Meeting also Gordon Bennett, the great New York Heraldist, who sat next me at dinner, when we had plenty of pleasant talk together; also Squier, the celebrated American Layard, who has discovered so much of Indian archaeology, a small, good-looking, mustachioed, energetic man: also Tuckerman, the amiable poet: also Willis, a good sort of man, just now much calumniated for having shown up English society in his books,--but a kindly and a clever every way.
Mrs.Willis called and carried off Willis, and I took Tuckerman under my wing to the monster concert at Castle Garden.

The immense circular building, full of heads (it holds 8000!) and lighted by 'cressets' of gas, put me in mind of Martin's illustration of Satan's Throne in Milton! The concert, as per programme, was a cold and dull affair enough,--though Lind did terrible heights and depths in the Italian execution line,--but after the concert came this beautiful episode.
Barnum hunted me out from the two or three acres of faces,--because the fair and melodious Jenny had expressed to him an urgent wish to see me.
When I got to her boudoir, where Barnum introduced me, I really thought she would have cried outright,--as feeling herself a stranger in a foreign land, and in the presence of an old unseen book-friend; for it seems,--as she told me in beautiful slightly broken English,--that my poor dear 'Proverbial Philosophy,'-- which I never thought she had seen till I gave it to her,--has been to her 'such a comfort, such a comfort, many days;' and she was 'so glad, so ver glad,' to see me,--and she looked so unhappy,--though the immense hall was still echoing with those tumults of applause,--and she clasped my hand so often, and would hardly let it go, and made me sit and talk with her, for I was 'her friend,' and really seemed like a child clinging to its elder brother.

I was quite sorry to leave her,--and when, putting aside all idle musical compliments, I tried to cheer her by the thought,--how nobly and generously for many good purposes she was using the melodious gift of God to her, poor Jenny only looked up devoutly, and shook her head, and sighed, and seemed unhappy.

However, it was time to go, so with another hearty shake-hands, and 'my love to _dear_ England,' Jenny Lind and I took leave.

This testimony as to my book's good use for comfort,--she will 'read more now she sees me,'-- is very pleasing,--it is much to do poor Jenny good, who does good to so many others.