I sang
Millard's Amalia from the Roman Charioteer and finished with the
exultant B flat which arose in the softest touch and increased to the
fullest crescendo and diminished to the pianissimo. At that moment by
a prearranged plan, unknown to me, one of the most beautiful flags
that ever floated was unfurled and fell in graceful folds by my side.
I involuntarily seized it with my hands and finished amidst one of the
greatest receptions ever given to any prima donna in my time, and I
felt I was not forgotten by the people of San Francisco whom I had
served for twenty-seven years. They gave me the honor to which my age
and experience as a singer and patriotic charitable worker in the
upbuilding of California and its institutions entitled me. Theodore
Roosevelt became president on the death of McKinley. With his victory
at the next election he became the twenty-sixth president of the
United States. My practical work for the Republican cause ceased then.
My voice and spirit still remained but the accident to me in 1901 put
an untimely end to my public work. I have sung for Decoration days and
Fourth of July demonstrations. My last one was in 1906 at the
Macdonough theater and the people of Oakland gave me a befitting
tribute. From the speaker and the twenty-five uniformed soldiers who
formed a half circle around me to the immense crowd that filled the
theater the applause for Vive l'America was spontaneous. I also sang
Annie Laurie, the favorite song of every soldier who fought in '61, a
song which was on the dying lips of hundreds of soldiers who fell
fighting and thinking of their loved ones at home.
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