On the night of the 26th of April our company closed an engagement at the St. Charles Theatre in New Orleans; and before the clocks began to strike the hour of twelve, our bags and baggage had been tumbled on board a steamboat headed for St. Louis. The prospects of the National Dramatic Company had been bright; competent critics had pronounced our new play a work of true and sympathetic art, before production, but had slashed at our tender vitals when the piece had passed from rehearsal to presentation. The bad beginning in the East had not truthfully foretold a good ending in the South. The people had failed to sympathize with our "Work of Sympathetic Art." Hope had leaped from town to town…
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