subscribed £20 apiece all round to make the return look a little decent. On our arrival in New York we were met by thousands of people, accompanied by military bands, etc., and although I had left, as it were, a winter behind me, we landed in the midst of a glorious Indian summer. I set about making my preparations for the opening of my season, which was to commence on the 16th October, and to prepare the way for the _début_ of Madame Etelka Gerster, who since our arrival had scarcely been her usual self. This I attributed to the sea voyage. Two days before the opening I gave a dinner, to which I invited several influential friends including members of the New York Press. As I was just about responding to the toast of the evening, wishing health to Madame Gerster and success to the Opera, the waiter beckoned me to the door, whispering that a gentleman wanted to speak to me for one moment. I went out, when Dr. Jacobi, the New York physician, called me into an adjoining room, where the eminent specialist, Dr. Lincoln, was waiting. They had just visited Madame Gerster, and regretted to inform me that a very bad attack of typhoid fever had developed itself, and that consequently there would be no probability of her appearing the following Wednesday, while it was even doubtful in their minds if she would survive. She was in a very bad state. This was indeed a great blow to me; but I returned to the room, continued my speech, and then went on with my dinner as if nothing had happened.