Miss Lind's benevolence had been so largely extolled that it was not surprising that she should have been continually beset by applicants for charity. In almost all cases she gave liberally in sums varying from $20 to $1,000, and to one Swedish friend, it is said, she actually gave $5,000. On her return from Boston to New York the whole party stopped at Iranistan, Mr. Barnum's Bridgeport place. The next morning Miss Lind was escorted over the grounds, the beauty of which delighted her. "Do you know, Mr. Barnum," she said, "that if you had not built Iranistan, I should never have come to America for you?" Mr. Barnum, much surprised, asked her to explain. "I had received several applications to visit the United States," she continued, "but I did not much like the appearance of the applicants, nor did I relish the idea of crossing 3,000 miles of ocean; so I declined them all. But the first letter which Mr. Wilton, your agent, addressed me, was written upon a sheet headed with a beautiful engraving of Iranistan. It attracted my attention. I said to myself, a gentleman who has been so successful in his business as to be able to build and reside in such a palace cannot be a mere 'adventurer.' So I wrote to your agent, and consented to an interview, which I should have declined, if I had not seen the picture of Iranistan." "That, then, fully pays me for building it," replied Barnum. The night after Miss Lind's arrival in Boston, there was a display of fireworks, in her honor, in front of the Revere House, which was followed by a torchlight procession by the Germans of the city. At Philadelphia, they were met by such a dense throng of people that it was with the greatest difficulty that they pressed through the crowds to their hotel. Jenny was suffering from a very severe headache and retired at once to her rooms. Outside, the streets were packed with the thousands that had followed them to the door, and were now clamoring for Jenny Lind. Knowing that the noise would seriously disturb the sensitive songstress, Barnum tried to induce the crowd to disperse; but they declared they would not until Miss Lind appeared on the balcony. In despair he finally put Jenny's bonnet and shawl on her companion, Miss Ahmansen, who went out on the balcony and bowed gracefully to the multitude, who gave three hearty cheers and dispersed. Miss Lind hated crowds, and always wished her arrival in any city kept secret, so as to avoid the excitement of a public reception, but Barnum knew that the success of the enterprise depended in a large measure on this very excitement. One day Miss Lind remarked to Mr. Barnum, "I have just heard that you and I are to be married. Now how do you suppose such a report ever originated?" "Probably from the fact that we are 'engaged,' suggested Barnum, the inveterate punster.