e been
through as severe a school as mine; few American singers at any rate,
have made a career in a foreign country exactly as if they had been a
native of it. Many have been engaged for special roles in one of the
larger opera houses, and after several years of experience, have sung
but a few parts, all of which have been those most suited to them. I
have sung, on the contrary, the entire repertoire of a typical German
opera house, where operas are regularly given of which the Metropolitan
audience has never even heard.

In my first season, I sang in all fifteen different roles in the first
seven months of my career. I have appeared in eighty-five, ranging from
the Wagner music dramas to the "Merry Widow" and singing many of the
roles in three different languages. It has been "the strenuous life" in
its severest form, but I do not regret any of it, nor feel that my
effort has been wasted, for I know that I understand my _metier_,
comprehensively and in detail, and nothing can take away the
satisfaction of that.

The beginning of the season found my sister and myself in the town of
Metz, as according to contract we had arrived six days before the
opening. The weather was hot and dusty, and the town seemed deserted,
for the regiments which gave it life and colour was still away at the
Autumn manoeuvres. We felt very forlorn at first, strangers in a
strange land with a vengeance, and without the least idea of what the
immediate future might hold for us. My German had improved considerably
since my interview with the director, but my sister did not know one
word. Luckily for her there was almost as much French spoken in the
town as German. There were many shops of absolutely French character,
where she was treated with great consideration as coming from Paris.
Even the officials of the town, the post office employes, custom
officers, and others with whom she came in contact, though rather deaf
in their French ear, would make shift to understand her if necessary,
adding an extra touch of rigidity to their already sufficiently severe
manner, in order to nip any "French familiarity" in the bud.

We went to the hotel that had been recommended to us, as the principal
one in the town was in the process of reconstruction and swarmed with
plasterers and carpenters. It was rather a dreadful place, with enormous
dark rooms, dingily furnished with heavy old-fashioned furniture; but it
was very near the theatre and as we meant to