640 THE GEOKGE CATLIN INDIAN GALLERY. 



'bus stopped at a "commercial inn," which was open, and lighted up in front, and a 

 number of passengers getting out, and others down from the top, I was seeing to get my 

 luggage in safe, and the omnibus drove off with my jolly companion still on the top; or 

 this I presumed, as he was not left behind. My only alternative now was to make the 

 best of it, and be as comfortable as I could; so I got into the "commercial room," and 

 having been told that I should have a bed, I felt quite easy. 



SCENE AT COMMEECIAL INN. 



A very genteel- looking little man whom I had seen in the same carriage with me,, and 

 now sitting in the room before me, with his carpet-bag by the side of him, and his um- 

 brella in his hand, addressed me, " Stranger, you'll allow me." "Certainly, sir." "I 

 think I heard you tell a gentleman in the carriage that you were from New York. " 

 "Yes, I did so." "I'm from there. I left there four months ago, and I've gone 

 ahead, or I'll be shot. How long have you bin from there, sir." "About five years." 

 " ! there's been great fixin's there in that time. You'd scarcely know New York 



now. 



* 



My new acquaintance and I talked a little more before we " turned in," but much 

 more after we had got into bed. He could command words and ideas fast enough when 

 he was on his feet; but I found in him something of Jim's peculiarity, that he thought 

 much faster and stronger when on his back; and for half an hour or so I reaped the 

 benefit of the improvement. How long I heard him, and how much he actually said, 

 I never could tell exactly; but what he said before I went to sleep I always distinctly 

 recoUecte'd, and a mere sentence or two of it was as follows: "Well, stranger, here we 

 are; this is droll, ain't it? 'hodd,' as the landlady would call it. I'd a been in the 

 streets to-night as sure as catgut if it hadn't been for you. God knows I am obliged to 

 you. You've got a sort o' way o' gettin' along ur' these ere darned, ignorant, stupid 

 sort o' beings. I can't do it, dod rot 'em ! they put me out at every step; they are so 

 eternally ignorant; did you ever see the like? I suppose you are going to stop awhile 

 in Birmingham ?" "A few days. " "I shall be here a week, and be bright and early 

 enough to get into a decenter house than this is, and be glad to join you. I was told 

 in London that the loway Indians went on here yesterday. I'm damned anxious to 

 meet them. You've seen them, I suppose?" " Yes, I saw them in London. " "Well, 

 I did not; I was just too late; but I must go and look 'em up to-morrow. They know 



me." "Then you have seen them?" "Oh, 'em, yes; I've known them for several 



years; they'll be at home with me at once. I've run buffaloes with White Cloud, the 

 chief, many and many a time. He and I have camped out more than once. They are 

 a fine set of fellows. I'm going to spend some time with them in Birmingham. I 

 know 'em like a book. Oh, yes, they'll know me quick enough. I was all through 

 their country. I went clean up Lake Superior, nearly to Hudson's Bay. I saw all the 

 Chippeways and the Blackfeet, and the Crows, Catlin's old friends. By the way, Cat- 

 lin, I'm told, is with these Indians, or was, when they were in London. He's all sorts 

 of a man." "Have you seen him?" "Seen him, why, — — it, I raised him, as the 

 saying is. I have known him all my life. I met him a number of times in the prairie 

 country; he's a roarer." This was about the last that I distinctly recollected before 

 going to sleep; and the next morning my vigilant and wide-awake little bed-fellow, be- 

 ing about the room a little before me, where my name was conspicuous on my carpet- 

 bag and writing desk, &c., had from some cause or other thought it would be less trouble 

 and bother to wend his way amongst these "stupid and ignorant beings " alone than to 

 encounter the Indians and Mr. Catlin, and endeavor to obliterate'the hasty professions 

 he had made; and therefore, when I came down and called for breakfast for two, the 

 landlady informed me that my companion had paid his bill and left at an early hour. 

 I was rather sorry for this, for he was quite an amusing little man, and I have never 

 heard of him since. 



