Arrival of fourteen Ioway Indians in London—Their lodgings in St. James’s Street—The Author visits them—Their portraits and names—Mr. Melody, their conductor—Jeffrey Doraway, their interpreter—Landlady’s alarm—Indians visit the Author’s Collection in the Egyptian Hall—Arrangement to dance in the Collection—The Doctor (Medicine or Mystery man) on top of the Hall—Their first drive in a bus—Doctor’s appearance outside—Indians’ first impressions of London—Lascars sweeping the streets—Man with a big nose—The Doctor lost, and found on the housetop—Their first exhibition in Egyptian Hall—Eagle-dance—The Doctor’s speech—Great amusement of the ladies—His description of the railroad from Liverpool to London—War-dance, great applause—The “jolly fat dame”—She presents a gold bracelet to the Doctor by mistake—Her admiration of the Roman-nose—War-whoop—Description of—Approaching-dance—Wolf-song, and description of—Great amusement of the audience—Shaking hands—Mistake with the bracelet.

The event which I spoke of at the close of my last chapter—the arrival of another party of Indians—was one which called upon me at once for a new enterprise, and I suddenly entered upon it, again deferring the time of my return to my native land. The “fourteen Ioway Indians,” as report had said, had arrived, and were in apartments at No. 7, St. James’s Street, with their interpreter. This party was in charge of Mr. G. H. C. Melody, who had accompanied them from their own country, with a permission gained from the Secretary at War to bring them to Europe, which permission was granted in the following words:—

Mr. Melody called upon me immediately on his arrival in London, and I went with him to see his party, several of whom I at once recognized as I entered their rooms. On seeing me they all rose upon their feet and offered me their hands, saluting me by their accustomed word, “How! how! how! Chip-pe-ho-la!” and evidently were prepared for great pleasure on meeting me. White Cloud, the head chief of the tribe, was of the party, and also the war-chief Neu-mon-ya (the Walking Rain). These two chiefs, whose portraits were then hanging in my collection, had stood before me for their pictures several years previous in their own village, and also one of the warriors now present, whose name was Wash-ka-mon-ya (the Fast Dancer). These facts being known, one can easily imagine how anxious these good fellows had been, during a journey of 2000 miles from their country to New York, and then during their voyage across the ocean, to meet me in a foreign land, who had several years before shared the hospitality of their village, and, to their knowledge, had done so much to collect and perpetuate the history of their race. They had come also, as I soon learned, in the full expectation to dance in my collection, which they were now impatient to see.

This first interview was during the evening of their arrival, and was necessarily brief, that they might get their night’s rest, and be prepared to visit my rooms in the morning. A few pipes were smoked out as we were all seated on the floor, in a “talk” upon the state of affairs in their country and incidents of their long and tedious journey, at the end of which they now required rest, and I left them.

By entering the city at night, they had created little excitement or alarm, except with the landlady and her servants, where they had been taken in. Their rooms had been engaged before their arrival, but the good woman “had no idea they were going to look so savage and wild; she was very much afraid that their red paint would destroy her beds,” not yet knowing that they were to wash the paint all off before they retired to rest, and that then they were to spread their buffalo robes upon the floor and sleep by the side of, and under her beds, instead of getting into them. These facts, when they became known, amused her very much; and Mr. Melody’s representations of the harmlessness and honesty of the Indians, put her at rest with respect to the safety of her person and her property about her house.

The objects of these being the same as those of the former party, of seeing the country and making money by their exhibitions, I entered into a similar arrangement with Mr. Melody, joining with my collection, conducting their exhibitions, and sharing the expenses and receipts of the same, on condition that such an arrangement should be agreeable to the Indians.

Their first night’s rest in London being finished, they were all up at an early hour, full of curiosity to see what was around them; and their fourteen red heads out of their front windows soon raised a crowd and a novel excitement in St. James’s. Every body knew that the “Indians had gone,” and the conjectures amongst the crowd were various and curious as to this strange arrival. Some said it was “the wedding party returned;” others, more sagacious, discovered the difference in their appearance, and pronounced them “the real cannibals from New Zealand;” and others said “their heads were too red, and they could be nothing else than the real red-heads—the man-eaters—that they had read of somewhere, but had forgotten the place.”

The morning papers, however, which are the keys for all such mysteries, soon solved the difficulty, but without diminishing the crowd, by the announcement that a party of fourteen Ioway Indians, from the base of the Rocky Mountains, had arrived during the night and taken up their lodgings in St. James’s Street.

After taking their breakfasts and finishing their toilets, they stepped into carriages and paid their first visit to my collection, then open in the Egyptian Hall. Instead of yelling and shouting as the Ojibbeways did on first entering it, they all walked silently and slowly to the middle of the room, with their hands over their mouths, denoting surprise and silence. In this position, for some minutes (wrapped in their pictured robes, which were mostly drawn over their heads or up to their eyes), they stood and rolled their eyes about the room in all directions, taking a general survey of what was around them, before a word was spoken. There was an occasional “she-e” in a lengthened whisper, and nothing more for some time, when at length a gradual and almost imperceptible conversation commenced about portraits and things which they recognized around the room. They had been in a moment transferred into the midst of hundreds of their friends and their enemies, who were gazing at them from the walls—amongst wig-wams and thousands of Indian costumes and arms, and views of the prairies they live in—altogether opening to their view, and to be seen at a glance, what it would take them years to see in their own country. They met the portraits of their chiefs and other friends, upon the walls, and extended their hands towards them; and they gathered in groups in front of their enemies, whom the warriors had met in battle, and now recognized before them. They looked with great pleasure on a picture of their own village, and examined with the closest scrutiny the arms and weapons of their enemies. One may easily imagine how much there was in this collection to entertain these rude people, and how much to command their attachment to me, with whom they had already resolved to unite.

A council was held and the pipe lit under the Crow wig-wam, which was standing in the middle of my room, when Mr. Melody explained to the Indians that he had now got them safe across the ocean as he had promised, and into the midst of the greatest city in the world, where they would see many curious things, and make many good and valuable friends, if they conducted themselves properly, which he was confident they would do.

“You have met,” said he, “your old friend Chip-pe-ho-la, whom you have talked so much about on the way; you are now in his wonderful collection, and he is by the side of you, and you will hear what he has to say.” (“How! how! how!”)

I reminded the White-cloud of the time that I was in his village, and lived under his father’s tent, where I had been kindly treated, and for which I should always feel grateful. That in meeting them here, I did not meet them as strangers, but as friends. (“How! how! how!”) That they had come a great way, and with a view to make something to carry home to their wives and little children; that Mr. Melody and I had entered into an arrangement by which I was in hopes that my efforts might aid in enabling them to do so. (“How! how! how!”) That I was willing to devote all my time, and do all that was in my power, but the continuation of my exertions would depend entirely upon their own conduct, and their efforts to gain respect, by aiding in every way they could, and keeping themselves entirely sober, and free from the use of spirituous liquors. (“How! how! how!”)

Mr. Melody here remarked that they had pledged their words to him and their Great Father (as the condition on which they were allowed to come), that they would drink no ardent spirits while absent, and that he was glad to say they had thus far kept their promise strictly. (“How! how! how!”)

I told them I was glad to hear this, and I had no doubt but they would keep their word with me on that point, for every thing depended on it. We were amongst a people who look upon drunkenness as low and beastly, and also as a crime; and as I had found that most white people were of opinion that all Indians were drunkards, if they would show by their conduct that such was not the case, they would gain many warm and kind friends wherever they went. (“How! how! how!”) I told them that the Ojibbeways whom I had had with me, and who had recently gone home, gave me a solemn promise when they arrived that they would keep entirely sober and use no spirituous liquors,—that they kept that promise awhile, but I had been grieved to hear that before they left the country they had taken up the wicked habit of drinking whiskey, and getting drunk, by which they had lost all the respect that white people had for them when they first came over. (A great laugh, and “How! how! how!”)

Neu-mon-ya (the war-chief) replied to me, that they were thankful that the Great Spirit had kept them safe across the ocean and allowed them to see me, and to smoke the pipe again with me, and to hear my wise counsel, which they had all determined to keep (“How! how! how!”). He said that they had been very foolish to learn to drink “fire-water” in their country, which was very destructive to them, and they had promised their Great Father, the President, that they would drink none of it whilst they were abroad. He said he hoped I would not judge them by the Ojibbeways who had been here, “for,” said he, “they are all a set of drunkards and thieves, and always keep their promises just about as well as they kept them with you.” (A laugh, and “How! how! how!”)[1]

This talk, which was short, was ended here, to the satisfaction of all parties, and the Indians were again amusing themselves around the room, leaving the wig-wam and further conversations to Mr. Melody, the interpreter, and myself. Mr. Melody, though a stranger to me, bearing the high recommendations contained in the letter of the Secretary at War, already published, at once had my confidence (which I am pleased to say his conduct has kept up) as an excellent and honest man.

Their interpreter, Jeffrey Doraway (a mulatto), and who had been one of the first to recognize and hail me when I entered their rooms, had been an old and attached acquaintance of mine while travelling in that country, and that acquaintance had several times been renewed in St. Louis, and New York, and other places where I had subsequently met him. He had been raised from childhood in the tribe, and the chiefs and all the party were very much attached to him, and his interest seemed to be wholly identified with that of the tribe. He was of a most forbearing and patient disposition, and of temperate habits, and as he was loved by the chiefs, had great influence with them, and control over the party.

I related to Mr. Melody and Jeffrey the difficulties that laid before us; the prejudices raised in the public, mind by the conduct of Mr. Rankin with his party of Ojibbeways, and the unfortunate season of the year at which they had arrived in London. That the middle of July was the very worst season in which to open an exhibition, and that it might be difficult to raise a second excitement sufficiently strong to pay the very heavy expenses we must incur; but that I had resolved to unite my whole efforts to theirs, to bring their party into notice; which formed so much more complete and just a representation of the modes and appearance of the wild Indians of America than the Ojibbeways had given.

Finishing our conversation here, we found the Indians adjusting their plumes, and their robes, and their weapons, preparing to step into their “omnibus and four,” to take their first rapid glance at the great City of London, in “a drive,” which was to pass them through some of its principal thoroughfares for their amusement. At this moment of excitement it was suddenly announced that one of the party (and a very essential one), the “Doctor” (or medicine man), was missing! Search was everywhere making for him, and when it was quite certain that he could not have passed into the street, Jeffrey inquired of the curator of the Hall if there was any passage that led out upon the roof? to which the curator replied, “Yes.” “Well then,” said Jeffrey, “we may be sure that he is there, for it is ‘a way that he has:’ he always is uneasy until he gets as high as he can go, and then he will stay there all night if you will let him alone.” I went immediately to the roof, and found him standing on one corner of the parapet, overlooking Piccadilly,—wrapped in his buffalo robe, and still as a statue, while thousands were assembling in the streets to look at him, and to warn him of the danger they supposed him in.

The readers who have not had the pleasure of seeing this eccentric character, will scarcely be able to appreciate the oddity of this freak until they become better acquainted with the Doctor in the following pages. I invited him down from his elevated position, which he seemed reluctant to leave, and he joined his party, who passed into their carriage at the door. In this moment of confusion, of escaping from the crowd and closing the door, heads were counted, and the old Doctor was missing again. A moment’s observation showed, however, that his ascending propensity had gained him a position over their heads, as he had seated himself by the side of the driver, with his buffalo robe wrapped around him, the long and glistening blade of his spear passing out from underneath it, near to his left ear, and his vermilioned face surmounted by a huge pair of buffalo horns, rising out of a crest of eagle’s quills and ermine skins. Thus loaded, and at the crack of the whip, and amidst the yelling multitude that had gathered around them, did the fourteen Ioways dash into the streets, to open their eyes to the sights and scenes of the great metropolis.

An hour or so in the streets, in a pleasant day, enabled them to see a great deal that was unlike the green prairies where they lived; and the “old Doctor,” wrapped in his robe, and ogling the pretty girls, and everything else that he saw that was amusing as he passed along, raised a new excitement in the streets, and gave an extensive notification that “the wedding party had actually got back,” or that another party of red skins had arrived. They returned to their lodgings in great glee, and amused us at least for an hour with their “first impressions” of London; the leading, striking feature of which, and the one that seemed to afford them the greatest satisfaction, was the quantity of fresh meat that they saw in every street hanging up at the doors and windows—pigs, and calves, and sheep, and deer, and prairie hens, in such profusion that they thought “there would be little doubt of their getting as much fresh meat as they could eat.” Besides this, they had seen many things that amused them, and others that excited their pity. They laughed much about the “black fellows with white eyes” who were carrying bags of coal, and “every one of them had got their hats on the wrong side before.” They had seen many people who seemed to be very poor, and looked as if they were hungry: for they held out their hands to people passing by, as if they were asking for something to eat. “They had passed two Indians, with brooms in their hands, sweeping the dirt in the streets!”

This occurrence had excited their greatest anxieties to know “what Indians they could be, that would be willing to take a broom in their hands and sweep the dirt from under white men’s feet, and then hold out their hands to white people for money to buy food to eat.” They all agreed “that Ioways would not do it, that Sioux would not, that Pawnees would not;” and when they were just deciding that their enemies, the Ojibbeways, might be slaves enough to do it, and that these were possibly a part of the Ojibbeway party that had been flourishing in London, I explained the mystery to them, by informing them that their conjectures were wrong—that it was true they were Indians, but not from North America. I agreed with them that no North American Indian would use that mode of getting his living, but that there were Indians in different parts of the world, and that these were from the East Indies, a country many thousands of miles from here; that these people were Indians from that country, and were of a tribe called Lascars; that many of them were employed by the captains of English ships to help to navigate their vessels from that country to this; and that in London they often come to want, and are glad to sweep the streets and beg, as the means of living, instead of starving to death. It seemed still a mystery to them, but partly solved, and they made many further remarks among themselves about them. The good landlady at this moment announced to Mr. Melody and Jeffrey that the dinner for the Indians was ready, and in a moment all were seated save the Doctor; he was missing. “That old fool,” said Jeffrey, “there’s no doubt but he has found his way to the top of the house.” I was conducted by one of the servants through several unoccupied rooms and dark passages, and at last through a narrow and almost impassable labyrinth that brought me out upon the roof. The “Doctor” was there; and, wrapped in his buffalo robe, with his red face and his buffalo horns, was standing like a Zealand penguin, and smiling upon the crowds of gazers who were gathering in the streets, and at the windows, and upon the house-tops, in the vicinity.

For the several days succeeding this, while the Indians were lying still, and resting from their long and tedious voyage, and I was announcing in the usual way their arrival, and the time of the commencement of their exhibitions, I held many curious and amusing conversations with them about things they had already seen, and scenes and events that were yet in anticipation and before them. These are subjects, however, that must be passed over for events that were before us, and fuller of interest and excitement.

They had much amusement at this time also, about a man they said they had seen, with a remarkably big nose, which they said looked like a large potato (or wapsapinnakan), and one of the women sitting near the door of the omnibus declared “that it was actually a wapsapinnakan, for she could distinctly see the little holes where the sprouts grow out.” The bus, they said, had passed on rather too quick for all to have a fair look, but they believed they would at some future time meet him again, and take a good look at him.

The evening for their first appearance before the public having arrived, the Ioways were prepared in all their rouge and fine dresses, and made their dÉbut before a fashionable, but not a crowded audience. Their very appearance, as they entered the room, was so wild and classic, that it called forth applause from every part of the hall. The audience was composed chiefly of my friends, and others who had been familiar with the other group, and who were able to decide as to the comparative interest of the two parties; and it was proclaimed in every part of the room, that they were altogether more primitive in their appearance and modes, and decidedly a finer body of men. I had accompanied them on to the platform, and when they had got seated, and were lighting their pipe, I introduced them by stating, that in the exhibition of this party of Indians, I felt satisfied that I was bringing before the eyes of the audience the most just and complete illustration of the native looks and modes of the red men of the American wilderness, that had ever been seen on this side of the Atlantic; and that I should take great pleasure in introducing them and their modes, as they so satisfactorily illustrated and proved what I had been for several years labouring to show to English people, by my numerous paintings and Indian manufactures which I had collected, as well as by my notes of travel amongst these people, which I had recently published: That the Ioway was one of the remote tribes, yet adhering to all their native customs and native looks; and that this party, composed, as it was, of the two principal men of the tribe, and several of its most distinguished warriors, not only conveyed to the eyes of people in this country the most accurate account of primitive modes, but was calculated to excite the deepest interest, and to claim the respect of the community. That the position of this tribe being upon the great plains between the Missouri and the Rocky Mountains, 1000 miles farther west than the country from which the Ojibbeways came, their modes and personal appearance were very different, having as yet received no changes from the proximity of civilization: That I had visited this tribe several years before, during my travels in the Indian countries, and that I had there formed my first acquaintance with the two chiefs who were now here, and which acquaintance, from the hospitable manner in which they had welcomed me in their humble wig-wams, I now felt great pleasure in renewing: (“Hear, hear,” and applause.)

That these facts being known, with others which would be incidentally given, I felt fully assured that they would meet with a kind reception in this country, and that the audience were prepared for the introduction I was now to make of them and their modes.[2] (Great applause.)

I then pointed out and explained to the audience, the characteristic differences between the appearance and modes of this party and the Ojibbeways, whom they had seen, and which will be obvious to the reader in the annexed illustration (Plate No. 9). The Ioways, like three other tribes only, in North America, all adhere to their national mode of shaving and ornamenting their heads. This is a very curious mode, and presents an appearance at once that distinguishes them from the Ojibbeways and other tribes, who cultivate the hair to the greatest length they possibly can, and pride themselves on its jet and glossy black. Every man in the Ioway tribe adheres to the mode of cutting all the hair as close as he can, excepting a small tuft which is left upon the crown, and being that part which the enemy takes for the scalp, is very properly denominated the “scalp-lock.” He then rouges with vermilion the whole crown of his head (and oftentimes his whole face), and surmounts his scalp-lock by a beautiful crest, made of the hair of the deer’s tail, dyed of vermilion red.

The chief man of this party, the “White Cloud,” the son of a distinguished chief of the same name, who died a few years since, was 35 years of age, and hereditary chief of the tribe. By several humane and noble acts, after he received his office of chief, he gained the admiration and friendship of the officers of the United States Government, as well as of his tribe, and had therefore been countenanced by the Government (as has been shown) in the enterprise of going abroad.

Neu-mon-ya (the Walking Rain), and war-chief of the tribe, was 54 years of age, and nearly six feet and a half in height. A noble specimen of the manly grace and dignity that belong to the American wilderness, and also a man who had distinguished himself in the wars that he had led against his enemies.

Se-non-ti-yah (the Blistered Feet), the Medicine or Mystery Man, was a highly important personage of the party, and held a high and enviable position, as physician, soothsayer, and magician, in his tribe.

These personages are found in every tribe, and so much control have they over the superstitious minds of their people, that their influence and power in the tribe often transcend those of the chief. In all councils of war and peace they have a seat by the chiefs, and are as regularly consulted by the chiefs, as soothsayers were consulted in ancient days, and equal deference and respect is paid to their advice or opinions, rendering them oracles of the tribe in which they live.

A good illustration of this was given by this magician, while on their voyage to this country, a few weeks since, when near the land, off the English coast. The packet ship in which the Indians were passengers, was becalmed for several days, much to the annoyance of the Indians and numerous other passengers, when it was decided, by the Indian chief, that they must call upon the Medicine Man, to try the efficacy of his magical powers in the endeavour to raise a wind. For this purpose he very gradually went to work, with all due ceremony, according to the modes of the country, and after the usual ceremony of a mystery feast, and various invocations to the spirit of the wind and the ocean, both were conciliated by the sacrifice of many plugs of tobacco thrown into the sea; and in a little time the wind began to blow, the sails were filled, and the vessel soon wafted into port, to the amusement of the passengers, and much to the gratification of the Indians, who all believed, and ever will, that the vessel was set in motion by the potency of the Doctor’s mysterious and supernatural powers.

Of the Warriors, Shon-ta-yi-ga (the Little Wolf) and Nu-ho-mun-ya (called the “Roman Nose”) were the most distinguished, and I believe the world will agree with me, that it would be an act of injustice on my part, should I allow the poor fellows to carry through this country, without giving them publication, the subjoined documents,[3] by which it will be seen that they saved, in a humane manner, and worthy of warriors of better caste, the lives of ten unarmed and unoffending enemies. Okee-wee-me (the wife of the Little Wolf) is the mother of the infant pappoose, called Corsair. This child is little more than three months old, and slung in the cradle on the mother’s back, according to the general custom practised by all the American tribes, and furnishes one of the most interesting illustrations in the group.

All tribes in America practise the same mode of carrying their infant children for several months from their birth upon a flat board resting upon the mother’s back, as she walks or rides, suspended by a broad strap passing over her forehead, or across her breast. By this mode of carrying their children, the mothers, who have to perform all the slavish duties of the camp, having the free use of their hands and arms, are enabled to work most of the time, and, in fact, exercise and labour nearly as well as if their children were not attached to their persons. These cradles are often, as in the present instance, most elaborately embroidered with porcupine quills, and loaded with little trinkets hanging within the child’s reach, that it may amuse itself with them as it rides, with its face looking from that of its mother, while she is at work, so as not to draw upon her valuable time.

This rigid, and seemingly cruel mode of binding the child with its back to a straight board, seems to be one peculiarly adapted to Indian life, and, I believe, promotes straight limbs, sound lungs, and long life.

I having thus introduced the party to their first audience in England, and left other remarks upon them for their proper place, the Indians laid by their pipe, and commenced their evening’s amusements by giving first their favourite, the Eagle-Dance. The Drum (and their “Eagle-Whistles,” with which they imitate the chattering of the soaring eagle), with their voices, formed the music for this truly picturesque and exciting dance. At their first pause in the dance, the audience, who had witnessed nothing of this description in the amusements of the Ojibbeways, being excited to the highest degree, encouraged the strangers with rounds of applause. The song in this dance is addressed to their favourite bird the war-eagle, and each dancer carries a fan made of the eagle’s tail, in his left hand, as he dances, and by his attitudes endeavours to imitate the motions of the soaring eagle. This, being a part of the war-dance, is a boasting dance; and at the end of each strain in the song some one of the warriors steps forth and, in an excited speech, describes the time and the manner in which he has slain his enemy in battle, or captured his horses, or performed some other achievement in war. After this the dance proceeds with increased spirit; and several in succession having thus excited their fellow-dancers, an indescribable thrill and effect are often produced before they get through.

In the midst of the noise and excitement of this dance the Doctor (or mystery-man) jumped forward to the edge of the platform, and making the most tremendous flourish of his spear which he held in his right hand, and his shield extended upon his left arm, recited the military deeds of his life—how he had slain his enemies in battle and taken their scalps; and with singular effect fitting the action to the word, acting them out as he described.

The thrilling effect produced by the Doctor’s boast brought him showers of applause, which touched his vanity, and at the close of the dance he imagined all eyes in admiration fixed upon him, and no doubt felt himself called upon for the following brief but significant speech which he delivered, waving his right hand over the heads of the audience from the front of the platform where he stood, and from which he dropped his most humble and obsequious smiles upon the groups of ladies who were near him, and applauding at the end of every sentence:—

Jeffrey, the Interpreter, now made his dÉbut; the Doctor had beckoned him up by his side to interpret his speech to the audience, and when he explained the above sentence, the “Doctor” received a round of applause, and particularly from the ladies, who could not but be pleased with the simple vanity of the speaker and the self-complacent smiles which he always lavished upon the fair sex who were around him. The Doctor, though advanced to the sound and efficient age of 45, had never taken to him a wife; and, like too many of his fraternity, had always lived upon the excessive vanity of believing that he was the beau idÉal of his tribe, and admired too much by all to be a legitimate subject of exclusive appropriation to any particular one. And more than this (which may not have quite fallen to the happy lot of any of his brother bachelors in the polished world), from the sort of charitable habit he had of spreading his glowing smiles upon the crowds about him, one would almost be of opinion that, in his own community, under the aids and charms of his profession, he in a measure had existed upon the belief that his smiles were food and clothing for the crowds upon whom they were bestowed.

The Doctor yet stood, the concentration of smiles and anxious looks from every part of the room, and at length proceeded (Plate No. 10):—

It was quite impossible for the Doctor to proceed further until he had bowed to the burst of laughter and applause from all parts of the room, and particularly from the ladies. This several times ceased, but suddenly burst out again, and too quick for him to resume. He had evidently made a “hit” with the ladies, and he was braced strong in courage to make the best use of it, although the rest of his comrades, who were seated and passing the pipe around, were laughing at him and endeavouring to embarrass him. One of the party, by the name of Wash-ka-mon-ya, and a good deal of the braggart, had the cruelty to say to him, “You old fool, you had better sit down, the white squaws are all laughing at you.” To which the Doctor, deliberately turning round, sarcastically replied, “You badger, go into your burrow backwards: I have said more in two sentences than you ever said in your life.” He then turned round, and calling Jeffrey nearer to his side, proceeded—

The Doctor’s speech, which would have been terminated much sooner if he had been allowed to proceed unmolested, had a very pleasing effect upon the audience, and had allowed abundant time for the rest of the party to prepare for the next dance.

I now announced to the audience that the Indians were about to give the Warrior’s-dance, as performed by their tribe. I explained the meaning of it, the circumstances under which it was given, and the respects in which it differed from the War-dance as given by the Ojibbeways. After which they were all upon their feet, and, with weapons in hand, proceeded to give it the most exciting, and even alarming effect.

They received great applause at the end of this dance, and also a number of presents, which were handed and thrown on to the platform. This created much excitement and good cheer among them, and I was not a little surprised, nor was I less amused and gratified, to discover at this moment, that the (so-called) “jolly fat dame,” of Ojibbeway notoriety, was along side of the platform, at her old stand, and, in her wonted liberality, the first one to start the fashion of making the poor fellows occasional presents. I regretted, however, that I should have been the ignorant cause of her bestowing her first present upon a person for whom she did not intend it. The finest-looking man of the party, and one of the youngest, was No-ho-mun-ya (the Roman-nose), upon whom it seems this good lady’s admiration had been fixed during the evening, notwithstanding the smiles that had been lavished by the Doctor, and the eloquence which he had poured forth in his boastings and speeches.

The elegant limbs, Herculean frame, and graceful and terrible movements of this six foot and a-half young man, as she had gazed upon him in this last dance, had softened her heart into all its former kindness and liberality, and she had at this moment, when I first discovered her, unclasped a beautiful bracelet from one of her arms, and was just reaching over the platform to say to me as she did, “Wonderful! wonderful! Mr. Catlin; I think it one of the wonders of the world! Will you hand this to that splendid fellow, with my compliments—give him my compliments, will you—it’s a bracelet for his arm (Cadotte has got the other, you know). Oh! but he is a splendid fellow—give him my compliments, will you. I think them a much finer party than the other—oh, far superior! I never saw the like; hand it to him, will you, and if he can’t put it on, poor fellow, I will show him how.”

All this had been run over so rapidly that I scarcely could recollect what she said, for several were speaking to me at the same time; and at that unfortunate moment it was that I committed the error, for which I was almost ready to break my own back when I found it out. I presented it by mistake to the Doctor, who, I supposed, had of course been winning all the laurels of the evening, and with them the good lady’s compliments, which it would have been quite awkward on her part and mine also to have unpresented. The Doctor raised up the bracelet as high as he could reach, and made the house ring and almost tremble with the war-whoop, which he several times repeated.[7] What could be done? She was too gallant, and I did not yet know the mistake. The Doctor happened to know how to put it on—it fitted to his copper-coloured arm above his elbow—and his true politeness led him to bow and to smile a thousand thanks upon the fair dame as he bent over her from the platform.

The Approaching-dance[8] was now given, in which the Doctor took the lead in great glee, and of course with great effect. He tilted off with a light and elastic step, as he was “following the track of his enemy,” and when he raised his brawny arm to beckon on his warriors to the attack, he took great pains to display the glistening trinket which he had accepted with such heartfelt satisfaction.

This dance finished, they all sat down upon the platform and passed the pipe around, whilst I was further explaining upon their appearance and modes, and the dance which they had just given. I asked them what amusement they proposed next, and they announced to me, that as the Doctor was taking all the honours and all the glory to himself on that night (and of whom they all seemed extremely jealous), they had decided that he should finish the amusements of the evening by singing the “Wolf-song.” He was so conscious of having engrossed the principal attention of the house that he at once complied with their request, though at other times it required a great effort to get him to sing it. I had not myself heard this song, which seemed, from their preparations, to promise some amusement, and which Jeffrey told me belonged exclusively to the Doctor, he having composed it. The Doctor was ready to commence, and wrapping his robe around him, having his right arm out, he shook a rattle (she-she-quoin) in his right hand, as he tilted about the platform, singing alone; at the end of a sentence he commenced to bark and howl like a wolf, when another jumped upon his feet and ran to him, and another, and another, and joined in the chorus, with their heads turned up like wolves when they are howling. He then sang another strain as he moved about the platform again, all following him, singing, and ready to join in the deafening chorus. This strange and comic song drew roars of laughter, and many rounds of applause for the Doctor, and left him, sure enough, the lion of the evening.[9]

After he had finished his song, he traversed the platform a few times, lavishing his self-complacent smiles upon the ladies around the room, and then desired me to say to the audience, that on the next evening they were going to give the Pipe of Peace-dance, and the Scalp-dance, which he wished all the ladies to see, and that now the chiefs and himself were ready to shake hands with all the people in the room.

This of course brought a rush of visitors to the platform, anxious to welcome the new comers by giving them their hands. A general shake of the hands took place, and a conversation that occupied half an hour or more, and much to the satisfaction of the Indians as well as to those who came to see them.

Much curiosity was kept up yet about the Doctor. The impression that his countenance and his wit had made upon the women had secured a knot of them about him, from whom it was difficult to disengage him: some complained that they were sick, and desired him to feel their pulse; he did so, and being asked as to the nature of their disease, he replied that “they were in love,”—and as to the remedy, he said, “Get husbands, and in a day and a night you will be well.” All this they could have got from other quarters, but coming from an Indian, whose naked shoulders were glistening around the room, it seemed to come with the freshness and zest of something entirely new, and created much merriment.

The amusements of their first night being over, the Indians were withdrawn from the room, and the audience soon dispersed. Daniel, as usual, had been at his post, and his report of a few moments’ chat with the “jolly fat dame” gave me the first intelligence of the awful error I had committed in giving her bracelet to the Doctor instead of the Roman-nose, for whom she had intended it. She had said to him, however, that “it was no matter, and the error must not be corrected; she would bring one on the following evening for the Roman-nose, and begged that the Doctor might never be apprised of the mistake which had resulted to his benefit.” “They are a splendid set of men, Daniel—far superior to the others. It is the greatest treat I ever had—I shall be here every night. You’ll think by and by that I am a pretty good customer; ha, Daniel? That Roman-nose is a magnificent fellow—he’s got no wife, has he, Daniel?” “No, Madam, he is the youngest man of the party.” “He is an elegant fellow—but then his skin, Daniel. Their skins are not so fine as the others—they are too black, or red, or what you call it; but Cadotte! what a beautiful colour he was, ha? But I dare say a little washing and living in a city would bring them nearly white? These people love Mr. Catlin—he’s a curious man—he’s a wonderful man; these are his old acquaintance, he has boarded with them; how they love him, don’t they? Ah, well, good night, good night.” She was the last of the visitors going out of the door, and did not know that I was so close behind her.