On learning the state of things Mdme. Patti refused absolutely to enter the train now in readiness, and several of the other artists followed her example. The water still kept rising, and it at last reached the extraordinary height of 64 feet. Cincinnati, I learned, was placed in total darkness through the gas works being submerged. The inhabitants were compelled to burn candles and oil lamps in order to obtain light, whilst the city was isolated from every other part of America. I was, moreover, informed by the railway authorities there was great uncertainty as to the train ever being able to reach the city at all. No Festival could possibly be given where such utter desolation existed; where the public was so far removed from everything festive. I therefore telegraphed Manager Fennessy to postpone my week's visit until the 31st of the following month, and I now saw no alternative but to stay at Chicago, though I had no engagements whatever, and had all the people on my hands. On conversing with Mdme. Patti and Mdme. Gerster I found that they both sympathized with the sufferers from this sad calamity. I therefore decided that in lieu of attempting to get money out of the ill-fated city, it was our duty to raise funds and transmit them to the sufferers as speedily as possible. With that view I organized a morning performance in all haste at Chicago, in which both Mdme. Patti and Mdme. Gerster took part. The public accorded the most generous support. Henry Irving, who was staying in our hotel, gave £20 for a box with his usual characteristic liberality; and I had the pleasure of remitting the very next day to the Mayor of Cincinnati upwards of £1,200. In order to keep the band and chorus employed, I arranged to perform for three nights at Minneapolis, which, although a considerable distance off, I determined to try. I therefore ordered my special train to be in readiness for our departure. We opened at Minneapolis during the latter part of the week, giving the three performances to excellent business. Whilst there I heard fresh reports as to Abbey's losses, both at the Metropolitan Opera-house, and likewise on his tour. On taking up the newspapers I found it stated that Mr. Abbey had lost nearly 239,000 dollars, and that he was, in fact, compelled to retire from his management. Although Mr. Abbey had treated me anything but handsomely, I felt some regret at hearing of the downfall of this not very clever showman. It was a struggle between money and ability, his object being to put me out of the way, so that his new enterprise might have no opposition to encounter. My singers, musicians, and _employés_ had been hired away from me at double, treble, and quadruple salaries. From Nilsson down to the call-boy, all had been tempted, and many led away. When my people came in to me and said: "What shall I do? he is offering me four times my salary," I replied: "My dear people, go by all means; you are sure to come back to me next season."