sary, for I have never experienced greater difficulty in landing than here. I was finally entrusted to an American hotel-keeper in Havanna (a Mr. Woolcott), who conveyed me and my effects on shore, and then through the Custom-house to his hotel, where he promised our respectable captain of “The Philadelphia” to make me comfortable. And before long I was seated in a large hall with a marble floor, and at a well-filled table, amid a numerous company, whilst the beautiful air and light poured in through the open doors and windows; for in Cuba people are not afraid of sunshine.
Here I ascertained that Jenny Lind was still at Havanna, and would not yet leave for a couple of days. I wrote, therefore, a few lines to her, and despatched them by our young countryman, Hörlin, who was glad to be the bearer of my letter. It was in the evening, and after that I took my light and went up-stairs to my chamber, to go to rest. But scarcely had I reached the top of the stairs, when I heard a voice below mention my name. I looked round astonished, and there, at the foot of the stairs, stood a lady holding by the balustrade, and looking up to me with a kind and beaming countenance. It was Jenny Lind.—Jenny Lind here, and with that beaming, fresh, joyous expression of countenance which, when once seen, can never be forgotten! There is the whole Swedish spring in it. I was glad. All was forgotten in a moment which had formerly come between her and me. I could not but instantly go down, bend over the balustrade, and kiss her. That agreeable young man, Max Hjortsberg, was with her. I shook hands with him, but I took Jenny Lind with me into my chamber. We had never met since that time in Stockholm, when I predicted for her an European reputation. She had now attained it in a higher degree than any other artist, because the praise and the laurels which she won everywhere had not reference alone to her gifts as a singer.
