George Catlin

The Ioways in Vauxhall Gardens—Surrey Theatre—Carter in the lions’ cage—Astonishment of the Indians—Indians in the Diving Bell, at the Polytechnic Institution—Indians riding—Shooting at target on horseback—Ball-play—“Jolly fat dame”—Ladies converse with the Doctor—His reasons for not marrying—Curious questions—Plurality of wives—Amusing scene—The Author in Indian costume—A cruel experiment—Ioways arrive in Birmingham—The Author’s arrival there—Society of Friends—Indians all breakfast with Mr. Joseph Sturge—Kind treatment—Conversation after breakfast about religion and education—Reply of the War-chief—The button-factory of Turner and Sons—Generous presents to the Indians—Bobasheela arrives—Indians dividing their buttons—Doctor found on top of the Shakespeare Buildings—Indians’ kindness to a beggar-woman—Poor-houses—Many Friends visit the Indians—Indians’ visit to Miss Catherine Hutton—Her great age—Her kindness—Dinner—Her presents to them in money—Parting scene—The War-chief’s speech to her—Her letters to the Author—Indians present to the two hospitals 370 dollars—Address read by the Presidents to the Indians—Doctor’s reply—Indians start for York—A fox-hunt—Curious notions of Indians about it—Visit to York Minster—Ascend the grand tower—Visit to the castle and prison—Museum of the instruments of murder—Alarm of the Doctor—Kindness of the governor of the castle and his lady—Indians’ ideas of imprisonment for debt, and punishment for murder.

The scene of the Indians’ amusements was now changed from the Egyptian Hall to the open air in Vauxhall Gardens, and their dances and other exercises were given in the afternoon. Their lodgings were also changed at the same time to the buildings within the enclosure of the gardens. This arrangement was one of very great pleasure to the Indians, as it allowed a free space to exercise in during their leisure hours, amongst trees and shrubbery, affording them almost a complete resumption of Indian life in the wilderness, as they had the uninterrupted range of the gardens during the hours that the public were not there to witness their amusements. This arrangement was pleasing to them in another respect, and to us also, as there were many things they were yet anxious to see in London, and which, as they could only be seen at night, our former arrangements had entirely precluded them from seeing. Under these new arrangements they still had their omnibus drives, and at night attended the parties of numerous friends who had been desirous to show them some attentions, and also were taken to several instructive exhibitions, and to two or three of the principal theatres.

We were then in the vicinity of the Surrey Theatre, where Mr. Carter, “the lion-tamer,” invited them several times to witness his wonderful feat of going into the lion’s cage. This scene was one of the most impressive and exciting nature to them, and will probably be as long recollected by them as the wonders opened to their minds at the fountain of chickabobboo.

The Polytechnic Institution was one I took great pleasure in accompanying them to; and a scene of much amusement for a numerous audience as well as amusing and astonishing to themselves, was that of their descending in the diving-bell. They were at first afraid of it, but after the Doctor had made a descent with me, and come out unhurt and unwet, several others went down with Mr. Melody, others with Jeffrey—the old War-chief with his old friend Bobasheela, and so on, until every one of the party, men, women, and children, went down and experienced the curious sensation of that (to them) greatest of medicine affairs.

In Vauxhall Gardens the Indians erected their four wig-wams of buffalo hides, and in darting into and about them during their various games and amusements, whilst the blue smoke was curling out of their tops, presented one of the most complete and perfect illustrations of an Indian encampment that could possibly have been designed. It was the thing itself, and the very men, women, and children living and acting on a similar green turf, as they do on the prairies of the Missouri. In the amusements as there given, there was an addition to those which had been made in Lord’s Cricket-ground some weeks before, having in Vauxhall brought horses in to add, with equestrian exercises, to the completion of all the modes practised by this tribe. The Ioways, like most of the Indians of the prairies of America, subsist upon the food of the buffalo, and kill them from their horses’ backs, with their bows and arrows, while running at full speed. In the same manner they meet their enemies in battle, in which they carry their shield and lance. Thus fully equipped, with their own native shields and lances, and bows, and even the saddles and trappings for their horses, they all mounted upon their backs, in the midst of their amusements, and dashing off at full speed, illustrated their modes of drawing the bow as they drove their arrows into the target, or made their warlike feints at it with their long lances as they passed.

This formed the most attractive part of their exhibition, and thousands flocked there to witness their powers of horsemanship and skill in prairie warfare. This exciting exhibition which pleased the visitors, I could have wished might have been less fatiguing, and even dangerous, to the limbs of the Indians than it actually was from the awkwardness and perverseness and fright of the horses, not trained to Indian modes. With all these difficulties to contend with, however, they played their parts cheerfully and well, and the spectators seemed highly pleased. Amidst the throngs who visited them here, we could discover most of their old standard friends and admirers, who came to see them on horseback, and in the beautiful game of ball, in the open grounds of Vauxhall, where they could more easily approach and converse with them; and amongst such, the “jolly fat dame” was present, and more pleased than ever, when she could catch the Doctor’s smile as he passed by her at full speed, and raising his shield of buffalo’s hide upon his arm, he darted his long lance in feints at her breast, and sounded the piercing war-cry. The vanity of the Doctor was so well suited in this mode of the exhibition, where he could dash by ranks and files, and even phalanxes of ladies, with the endless flourishes of his shield and lance, that he soon began to exhibit convincing evidences that his ambition and his vanity were too much for his bodily resources, which it became necessary to replenish occasionally by refusing him his horse, on which occasions he made good use of his time, by placing himself, wrapped in his robe, with his fan in his hand, by the side of the ladies, with whom he could exchange by this time a few words, and many significant looks and gestures, which never failed to amuse, and seldom failed to operate upon their generous feelings, which were constantly adding to the contents of his tobacco pouch, which was now known to be a reservoir for money and trinkets of various kinds, instead of tobacco.

I happened to be by the side of the Doctor on one of these occasions, when I became so much amused with the questions and answers, that I immediately after retired and committed them to my note book. A number of jolly fat dames, of middle and knowing age, had drawn themselves around the Doctor, and looking over their shoulders and under their arms, a number of delicate and coy little girls. And having called Jeffrey to translate, they were enabled to get the gist of all he said, without loss from modesty or evasion, which seemed to be exactly what they most desired. His friend Jim having seen him thus enveloped, turned his horse loose and came to his aid (or countenance), and as the old man hesitated, Jim gave him the nod and the wink to be plain in his replies. They had first asked him if he was married? to which he replied “No.” They then asked him why he did not get him a wife? he said “He had always been very particular about giving offence to the women, and he had feared that if he selected one in preference to the others, that the others would all be offended.” This queer reply raised a great laugh amongst the crowd, and encouraged the Doctor to go on. Some one of the ladies then told him she feared he did not admire the ladies enough? he said, “he had always believed that the reason he did not get married was, that he admired them too much; he saw so many that he wanted, that he had never decided which to take, and so had taken none.” Melody came up at this time, and seemed a little vexed, and said, “Catlin, you had better call that old fool away, those people will spoil him, he is quite vain enough now.” “Oh, no,” said I, “let him alone, he is gratifying the ladies, and we shall see, in a few moments, which is the fool, he or the ladies who are questioning him.” Melody smiled, and looked on.

“I have been told,” said one of the ladies, “that some of the Indians have a number of wives: is that so?”

“Yes,” the Doctor replied in English, “sometimes have a heap.” (The ladies all laughed.) Two or three inquired what a “heap” was? Jeffrey said, “Why, ma'am, it is what in our country means a ‘lot:’ you know what they call a ‘lot’ here?” “Oh, yes! it means a great many.” “Yes, a number.” “Well, tell the Doctor I want to know what they do with so many?”

Here the poor Doctor was quite at a loss to know what to say; one thing he was sure to do—he smiled—and it seemed as if he wished that to go for an answer: and it might have done so with most of her sex, but in this instance it was not quite satisfactory, and the question was again put: to which the big-mouthed Jim, who I said had come to the relief of his friend, and who had a wife of his own, put in an instant reply, which relieved the Doctor, and seemed very much to embarrass the lady, for she instantly added, (as all were bursting with laughter,) “That isn’t what I mean: I want to know how a chief can get along with so many, how he can manage them all, and keep them in good humour and satisfied; for,” said she, “in this country, one is quite as much as a man can manage.”

This seemed to afford the Doctor a little relief, and he was evidently able to go on again, as he smilingly said, “It was quite easy, as Indian women were much more peaceable and quiet than white women, it was much more easy he thought to manage them; they drank no chickabobboo, and therefore did not require so much watching as white women.”

The lady seemed quite balked in the debate she was about entering on with the Doctor, from her ignorance of the meaning of chickabobboo, and asked for an explanation of it, as if for all the company about; to which Jim put in (again in plain English), “Gin!” “Oh! Doctor,” said she, “I hope you don’t accuse the ladies of London of drinking gin?” The Doctor replied, that “he had not seen them do it, but that he had been told that they did, and that it was the reason why the ladies here grew so large and so fat.” He said, “that they could always look out of the windows, where he lived, and just before going to bed they could see any night a hundred women going home with pitchers full of it, to drink after they got into bed, so as to sleep sound: and that one night, coming home in their carriage at a late hour, from a distance, where they had been to see a show, he and Jim had counted more than three hundred women running along in the street, with pitchers filled with it in their hands, to drink as they were going to bed.”

The lady’s explanation of this, that “It was only harmless ale that these women were carrying in for their masters and mistresses,” excited the Doctor’s smiles, but no reply.

She seemed not satisfied yet about the first subject that she had started, and reverting to it again, said, “Well, Doctor, I can’t excuse the Indians for having so many wives. I like the Indians very much, but I don’t like that custom they have; I think it is very cruel and very wicked. Don’t you think it is wrong?”

The Doctor studied a moment, and replied, “that it might be wrong, but if it was, he didn’t see that it was any worse than for white women to have a number of husbands.” “But what, Doctor, what do you mean? I hope you have not so bad an opinion of white women as that?” To this he very coolly replied, “that when they drank a great deal of gin, he believed, from what he had seen in his practice, that a woman would require more than one husband; and that since he had been in London he had seen many walking in the streets, and some riding in fine carriages, whom he thought, from their looks, must have more than one husband: and from what he had been told, he believed that many women in London had a heap!” “That’s a lot!” (cried out a very pretty little girl, who had been listening, and, frightened at her own unintentional interpretation, started to run.)

“Come, come, Catlin,” said Melody, “pull the old fellow out, and take him away;” and so the debate ended, amidst a roar of laughter from all sides.

One more of the hundred little reminiscences of Vauxhall, and we will leave it. I have already said, that in the spacious apartments of Vauxhall, unoccupied, the Indians were quartered, and took their meals; and during the forepart of the day, between their breakfast and the hour of their afternoon exhibitions, their time was mostly spent in strolling around the grounds, or at their varied amusements. Many of my personal friends finding this a pleasing opportunity to see them, were in the habit of coming in, and amusing themselves with them. I had accidentally heard of a party of ladies preparing to come on a certain morning, some of them my esteemed friends, and others strangers to me: and from a wish to get relieved from a fatiguing conversation, as well as from a still stronger desire for amusement, I selected from my wardrobe a very splendid dress, head-gear and all complete, and fully arranged myself in Indian costume, “cap-À-pied,” with face fully painted, and weapons in hand; and at the hour of their arrival in the house, took care to be strolling about in the grounds with Wash-ka-mon-ya (Jim). Whilst the ladies were amused with the party in the house, where there were constant inquiries for me, two of them observing us two beaus sauntering about in the garden, came out to keep us company, and to talk to us, and with themselves, in the English language, which of course we Indians knew nothing of: when we shook our heads to their inquiries, “Do you speak English, good Indians?” I saw they did not recognize me, yet I trembled for fear, for they were lovely women, and every sentence almost which they uttered would have made the discovery more cruel: we held ourselves dignified and dumb; whilst they, poor things, were so much regretting that we could not understand what they said. They finished their visit to us and their remarks, and returned, leaving me to regret my folly upon which I had thoughtlessly entered.

Several weeks were spent in their daily exhibitions in Vauxhall, and, as one can easily imagine, much to the satisfaction of the Indians, and, I believe, much to the amusement of the visitors who came to see them. Within the last week of their exhibition I admitted from charity schools 32,000 children, with their teachers, free of charge; to all of whom I gave instructive lectures on the position of the tribe, their condition, their customs and character: and explained also the modes, which were acted out by 14 living Indians before their eyes; and but one of these schools ever communicated with me after, to thank me for the amusement or instruction; which might not have been a curious omission, but I thought it was, at the time.

With the amusements at Vauxhall ended my career in London; and contemplating a tour to several of the provincial towns, in company with the Indians, I took my little family to Brighton, and having left them comfortably situated and provided for, I joined the party in Birmingham, where they had arrived and taken lodgings. The idea of moving about pleased the Indians very much, and I found them all in high spirits when I arrived, delighted to have found that the chickabobboo was the same there as in London, and was likely to continue much the same in all parts of the kingdom to which they should go. There was an unfortunate offset to this pleasing intelligence, however, which seemed to annoy them very much, and of which they were making bitter complaint. On leaving London for the country, they had spent some days, and exercised all their ingenuity, in endeavouring to clean their beautiful skin dresses, which the soot of London had sadly metamorphosed; and on arriving in Birmingham they had the extreme mortification to anticipate, from appearances, an equal destruction of that soft and white surface which they give to their skin dresses, and which (though it had been entirely lost sight of during the latter part of their stay in London) had, with great pains, been partially restored for a more pleasing appearance in the country.

Though I had several times passed through Birmingham, and on one occasion stopped there a day or two, I entered this time a total stranger, and in rather a strange and amusing manner. On my journey there by the railway, I had fallen in company and conversation with a very amusing man, who told me he was a commercial traveller, and we had had so much amusing chat together, that when we arrived, at a late hour at night, I was quite happy to follow his advice as to the quarters we were to take up in the town, at least for the night. He said it was so late that the hotels would be closed, and that the commercial inn, where he was going, was the only place open, and I should find there everything to make me comfortable, and a very nice sort of people. We took an omnibus for town, and as there was only room for one inside, he got upon the top, and so we went off; and getting, as I supposed, into or near the middle of the town, the bus stopped at a “commercial inn,” which was open, and lighted up in front, and a number of passengers getting out, and others down from the top, I was seeing to get my luggage in safe, and the omnibus drove off with my jolly companion still on the top; or this I presumed, as he was not left behind. My only alternative now was, to make the best of it, and be as comfortable as I could; so I got into the “commercial room,” and having been told that I should have a bed, I felt quite easy, and told the plump, tidy little landlady, who was waiting upon me herself, that I would have a mug of ale and a biscuit, and then be ready to go to bed. As she turned round to execute my command, she met a party consisting of three young women, and a man leading one of them on his arm, and in his hands carrying three or four carpet-bags and band-boxes, just got down from the same bus, and entering the inn on the same errand that I was on. “ Madam,” said he, “what have you?”—“Hevery-think, sir, that you can wish.” “Well, one thing we must have, that is, two beds.”—“They are ready, sir.” “Well, ladies,” said he, “suppose we take a drop of wet.” This agreed to, the “wet” was brought in in a moment, and also my mug of ale.

A very genteel-looking little man whom I had seen in the same carriage with me, and now sitting in the room before me, with his carpet-bag by the side of him, and his umbrella in his hand, addressed me, “Stranger, you’ll allow me.”—“Certainly, sir.” “I think I heard you tell a gentleman in the carriage that you were from New York.”—“Yes, I did so.” “I’m from there. I left there four months ago, and I’ve gone ahead, or I’ll be shot. How long have you bin from there, sir?”—“About five years.” “Hell! there’s been great fixins there in that time; you’d scarcely know New York now; look here, isn’t this the darndest strange country you ever saw in your life? rot ’em, I can’t get ’em to do anything as I want it done; they are the greatest set of numskulls I ever saw; now see, that little snub of a petticoat that’s just gone out there, I suppose she is cock of the walk here too; she’s been all civility to you, but I’ve had a hell of a blow up with her; I was in here not five minutes before you by the watch, and I spoke for a bed and a mug of ale; she brought me the ale, and I told her to bring me a tumbler and a cracker, and she turned upon me in a hell of a flare-up. She said she was very much obliged to me for my himpudence, she didn’t allow crackers in her house, and as for ’tumblers,' they were characters she never had anything to do with, thank God; they were a low set of creatures, and they never got any favour about her house. She wanted to know what quarter I came from. I told her I wasn’t from any quarter, I was from half—half the globe, by God, and the better half too—wasn’t I right, stranger? She said her house was a hinn, to be sure, but she didn’t hentertain blackguards, so there was my hale, and I might drink it hup and be hoff, and be anged, and then she cut her string quicker than lightning; now isn’t she a hard un? I don’t suppose there is another house open in this darned outlandish place at this time of the night; what the devil shall I do? you are fixed snug enough.” “Oh, well, never mind,” said I, “be quite easy, it is settled in a moment,”—as I rung the bell. The tidy little landlady came in again, and I said, “This gentleman will have a glass if you please, and a biscuit.”—“Hif he was a gentleman, Sir,” said she, “but I assure you, Sir, is beaviour as'nt been much like it.” “Well, well,” said I, “never mind it now, you will be good friends after a little better understanding—he comes from a country where a glass is a tumbler and a biscuit is a cracker: now, if you had known this, there would have been no difficulty between you.” “Ho, that I hadmit, but it’s very hodd.” “Never mind that, you will find him a good fellow, and give him his bed.” “Is bed, Sir?—hit’s too late; it’s been hoccupied hever since you entered the ouse—the only chance his for you and im to turn hin.” “Well,” said I, “never mind, he and I will manage that; it is after midnight, and I suppose the other houses are all shut?” “I’ll hanswer for that: hif you are ready, gentlemen, I’ll show you hup.” My friend kept by my side, but knowing the gloomy fate that awaited him if he got into the street again, he kept entirely quiet until the little landlady was down stairs. “There,” said he, “isn’t she a roarer? I could have settled the hash with her myself in a twinkling, if she had only let me have said five words, but her tongue run so slick that I couldn’t get the half of a word in edgewise.”

My new acquaintance and I talked a little more before we “turned in,” but much more after we had got into bed. He could command words and ideas fast enough when he was on his feet; but I found in him something of Jim’s peculiarity, that he thought much faster and stronger when on his back; and for half an hour or so I reaped the benefit of the improvement. How long I heard him, and how much he actually said, I never could tell exactly; but what he said before I went to sleep I always distinctly recollected, and a mere sentence or two of it was as follows:—“Well, stranger, here we are: this is droll, ain’t it? ‘hodd,’ as the landlady would call it. I’d a been in the streets to-night as sure as catgut if it hadn’t been for you. God knows I am obliged to you. Youv'e got a sort o’ way o’ gettin' along ur' these ere darned, ignorant, stupid sort o’ beings. I can’t do it: dod rot 'em! they put me out at every step; they are so eternally ignorant; did you ever see the like? I suppose you are going to stop awhile in Birmingham?” “A few days.” “I shall be here a week, and be bright and early enough to get into a decenter house than this is, and be glad to join you. I was told in London that the Ioway Indians went on here yesterday. I’m damned anxious to meet them: you’ve seen them, I suppose?” “Yes, I saw them in London.” “Well, I did not; I was just too late; but I must go and look 'em up to-morrow: they know me.” “Then you have seen them'?” “Oh, dam 'em, yes: I’ve known 'em for several years: they’ll be at home with me at once. I’ve run buffaloes with White-Cloud, the chief, many and many a time. He and I have camped out more than once. They are a fine set of fellows. I’m going to spend some time with them in Birmingham. I know 'em like a book. Oh yes, they’ll know me quick enough. I was all through their country. I went clean up Lake Superior, nearly to Hudson’s Bay. I saw all the Chippeways, and the Black-feet, and the Crows, Catlin’s old friends. By the way, Catlin, I’m told, is with these Indians, or was, when they were in London—he’s all sorts of a man.” “Have you seen him?” “Seen him? why, dam it, I raised him, as the saying is: I have known him all my life. I met him a number of times in the Prairie country; he’s a roarer.” This was about the last that I distinctly recollected before going to sleep; and the next morning my vigilant and wide-awake little bedfellow, being about the room a little before me, where my name was conspicuous on my carpet bag and writing-desk, &c., had from some cause or other thought it would be less trouble and bother to wend his way amongst these “stupid and ignorant beings” alone, than to encounter the Indians and Mr. Catlin, and endeavour to obliterate the hasty professions he had made; and therefore, when I came down and called for breakfast for two, the landlady informed me that my companion had paid his bill and left at an early hour. I was rather sorry for this, for he was quite an amusing little man, and I have never heard of him since.

I found the dumpy little landlady kindly disposed, and she gave me a very good breakfast, amusing me a great deal with anecdotes of the party who called for “a little bit of wet;” she informed me they were a wedding-party, and the man who had the lady on his arm was the bride-groom. While waiting for my breakfast I was much amused with some fun going on in the street before the window. It seems that the house directly opposite had been taken by a couple of tidy-looking young women who were sisters, and that, having established a millinery business on the lower floor, they had several apartments which they were anxious to underlet in order to assist them in paying their heavy rent. Young gentlemen are everywhere in this country considered the most desirable lodgers, as they give less trouble than any others, are less of the time at home, and generally pay best. These young adventurers had been therefore anxious to get such a class of lodgers in their house, and had, the day before, employed a sign-painter to paint a conspicuous board, in bright and glaring letters, which was put up on a post erected in the little garden in front of their house, near the gate. The announcement ran, when the young ladies retired to bed, “Lodgings for single gentlemen”—a customary and very innocent way of offering apartments; but owing to the cruelty of some wag during the night it was found in the morning, to the great amusement of the collected crowd, to read, “Longings for single gentlemen.” How long this continued to amuse the passers-by, or how it might have affected the future prospects of the poor girls, I cannot of course tell, as I forthwith proceeded to a more pleasant part of the town. Birmingham I found on further acquaintance to be one of the pleasantest towns I visited in the kingdom, and its hotels and streets generally very different from those into which my commercial travelling acquaintance had that night led me.

Mr. Melody had all things prepared for our exhibition when I arrived, having taken the large hall in the Shakspeare Buildings, and also procured rooms for the Indians to sleep in in the same establishment.

The Indians and myself were kindly received in Birmingham, for which, no doubt, they, like myself, will long feel grateful. The work which I had published had been extensively read there, and was an introduction of the most pleasing kind to me, and the novelty and wildness of the manners of the Indians enough to ensure them much attention.

In their exhibition room, which was nightly well attended, we observed many of the Society of Friends, whom we could always easily distinguish by their dress, and also more easily by the kind interest they expressed and exhibited, whenever opportunity occurred, for the welfare of those poor people. The Indians, with their native shrewdness and sagacity, at once discovered from their appearance and manner that they were a different class of people from any they had seen, and were full of inquiries about them. I told them that these were of the same society as their kind friend Dr. Hodgkin, whom they so often saw in London, who is at the head of the Aborigines Protection Society, who was the first person in England to invite them to his table, and whom the reader will recollect they called Ichon-na Wap-pa(the straight coat); that they were the followers of the great William Penn, whom I believed they had heard something about. They instantly pronounced the name of “Penn, Penn,” around the room, convincing me, as nearly every tribe I ever visited in the remotest wildernesses in America had done, that they had heard, and attached the greatest reverence to, the name of Penn.

These inquiries commenced in their private room one evening after the exhibition had closed, and they had had an interview in the exhibition room with several ladies and gentlemen of that society, and had received from them some very valuable presents. They all agreed that there was something in their manners and in their mode of shaking hands with them that was more kind and friendly than anything they had met amongst other people; and this I could see had made a sensible impression upon them.

I took this occasion to give them, in a brief way, an account of the life of the immortal William Penn; of his good faith and kindness in all his transactions with the Indians, and the brotherly love he had for them until his death. I also gave them some general ideas of the Society of Friends in this country, from whom the great William Penn came;—that they were the friends of all the human race; that they never went to war with any people; that they therefore had no enemies; they drink no spirituous liquors; that in America and this country they were unanimously the friends of the Indians; and I was glad to find that in Birmingham we were in the midst of a great many of them, with whom they would no doubt become acquainted. There were here some inquiries about the religion of the Friends, which I told them was the Christian religion, which had been explained to them; that they were all religious and charitable, and, whatever religion the Indians might prefer to follow, these good people would be equally sure to be their friends. They seemed, after this, to feel an evident pleasure whenever they saw parties of Friends entering the room: they at once recognised them whenever they came in, and, on retiring to their own room, counted up the numbers that had appeared, and made their remarks upon them. In one of these conversations I pleased them very much by reading to them a note which I had just received from Mr. Joseph Sturge, with whom I had been acquainted in London, and who was now residing in Birmingham, inviting me to bring the whole party of Indians to his house to breakfast the next morning. I told them that Mr. Sturge was a very distinguished man, and one of the leading men of the Society of Friends. This pleased them all exceedingly, and at the hour appointed this kind gentleman’s carriages were at the door to convey the party to his house. Mr. Melody and Jeffrey accompanied us, and there were consequently seventeen guests to be seated at this gentleman’s hospitable board, besides a number of his personal friends who were invited to meet the Indians. After receiving all in the most cordial manner, he read a chapter in his Bible, and then we were invited to the table. This interview elicited much interesting conversation, and gained for the Indians and Mr. Melody many warm and useful friends.

Before taking leave, the War-chief arose, and, offering his hand to Mr. Sturge, made the following remarks:—

“My Friend,—The Great Spirit, who does everything that is good, has inclined your heart to be kind to us; and, first of all, we thank Him for it.

“The Chief, White Cloud, who sits by me, directs me to say that we are also thankful to you for this notice you have taken of us, poor and ignorant people, and we shall recollect and not forget it.

“We hope the Great Spirit will be kind to you all. I have no more to say.”

The simplicity of this natural appeal to the Great Spirit, and its close (in which they were commended by the poor and unenlightened Indian of the wilderness to the care and kindness of their God), seemed to create surprise in the minds of the audience, and to excite in the Indians’ behalf a deep and lively interest.

After the breakfast and conversation were over, the whole party was kindly sent back by the same carriages, and the Indians returned in a state of perfect delight with the treatment they had met with, and the presents they had received.

Poor Jim (the student and recorder) was anxious that I should write down the name of William Penn in his book, and also that of the gentleman who had just entertained us, that he might be able to repeat them correctly when he got back to the wilderness again, and have something to say about them.

We found on our return that the hour of another engagement was at hand, and carriages were soon prepared to take us to the button-factory of Messrs. Turner and Son, to which we had been kindly invited; and on our arrival we found ourselves most cordially received and entertained. The proprietor led the party through every room in his extensive establishment, and showed them the whole process of striking the buttons and medals from various dies, which pleased them very much, and, after showing and explaining to them all the different processes through which they passed in their manufacture, led them into his ware-room or magazine, where his stock on hand was exhibited, and package after package, and gross upon gross, of the most splendid and costly buttons were taken down, and by his own generous hand presented to them. These were such brilliant evidences of kindness, and would be so ornamental to the splendid dresses which they and their wives were to have when they got home, that they looked upon them as more valuable than gold or silver. These were presented to them in the aggregate, and all carried in a heavy parcel by the interpreter; and when they had thanked the gentleman for his munificent liberality and got back to their rooms, a scene of great brilliancy and much interest and amusement was presented for an hour or two, while they had their treasures spread out, covering half of the floor on which they lodged, and making a per capita division of them. In the midst of this exhilarating and dazzling scene, their old friend Bobasheela made his appearance, having just arrived from London on his way to Cornwall. He could not, he said, pass within a hundred miles of them without stopping to see them a few days, and smoke a pipe or two with them again. Bobasheela was stopped at the door, notwithstanding their love for him; he could not step in without doing sacrilege with his muddy boots to the glittering carpet of buttons which they had formed on the floor, and upon which his eyes were staring, as he thought at the first glance they could have committed no less a trespass than to have plundered a jeweller’s shop. A way was soon opened for his feet to pass, and, having taken a hearty shake of the hand with all, he was offered a seat on the floor, and in a few moments found that an equal parcel was accumulating between his knees as in front of each, and that, instead of fourteen, they were now dividing them into fifteen parcels. This he objected to, and with much trouble got them to undo what they had done, and go back to the first regulation of dividing them equally amongst fourteen.

The Shakspeare Buildings afforded the Indians a fine promenade in its large portico overlooking the street, where all Birmingham passed before their eyes, giving them one of the most gratifying privileges they had had, and promising them a rich and boundless means of amusement; but their enjoyment of it was short, for the crowds that assembled in the streets became a hinderance to business, and they were denied the further privilege of their delightful look-out. They were therefore called in, and stayed in, and yet the crowd remained, and could not be dispersed, while their attention seemed fixed upon some object higher up than the portico, which led us at once to surmise its cause, and, searching for the old Doctor, he was not to be found: he was, of course, upon the pinnacle of the house, wrapped in his robe, smiling upon the crowd beneath him, and taking a contemplative gaze over the city and country that lay under his view. I could only get to him by following the intricate mazes through which the old lady (curatress) conducted me, and through which the Doctor said he had required several days of investigation to find his way, and which he had never succeeded in until just at that moment.

Under this rather painful embargo there was no satisfactory way of peeping into the amusements of the streets but by going down the stairs, which Jim and his ever-curious friend the Doctor used daily and almost hourly to do, and, standing in the hall, see all they could that was amusing, until the crowd became such that it was necessary to recall them to their room. On one of these occasions they had espied a miserably poor old woman, with her little child, both in rags, and begging for the means of existence. The pity of the kind old Doctor was touched, and he beckoned her to come to him, and held out some money; but fear was superior to want with her, and she refused to take the prize. The Doctor went for Daniel, who, at his request, prevailed upon the poor woman to come up to their room, by assuring her that they would not hurt her, and would give her much more than white people would. She came up with Daniel, and the Indians, all seated on the floor, lit a pipe as if going into the most profound council; and so they were, for with hearts sympathizing for the misery and poverty of this pitiable-looking object, a white woman and child starving to death amidst the thousands of white people all around her in their fine houses and with all their wealth, they were anxious to talk with her, and find out how it was that she should not be better taken care of. Jeffrey was called to interpret, and Melody, Bobasheela, Daniel, and myself, with two or three friends who happened to be with us at the time, were spectators of the scene that ensued. The War-chief told her not to be frightened nor to let her little child be so, for they were her friends; and the Doctor walked up to her, took his hand out from under his robe, put five shillings into hers, and stepped back. The poor woman curtsied several times, and, crossing her hands upon her breast, as she retreated to the wall, thanked “his Honour” for his kindness. “The Lard be with your Honours for your loving kindness, and may the Lard of Haven bless you to al etarnity, for ee niver e thaught af sich threatment fram sich fraightful-lukin gantlemin as ee was a thakin you to ba.”

The War-chief then said to her, “There, you see, by the money we have been all of us giving out of our purses, that we wish to make you happy with your little child, that you may have something for it to eat; you see now that we don’t wish to hurt you, and we shall not; but we want to talk with you a little, and before we talk we always make our presents, if we have anything to give. We are here poor, and a great way from home, where we also have our little children to feed; but the Great Spirit has been kind to us, and we have enough to eat.” To this the Indians, who were passing the pipe around, all responded “How! how! how!”

The old chief then proceeded to ask the poor woman how she became so poor, and why the white people did not take care of her and her child. She replied that she had been in the workhouse, and her husband was there still; she described also the manner in which she had left it, and how she became a beggar in the streets. She said that when she and her husband were taken into the poorhouse they were not allowed to live together, and that she would rather die than live in that way any longer, or rather beg for something to eat in the streets as she was now doing; and as the cold weather was coming in, she expected her child and herself would be soon starved to death.

The poor Indians, women and all, looked upon this miserable shivering object of pity, in the midst of the wealth and luxuries of civilization, as a mystery they could not expound, and, giving way to impulses that they could feel and appreciate, the women opened their trunks to search for presents for the little child, and by White Cloud’s order filled her lap with cold meat and bread sufficient to last them for a day or two. The good old Doctor’s politeness and sympathy led him to the bottom of the stairs with her, where he made her understand by signs that every morning, when the sun was up to a place that he pointed to with his hand, if she would come, she would get food enough for herself and her little child as long as they stayed in Birmingham; and he recollected his promise, and made it his especial duty every morning to attend to his pensioners at the hour appointed.[27]

The moral to be drawn from all this was one of curious interest and results in the minds of the Indians, and a long conversation ensued amongst them, in which Daniel and their friend Bobasheela (who were familiar with the sufferings and modes of treatment of the poor) took part, and which, as Melody and I had withdrawn, afterwards gave us some cause to regret that such a pitiable object of charity had been brought into their presence for the temporary relief they could give her, and which resulted in so glaring an account of the sum total of misery and poverty that was constantly about them, of the extent of which we both began to think it would have been better to have kept them ignorant. Daniel and Bobasheela had opened their eyes to the system of poorhouses and other public establishments for the employment and protection of the poor; and until this account, which was already entered in Jim’s book, had been given them by these two knowing politicians, they had but little idea of this enormous item that was to go into the scales in weighing the blessings of civilization.

Almost daily visits were now being made to their private rooms by parties of ladies and gentlemen of the Society of Friends, with whom they were rapidly advancing into the most interesting acquaintance, and which I observed it was affording Mr. Melody almost unspeakable satisfaction to behold. They were kindly invited to several houses, and treated at their tables with the greatest friendship. Of these, there was one visit that it would be wrong for me to overlook and to neglect to give here the notes that I made of it at the time.

A note was written to me in a bold and legible hand by Miss Catherine Hutton, desiring to know “at what hour it would be suitable for her to come from her house, a few miles out of town, to see the Indians (for whom she had always had a great love), so as not to meet a crowd, for her health was not very good, being in the ninety-first year of her age.” This venerable and most excellent lady I held in the highest respect, from a correspondence I had held with her on the subject of the Indians ever since I had been in England, though I never had seen her. Her letters had always teemed with love and kindness for these benighted people, and also with thanks to me for having done so much as I had for their character and history. I therefore deemed it proper to respond to her kindness by proposing to take the whole party to her house and pay her the visit. Her note was answered with that proposition, which gave her great pleasure, and we took a carriage and went to her delightful residence.

We were received with unbounded kindness by this most excellent and remarkable lady, and spent a couple of hours under her hospitable roof with great satisfaction to ourselves, and with much pleasure to her, as her letter to me on the following day fully evinced.[28] After a personal introduction to each one in turn, as she desired, and half an hour’s conversation, they were invited into an adjoining room to a breakfast-table loaded with the luxuries she had thought most grateful to their tastes. This finished, another half-hour or more was passed in the most interesting conversation, containing her questions and their answers, and her Christian advice to prepare their minds for the world to which, said she, “we must all go soon, and, for myself, I am just going, and am ready.” When we were about to take our leave of her, she called each one up in succession, and, having a quantity of money in silver half-crowns placed on the sofa by her side, she dealt it out to them as they came up, shaking hands at the same time and bidding each one a lasting farewell, embracing each of the women and children in her arms and kissing them as she took leave. This kindness melted their hearts to tears, and brought old Neu-mon-ya (the War-chief) up before her at full length, to make the following remarks:—

The chief here stopped, and, shaking her hand again, withdrew. The excellent lady was overwhelmed in tears, and called to her maid, “Betty, bring all the silver that I left in the drawer there; bring the whole of it and divide it among them; my eyes are so weak that I cannot see it—give it to them, dear creatures! May God bless their dear souls!” Such had been the meeting, and such were her parting words as we came away.

The Indians continued to speak in terms of the greatest admiration of this kind old lady, and the certainty that they should never see her face again made them for some days contemplative and sad. They had many civilities extended to them in town, however, which were calculated to dissipate melancholy and contemplation. Their repeated visits to the house and the table of Doctor Percy were exceedingly pleasing to them, where they were amused with experiments in electricity and galvanism, and other chemical results, to them new, and far beyond the reach of their comprehensions.

Their days and nights were now passing away very pleasantly, visited by and visiting so many kind friends, doing all they could to make them happy—giving their nightly amusements at the Shakspearian Rooms, and enjoying the society and western jokes of their old friend Bobasheela, and, after their dinners and suppers, their other old friend, chickabobboo.

About this time some very kindly-disposed friends proposed that a couple of nights of their exhibitions should be given in the immense room of the Town-hall, and one half of the receipts be presented to the two hospitals, representing that upon such conditions they thought the use of the hall would be granted free of expense, and believing that the results would be beneficial to both parties. Mr. Melody and I at once consented, and, the entertainments on those two nights being for a charitable purpose, the crowds that came in were very great, and the receipts beyond what we expected, the profits being 145l. 12s., the half of which, 72l. 16s., the Ioways presented to the two hospitals, and on the following day were invited to attend at the Town-hall at eleven o’clock in the morning, to receive an acknowledgment of it from the venerable Presidents of the two institutions, and to hear an address which was prepared to be read and given to them. The Indians met the two kind and excellent gentlemen (both of whom were Friends), and many others, both ladies and gentlemen, of their society; and seeing the results of this meeting likely to be of a very interesting nature, I took pains to make notes of all that was said on the occasion. The venerable Mr. R. T. Cadbury, from the General Hospital, in a very impressive manner, and suited to their understandings, explained to the Indians, through their interpreter, the purpose for which the hospital was built and carried on, after which he read the following resolution, which had been passed at the weekly meeting of the Board of Governors on the preceding day:—

After reading this, Mr. Cadbury presented to each of them a copy of the annual report and rules of the institution, and expressed a hope that all of them would reach their distant homes in safety, and that their visit to this country would be beneficial to them.

The chief, White Cloud, shook hands with Mr. Cadbury, and replied as follows:—

After the speech of White Cloud, Mr. J. Cadbury, at the head of a deputation from the “Temperance Society” (to which the Indians had sent also the sum of 36l. 8s.), presented himself, and read an address from that association, thanking them for the amount received, and advising the Indians to abstain from the use of “fire-water” and to practise charity, which was one of the greatest of virtues.

Mr. Cadbury then addressed the Indians, in all the fervency and earnestness of prayer, on the all-important subject of temperance. His words and sentences, selected for their simple understandings, were in the simplicity, and consequently the eloquence of nature, and seemed to win their highest admiration and attention. He painted to them in vivid colours the horrors and vice of intemperance, and its consequences; and also the beauty and loveliness of sobriety, and truth, and charity, which he hoped and should pray that they might practise in the wilderness, with constant prayers to the Great Spirit in the heavens, when they returned to their own country.

When this venerable gentleman’s remarks were finished, the old Doctor (or Medicine-man) arose from his seat upon the floor, with his pipe in his lips, and, advancing, shook hands with the two Messrs. Cadbury, and, handing his pipe to the chief, spoke as follows:—

Temperance medals were then given to each of the Indians, and the deputation took leave.

A council was held that evening in the Indians’ apartments, and several pipes smoked, during which time the conversation ran upon numerous topics, the first of which was the interesting meeting they had held that day, and on several former occasions, with the Friends, and which good people they were about to leave, and they seemed fearful they should meet none others in their travels. They were passing their comments upon the vast numbers which Daniel and Bobasheela had told them there actually were of poor people shut up in the poorhouses, besides those in the streets, and underground in the coal-pits; and concluded that the numerous clergymen they had to preach to them, and to keep them honest and sober, were not too many, but they thought they even ought to have more, and should at least keep all they had at home, instead of sending them to preach to the Indians. Jim was busy poring over his note-book, and getting Daniel to put down in round numbers the amount of poor in the poorhouses and in the streets, which they had found in some newspaper. And he was anxious to have down without any mistake the large sum of money they had presented to the hospitals, so that when they got home they could tell of the charity they had done in England; and if ever they got so poor as to have to beg, they would have a good paper to beg with. The sum, in American currency (as they know less of pounds, shillings, and pence), amounted to the respectable one of 370 dollars.

This last night’s talk in Birmingham was rather a gloomy one, for it was after leave had been taken of all friends. Bobasheela was to start in the morning for Liverpool, and I for London, where I had been summoned to attend as a witness in court, and Mr. Melody and the Indians were to leave for Nottingham and other towns in the north. So at a late hour we parted, and early in the morning set out for our different destinations, bearing with us many warm attachments formed during our short stay in the beautiful town of Birmingham.

For what befel these good fellows in Nottingham and Leeds there will probably be no historian, as I was not with them. I commenced with them in York, where I became again the expounder of their habits and mysteries, and was delighted to meet them on classic ground, where there is so much to engage the attention and admiration of civilized or savage. I had visited York on a former occasion, and had the most ardent wish to be present at this time, and to conduct these rude people into the noble cathedral, and on to its grand tower. I had this pleasure; and in it accomplished one of my favourite designs in accompanying them on their northern tour.

On my return from London I had joined the Indians at Leeds, where they had been exhibiting for some days, and found them just ready to start for York. I was their companion by the railway, therefore, to that ancient and venerable city; and made a note or two on an occurrence of an amusing nature which happened on the way. When we were within a few miles of the town the Indians were suddenly excited and startled by the appearance of a party of fox-hunters, forty or fifty in number, following their pack in full cry, having just crossed the track ahead of the train.

This was a subject entirely new to them and unthought of by the Indians; and, knowing that English soldiers all wore red coats, they were alarmed, their first impression being that we had brought them on to hostile ground, and that this was a “war-party” in pursuit of their enemy. They were relieved and excessively amused when I told them it was merely a fox-hunt, and that the gentlemen they saw riding were mostly noblemen and men of great influence and wealth. They watched them intensely until they were out of sight, and made many amusing remarks about them after we had arrived at York. I told them they rode without guns, and the first one in at the death pulled off the tail of the fox and rode into town with it under his hatband. Their laughter was excessive at the idea of “such gentlemen hunting in open fields, and with a whip instead of a gun; and that great chiefs, as I had pronounced them, should be risking their lives, and the limbs of their fine horses, for a poor fox, the flesh of which, even if it were good to eat, was not wanted by such rich people, who had meat enough at home; and the skin of which could not be worth so much trouble, especially when, as everybody knows, it is good for nothing when the tail is pulled off.”

On our arrival in York one of the first and most often repeated questions which they put was, whether there were any of the “good people,” as they now called them, the Friends, living there. I told them it was a place where a great many of them lived, and no doubt many would come to see them, which seemed to please and encourage them very much. Mr. Melody having taken rooms for them near to the York Minster, of which they had a partial view from their windows, their impatience became so great that we sallied out the morning after our arrival to pay the first visit to that grand and venerable pile. The reader has doubtless seen or read of this sublime edifice, and I need not attempt to describe it here. Were it in my power to portray the feelings which agitated the breasts of these rude people when they stood before this stupendous fabric of human hands, and as they passed through its aisles, amid its huge columns, and under its grand arches, I should be glad to do it; but those feelings which they enjoyed in the awful silence, were for none but themselves to know. We all followed the guide, who showed and explained to us all that was worth seeing below, and then showed us the way by which we were to reach the summit of the grand or middle tower, where the whole party arrived after a laborious ascent of 273 steps. We had luckily selected a clear day; and the giddy height from which we gazed upon the town under our feet, and the lovely landscape in the distance all around us, afforded to the Indians a view far more wonderful than their eyes had previously beheld. Whilst we were all engaged in looking upon the various scenes that lay like the lines upon a map beneath us, the old Doctor, with his propensity which has been spoken of before, had succeeded in getting a little higher than any of the rest of the party, by climbing on to the little house erected over the gangway through which we entered upon the roof; and, upon the pinnacle of this, for a while stood smiling down upon the thousands of people who were gathering in the streets. He was at length, however, seen to assume a more conspicuous attitude by raising his head and his eyes towards the sky, and for some moments he devoutly addressed himself to the Great Spirit, whom the Indians always contemplate as “in the heavens, above the clouds.” When he had finished this invocation, he slowly and carefully “descended on to the roof, and as he joined his friends he observed that when he was up there “he was nearer to the Great Spirit than he had ever been before.” The War-chief excited much merriment by his sarcastic reply, that “it was a pity he did not stay there, for he would never be so near the Great Spirit again.” The Doctor had no way of answering this severe retort, except by a silent smile, as, with his head turned away, he gazed on the beautiful landscape beneath him. When we descended from the tower, the Indians desired to advance again to the centre of this grand edifice, where they stood for a few minutes with their hands covering their mouths, as they gazed upon the huge columns around them and the stupendous arches over their heads, and at last came silently away, and I believe inspired with greater awe and respect for the religion of white men than they had ever felt before.

Our stay of three days in York was too short for the Indians to make many acquaintances; but at their exhibitions they saw many of the Society of Friends, and these, as in other places, came forward to offer them their hands and invite them to their houses. Amongst the invitations they received was one from the governor of the Castle, who with great kindness conducted us through the various apartments of the prison, explaining the whole of its system and discipline to us. We were shown the various cells for different malefactors, with their inmates in them, which no doubt conveyed to the minds of the Indians new ideas of white men’s iniquities, and the justice of civilized laws.

When we were withdrawing we were invited to examine a little museum of weapons which had been used by various convicts to commit the horrid deeds for which they had suffered death or transportation. A small room, surrounded by a wire screen, was devoted to these, and as it was unlocked we were invited in, and found one wall of the room completely covered with these shocking records of crime.

The turnkey to this room stepped in, and in a spirit of the greatest kindness, with a rod in his hand to point with, commenced to explain them, and of course add to their interest, in the following manner:—

The Indians, who had looked on these things and listened to these recitals with a curious interest at first, were now becoming a little uneasy, and the old Doctor, who smiled upon several of the first descriptions, now showed symptoms of evident disquiet, retreating behind the party, and towards the door.

When our guide had thus far explained, and Jeffrey had translated to the Indians, I observed the old Doctor quite outside of the museum-room, and with his robe wrapped close around him, casting his eyes around in all directions, and evidently in great uneasiness. He called for the party to come out, for, said he, “I do not think this is a good place for us to stay in any longer.” We all thought it was as well, for the turnkey had as yet not described one-third of his curiosities; so we thanked him for his kindness, and took leave of him and his interesting museum.

We were then conducted by the governor’s request to the apartments of his family, where he and his kind lady and daughters received the Indians and ourselves with much kindness, having his table prepared with refreshments, and, much to the satisfaction of the Indians (after their fatigue of body as well as of mind), with plenty of the Queen’s chickabobboo.

The sight-seeing of this day and the exhibition at night finished our labours in the interesting town of York, where I have often regretted we did not remain a little longer to avail ourselves of the numerous and kind invitations which were extended to us before we left. After our labours were all done, and the Indians had enjoyed their suppers and their chickabobboo, we had a pipe together, and a sort of recapitulation of what we had seen and heard since we arrived. The two most striking subjects of the gossip of this evening were the cathedral and the prison; the one seemed to have filled their minds with astonishment and admiration at the ingenuity and power of civilized man, and the other with surprise and horror at his degradation and wickedness; and evidently with some alarm for the safety of their persons in such a vicinity of vice as they had reason to believe they were in from the evidences they had seen during the day. The poor old Doctor was so anxious for the next morning to dawn, that we might be on our way, that he had become quite nervous and entirely contemplative and unsociable. They had heard such a catalogue of murders and executions explained, though they knew that we had but begun with the list, and saw so many incarcerated in the prison, some awaiting their trial, others who had been convicted and were under sentence of death or transportation, and others again pining in their cells, and weeping for their wives and children (merely because they could not pay the money that they owed), that they became horrified and alarmed; and as it was the first place where they had seen an exhibition of this kind, there was some reason for the poor fellows’ opinions that they were in the midst of the wickedest place in the world.

They said that, from the grandeur and great number of their churches, they thought they ought to be one of the most honest and harmless people they had been amongst, but instead of that they were now convinced they must be the very worst, and the quicker Mr. Melody made arrangements to be off the better. The Indians had been objects of great interest, and for the three nights of their amusements their room was well filled and nightly increasing; but all arguments were in vain, and we must needs be on the move. I relieved their minds in a measure relative to the instruments of death they had seen and the executions of which they had heard an account, by informing them of a fact that had not occurred to them—that the number of executions mentioned had been spread over a great number of years, and were for crimes committed amongst some hundreds of thousands of inhabitants, occupying a tract of country a great many miles in every direction from York; and also that the poor men imprisoned for debt were from various parts of the country for a great distance around. This seemed to abate their surprise to a considerable degree; still, the first impression was here made, and made by means of their eyes (which they say they never disbelieve, and I am quite sure they will never get rid of it), that York was the “wicked town,” as they continued to call it during the remainder of their European travels. I explained to them that other towns had their jails and their gallows—that in London they daily rode in their buss past prison walls, and where the numbers imprisoned were greater than those in York, in proportion to the greater size of the city.

Their comments were many and curious on the cruelty of imprisoning people for debt, because they could not pay money. “Why not kill them?” they said; “it would be better, because when a man is dead he is no expense to any one, and his wife can get a husband again, and his little children a father to feed and take care of them; when he is in jail they must starve: when he is once in jail he cannot wish his face to be seen again, and they had better kill them all at once.” They thought it easier to die than to live in jail, and seemed to be surprised that white men, so many hundreds and thousands, would submit to it, when they had so many means by which they could kill themselves.

They saw convicts in the cells who were to be transported from the country: they inquired the meaning of that, and, when I explained it, they seemed to think that was a good plan, for, said they, “if these people can’t get money enough to pay their debts, if they go to another country they need not be ashamed there, and perhaps they will soon make money enough to come back and have their friends take them by the hand again.” I told them, however, that they had not understood me exactly—that transportation was only for heinous crimes, and then a man was sent away in irons, and in the country where he went he had to labour several years, or for life, with chains upon him, as a slave. Their ideas were changed at once on this point, and they agreed that it would be better to kill them all at once, or give them weapons and let them do it themselves.

While this conversation was going on, the Recorder Jim found here very interesting statistics for his note-book, and he at once conceived the plan of getting Daniel to find out how many people there were that they had seen in the prison locked up in one town; and then, his ideas expanding, how many (if it could be done at so late an hour) there were in all the prisons in London; and then how many white people in all the kingdom were locked up for crimes, and how many because they couldn’t pay money. His friend and teacher, Daniel, whose head had become a tolerable gazetteer and statistical table, told him it would be quite easy to find it all ready printed in books and newspapers, and that he would put it all down in his book in a little time. The inquisitive Jim then inquired if there were any poorhouses in York, as in other towns; to which his friend Daniel replied that there were, and also in nearly every town in the kingdom; upon which Jim started the design of adding to the statistical entries in his book the number of people in poorhouses throughout the kingdom. Daniel agreed to do this for him also, which he could easily copy out of a memorandum-book of his own, and also to give him an estimate of the number of people annually transported from the kingdom for the commission of crimes. This all pleased Jim very much, and was amusement for Daniel; but at the same time I was decidedly regretting with Mr. Melody that his good fellows the Indians, in their visit to York, should have got their eyes open to so much of the dark side of civilization, which it might have been better for them that they never had seen.

Jim’s book was now becoming daily a subject of more and more excitement to him, and consequently of jealousy amongst some of the party, and particularly so with the old Doctor; as Jim was getting more rapidly educated than either of the others, and his book so far advanced as to discourage the Doctor from any essay of the kind himself. Jim that night regretted only one thing which he had neglected to do, and which it was now too late to accomplish—that was, to have measured the length of the cathedral and ascertained the number of steps required to walk around it. He had counted the number of steps to the top of the grand tower, and had intended to have measured the cathedral’s length. I had procured some very beautiful engravings of it, however, one of which Daniel arranged in his book, and the length of the building and its height we easily found for him in the pocket Guide.

The Doctor, watching with a jealous eye these numerous estimates going into Jim’s book, to be referred to (and of course sworn to) when he got home, and probably on various occasions long before, and having learned enough of arithmetic to understand what a wonderful effect a cipher has when placed on the right of a number of figures, he smiled from day to day with a wicked intent on Jim’s records, which, if they went back to his tribe in anything like a credible form, would be a direct infringement upon his peculiar department, and materially affect his standing, inasmuch as Jim laid no claims to a knowledge of medicine, or to anything more than good eating and drinking, before he left home.

However, the Doctor at this time could only meditate and smile, as his stiff hand required some practice with the pen before he could make those little 0’s so as to match with others in the book, which was often left carelessly lying about upon their table. This intent was entirely and originally wicked on the part of the old Doctor, because he had not yet, that any one knew of, made any reference to his measure of the giant woman, since he had carefully rolled up his cord and put it away amongst his other estimates, to be taken home to “astonish the natives” on their return.