he could induce some member of his family to visit him in New
York. I fear I was the one who most often accepted his
hospitality, and wonderful visits they were, certainly to me,
and I think to Richard as well. The great event was our
Saturday-night dinner, when we always went to a little
restaurant on Sixth Avenue. I do not imagine the fifty-cent
table d'hote (vin compris) the genial Mr. Jauss served us
was any better than most fifty-cent table-d'hote dinners, but
the place was quaint and redolent of strange smells of cooking
as well as of a true bohemian atmosphere. Those were the days
when the Broadway Theatre was given over to the comic operas
in which Francis Wilson and De Wolfe Hopper were the stars,
and as both of the comedians were firm friends of Richard, we
invariably ended our evening at the Broadway. Sometimes we
occupied a box as the guests of the management, and at other
times we went behind the scenes and sat in the star's
dressing-room. I think I liked it best when Hopper was playing,
because during Wilson's regime the big dressing-room was a rather
solemn sort of place, but when Hopper ruled, the room was filled
with pretty girls and he treated us to fine cigars and champagne.

Halcyon nights those, and then on Sunday morning we always
breakfasted at old Martin's on University Place eggs a la
Martin and that wonderful coffee and pain de menage. And what
a wrench it was when I tore myself away from the delights of
the great city and scurried back to my desk in sleepy
Philadelphia. Had I been a prince royal Richard could not
have planned more carefully than he did for these visits, and
to meet the expense was no easy matter for him. Indeed, I
know that to pay for all our gayeties he usually had to carry