The Shakspeare Buildings afforded the Indians a fine promenade in its large portico overlooking the street, where all Birmingham passed before their eyes, giving them one of the most gratifying privileges they had had, and promising them a rich and boundless means of amusement; but their enjoyment of it was short, for the crowds that assembled in the streets became a hinderance to business, and they were denied the further privilege of their delightful look-out. They were therefore called in, and stayed in, and yet the crowd remained, and could not be dispersed, while their attention seemed fixed upon some object higher up than the portico, which led us at once to surmise its cause, and, searching for the old Doctor, he was not to be found: he was, of course, upon the pinnacle of the house, wrapped in his robe, smiling upon the crowd beneath him, and taking a contemplative gaze over the city and country that lay under his view. I could only get to him by following the intricate mazes through which the old lady (curatress) conducted me, and through which the Doctor said he had required several days of investigation to find his way, and which he had never succeeded in until just at that moment.
Under this rather painful embargo there was no satisfactory way of peeping into the amusements of the streets but by going down the stairs, which Jim and his ever-curious friend the Doctor used daily and almost hourly to do, and, standing in the hall, see all they could that was amusing, until the crowd became such that it was necessary to recall them to their room. On one of these occasions they had espied a miserably poor old woman, with her little child, both in rags, and begging for the means of existence. The pity of the kind old Doctor was touched, and he beckoned her to come to him, and held out some money; but fear was superior to want with her, and she refused to take the prize. The Doctor went for Daniel, who, at his request, prevailed upon the poor woman to come up to their room, by assuring her that they would not hurt her, and would give her much more than white people would. She came up with Daniel, and the Indians, all seated on the floor, lit a pipe as if going into the most profound council; and so they were, for with hearts sympathizing for the misery and poverty of this pitiable-looking object, a white woman and child starving to death amidst the thousands of white people all around her in their fine houses and with all their wealth, they were anxious to talk with her, and find out how it was that she should not be better taken care of. Jeffrey was called to interpret, and Melody, Bobasheela, Daniel, and myself, with two or three friends who happened to be with us at the time, were spectators of the scene that ensued. The War-chief told her not to be frightened nor to let her little child be so, for they were her friends; and the Doctor walked up to her, took his hand out from under his robe, put five shillings into hers, and stepped back. The poor woman curtsied several times, and, crossing her hands upon her breast, as she retreated to the wall, thanked “his Honour” for his kindness. “The Lard be with your Honours for your loving kindness, and may the Lard of Haven bless you to al etarnity, for ee niver e thaught af sich threatment fram sich fraightful-lukin gantlemin as ee was a thakin you to ba.”
The War-chief then said to her, “There, you see, by the money we have been all of us giving out of our purses, that we wish to make you happy with your little child, that you may have something for it to eat; you see now that we don’t wish to hurt you, and we shall not; but we want to talk with you a little, and before we talk we always make our presents, if we have anything to give. We are here poor, and a great way from home, where we also have our little children to feed; but the Great Spirit has been kind to us, and we have enough to eat.” To this the Indians, who were passing the pipe around, all responded “How! how! how!”
The old chief then proceeded to ask the poor woman how she became so poor, and why the white people did not take care of her and her child. She replied that she had been in the workhouse, and her husband was there still; she described also the manner in which she had left it, and how she became a beggar in the streets. She said that when she and her husband were taken into the poorhouse they were not allowed to live together, and that she would rather die than live in that way any longer, or rather beg for something to eat in the streets as she was now doing; and as the cold weather was coming in, she expected her child and herself would be soon starved to death.
The poor Indians, women and all, looked upon this miserable shivering object of pity, in the midst of the wealth and luxuries of civilization, as a mystery they could not expound, and, giving way to impulses that they could feel and appreciate, the women opened their trunks to search for presents for the little child, and by White Cloud’s order filled her lap with cold meat and bread sufficient to last them for a day or two. The good old Doctor’s politeness and sympathy led him to the bottom of the stairs with her, where he made her understand by signs that every morning, when the sun was up to a place that he pointed to with his hand, if she would come, she would get food enough for herself and her little child as long as they stayed in Birmingham; and he recollected his promise, and made it his especial duty every morning to attend to his pensioners at the hour appointed.[27]
The moral to be drawn from all this was one of curious interest and results in the minds of the Indians, and a long conversation ensued amongst them, in which Daniel and their friend Bobasheela (who were familiar with the sufferings and modes of treatment of the poor) took part, and which, as Melody and I had withdrawn, afterwards gave us some cause to regret that such a pitiable object of charity had been brought into their presence for the temporary relief they could give her, and which resulted in so glaring an account of the sum total of misery and poverty that was constantly about them, of the extent of which we both began to think it would have been better to have kept them ignorant. Daniel and Bobasheela had opened their eyes to the system of poorhouses and other public establishments for the employment and protection of the poor; and until this account, which was already entered in Jim’s book, had been given them by these two knowing politicians, they had but little idea of this enormous item that was to go into the scales in weighing the blessings of civilization.
Almost daily visits were now being made to their private rooms by parties of ladies and gentlemen of the Society of Friends, with whom they were rapidly advancing into the most interesting acquaintance, and which I observed it was affording Mr. Melody almost unspeakable satisfaction to behold. They were kindly invited to several houses, and treated at their tables with the greatest friendship. Of these, there was one visit that it would be wrong for me to overlook and to neglect to give here the notes that I made of it at the time.
A note was written to me in a bold and legible hand by Miss Catherine Hutton, desiring to know “at what hour it would be suitable for her to come from her house, a few miles out of town, to see the Indians (for whom she had always had a great love), so as not to meet a crowd, for her health was not very good, being in the ninety-first year of her age.” This venerable and most excellent lady I held in the highest respect, from a correspondence I had held with her on the subject of the Indians ever since I had been in England, though I never had seen her. Her letters had always teemed with love and kindness for these benighted people, and also with thanks to me for having done so much as I had for their character and history. I therefore deemed it proper to respond to her kindness by proposing to take the whole party to her house and pay her the visit. Her note was answered with that proposition, which gave her great pleasure, and we took a carriage and went to her delightful residence.
We were received with unbounded kindness by this most excellent and remarkable lady, and spent a couple of hours under her hospitable roof with great satisfaction to ourselves, and with much pleasure to her, as her letter to me on the following day fully evinced.[28] After a personal introduction to each one in turn, as she desired, and half an hour’s conversation, they were invited into an adjoining room to a breakfast-table loaded with the luxuries she had thought most grateful to their tastes. This finished, another half-hour or more was passed in the most interesting conversation, containing her questions and their answers, and her Christian advice to prepare their minds for the world to which, said she, “we must all go soon, and, for myself, I am just going, and am ready.” When we were about to take our leave of her, she called each one up in succession, and, having a quantity of money in silver half-crowns placed on the sofa by her side, she dealt it out to them as they came up, shaking hands at the same time and bidding each one a lasting farewell, embracing each of the women and children in her arms and kissing them as she took leave. This kindness melted their hearts to tears, and brought old Neu-mon-ya (the War-chief) up before her at full length, to make the following remarks:—
“My Friend,—The Great Spirit has opened your heart to feel a friendship for the red people, and we are thankful to Him for it. We have been happy to see your face to-day, and our hearts will never forget your kindness. You have put a great deal of money into our hands, which will help to feed our little children, and the Great Spirit will not forget this when you go before him.