The afterpiece, "The Lime Kiln Club," was quite a pretentious affair for a minstrel company in those days. The stage setting, representing the interior of a Lodge, required antiquated furniture such as could not be hired in the one night stands. Therefore, the minstrels carried all this furniture, a large sheet-iron wood stove with lengths of stovepipe. Not until the last trunk was loaded onto the baggage wagon, did Alfred leave the depot that first morning. Walking slowly along the street, keeping pace with the heavy wagon, proud of the new trunks with the plainly painted names on each, the furniture for "The Lime Kiln Club," with the stove and stovepipe atop of all, the wagon passed up the street. While passing a building in course of erection, the workmen ceased their labors to gaze at the wagon. A plasterer with limey overalls gazed at the wagon intently until it passed by. Turning to his fellow workmen, pushing his hands in his pockets deeper, and shrugging his shoulders, he sympathetically remarked: "Hit's mighty cole weather fur flittin'. I allus feel sorry for pore folks as has tu move in cole weather." Looking down the street from where the wagon came he continued: "I wonder whar the folks is. Walkin' to keep warm, I reckon. I hope they hain't any children." Thereafter, Alfred ordered the odd furniture, stovepipe and stove loaded in the bottom of the wagon. A heavy rain interfered with the attendance the opening night. In the excitement, Alfred did not realize that he had lost money. It was only after the second night--Upper Sandusky--that he figured the first two nights were unprofitable. Chas. Alvin Davis, of Alvin Joslin fame, and his manager, were visitors the second night. The receipts at Bucyrus were very light, and to pile up troubles for the new minstrel manager, a boy connected with the theatre stole from Alfred's clothes in the dressing room all his private funds. The empty pocket-book was found in an ash-barrel at the rear of the boy's residence, yet the police did not feel it was sufficient evidence to warrant the arrest of the young scamp. The fourth night, at Mansfield, rain, hail, sleet and snow, such as Ohio had never experienced at that season of the year, (October 10), made the streets impassable. The minstrels played to a very meager audience. After all bills were paid the company had thirty-seven dollars in the treasury. Several friends in Columbus assured Alfred that if he ran short he could draw on them. Alfred had learned six weeks was the most lengthened period any of his friends gave him to keep the company afloat. "He's ruined. All his savings gone, he will be worse off than when he began life." This was the comment of one of his dearest friends.