“My friends—We are rather sorry for the man than angry; it is his ignorance, and that is perhaps because he is too far off: let him come nearer to us and examine our skins, our ears, and our noses, full of holes and trinkets—Irishmen don’t bore their noses. (Great laughter, and ‘Bravo!’)
“My friends—Tell that man we will be glad to see him and shake hands with him, and he will then be our friend at once.” (“Bravo!” and cries of “Go, go!” from every part of the room: “You must go!”)
The gentleman left his seat upon this in a very embarrassed condition, and, advancing to the platform, shook the War-chief and each one of the party by the hand, and took a seat near to them for the rest of the evening, evidently well pleased with their performances, and well convinced that they were not Irishmen.
After this the Indians proceeded by giving several other dances, songs, &c.; and when it was announced that their amusements for the evening were finished, they seated themselves on the edge of the platform to meet those who desired to give them their hands. Half an hour or so was spent in this ceremony, during which time they received many presents, and, what to them was more gratifying, they felt the affectionate hands of a number of the “good people” they were so anxious to meet, and who they saw were taking a deep interest in their behalf already. They returned to their apartments unusually delighted with their reception, and, after their supper and chickabobboo, Jim had some dry jokes for the Doctor about his speech; assuring him that he never would “go down” with the Irish ladies—that his speech had been a decided failure—and that he had better hereafter keep his mouth entirely shut. They had much merriment also about the “mistake the poor man had made in calling them Irishmen,” and all applauded the War-chief for the manner in which he had answered him in his speech.
The Indians in their drive during the morning had observed an unusual number of soldiers in various parts of the city, and, on inquiring of Daniel why there were so many when there was no war and no danger, they learned to their great surprise that this country, like the one they had just left, had been subjugated by England, and that a large military force was necessary to be kept in all the towns to keep the people quiet, and to compel them to pay their taxes to the government. They thought the police were more frequent here also than they had seen them in London, and laughed very much at their carrying clubs to knock men down with. They began to think that the Irish must be very bad people to want so many to watch them with guns and clubs, and laughed at Daniel about the wickedness of his countrymen. He endeavoured to explain to them, however, that, if they had to work as hard as the Irishmen did, and then had their hard earnings mostly all taken away from them, they would require as strong a military force to take care of them as the Irish did. His argument completely brought them over, and they professed perfectly to understand the case; and all said they could see why so many soldiers were necessary. The police, he said, were kept in all the towns, night and day, to prevent people from stealing, from breaking into each other’s houses, from fighting, and from knocking each other down and taking away their property. The insatiate Jim then conceived the idea of getting into his book the whole number of soldiers that were required in England, Scotland, and Ireland to keep the people at work in the factories, and to make them pay their taxes; and also the number of police that were necessary in the different cities and towns to keep people all peaceable, and quiet, and honest. Daniel had read to them only a day or two before an article in the ‘Times’ newspaper, setting forth all these estimates, and, being just the thing he wanted, copied them into his book.
The reader sees by this time that, although Jim’s looks were against him, as an orator or lecturer, when he should get back to his own country—and also that though his imagination could not take its wings until he was flat upon his back—still that he was, by dint of industry and constant effort, preparing himself with a magazine of facts which were calculated to impress upon the simple minds of the people in his country the strongest proofs of the virtue and superior blessings of civilization.
These people had discernment enough to see that such an enormous amount of soldiers and police as their list presented them would not be kept in pay if they were not necessary. And they naturally put the question at once—“What state would the country be in if the military and police were all taken away?” They had been brought to the zenith of civilization that they might see and admire it in its best form; but the world who read will see with me that they were close critics, and agree with me, I think, that it is almost a pity they should be the teachers of such statistics as they are to teach to thousands yet to be taught in the wilderness. As I have shown in a former part of this work, I have long since been opposed to parties of Indians being brought to this country, believing that civilization should be a gradual thing, rather than open the eyes of these ignorant people to all its mysteries at a glance, when the mass of its poverty and vices alarms them, and its luxuries and virtues are at a discouraging distance—beyond the reach of their attainment.
Daniel was at this time cutting a slip from the ‘Times,’ which he read to Jim; and it was decided at once to be an admissible and highly interesting entry to make, and to go by the side of his former estimates of the manufacture and consumption of chickabobboo. The article ran thus:—“The consumption of ardent spirits in Great Britain and Ireland in the last year was 29,200,000 gallons, and the Poor Law Commissioners estimate the money annually spent in ardent spirits at 24,000,000l. (120,000,000 dollars); and it is calculated that 50,000 drunkards die yearly in England and Ireland, and that one-half of the insanity, two-thirds of the pauperism, and three-fourths of the crimes of the land are the consequences of drunkenness.”
This, Jim said, was one of the best things he had got down in his book, because he said that the black-coats were always talking so much about the Indians getting drunk, that it would be a good thing for him to have to show; and he said he thought he should be able, when they were about to go home, to get Chippehola[36] to write by the side of it that fourteen Ioways were one year in England and never drank any of this fire-water, and were never drunk in that time.
Daniel and Jeffrey continued to read (or rather Daniel to read, and Jeffrey to interpret) the news and events in the ‘Times,’ to which the Indians were all listening with attention. He read several amusing things, and then of a “Horrid murder!” a man had murdered his wife and two little children. He read the account; and next—“Brutal Assault on a Female!”—“A Father killed by his own Son!”—“Murder of an Infant and Suicide of the Mother!”—“Death from Starvation!”—“Execution of Sarah Loundes for poisoning her Husband!”—“Robbery of 150l. Bank of England Notes!” &c. &c.