All these months of toil I had received one bill after another from different men and business houses. When they came for money I told them I did not have a dollar, only what I earned, but that if the bills were correct, I would settle them as fast as I could earn the money. I determined to pay all of Mr. Blake's indebtedness, rather than there should be a blot upon his name or honor, and also for the sake of his two sons who had their lives to live. I had been sewing for Mrs. Letitia Ralph, the dressmaker, who gave me the children's clothes to make after she had fitted and basted them up for me. I had my own boys so beautifully clad she wanted to know who made their clothes. She proposed that if I would make the children's clothing she would prepare the work for me. After my work of the day was over and all the family slept I sewed until midnight. After I had moved to Washington street, I bought one of the Ralph charts and perfected myself in the art of cutting and fitting. I had been but two months in the new place when one of my roomers got married, to my sorrow, for that meant another empty room with the two parlors which had never been rented. My heart sank within me for I was doubtful as to the outcome of the new departure. My usual courage left me and I was at my wits' end as to how to continue. As I sat by the machine I realized the situation and I laid my head on the machine and the pent-up tears at last came to my relief. While in this state I felt a presence in the room and on looking up I saw the dear friend of my youth, Mrs. Sue Bird, standing quietly by me, not knowing what to say. It was the first time she had ever seen me in tears through the whole distressing time of the last two or three years. I told her I did not know where to commence and for once in my life I was discouraged. Before she departed our plans were laid and the next day her machine came to the house with a lot of new goods that she wanted to make up for herself and children. We put a machine on each side of the bay window. I made some signs during the day and put them in the windows. We decorated the windows with the new goods, a fish globe, a hanging basket of ferns, a wire model and placed upon it one of my concert dresses. We draped the lace curtains back and the window looked stunning and very businesslike. I arranged my cutting table and had Harper's Bazaar and other fashion plates and Butterick patterns on the shelves. Our signs in the window read: "Children's clothing neatly done and made to order." Our dressmaking parlors were in full swing and in apple-pie order. All we lacked were the customers, so we sat at the machines and sewed until the third day, hoping to have some one come, yet dreading to see them, for fear we would fail in our efforts. We watched people passing all day long, going and coming and stopping to look at the new place. At last, on the fifth day, a lady with a bundle came in at the gate, and my heart beat with excitement. When I opened the door a gentle little woman asked if I was the dressmaker, and I told her yes and bade her enter. She unfolded her bundle and told me what she wanted. I found myself talking and planning as if I had made dresses for a number of years. It was her wedding dress of dove-colored silk and she wanted me to make a dress of it for her twelve-year-old daughter, with an addition of three yards of blue to match. I told her I could make a beautiful child's dress, a very suitable and pretty combination. The next day the girl was measured and the dress began and by the end of the week it was to be tried on. When the dress was done she was so pleased that I did her work as long as I was in the business of dressmaking, which lasted ten years. This was the beginning.
After Mrs. Bird had started me she was obliged to go to her home, so I advertised for a forewoman. The next day I engaged a competent woman, Mrs. Sheek from Nevada. She brought her sewing machine and was well up in the ideas and ways of a shop. She saw right away I was new in the art, but she and I soon understood what was needed. In one month things went with such perfect system we were able to take in all the work that was brought to us. Our window was always dressed and the figure robed in the last garment finished, and we were becoming so popular I was obliged to get more help. Before the year was out I had ten girls constantly employed and three machines running all the time. These were busy days, what with concerts, singing in churches and at funerals, rehearsals, dressmaking and roomers. I also made costumes of singers and actresses who heard of my ability. When singing, my costumes attracted attention and I received many customers who were struck by my gowns. Mrs. P.D. Bowers, the famous actress, sent for me at the Palace and ordered her costumes for Amy Robsart, also other costumes and dominos. Emilie Melville was my customer for her concert and opera robes; so was Mme. Mulder and Mme. Elezer. I made the robes for Signora Bianchi in the opera of "Norma," for Mrs. Tom Breese and Mrs. Nick Kittle. Mrs. Tom Maguire and Mrs. Mark McDonald were regular customers for years. Mrs. Maynard, a wealthy banker's wife, who lived on Bush street, and her daughters justly appreciated my work, and I found in Mrs. Maynard a lifelong friend. I continued in this busy way, always hearing good news of the improvement in my husband in Melbourne. He had been gone now a year and a half and I had received encouraging letters from him and at last he informed me he would come soon and take me and the boys to Melbourne to live. All the time he was gone I had been paying off this tremendous amount of indebtedness of his failure, and keeping it as a secret from him so as to surprise him when he arrived. I was fully established and my church and concert music was all I could ask for. My old spirit came back and I was happy to know I had been able to help my husband through this $30,000 failure which had been such a blow to his pride and ambition and had brought distress to his family. I received a letter that he was coming on a certain steamer, and the boys and I were doing all we could to have the home-coming complete. George was now fifteen years old and William eleven. They had been going to school and had been promoted each year and would have much to tell their father, himself a man of letters and a graduate of Harvard University. His desire was that the boys should excel, as had all the Blakes, Lincolns and Sargents before them.
Each of these old and highly honored families of Massachusetts had celebrated men among them, and they honored their forefathers and tried to emulate their achievements and keep up the literary standard of the Sargents, the military dignity of their great-grandfather, Major Benjamin Lincoln of revolutionary fame, who took the sword from Cornwallis and handed it to his general, George Washington; Eps Sargent, the great writer of books, poetry and the song, "The Life on the Ocean Wave," one of the famous songs of the time. These men were the next of kin, and we were justly proud of the connection and tried to uphold our side of the family honor as well as it was possible for us of this generation to accomplish. The days were counted and each evening we were happy in the recital of our part that was expected of us when father returned. Only a short time remained to us who were awaiting his coming. At last we were rewarded by the arrival of the ship which was expected to bring our father, and the week had nearly passed. On the fourth day a messenger from the ship came with a letter from the captain that George L. Blake was dead and buried, in a foreign land, with honors suitable to the man who had won for himself the respect of all who knew him in the city of Melbourne. The railroad offices were closed, the American flag at half mast, and men with uncovered heads marched behind the hearse that bore the remains of their distinguished member, the American gentleman from California, to his last resting place. Our sorrow was too great to be realized, even after reading the letter from the rector who had read the funeral service over the dead, and who explained the circumstances of his sudden death and told of the sorrow of his comrades and the officers of the company who so honored him in a strange land. He had in a short time won their esteem by his courteous and gentlemanly bearing towards all who came in contact with him.
This was the sad message and the end of our bright hopes for the future. The burden must now be borne alone with two children to educate and this great indebtedness on my own shoulders to pay, until all was done to honor his name and that of his sons. I saw no other way but to work and keep busy. After several days my plans were mapped out and I began to plan how to enlarge my business and still continue with my music. When it became known that this sorrow had come to me, I never lacked for friends, and in a short time I became so busy I had no time to repine. After a year I needed more room, so I removed to 404 Post street, near the corner of Powell, into a cottage belonging to a Mr. Simons. It was nearer town than on Washington and Stockton streets. In a few days work went on as usual. Three of my permanent roomers went with me. For four years I lived here, when Mr. Simons sold the house and I was obliged to vacate. I found small rooms on O'Farrell street and continued my work without cessation until the beginning of 1875. During these years at 404 Post street I sang in the St. John's Presbyterian Church, Post street. The organists during this time were George T. Evans, later Frederick Katzenbach. The singers were: Vernon Lincoln, tenor; Joseph Maguire, tenor; C. Makin, basso; Mrs. Robert Moore, soprano; M.R. Blake, contralto. Later I resigned and went for the second time to St. Patrick's Church and remained there altogether ten years. The organist and director was J.H. Dohrmann. The choir remained the same during that time. We had the best talent that could be obtained and the music we sang was extremely difficult. The sopranos were the best available. Among the singers were:
Mr. Brown, tenor
Sig. Bianchi, tenor
Sig. G. Mancusi, tenor
Karl Formes, basso
Sig. Morly, basso
Sig. Reuling, baritone
Sig. Meize, baritone
Mr. Fuchs, basso
Mr. Schnable, basso
Mr. Stockmyer, basso
Mr. Yarndley, basso
Miss Louisa Tourney, soprano
Mrs. Urig, soprano
Mrs. Young, soprano
Mrs. Taylor, soprano
Mme. Brandel, soprano
Signora Bianchi, soprano
M.R. Blake, contralto
Ella Steel, alto
