full dress rehearsal at one o'clock on the stage
at the Gotown Academy of Music, so that we'll all know what we've got to
do at night. I think that's all just now."

There wasn't an idle hour for the remainder of the day and the greater
part of the next by the company, under Smith's guidance, preparing for
the anniversary event in Gotown. There were rehearsals, and rehearsals,
and more rehearsals.

Friday evening, between eight and nine o'clock, Handy, his partner, and
the stage manager of the Weston Theatre, arrived in Gotown with the
borrowed scenery and props. Ed McGowan and assistants were at the
station with three wagons to convey the stage accoutrements to the newly
built temple of Thespis that was to open its doors to the public the
following night. It was an all night job of preparation, but there were
many and willing hands to do what they were bid, under the direction of
Handy and his pro tem stage manager.

A student of the drama, had he been present, might have been carried
back in thought a century or over, when many of the great players of
days that are no more had to go through somewhat similar experiences.
The Booths, the Cookes, the Keans, the Kembles, the Forrests, the
Jeffersons, the Wallacks, and other great actors whose names are written
on the imperishable tablets of fame have traveled over just such roads.
Smith and the company, after a good night's rest and a hearty breakfast,
reached Gotown early in the forenoon.

At fifteen minutes past seven o'clock the doors of the Metropolitan
Academy of Music were thrown open, and at eight o'clock there was not an
unoccupied space in the house. The Handel and Hayden Philharmonic
musicians took their places in front of the stage and began the
overture. It consisted of a medley of familiar airs. The audience was so
well pleased with what they heard that the musicians had to let them
have it again. Then the curtain went up and "Box and Cox," a rather
original version of the old farce, opened the show. It created some
laughter, but the people came there to be pleased, and they were. "Old
Black Joe" was sung, with an invisible chorus, and brought down the
house. Daisey De Vere's coon song, with original business and grotesque
imitations, made another big hit. Signor Collenso's classic--and it was
well rendered--was tamely received, but when he treated his auditors to
"Molly Bawn" and the "Boys of Kilkenny" they went into ecstasies. This
was followed by the a