Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1893-11-09

ana the engagement was nearly UIOhCA
off, but renewed in consequence of the
despair Mr. Harris exhibited. He also
terrified her by threats of torment here
after if she broke her word; and last OF
all, when in the JOY of reconciliation
She was singing to him, she turned
round and saw that he had gone to
sleep. Not long after Mr.. Senior reached
Paris there was tap at the door OF
Mrs. Grotes apartment one evening
about seven o'clock, and in came Jenny.
The ill-assorted marriage was finally
broken off.
The emotions of the last few mon tbs
had told heavily upon Jenny Lind, but
wi tn the sense of freedom the power OF
enjoyment soon returned, and she rode
in the Bots de Boulogne and walked on
the boulevards and in the Tnilerics. and
listened to the nightingales. One day
she took my father to a house in the
place d'Orleans, near the Rue st. Laz-
are. 1t was built round courtyard,
| with fountain in the middle. Jenny
gazed at it without speaking. After
ward she said: IL was so miserable IN
that house; envied the fountain be-
cause it was not obliged to sing. :"
The house had been the residence of
| Manuel Garcia, the most celebrated
master of singing in Europe, and She
alluded to the time when, in despair
| at the loss of her voice from fatigue
| and bad management, she slowly re-
gained it by means, first of rest, and
| then of skillful practice under Garcia's
teaching.
The domestic happiness for which she
had so long sighed was soon to De hers.
| After singing in concerts and OratOrios
in Germany, Sweden and Liverpool, she
sailed for the United States on August
81, 1850 Her success in the New World
| was as brilliant as it had been in the
Old: and her charities Us muniicent.
Her company was joined in 1851 ~ Mr..
Otto Goldschmidt, who succeeded Bene-
dict as pianist A deep and true attach.
ment sprang up between the two young
artists, and they were married on Feb
! ruary, S, 1852.
Her horror of being lionized led her
sometimes to reject OvertureS which
were made in perfectly good faith to
! express the respect and admiration felt
| for her; hence she was not always pop
ular. She delighted in giving chill
at her house in Vim bledon, and her
| joyous participation in the amusement
she had provided, and again in More
| tons gardens, when she waltzed like
girl with her eldest son. The last time
| l heard her sing was at concert she
gave at her own house in 1850 for the
| prince of Sweden. She had become
| very nervous about her voice, and it
was not certain whether in the end
she would summon up courage. At
last she yielded to the persuasion of her
friends and sang the splendid cantata,
with violin accompaniment, from Mo.
zart's RE Pastore" 1t was thing to
remember for the rest of ones life.
| In her later years she took little
house called Windspoint, which she ar
ranged aud improved till it resembled a
Swiss cottage on the top of the hills
above Malvern Wells. We had, in the
summer of 1854, q house just below
hers, and we saw her much more fire.
| quently than was possible in the tur-
MOL of London. We often, used to sit
with her in the garden enjoying the
magnificent view. She was always I'M
easy lest she should be stared at, and If
any presumptuous wight peeped in at
| the gate, she would instantly shoot up
large red umbrella and shelter her.
self beneath it. My elder daughter,
| who is devoted to music, frequently
| went to see her alone and one day
ventured to ask her to write her name
in her birthday book. They were in
the drawing-room. Jenny Lind rose
up, saying: well, did not think you
| had been commonplace person." and
walked through the window into the
garden, leaving my daughter to repent
her indiscretion Presently her hostess
came back and gave her beautiful
rose and went on talking as if nothing
had happened, and when Gaynor was
taking leave. Mrs. Goldschmidt said
cheerfully: Nov, where is your birth
day bool1?' and wrote her name in it.
1t must have cost her more than many
| an apparently greater sacrifice.
| like to think of her as she stood in
the hanging balcony of her cottage
| waving good-by, the sun setting be-
| hind her picturesque figure. 1t was at
| Windspoint that she died in 1887. At
the very close Of her life, as she lay on
her death bed at Malvern, in weakness
and misery, once, as her daughter
opened the shutters and let in the
morning sun, she Just let her lips shape
the first bars of the old song she loved:
can den Sonnensshein. They were the
last notes she sang on earth.