I have mentioned that my dear wife with her two children had arrived from New York, and the pleasures and endearments of my own little fireside, now transplanted into a foreign land, were stealing away their part of my time, which, with the necessary attention to the kind civilities being paid us, our sight-seeing, our dinings-out, our drives, and my attendance in my rooms and lectures at night, was curiously divided and engrossed.
The advent of my dear Clara, with her two babes, was like the coming of the warm and gentle breezes of spring—she who, though delicate and tender, had been, during the three last years of my rambles in the Indian wilds, my indefatigable companion—She who had traced and retraced with me the winding mazes of the mighty Mississippi, the Missouri, the Ohio, and the Arkansas—and with the lightness of the bounding antelopes that dwell upon their shores, had darted over their grassy banks and their green carpeted and enamelled slopes, and plucked their loveliest flowers—she who had also traced with me the shores of the great lakes of the north, and inhaled the glowing sweetness of Florida’s lovely coast—and had kept her journal of thirteen thousand miles of wild rambles with her husband, and since her return to the land of her birth had blessed him in the richness of gift with two children, was now by his side (as I have said, like the coming of spring), to cheer him with the familiar sweet smiles and sounds in which he never knew guile.[4]
Thanks to the kind friends who took her fair hand and bade her welcome—for they were many, and ready to contribute to her happiness, which filled (at that moment at least) the cup of our mutual enjoyment.
CHAPTER VII.
The Author dines with the Royal Highland Society—The Duke of Richmond presides—His Grace’s compliment to the Author and his country—Sir David Wilkie—His compliment to the Author—Charles Augustus Murray and the Author at the Caledonian Ball (Almack’s) in Indian costumes—Their rehearsal—Dressing and painting—Entering the ball—Alarm of ladies—Mr. Murray’s infinite amusement (incognito) amongst his friends—War-dance and war-whoops—Great applause—Bouquets of flowers—Scalp-dance—Brooches and bracelets presented to the chiefs-Trinkets returned—Perspiration carries off the paint, and Mr. Murray recognised—Amusement of his friends—The “Indians” return to Egyptian Hall at seven in the morning—Their amusing appearance.
Among the many very friendly invitations extended to me about this time, there was one which I cannot omit to notice in this place.—I was invited to take a seat at the Royal Highland Society’s annual dinner, at which his Grace the Duke of Richmond presided. The name of this society explains its character, and most of the guests at the table were in full highland dress, with their kilts, and with the badges and plaids of their peculiar clans. The scene was altogether a very picturesque one, and I observed that their chiefs wore the eagle’s quills for the same purpose and in the same manner that the Indians do; but I did not see any of them painted red, as the Indians paint them, to adorn their heads as symbols of war when they are going to battle.
The banqueting hall was beautifully arranged, and two of Her Majesty’s pipers from the Palace, in the most gorgeous Highland dress, were perambulating the table “in full blast” whilst we were eating.
The Duke of Richmond, who is an easy, affable, and entirely unostentatious man, and the best president at a convivial table that I ever saw, offered the customary healths, of—the Queen—the Prince—the Duke, &c., which were drunk with the usual enthusiasm, and after that proceeded to pay his ingenious and judicious compliments to individuals at the table, by alluding, in the most concise and amusing manner, to their exploits or other merits, and then proposed their healths.
After we had all joined in the uproar of—Hip, hip, hips,—with one foot on our chairs and the other on the table, in a number of such cases, he arose and said—