They said that, from the grandeur and great number of their churches, they thought they ought to be one of the most honest and harmless people they had been amongst, but instead of that they were now convinced they must be the very worst, and the quicker Mr. Melody made arrangements to be off the better. The Indians had been objects of great interest, and for the three nights of their amusements their room was well filled and nightly increasing; but all arguments were in vain, and we must needs be on the move. I relieved their minds in a measure relative to the instruments of death they had seen and the executions of which they had heard an account, by informing them of a fact that had not occurred to them—that the number of executions mentioned had been spread over a great number of years, and were for crimes committed amongst some hundreds of thousands of inhabitants, occupying a tract of country a great many miles in every direction from York; and also that the poor men imprisoned for debt were from various parts of the country for a great distance around. This seemed to abate their surprise to a considerable degree; still, the first impression was here made, and made by means of their eyes (which they say they never disbelieve, and I am quite sure they will never get rid of it), that York was the “wicked town,” as they continued to call it during the remainder of their European travels. I explained to them that other towns had their jails and their gallows—that in London they daily rode in their buss past prison walls, and where the numbers imprisoned were greater than those in York, in proportion to the greater size of the city.
Their comments were many and curious on the cruelty of imprisoning people for debt, because they could not pay money. “Why not kill them?” they said; “it would be better, because when a man is dead he is no expense to any one, and his wife can get a husband again, and his little children a father to feed and take care of them; when he is in jail they must starve: when he is once in jail he cannot wish his face to be seen again, and they had better kill them all at once.” They thought it easier to die than to live in jail, and seemed to be surprised that white men, so many hundreds and thousands, would submit to it, when they had so many means by which they could kill themselves.
They saw convicts in the cells who were to be transported from the country: they inquired the meaning of that, and, when I explained it, they seemed to think that was a good plan, for, said they, “if these people can’t get money enough to pay their debts, if they go to another country they need not be ashamed there, and perhaps they will soon make money enough to come back and have their friends take them by the hand again.” I told them, however, that they had not understood me exactly—that transportation was only for heinous crimes, and then a man was sent away in irons, and in the country where he went he had to labour several years, or for life, with chains upon him, as a slave. Their ideas were changed at once on this point, and they agreed that it would be better to kill them all at once, or give them weapons and let them do it themselves.
While this conversation was going on, the Recorder Jim found here very interesting statistics for his note-book, and he at once conceived the plan of getting Daniel to find out how many people there were that they had seen in the prison locked up in one town; and then, his ideas expanding, how many (if it could be done at so late an hour) there were in all the prisons in London; and then how many white people in all the kingdom were locked up for crimes, and how many because they couldn’t pay money. His friend and teacher, Daniel, whose head had become a tolerable gazetteer and statistical table, told him it would be quite easy to find it all ready printed in books and newspapers, and that he would put it all down in his book in a little time. The inquisitive Jim then inquired if there were any poorhouses in York, as in other towns; to which his friend Daniel replied that there were, and also in nearly every town in the kingdom; upon which Jim started the design of adding to the statistical entries in his book the number of people in poorhouses throughout the kingdom. Daniel agreed to do this for him also, which he could easily copy out of a memorandum-book of his own, and also to give him an estimate of the number of people annually transported from the kingdom for the commission of crimes. This all pleased Jim very much, and was amusement for Daniel; but at the same time I was decidedly regretting with Mr. Melody that his good fellows the Indians, in their visit to York, should have got their eyes open to so much of the dark side of civilization, which it might have been better for them that they never had seen.
Jim’s book was now becoming daily a subject of more and more excitement to him, and consequently of jealousy amongst some of the party, and particularly so with the old Doctor; as Jim was getting more rapidly educated than either of the others, and his book so far advanced as to discourage the Doctor from any essay of the kind himself. Jim that night regretted only one thing which he had neglected to do, and which it was now too late to accomplish—that was, to have measured the length of the cathedral and ascertained the number of steps required to walk around it. He had counted the number of steps to the top of the grand tower, and had intended to have measured the cathedral’s length. I had procured some very beautiful engravings of it, however, one of which Daniel arranged in his book, and the length of the building and its height we easily found for him in the pocket Guide.
The Doctor, watching with a jealous eye these numerous estimates going into Jim’s book, to be referred to (and of course sworn to) when he got home, and probably on various occasions long before, and having learned enough of arithmetic to understand what a wonderful effect a cipher has when placed on the right of a number of figures, he smiled from day to day with a wicked intent on Jim’s records, which, if they went back to his tribe in anything like a credible form, would be a direct infringement upon his peculiar department, and materially affect his standing, inasmuch as Jim laid no claims to a knowledge of medicine, or to anything more than good eating and drinking, before he left home.
However, the Doctor at this time could only meditate and smile, as his stiff hand required some practice with the pen before he could make those little 0’s so as to match with others in the book, which was often left carelessly lying about upon their table. This intent was entirely and originally wicked on the part of the old Doctor, because he had not yet, that any one knew of, made any reference to his measure of the giant woman, since he had carefully rolled up his cord and put it away amongst his other estimates, to be taken home to “astonish the natives” on their return.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Newcastle-on-Tyne—Indians’ alarms about jails—Kind visits from Friends—Mrs. A. Richardson—Advice of the Friends—War-Chiefs reply—Liberal presents—Arrive at Sunderland—Kindness of the Friends—All breakfast with Mr. T. Richardson—Indians plant trees in his garden—And the Author also—The Doctor’s superstition—Sacrifice—Feast—Illness of the Roman Nose—Indians visit a coalpit—North Shields—A sailors’ dinner and a row—Arrive at Edinburgh—A drive—First exhibition there—Visit to Salisbury Crag—To Arthur’s Seat—Holyrood House and Castle—The crown of Robert Bruce—The “big gun,”—“Queen Mab”—Curious modes of building—“Flats”—Origin of—Illness of Corsair, the little pappoose—The old Doctor speaks—War-chief’s speech—A feast of ducks—Indians’ remarks upon the government of Scotland—“The swapping of crowns”—The Doctor proposes the crown of Robert Bruce for Prince Albert—Start for Dundee—Indians’ liberality—A noble act—Arrival at Dundee—Death of little Corsair—Distress of the Little Wolf and his wife—Curious ceremony—Young men piercing their arms—Indians at Perth—Arrival in Glasgow—Quartered in the Town-hall—The cemetery—The Hunterian Museum—The Doctor’s admiration of it—Daily drives—Indians throw money to the poor—Alarm for Roman Nose—Two reverend gentlemen talk with the Indians—War-chief’s remarks—Greenock—Doctor’s regret at leaving.