As one of the first fruits of the new expedient (and while the subject was fresh and revolving in the minds of all), there was now a chance of gratifying the Doctor’s desire to see the modes and places of worship of some of the different denominations of religion, of which he had heard so much, from Daniel and others, within the few days past. These visits were their first attempts in their assumed characters, and were mostly made in the company of Mr. Melody or Jeffrey, and without any amusing results either for the congregations or the Ioways, save an incident or two, such as must be expected in the first experiments with all great enterprises. The Doctor had been told that when he entered the Protestant Church, he must take his hat off at the door, and had practised it before he started; but, seeing such an immense number of ladies, he had unfortunately forgot it, and being reminded of it when he had been placed in his seat, his wig came off with it, exposing, but a moment however, his scalp-lock and the top of his head, where he had not deemed it necessary to wash off the red paint.
In the Methodist chapel, where these two queer fellows had ventured one day with Daniel, the sermon was long and tedious, and there was nothing observed curious excepting a blue smoke rolling up over the top of the pew, where the Doctor’s pipe had been lit, and his head sunk down between his knees; and one other occurrence, that afterwards happened in the heat of the exhortation from the pulpit, and much to the amusement of the Doctor and Jim, of a young woman, in their immediate vicinity, who began to groan, then to sing, and at length tumbled down from her seat upon the floor. The Doctor thought at first she was very sick, and wondered there was no physician there to bleed her; but when Daniel told him what was the matter, the old man smiled, and often talked about it afterwards.
I took the whole party through Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s, where they stood and contemplated in amazement the works of human hands, so entirely beyond their comprehension that they returned in reserved and silent contemplation.
Returning again to the Exhibition-room at the Egyptian Hall, several evenings of which have passed by without mention, but much in the same way, we find the same excitement and applause, and the “jolly fat dame” at the end of the platform, nightly receiving the Doctor’s impressive smiles, which are constantly ready for her; and which by this time, aided by the continued coldness of the Roman-nose, were making visible inroads upon her tender affections. She had had, it seemed, on this evening, some conversation with the Doctor, through the interpreter, who had heretofore studiously kept out of the way, and she had invited the Doctor to ride to her house in her carriage, after the exhibition was over, believing that he would be able to find in her garden, some roots which he was in great distress to find, and that she would bring him home again safe. Mr. Melody objected to this, which seemed to puzzle the fair dame, and to throw the Doctor into a profound melancholy and dejection.
This rebuff from Mr. Melody was so unexpected and so provoking, when she had so nearly accomplished her object, that the good lady passed out of the room earlier than usual, and tossed her head about with her ostrich plumes as she passed along in the crowd, without having the heart to stop and speak a few words to Daniel, as she had been in the habit of doing. Mr. Melody retired with the Indians, and I remained after the crowd had left, at the solicitation of a party of ladies, who had sent me their card and wished to see me after the exhibition was over. The room being nearly emptied, I saw a party of several fashionably-dressed ladies at the further end of the room, examining the paintings on the walls. In advancing towards them, the one who seemed to be the leader of the party turned around and exclaimed, “Oh, here comes Mr. Catlin, I believe?” “Yes, Madam, I am Mr. Catlin.” “Oh, I am so happy to have the honour of seeing you, Sir, and of speaking to you—you have made all these paintings?” “Yes.” “These Indians are curious fellows, and well worth seeing, but I consider you ten times more of a curiosity. Look here, ladies, here’s Mr. Catlin, the very man that I have so often told you about. Dear me, what dangers and hardships you must have been through! Oh, I do think you are one of the wonders of the world—and not a grey hair in your head yet! My dear Sir, I know your whole history— you’d scarcely believe it—I know it ’like a book,' as they say. I recollect the very day when you started for India, and I have followed you the whole way—I have your book—I bought several copies to give to my friends; I have read every word of it over and over again—and, oh! it’s wonderful—it’s charming—one can’t stop in it—there’s no stopping place in it. By the way, I don’t suppose you were down much in the neighbourhood of Chusan (I’ve got a nephew there—a fine fellow—he’s a surgeon). I suppose you kept pretty much back in the mountains? You had no object in coming down about the coast; and they have had rather hot work there.” “No, Madam, I had not the slightest object to take me near Chusan—I kept a great way back.” “That was right; oh, how judicious! Oh, I have read your interesting work so often. By the way, these fellows are not from the coast—they are from a great way back, I dare say?” “Yes, Madam, they are a great way in the interior.” “I thought so, I knew so—I can tell, d’ ye see—I can always tell a coaster. These are fine men—they grow tea, I suppose, though?” “No, these people don’t grow tea.” “Ah, well, it’s late, we won’t take up your time; but I have been so happy to have seen you—glad, glad to see you home alive to your native soil, and out of that plagued India. Good night.” “Good night, ladies.”
As they left me, I turned round, and met a poor fellow approaching me on one leg and a pair of crutches, and his wife holding on to his arm. He said he had been waiting some time to have the honour of speaking to me before he left, having heard my name pronounced. He told me he lived at Woolwich, where he held some situation for life, as he had lost his leg in the service of his country, and it was a good living for him, luckily, though he had been so unfortunate as to lose his leg.
“My wife and I (said he) ave long eard of this extro’nary hexibition, and she as often hax’d me to come to see it; and though we ave been off and hon about it a great many times, we never got off together until this hafter-noon—it’s a wonderful sight, sir, hand we are appy to ave seen you halso.”
I thanked the poor fellow, and asked him how he lost his leg.
“It was done by the kick of a orse, Sir.”
“But your leg has been taken off above your knee.”