In such a city as London there are always enough who do not read the contradictions of announcements (with those who won’t believe them if they do read them) to fill a room; and of such was his room chiefly filled on this occasion—all impatient to see the beautiful bride of the Indian, and full of expectation, though his second advertisement had announced that “she would not appear.” One can easily imagine the difficulties with which he was surrounded, and the perplexing materials with which he was about to contend in presenting himself as the expounder of Indian modes, and that in the absence of the “beautiful bride.”
Curiosity to hear him give his first lecture on the customs of the Indians, “who had spent all his life amongst them,” led me into the crowd, where I caught the following amusing incidents, which are given as nearly as I could hear them amidst the confusion that soon took place. Mr. Rankin had proceeded but a few sentences in his elucidations when a voice from a distant part of the room called out, “Rankin! Mr. Rankin!” “Well,” “Why, Sir, Mr. Rankin is advertised to lecture, and we expect to hear him.” “My name is Rankin—I am Mr. Rankin, Sir.” “No, you are not Mr. Rankin neither: why do you tell us that nonsense? Come now, Arthur; you know me, old fellow: don’t set yourself up for Mr. Rankin here; you’ll get yourself into trouble if you do.” (Uproar, and cries of “Turn him out, turn him out.”) The voice continues, “Mr. Rankin! Mr. Rankin! what has lived all his life with the Indians!” (Uproar.) “I am Mr. Rankin, Sir: what do you want?” “You are not Mr. Rankin; are Mr. Arthur Jones, or was so when I knew you in New York.” (Cries of “Turn him out—shame, shame! the bride, the bride!” and hisses.) The lecturer here advanced to the front of the platform and endeavoured to frown the crowd into silence, but got nothing in return but “The bride, the bride!” and hisses from various quarters. One of the men in his employment unluckily at that moment seized hold of a little square-shouldered working-man, standing just before me, who was hissing, and was hauling him towards the door. The little man gathered himself up, and brought his antagonist to a halt before he was half way to the door. While grasping each other by the collar, the little man, who was nearly lost sight of in the crowd, demanded the cause of this violence on his person. “Why, Sir, you was hissing the lecturer, and I was ordered to put you out of the room—that was all.”
“So I did iss im, Sir, hand I’ll iss again, hif I choose——ands hoff! hif you please!” “You must go out, Sir.” “Hout, Sir! [in a tremendous voice.] I’ll hax this haudience hif I am to go hout, or whether they would prefer to ear the hobservations I hintend to make.” There was a general uproar here for a few moments, and the friends of the little man seemed to predominate as they were gathering around him, and the cry of “Hands off!” freed him from the difficulties with which he had been beset, and encouraged him to demand an audience for a moment, which was carried by acclamation all around the room. By stepping on to the end of a bench near by, he become conspicuous above the heads of the audience, and continued:—
“Ladies hand Gentlemen, I opes I ave your haprobation?” (Shouts of approbation from all parts of the room; the Indians seated on the platform, and Mr. Rankin allowing the little working gentleman to proceed.)
“My friends, I am a poor and to speak, and I did not hanticipate an event hov this sort. I came ere, like the rest of you, an ard-working man, to spend my shilling, hand for wot? To be umbugged, gentlemen? (Great applause.) To be oaxed, gentlemen? I calls it an impudent oax! I olds in my and the adwertisement of that gentleman haxing us to pay our shillings to see the bride of the Hindian wot was married yesterday; and we are now told that she is not to be ere, and that this is ol nothink.—I say it is somethink, gentlemen. (Great applause.) Wen it was said that this couldn’t be elped, I issed im, and ee hought to be issed, for I saw we was oaxed: I was then dragged by the andkerchief in a wiolent manner, but I hescaped unurt, and I am thankful that my woice can now be eard.
“Hif this gentleman is really Mr. Rankin, or hif ee is not, its hol the same—wot’s the hods? he as inwited us ere, to inale the ot hatmosphere of the Hegyptian All, to see the ‘beautiful bride,’ oom ee as been hinstrumental in leading up to the halter of Ymen, after making a great ubbub about it; and I esitate not to pronounce it an underanded business, that umbles a man in my hestimation, and I think it would ave been better for im to ave ushed up the wole think holtogether. (Applause.)
“Gentlemen, I am appy to see that I ave your haprobation. Wen I look around me, I see that you are all working men like myself, and able to hunderstand me. You all know it’s werry ard to be oaxed out of our shillings—wen prowisions is igh—wen work is scarce—wen we ave little to heat, and hobliged to lie hidle.” (Applause, and Hear, hear.) A voice. “Mr. Rankin! Mr. Rankin!” A hundred voices! “The bride! the bride!—Turn him out!—Bagh!—The Indians! the Indians!—The workee! hear him out!—Mr. Rankin!—The Indians! the Indians! Police! the police!—Turn him out!—The bride! the bride! the bride! the bride!” &c. &c.
In the midst of all the din and confusion which it seemed now impossible to suppress, the sudden expedient of Mr. Rankin succeeded, and was probably the only one that could have done it. He thought of his Indians, who were quietly seated on the platform, and prepared for the war-dance; and the signal given, and “Sound trumpets, sound!” they all sprang upon their feet and soon drowned the din and confusion in the screams and yells of the war-dance.
By the time the brandishing of tomahawks and spears and war-clubs and scalping-knives of this noisy affair was done, the attention of the visitors had become so much engrossed with the spirit and novelty of the scene, that they seemed generally disposed to dispense peaceably with the expected treat of seeing the beautiful bride, and were quiet. The little pugnacious working-man, however, arose again, as soon as silence was restored, to resume his speech; and, asking “if he should go hon,” the response from every part of the house was, “No! no!” to which he pertinaciously replied, “Well, then, I’ll go ome, and see if I can hearn hanother shilling in the place hov the one I ave given to see those ill-looking wild hanimals, the Hindians.”