The Thames Tunnel was our next object, and a drive of a quarter of an hour brought us to the dismal neighbourhood of its entrance. Paying our fees, and descending some hundred or more steps by a spiral staircase, we were ready to enter the tunnel. Walking through its gloomy halls, and spending a few shillings for toys protruded under our faces at every rod we advanced, by young women sitting at their little stalls under each of its arches, we at length ascended an equal number of steps, and came to the light of day on the opposite side of the Thames; and in the midst of one of the most unintelligible, forlorn, and forsaken districts of London or the world, we waited half an hour or more for our omnibus to make its circuit across the bridge and take us up. We sauntered and loitered our way through, and as long as we were passing this monster speculation of the world, we met, to the best of our recollection, but four or five persons passing through, who had paid their penny a-head for the privilege.
While waiting for the bus, some “on-the-spot” remarks were made by the Indians, which I thought had some sound sense in them. They thought it must have cost a great deal of money, and believed it was too far out of London ever to pay; and they did not see that it was any curiosity for them, as they had passed through several on the railway ten times as long. They did not think, however, that it need be time and money thrown away, as “they thought it might make a first-rate place to twist ropes.” These and other remarks they were making about the great tunnel as we were jogging along towards home, and evidently somewhat surprised that we should have excited their curiosity so high about it.
On our return, after this fatiguing day’s work was finished, their dinner was ready; and after that their pipe was smoked, a nap taken, and then their accustomed amusements in the Egyptian Hall. Their supper was the next thing, and with it their mug of chickabobboo, then their pipe, passing around as they all reclined on their buffalo robes on the floor, and then began the gossip about the sights they had seen and incidents they had witnessed during the day.
This extraordinary day’s rambling had taken them across more bridges and through a greater number of crooked and narrow streets than they had passed on any former occasion, which brought the Doctor to one of the first and shrewdest remarks of the evening. He said “he thought from all that he had seen, sitting on top of the bus all day, that the English people had the best way in the world for crossing rivers, but he thought their paths were many of them too narrow and much too crooked.”
“The poor people, and those who seemed to be drunk, were much more numerous than they had seen them in any other of their drives;” and they were counting the money left in their pouches to see how much they had thrown out to the poor. They soon agreed that “they had given away something more than thirty shillings, which they thought would do a great deal of good, and the Great Spirit would reward them for it.”
The Doctor and Jim, the everlasting cronies, on the outside, were comparing their estimates of the numbers they had counted of the “Kon-to-too-ags (fighters with one horn)[26] that they had seen over the doors and shops as they had passed along, which they had been looking at every day since they came to London, but had never yet been able quite to learn the meaning of,” and also “the totems (arms, as they supposed) of great chiefs, so beautifully painted and put out between their chamber windows.”
The Doctor said “he believed the white people had got this custom from the Indians, as it was the habit of the great chiefs and warriors to put their ‘totems’ over their wig-wam doors, but when they did so, they always put out scalps on certain days, to show what they had done. He had watched these totems in London as he had been riding, in all sorts of weather, and as he had seen no scalps or anything hung out by the side of them, he couldn’t exactly see how all these people were entitled to them; still, it might all be right.” Daniel put the Doctor’s inquiries all at rest on the subject of totems and the “one-horn fighters,” by telling him that if he would wait a little until Mr. Catlin and Mr. Melody had gone, he would give him the whole history of white men’s totems, how they got them and the use they made of them; and he would also tell him all about the “Lion and the Unicorn fighting for the Crown,” &c.
The Doctor here made some comments on the great white war-chief (the Duke of Wellington) who had been pointed out to them on horseback as they passed him in the street, and his wig-wam was also shown to them (i.e. to the Doctor and Jim as they sat outside with the driver). He was disposed to learn something more of him, and Daniel silenced him by saying, “Let that alone too for awhile, and I will tell you all about him.”
Daniel and Jim I found at this time very busily engaged in a corner of the room, with a candle on the floor; whilst Daniel was entering in a little book the astonishing estimates given us at the brewery, of the quantity of ale on hand, the size and number of the vats, and the almost incredible quantity consumed in the kingdom each year. Jim, as I have before said, was the only one of the party who seemed ambitious to civilize; and as he was daily labouring to learn something of the English language, he had this day conceived the importance of instituting a little book of entries in which he could carry home, to enlighten his people, something like a brief statistical account of the marvellous things he was seeing, and was to see, amongst the white people.
Daniel had at this moment finished entering into it the estimates of the brewery and chickabobboo, which had opened their eyes wider, perhaps, than anything else they had seen; and he had very wisely left a few blank pages in the beginning of the book for other retrospective notes and estimates of things they had already seen since the day they left home. Jim’s Journal was thus established, and he was, with Daniel’s aid, to become a sort of historian to the party; and as the sequel will show, he became stimulated thereby to greater exertions to see and to understand what was curious and interesting, and to get estimates of the beauties and blessings of civilization to carry home. He laboured from that moment indefatigably, not to write or to read, but to speak; and made rapid progress, as will be seen hereafter, having known, as he said, but two English sentences when he came to England, which were, “How do do?” and “God dam.”