o the sidewalk and was grabbed--there is
no other word--by several rough men with tickets and big bunches of
greenbacks in their grimy fists. "Tickets, tickets, fine seats for _De
Volkyure_ tonight." They yelled at me and I felt as if I were in the
clutches of the "barkers" of a downtown clothing-house. I saw my chance
and began dickering. At first I was asked fifteen dollars a seat, but
seeing that I am apoplectic by temperament they came down to ten. I
asked why this enormous tariff and was told that Van Dyck, Barnes,
Nordica, Van Rooy, and heaven knows who besides, were in the cast. That
settled it. I bargained and wrangled and finally escaped with a seat in
the orchestra for seven dollars! Later I discovered it was not only in
the orchestra, but quite near the orchestra, and on the brass and big
drum side.

When I reached the opera-house after my plain supper of ham and eggs and
tea it must have been seven o'clock. I was told to be early and I was.
No one else was except the ticket speculators, who, recognizing me, gave
me another hard fight until I finally called a policeman. He smiled and
told me to walk around the block until half-past seven, when the doors
opened. But I was too smart and found my way back and everything open at
7.15, and my seat occupied by an overcoat. I threw it into the orchestra
and later there was a fine row when the owner returned. I tried to
explain, but the man was mad, and I advised him to go to his last home.
Why even the ushers laughed. At 7.45 there were a few dressed up folks
down stairs, and they mostly stared at me, for I kept my fur cap on to
heat my head, and my suit, the best one I have, is a good, solid
pepper-and-salt one. I didn't mind it in the least, but what worried me
was the libretto which I tried to glance through before the curtain
rose. In vain. The story would not come clear, although I saw I was in
trouble when I read that the hero and heroine were brother and sister.
Experience has taught me that family rows are the worst, and I wondered
why Wagner chose such a dull, old-fashioned theme.

The orchestra began to fill up and there was much chattering and noise.
Then a little fellow with beard and eyeglasses hopped into the
conductor's chair, the lights were turned off, and with a roar like a
storm the overture began. I tried to feel thrilled, but couldn't. I had
expected a new art, a new orchestration, but here I was on familiar
ground, so familiar that presently I