social
celebrities who were eager to lionize her. Lablache, the basso, was one
of the first to hear Jenny sing. His pleasant criticism, "Every note was
like a perfect pearl," got to her ears. The _naive_ and charming jest by
which she made her acknowledgment is quite worth the repeating. Stepping
to the side of Lablache one morning at rehearsal, she made a courtesy,
and borrowed his hat from the smiling basso. She then placed her lips to
the edge and sang into its capacious depths a beautiful French romance.
At the conclusion of the song, she ordered Lablache, who was bewildered
by this fantastic performance, to kneel before her, as she had a
valuable present for him, declaring that on his own showing she was
giving him a hatful of "pearls." Lablache was so delighted by this
simple and innocent gayety that he avowed he could not be more pleased
if she had given him a hatful of diamonds.

IV.

Mr. Lumley had prepared the English public for the coming of Mlle. Lind
with consummate skill. The game of suspense was artfully managed to stir
curiosity to the uttermost. The provocations of doubt and disappointment
had been made to stimulate the musical appetite. There was a powerful
opposition to Lumley at the other theatre--Grisi, Persiani, Alboni,
Mario, and Tamburini--and the shrewd _impressario_ played all the cards
in his hand for their full value. It had been asserted that Mlle. Lind
would not come to England, and that no argument could prevail on her
to change her resolution, and this, too, after the contract was
signed, sealed, and delivered. The opera world was kept fevered by such
artifices as stories of broken pledges, long diplomatic _pour parlera_,
special messengers, hesitation, and vacillation, kept up during many
months. Lumley in his "Reminiscences" has described how no stone was
left unturned, not a trait of the young singer's character, public or
private, left un-_exploite_, by which sympathy and admiration could be
aroused. After appearing as the heroine of one of Miss Bremer's novels,
"The Home," the splendors of her succeeding career were glowingly set
forth. The panegyrics of the two great German composers, Mendelssohn and
Meyerbeer, were swollen into the most flowing language. All the secrets
of Jenny Land's life were made the subjects of innumerable puffs by the
paragraph makers, and her numerous deeds of charity were trumpeted in
clarion tones, as if she, a member of a profession famous for its deed