of Frau Lundburg, a well-known actress, who was delighted with
the silvery sweetness of her tones. It was with some difficulty that the
prejudices of the Linds could be overcome, but at last they reluctantly
consented that she should be educated with a view to the stage.
The little Jenny was placed by her kind patroness under the care of
Croelius, a well-known music-master of Stockholm, and her abilities were
not long in making their mark. The old master was proud of his pupil,
and took her to see the manager of the Court theatre, Count Puecke,
hoping that this stage potentate's favor would help to push the fortune
of his _protegee_. The Count, a rough, imperious man, who mayhap had
been irritated by numerous other appeals of the same kind, looked coldly
on the plainly clad, insignificant-looking girl, and said: "What shall
we do with such an ugly creature? See what feet she has! and then her
face! She will never be presentable. Certainly, we can't take such a
scarecrow." The effect of such a salutation on a timid, shrinking child
may be imagined. Croelius replied, with honest indignation, "If you will
not take her, I, poor as I am, will myself have her educated for the
stage." Count Puecke, who under a rough husk had some kindness of heart,
then directed Jenny to sing, and he was so pleased with the quality and
sentiment of her simple song that he admitted her into the theatrical
school, and put her under the special tuition of Herr Albert Berg,
the director of the operatic class, who was assisted by the well-known
Swedish composer, Lindblad.

In two years' time the young Jenny Lind had created for herself the
reputation of being a prodigy. It was not only that she possessed an
exquisite voice, but a precocious conception and originality of style.
Her dramatic talent also showed promising glimpses of what was to come,
and everything appeared to point to a shining stage career, when there
came a crushing calamity. She lost her voice. She was now twelve years
old, and in her childish perspective of life this disaster seemed
irretrievable, the sunshine of happiness for ever clouded. To become a
singer in grand opera had been the great aspiration of her heart. Her
voice gone, she was soon forgotten by the fickle public who had looked
on this young girl as a chrysalis soon to burst into the glory of a
fuller life. It showed the resolute stuff which nature had put into this
young girl, that, in spite of this crushing downfall