at the billboards and whispered to myself:
"Some day I _will_, I _must_, sing there. My name shall adorn those
walls and spell enchantment to the passing crowd." I walked on air,
absorbed in the rosy future I was planning so confidently for myself.

The teacher who had been recommended to me for this visit to New York
was dear old Louisa Cappiani, bless her! She who had been the teacher of
many of the light-opera singers was greatly pleased at my singing, and
wanted me to sign a three years' exclusive contract with her, but my
mother decided that I was too young to have my future controlled in any
way.

The arrival of hot weather drove us to the country; so with great regret
I said good-bye to Cappiani, and we started for Greenacre, Maine, and it
was there that I met Miss Emma Thursby. She occupied an enviable
position in New York musical circles and was recognized as an excellent
authority on voice. She was kind enough to say that she would be glad to
have me study with her when she returned to New York, and so it happened
that the following autumn found us back there, and I commenced my
studies with her.

[Illustration: MELBA AS MARGUERITE]

That winter of 1897-98 was full of excitement and thrills for me. In
addition to my studies with Miss Thursby I went to the opera and
theaters as often as I could afford it. And what a whirlwind of
emotions it was! Melba in "Faust," "Romeo and Juliet," and "Lucia";
Calve, the peerless "Carmen"; magnificent Lehmann (later to become my
revered teacher and dear friend); the incomparable Jean de Reszke;
handsome Pol Plancon; sprightly Campanari in the "Barber"--memories
crowd in upon me!--not forgetting the versatile Bauermeister of all
roles. I rarely had a seat, but was one of the army of "standees,"
eager, enthusiastic, oblivious to all save the dream world these
wonderful beings unfolded before me.

There was one upon whom I lavished all the ardor of my youthful,
heroine-worshiping years--our own lovely Nordica, who became my ideal
for beauty, accomplishment, and perseverance. Later I was to owe to her
friendship and that of her husband, Zoltan Doeme, the valuable and timely
advice that diverted my path from a provincial theater in Italy to the
magnificent Royal Opera in Berlin, and subsequent friendships that have
proved so potent as well as so spectacular a feature in my career.

Among the plays which I saw that winter were "The Devil's Disciple,"
with Richard Mansfield i