A VISIT TO JENNY LIND.

New Zealander, Volume 9, Issue 725, 26 March 1853, Page 4

A VISIT TO JENNY LIND.

BY GRANT THORBURN

(From the New York Observer.”)

Hitherto, the time, talents and conversation of Miss Lind has been so much monopolized by the good, the great, and the noble of the land, that a small mortal like myself, could not so much as see the hem of her garment. Hearing that, to escape from the heat, noise and fashionable crowd of New York, she was removing to the pleasant Heights in Brooklyn, I obtained from Mr. Barman a letter as follows :

New York, May 21st, 1851. The bearer, Mr. Thoibum, is a man of the highest respectability, a funny old Scotchman, and aiTantlior, &c. Miss Lind will he pleased to talk with him. He is a very celebrated man —well known to all the Literati; ho is wealthy and dont come begging. (Signed.) P. T. Barnum.

Armed with this missive, I stood by the door of her mansion next morning at 9. I rang, the servant appeared. Says I, “ This note is for Miss Lind, from Mr. Barnum.”

Says he, “ She aint up.” “ No matter,” says I, “ the sun’s up, she can read that note in bed. Tell her, if she is willing to see me, 1 will wait in the parlor till Christmas; if she says so ! [I knew she would not say so—it was only a figure of speech, to denote the sincerity of my wish.] The man looked in my face without moving; I dare say he thought I was crazy. “Go ahead,” says I, “and deliver your

message.” In two minutes he returned smiling,—“ Miss Lind says she won’t make you wait till Christmas ; please sit in the parlor, she will he with you in ten minutes.”

I had never seen Miss Lind. The door opened, I advanced, she met with a quick step, both hands extended ; I held her right hand in my left, her left hand in my right. Approximating as near as common sense would permit, and looking in her face. “ And this is Jenny Lind,” said I, returning the look and advancing a foot. “ And this is Laurie Todd,” said she. She placed a chair in front' of the sofa, she sat on the sofa. I sat on the chair; thus wo looked on one another, face to face, and thus the language of her speaking eyes confirmed the words which dropped from her lips. She remarked she read my history, [Laurie Todd, ] about three years ago in Europe, that she thought the description there given of the baptism of Rebecca, was the most interesting scene she ever read in the English books. She continued, “ can you repeat that scene from memory ? Says I, “Death only can blot it out.” “Will you oblige me 1” she continued. Says I, “ You have seen the painting of the Goddess of Liberty ; that is the costume which adorned the person of tire ladies at that period. Her hither had already been dead better than three hundred days, the dress therefore was in half mourning. Her hat was a small black beaver, all the fashion at that time, the rim turned up on each side, so as to have the ears visible; the hair was in a broad fold, resting between the shoulders, having the extreme ends fastened with a pin on the crown. Hers was very long and very flaxen I she was clothed in a white garment, fine, neat and clean, her neck encircled with a black bracelet and around her waist was a black ribbon. The train of her garment was hanging on her left arm, The thought, that before another hour the eyes of the whole congregation would be fastened on her alone, brought a faint blush on the cheek. AVhen she walked up the middle aisle and sat down, third pew from the pulpit, I thought 1 never beheld anything half so lovely. Lecture being ended, the preacher proclaimed, “ Let the person present herself for baptism.” She walked to the altar, a tall slim figure, straight as an Indian arrow, with a measured step, like a sentry on duty before the tent of his general.— While the minister was binding the vow of God upon her heart before the whole congregation, she made the responses with the same thoughtful composure, as if none but the eye of Omnipotence was there. While the minister was slowly descending the fifteen steps which led from the pulpit, she was untying the strings which hold on her hat. There she stood, her black hat in one hand, a white muslin ’kerchief in the other, her beautiful and neatly arranged flaxen locks all exposed under a blaze of light. When the minister dropped the water on her white transparent brow, she shut her eyes and turned her face to heaven. As the crystal drops rolled down her blushing checks, I thought her face shone like an angel, and I swore in my heart, if it so willed heaven, that nothing but death should part us. Here Miss Lind stood up with excitement.— “Stop, Grant,” she exclaimed, “You ought to have been a painter, you place Rebecca, before me.” “And why not,” said I. “ Perhaps her ransomed spirit is hovering over that splendid bibb” f pointing to the centre table, j “ and smiling to see two kindred spirits enjoying a foretaste of pleasures so divine.” “ I doubt not,” she observed that “ Friends departed, are angels sent from heaven on errands full of love.” “ And with Paul,” I added, “ They are ministering angels sent to minister to the heirs of salvation.”

Here we entered invisible space, and soared to worlds on high. She repeated, with fine pathos, the beautiful legend current among the peasantry on her native mountains. It concerned a mother who at the dead watches in every night, visited the beds of her sick motherless babes, covering their little hands and smoothing their pillow. It is a beautiful illusion.

We spoke of the especial care which God takes of little children; how many instances are recorded in our weekly journals of children being lost in the woods for days, sometimes for weeks, the weather inclement, the feet naked, the clothes scant, yet found unhurt. They were fed on manna from heaven, nnd the angel of the covenant muzzled the mouths of the ravenous beasts of prey. Having read Laurie Todd, she put several explanatory questions about the yellow fever, and other scenes recorded, &c. On these and similar subjects we conversed for more than an hour, without being interrupted, hut (he time of my departure was at hand. We rose simultaneously. We held each other’s hands. We promised to remember one anoter fit our morning and evening sacrifice, that God would prepare our hearts that wo might meet where the assembly never breaks up, where friendship never ends. Here the fountain of the groat deep was broken up, a big tear o’erflowed its banks. 1 caught the infection. Now, I never saw a tear on a woman’s cheek, but I longed to kiss it from its resting place, that is to say, provided the thing was practicable, and whether or not I reduced this principle into practice on the present occasion, I can’t conceive the sovereign people have any right to inquire, lie this as it may, at the time her lips were her own ; she had no lord Goldschmidt to dispute an old man’s privilege.