Like all actors, they were vain of their appearance, and proud of applause, and (rather luckily for them, and unlike the painful excitements that fall to the lot of most actors’ lives) they were sure of the applause which sympathy brings, and exempt from that censure which often falls heavily upon those whose acting the audience is able to criticise.
According to their custom, after the war-dance was finished, the Indians seated themselves upon the platform and lit their long pipe, which they were almost constantly smoking. This pipe was filled with their own native tobacco (k’nick-k’neck), and passed around from one to the other for a few whiffs, according to the usage of all the American tribes. I took this opportunity of explaining to the audience the meaning of the war-dance, the war-whoop, &c., and whilst I was up, was so overwhelmed with questions (all of which I felt disposed to answer) that I found it exceedingly difficult to sit down again. These questions were put for the purpose of gaining information which it was my wish to give; and having patiently answered a number of them, I stated to the audience that I believed the explanations I should throw out in the course of the evening in my own way, would answer nearly every question that they would be disposed to put, and I begged they would allow me as much time and opportunity to give them as possible. This was responded to by acclamation all around the room, and the exhibition proceeded by the Indians wishing me to announce that they were to give the wa-be-no (or mystery) dance. This eccentric and droll dance caused much merriment among the audience, and gained them hearty applause again; after which, they being seated as usual, with the pipe passing around, I proceeded with my explanation, which done, I was requested by the interpreter to announce that the old chief had something which he wished to say to the audience, and was going to make a speech. There was a great expression of satisfaction at this, evinced among the crowd, which seemed to give fire to the eye, and youth to the visage of the old man as he rose and said,—
“My friends—It makes our hearts glad when we hear your feet stamp upon the floor, for we know then that you are pleased, and not angry.” (Great applause.)
The old man then straightened himself up in the attitude of an orator, and, throwing his buffalo robe over his shoulder, and extending his right arm over the heads of his audience, he proceeded:—
“My friends and brothers—These young men and women and myself have come a great way to see you, and to see our Great Mother the Queen. The Great Spirit has been kind to us, for we are all well, and we have seen her face. (‘How, how, how!’)
“My friends—We know that the Saganoshes in our country all come from this place; they are our friends there, and we think they will not be our enemies here. (‘How, how, how!’ and immense applause, with ‘Hear, hear, hear,’ from the audience.)
“My friends—You see I am old, and my words are few; some of my younger men may talk longer than I can. I hope our noise is not too great. (‘No, no,’ from every part of the room: ‘The more noise the better, my good fellows.’)
“Brothers—My young men will finish their dances in a little while, when we will be glad to give you our hands.” (“How, how, how!” great applause, and “Hear, hear.”)
The venerable old man then resumed his seat; and at that moment, as the pipe was preparing, Daniel was making his way through the crowd, with one hand raised above the heads of the audience, conveying a large square letter, which he was endeavouring to hand to me. On opening the letter and reading, I found it was from the Honourable Mr. Murray, and, with permission of the audience, I read thus:—