In the summer of 1888 yellow fever appeared in Florida and raged with peculiar violence in Jacksonville. Early in September I received a letter inviting me to meet a number of ladies at rooms on Broadway to organize a committee for the relief of the Jacksonville sufferers. Mrs. Stedman (wife of the poet) was with me at the time I received the letter, and she agreed with me that it would be a most beautiful thing for the New York women to send substantial relief to their stricken sisters in Florida. So, on the day and hour appointed, Mrs. Stedman accompanied me to the place designated. We found ourselves in the presence of a large roomful of ladies neither of us had ever before seen. I was made chairman by acclamation, and a Mrs. Manton secretary.

I had never presided at a meeting, but I did my best. I invited an expression of the views of those before me as to the wisest schemes for the benevolent work. A great many suggestions were offered of a totally unpractical nature, and I finally asked for an adjournment, to meet two days from the present, and requested my "committee" to consider the matter, confer with their friends, and give me the opportunity to seek advice from mine. Mrs. Stedman seemed much discouraged, as we walked home together. She felt sure nothing would result from 427this experiment; and besides, as Mayor Hewitt was engaged in collecting funds for the relief of Jacksonville, perhaps all good citizens should send their offerings to him. I intended at the next meeting to follow up her suggestions, but only half a dozen ladies appeared. I represented to them that we must have money at once to pay for our service in future and a small debt already incurred, and we then again adjourned. In the vestibule an army of eager newspaper reporters awaited us, in whose hands I left my friends, having nothing myself to communicate. Next morning every paper in New York announced the interesting fact that Mrs. Roger A. Pryor was president of "The Ladies' Jacksonville Relief Society," that names well known in social and literary circles were associated with hers, and donations of clothing, food, and money were solicited! Of course the press sent me many reporters, and I found myself suddenly invested with importance and armed with authority. I went joyfully to meet my appointment for another meeting, and found a room, full indeed—but of empty chairs! Not a soul came! I waited throughout the hour alone. At the end of it a message was sent in to me from the reporters without. What had we done? What should they say in the next morning's issue of the Herald, the World, the Sun, the Tribune? Sorely perplexed, I answered: "Tell the gentlemen we are sitting with closed doors. I shall have nothing to report for several days."

I suppose no woman in all New York was ever in a more embarrassing situation. Here was I advertised 428as president of a society engaged in a great benevolent enterprise, and the society had simply melted away, disappeared, left no trace, not even a name and address! What would New York think of me? I keenly felt the absurdity of my position, but superior to every personal annoyance was my own disappointment. An opportunity to work effectively for the stricken people of Florida had been suddenly snatched from me. A friend in Jacksonville, having heard of the movement, had written:—

"I have been prostrated by yellow fever, and am unable to carry out the plans I had made with Bishop Weed for aid for the sick and friendless children here, and the bishop's days are filled with the most pressing duties. Along this pathway through the valley of the shadow of death there are many little children whose pathetic condition touches the chords of our tenderest sympathies. But our hands hang limp and helpless, and so we hold them out to you."

I found myself consumed with longing to help them. I felt then—as I felt afterward for the orphans of Galveston—that I could almost consent to give my own life if I could but save theirs.

These were the dreams of the night, and with the dawn I had resolved to be "obedient to the heavenly vision." Before ten o'clock I sent telegrams to Mrs. Vincenzo Botta, Mrs. Wm. C. Whitney, Miss Rose Elizabeth Cleveland, Mrs. Frederic Coudert, Mrs. Judge Brady, Mrs. Whitelaw Reid, Mrs. Levi P. Morton, Mrs. Don Dickinson, Mrs. William C. Rives, Mrs. William Astor, and Mrs. Martha Lamb. Would they join me in a gift from New York women to Jacksonville? 429 Every one responded, "Yes, gladly, if you will manage it." Mrs. Astor, Mrs. Reid, and Mrs. Coudert sent money—a goodly sum—to start my work.

Here I was, then, with a splendid following—le premier pas? Where could I commence? Surely not by begging money—that I would never do. By some means we must earn it. Just then I saw that Mr. Frohman had offered a matinée for the Mayor's Relief Fund. I communicated with Mr. Frohman, asking him to beg the mayor to let my fine committee have this matinée with which to inaugurate our work. His Honor evidently regarded the proposition as indicative of nerve, needing repression. Mr. Frohman quoted him as surprised, and quite decided: "Mr. Hewitt says he thought everybody knew he needed all the money he could get."

He had only that one matinée. Before night I had telegraphed every reputable theatre and concert-hall in the city, and secured nine! Thoroughly upon my mettle, I went to work. My support was all out of town except Mrs. Botta and Mrs. Fanny Barrow. We were a committee of three for several weeks, but we diligently increased our strength by letters and telegrams. Mr. Aronson, of the Casino, fixed upon September 27 for his votive matinée, and Mr. John McCaull, who had Wallack's Theatre, selected the same day. "Never mind, madam," said Mr. Aronson; "I'll turn away enough people from my doors to fill Wallack's." "Rest assured, madam," said Mr. McCaull, "I'll turn away enough people from Wallack's to fill the Casino." So I had 430two great matinées on my hands—fixed for the same day, the same hour.

I knew it would be vital to my interests to have these initial entertainments successful. I busied my brain with schemes which I cunningly revealed to my friends among the merchants. I wanted satin banners painted with palms and orange-blossoms for Mr. Aronson and Mr. McCaull. I wanted beautiful satin programmes for every man, woman, and child who played for me, and for all my patronesses. I craved flowers galore. I longed for fine stationery, white wax, and a seal. I obtained all these things. So many flowers were sent that baskets and bouquets were presented to everybody on the stage. The actors caught the enthusiasm. Mr. Solomon, who sang the topical song at the Casino, introduced happy, appropriate lines. "Aunt Louisa Eldridge" opened a flower sale in the foyer, and made a large sum for the charity. Satin souvenirs were given to everybody with the "Compliments of the Ladies' Jacksonville Relief Society." Every note (a personal one written to each performer) was sealed with white wax and a seal made expressly for me. Little Fanny Rice was bewitching in Nadjy—singing the pretty Mignon song which is borrowed in the play. At Wallack's there was a splendid programme, in which many stars participated—Kyrle Bellew, and others, and a wonderfully funny balcony scene from "Romeo and Juliet"—De Wolf Hopper the Juliet, Jefferson De Angelis the nurse, and Marshall Wilder, Romeo!

When it was all over, there was one very tired 431woman on 33d Street. But next day the papers announced "brilliant audience, beautiful mounting, grand success." Everybody was thanked, by name, through the papers. Mr. Aronson sent me $904.50. Early next morning I was summoned to my parlor, and before reaching it, I heard a masculine voice: "Don't be afraid—speak up now!" Entering, I was confronted by a wee, winsome lassie with long curls, great eyes, a lovely little face from which a big hat was pushed, while a chubby hand was thrust into mine and a sweet little voice said, "I'se dot sumsin for you!"

It was the baby girl of Mr. Stevens, the manager of Wallack's, and the "sumsin" was a big roll of bank-notes—$1620—while an honest little hand presented the silver fraction, 85 cents.

This money, $2525, was immediately forwarded to Governor Perry, who sent it where it was sorely needed,—to the little town of Fernandina and other small towns in Florida afflicted by the scourge,—Gainsville, Manatee, McClenny, Crawfordsville, and Enterprise. From all these towns, as well as from Governor Perry, I received (fumigated) letters of thanks and assurance that every dollar was used to relieve distress!

From that time onward I thought of nothing, worked for nothing—except the relief of Jacksonville. I was nothing but a theatrical manager. It was the custom of the theatres to present me with the building and play—also with a plan of the house and all the tickets. I had to sell the seats and boxes, do all the advertising, and meet sundry 432outside expenses—ushers, orchestra, etc. I did all this with little help until my friends returned to town, and then Mrs. Egbert Guernsey, Mrs. Barrow, Mrs. Stedman, and Mrs. Botta became my pillars of strength. Each matinée was honored as were the first two, with satin programmes, banners, and flowers, personal notes sealed with white wax, etc. I sat from morning until night at my desk, and my diary, kept at the time, records two thousand letters written by my own hand. Every theatre gave us a play, and the Eden Musée a varied entertainment, and Mrs. Sherwood came from Rome to give us two readings.

When Mr. Daly's turn came, I had some difficulty in selling seats. The public had endured a good deal of Jacksonville, and began to say, "The Relief Society is still with us," or, "The Jacksonville Relief Society, like Banquo's ghost, 'will not down.'"

My dear friend, Mr. Cyrus Field, found me in some anxiety, and sent me his clerk every morning to ask how I was "getting along," taking entire blocks of seats and filling them with his friends.

Mrs. Jeanette Thurber also came in (when I was flagging) with her large heart and full hands; so our old friends—Mrs. Gilbert, James Lewis, John Drew, George Clark, Kitty Cheatham, and Ada Rehan—played, as the Jenkins of the day announced, "to a large, brilliant, and fashionable house." I added to each of my satin souvenirs for "the cast" a quotation from Shakespeare. Ada Rehan played "The Wife of Socrates" as an afterpiece. On her souvenir was printed in gold:— 433

"Be............