“Yours, sincerely,
“C. A. Murray,
“Master of H. M. Household.
“To Geo. Catlin, Esq.”
The reader can readily imagine what was the pleasure of these poor people when they heard this letter read; but it would be difficult to know what were their feelings of surprise, that the efficacy of their medicine should have brought it in at that opportune moment. The reader will also suppose, what their superstition prevented them from ever imagining, that this letter was in my pocket several hours before the ducks were bought, and therefore cost me about twenty shillings.
A pipe was here lit by the old chief, and passed around, and smoked to the kind Spirit they had successfully invoked, and with it all the anxieties of this day passed away.
CHAPTER XIII.
Preparations for visiting the Queen—Amusing interview with Sykes, the porter—Mistaken by the old Chief for Prince Albert—Meet the Hon. Mr. Murray—The waiting-room—The Author conducts the party before Her Majesty and the Prince in the Waterloo Gallery—Their reception—Introductions and conversations—Indians give the war-dance—A smoke—The old Chief’s speech to the Queen—Pipe-dance—Her Majesty and the Prince retire—Indians at a feast in the waiting-room—Drinking the Queen’s health in Champagne—Indians call it “Chickabobboo”—Story of Chickabobboo, and great amusement—Indians return to London—Evening-gossip about the Queen and her Chickabobboo—First evening of the Indians in Egyptian Hall—Great excitement—Alarm—Tremendous applause—Old Chief’s speech—Hon. Mr. Murray’s letter to the old Chief, enclosing £20 from the Queen and other presents—Speech of the War-chief—Pipe-dance—Shaking hands—Curious questions by the audience—Ale allowed to the Indians at dinner and after supper—Their rejoicing—They call it Chickabobboo.
A new chapter commenced here with the Indians, as it commences with my book. All “omnibus drives” were postponed for the present; all communications with the world entirely interdicted; and all was bustle and preparation for the grand event which was to “cap the climax” of their highest ambition—the point to which they had looked ever since they had started, and beyond which, it is not probable, their contemplations had as yet visibly painted anything.
Colours, and ribbons, and beads, of the richest hues, were called for, and procured from various parts of the city; and both night and day, all, men and women, were constantly engaged in adding brilliancy and richness of colour to their costumes.
The old chief was painting the stem of his pipe of peace (or calumet) sky-blue, emblematical of the feelings they carried in their breasts; and decorating it also with blue and red ribbons, as a suitable gift to royalty. The little girl, Nib-nab-e-qua, was crying, as she embroidered with red and white porcupine-quills, fearing that her new mocassins would not look so brilliant as she had sometimes made them. Her mother was arranging black mourning plumes in the cradle in which her infant had died, and which, by the custom of the country, she was obliged yet to carry on her back. The War-chief was repainting his shield, and arranging his scalps on a little hoop, to give proper effect to the scalp-dance. The Medicine-man was preparing his wa-be-no drum. Gish-ee-gosh-ee-gee was stringing beads with his wife; and Sah-mah was brightening his tomahawk and his scalping-knife for a glittering effect in the war-dance. Cadotte, during this time, was parading before the mirror, examining, arranging, and rearranging the ostrich-plumes in his cap, and the fit of a laced frock he had just had made; and (I had almost forgotten myself) I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of a new coat I had ordered at my tailor’s for the occasion.