An invitation was awaiting them at this time, also, to breakfast the next morning with Mr. Joseph Bewley, a Friend, and who lived a few miles out of the city. His carriages arrived for them at the hour, and the whole party visited him and his kind family and took their breakfast with them. After the breakfast was over, the chief thanked this kind gentleman for his hospitality and the presents very liberally bestowed; and the party all listened with great attention to the Christian advice which he gave them, recommending to them also to lay down all their weapons of war, and to study the arts of peace. These remarks seemed to have made a deep impression on their minds, for they were daily talking of this kind man and the advice and information he gave them.
Having finished our exhibitions by advertisement, but being detained a few days longer in Dublin than we expected by the illness of the Roman Nose, an opportunity was afforded the Indians to attend a number of evening parties, to which they were invited by families of the Society of Friends, and treated with the greatest kindness and attention.
The Indians had thus formed their notions of the beautiful city of Dublin by riding through it repeatedly in all its parts—by viewing, outside and in, its churches, its colleges, its gardens, and other places of amusement; and of its inhabitants, by meeting them in the exhibition rooms, and in their own houses, at their hospitable boards. They decided that Edinburgh was rather the most beautiful city; that in Glasgow they saw the most ragged and poor; and that in Dublin they met the warmest-hearted and most kind people of any they had seen in the kingdom. In Dublin, as in Glasgow, they had been in the habit of throwing handfuls of pence to the poor; and at length had got them baited, so that gangs of hungry, ragged creatures were daily following their carriage home to their door, and there waiting under their windows for the pence that were often showered down upon their heads.
Out of the thousands of beggars that I met while there (and many of whom extracted money from my pocket by their wit or drollery when I was not disposed to give it), there was but one of whom I shall make mention in this place. In my daily walk from my hotel to the Rotunda, there was an old, hardy-looking veteran, who used often to meet me and solicit with great importunity, as I had encouraged him by giving to him once or twice when I first met him. I was walking on that pavement one day with an American friend whom I had met, and, observing this old man coming at some distance ahead of us on the same pavement, I said to my friend, “Now watch the motions of that old fellow as he comes up to beg—look at the expression of his face.” When we had got within a few rods of him the old man threw his stomach in, and one knee in an instant seemed out of joint, and his face! oh, most pitiable to look upon. We approached him arm-in-arm, and while coming towards him I put my hand in my pocket as if I was getting out some money, which brought this extraordinary expression from him: “My kind sir, may the gates of Heaven open to receive you!”—(by this time we had got by him, and, seeing that my hand remained stationary in my pocket, as he had turned round and was scowling daggers at me)—“and may you be kicked out the moment you get there!”
There is an inveteracy in the Irish begging and wit that shows it to be native and not borrowed; it is therefore more irresistible and more successful than in any other country perhaps in the world. I speak this, however, merely as an opinion of my own, formed on the many instances where the very reasons I assigned for not giving were so ingeniously and suddenly turned into irresistible arguments for giving, that my hand was in my pocket before I was aware of it.
The Indians however gave from other motives; not able to appreciate their wit, they had discernment enough to see the wretchedness that existed among the poor people in the lanes and outskirts of the city, and too much pity in their hearts not to try with their money to relieve them; and in that way I fully believe that they gave a very considerable proportion of the money they had received since they entered the city.
The symptoms of the poor Roman Nose, whose case was now decided to be almost hopeless, were a little more favourable, and it was agreed, with his united wish, that we should start for Liverpool by steamer; and on the morning when we went on board, the Indians were more strongly than ever confirmed in their belief that the Friends were the people who had taken the deepest interest in their welfare, by meeting nearly all they had seen in their numerous visits, down at the wharf, to shake hands with them, and wish them an everlasting farewell! Such proof as this, which brought even tears in their eyes, will be the last to be forgotten by them or by me, and should be the last to be overlooked in the public acknowledgment I am now making.
Our voyage across the Channel was easy and pleasant; and amongst the numerous and fashionable people on board, poor Jim had the mortification of trying to test the intrinsic value of his numerous stock of Bibles by occasionally offering one that he carried in his pouch. “I no sell 'em—they no like 'em,” was his reply again; and he began to doubt the value of them, which he was greatly disappointed to find they had fixed much above their market-price.
On landing at the wharf in Liverpool the Indians recognised the spot where they first set their feet upon English soil, and they raised the yell (not unlike the war-whoop) which is given by war-parties when, returning from battle, they are able to see their own village. This gathered a great crowd in a few moments, that was exceedingly difficult to disperse, and it instilled new ambition and strength into the poor Roman Nose, who thought in his weakness that they were near home; but he rallied only to look out and realize that he was too far from his home ever to see it again.
Lodgings had been prepared for them, to which they immediately repaired; and, as their sinking companion was so rapidly declining, they were all in sadness, though they tried, poor fellows, to be gay and cheerful. Their exhibitions had been advertised to commence, and they proceeded with them. Before they commenced, however, a feast was made to thank the Great Spirit for having conducted them quite around England to the place from whence they started, and also for the benefit of the health of their fellow-warrior, the Roman Nose.