Perhaps another notable matter to record is that President Fillmore invited me to meet his Cabinet at dinner in the White House, and that I there “met and conversed immensely with Daniel Webster, a colossal unhappy beetle-browed dark-angel-looking sort of man, with a depth for good and evil in his eye unfathomable; also with Home Secretary Corwen, a coarse but clever man, who had been a waggon-driver; and with Graham, Secretary of the Navy, and with Conrad, Secretary at War, both gentlemen and having lofty foreheads; and with many more, including above all the excellent President,” &c. &c.  It was no small honour to meet such men on equal terms.

If I allowed myself to quote more from my first visit to America, it could only amount to variations of the same theme,—­the great kindness of all around me to one, however humble, who had shown himself their friend both by tongue and pen.  My books and my ballads had made the way to their affections, and so the author thereof reaped their love.

A little before my departure on this first visit this notable matter happened, and I will relate it in an extract from my last letter homeward.

“The happy thought occurred to me to call on Barnum, as I had brought him a parcel from Brettell; and, through him, to leave a card of respect for Jenny Lind.  Barnum received me most graciously, and favoured me with two tickets for Jenny’s concert to-night, whereof more anon.  Meanwhile I thought of sending to Jenny, through Barnum, a pretty little copy of ‘Proverbial Philosophy,’ with a pretty little note,—­whereof also more anon.  Called on Edwards by good providence, and found that J.C.  Richmond had misled me—­he isn’t to be married till next week.  A nice visit to Major Kingsland and his good wife:—­I find that my oratory has gone everywhere, and has made quite a sensation.  Think of my stammering tongue having achieved such triumphs.—­I do hope you get the papers I send.  A card at Lester’s, Union Hotel, as to Mary M. Chase.—­Dined.—­A full feast of reason with George Copway, the Redman chief, a gentleman, an author, and a right good fellow.  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