It afforded them amusement also for a long time after the day on which it took place, when they spoke of it as the “great fighting feast.”
Two days completed our visit to North Shields, and on the next we were in comfortable quarters in Edinburgh. The Indians were greatly delighted with the appearance of the city as they entered it, and more so daily, as they took their omnibus drives around and through the different parts of it.
The Doctor, however, who was tending on his patient, Roman Nose, seemed sad, and looked as if he had forebodings still of some sad results to flow from planting the trees; but he took his seat upon the bus, with his old joking friend Jim, by the side of the driver, smiling occasionally on whatever he saw amusing, as he was passing through the streets. Their novel appearance created a great excitement in Edinburgh; and our announcements filled our hall with the most respectable and fashionable people.
Their dances called forth great applause; and, in the midst of it, the War-chief, so delighted with the beauty of the city, and now by seeing so numerous and fashionable an audience before him, and all applauding, arose to make a speech. As he straightened up, and, wrapping his buffalo robe around him, extended his long right arm, the audience gave him a round of applause, occasioned entirely by the dignified and manly appearance he made when he took the attitude of the orator, and he commenced:—
“My friends, I understand by the great noise you have made with your hands and feet, that something pleases you, and this pleases us, as we are strangers amongst you, and with red skins. (Applause.)
“My friends, we have but just arrived in your beautiful city, and we see that you are a different people from the English in London, where we have been. In going into a strange place, amongst strange people, we always feel some fear that our dances and our noise may not please—we are showing you how we dance in our own country, and we believe that is what you wish to see. (Applause and ‘How, how, how!’)
“My friends, we are delighted with your city, what we have seen of it—we have seen nothing so handsome before—we will try to please you with some more of our dances, and then we will be happy to shake hands with you. (‘How, how, how!’)
“This is all I have to say now.” (Great applause.)
We were now in the most beautiful city in the kingdom, if not one of the most beautiful in the world; and the Indians, as well as ourselves, observed the difference in the manners and appearance of the people. The Indians had been pleased with their reception in the evening, and, in their drive during the day, had been excited by the inviting scenery overtowering the city,—the castle, with its “big gun,” gaping over the town—the Salisbury Crag, and Arthur’s Seat—all of which places they were to visit on that day; and, having swallowed their breakfasts and taken their seats in their carriage, seemed to have entered upon a new world of amusement. Their views from, and runs over, these towering peaks afforded them great amusement; and the castle, with its crown of Robert Bruce, and other insignia of royalty—its mammouth gun, and the little room in which King James I. of England was born; and in Holyrood House,—the blood of Rizzio upon the floor, and the bed in which Queen Mary had slept—were all subjects of new and fresh excitement to them.
Nor was their amusement less whilst they were riding through the streets, at the constant variety and sudden contrasts—from the low and poverty-stricken rabble of High-street and its vicinity, to the modern and splendid sections of the city—of crossing high bridges over gardens, instead of rivers; of houses built upon the sides of the hills and on rocks; and many other amusing things that they talked about when they got back.