"Alars! no," I ansered; "we boste of our enterprise and improvements, and yit we are devoid of a Tower.America, oh my onhappy country! thou hast not got no Tower! It's a sweet Boon."The gates was opened after awhile, and we all purchist tickets and went into a waitin-room.
"My frens," said a pale-faced little man, in black close, "this is a sad day.""Inasmuch as to how?" I said.
"I mean it is sad to think that so many peple have been killed within these gloomy walls.My frens, let us drop a tear!""No," I said, "you must excuse me.Others may drop one if they feel like it; but as for me, I decline.The early managers of this institootion were a bad lot, and their crimes were trooly orful; but I can't sob for those who died four or five hundred years ago.If they was my own relations I couldn't.It's absurd to shed sobs over things which occurd during the rain of Henry the Three.Let us be cheerful," I continnerd "Look at the festiv Warders, in their red flannil jackets.They are cheerful, and why should it not be thusly with us?"A Warder now took us in charge, and showed us the Trater's Gate, the armers, and things.The Trater's Gate is wide enuff to admit about twenty trater's abrest, I should jedge; but beyond this, Icouldn't see that it was superior to gates in gen'ral.
Traters, I will here remark, are a onfortnit class of peple.If they wasn't, they wouldn't be traters.They conspire to bust up a country--they fail, and they're traters.They bust her, and they become statesmen and heroes.
Take the case of Gloster, afterwards Old **** the Three, who may be seen at the Tower, on horseback, in a heavy tin overcoat--take Mr.Gloster's case.Mr.G.was a conspirater of the basist dye, and if he'd failed, he would have been hung on a sour apple tree.
But Mr.G.succeeded, and became great.He was slewd by Col.
Richmond, but he lives in histry, and his equestrian figger may be seen daily for a sixpence, in conjunction with other em'nent persons, and no extra charge for the Warder's able and bootiful lectur.
There's one king in the room who is mounted onto a foamin steed, his right hand graspin a barber's pole.I didn't learn his name.
The room where the daggers and pistils and other weppins is kept is interestin.Among this collection of choice cutlery I notist the bow and arrer which those hot-heded old chaps used to conduct battles with.It is quite like the bow and arrer used at this day by certin tribes of American Injuns, and they shoot 'em off with such a excellent precision that I almost sigh'd to be a Injun, when I was in the Rocky Mountain regin.They are a pleasant lot them Injuns.Mr.Cooper and Dr.Catlin have told us of the red man's wonerful eloquence, and I found it so.Our party was stopt on the plains of Utah by a band of Shoshones, whose chief said:
"Brothers! the pale-face is welcome.Brothers! the sun is sinkin in the West, and Wa-na-bucky-she will soon cease speakin.
Brothers! the poor red man belongs to a race which is fast becomin extink."He then whooped in a shrill manner, stole all our blankets and whisky, and fled to the primeval forest to conceal his emotions.
I will remark here, while on the subjeck of Injuns, that they are in the main a very shaky set, with even less sense than the Fenians, and when I hear philanthropists bewailin the fack that every year "carries the noble red man nearer the settin sun," Isimply have to say I'm glad of it, tho' it is rough on the settin sun.They call you by the sweet name of Brother one minit, and the next they scalp you with their Thomashawks.But I wander.
Let us return to the Tower.
At one end of the room where the weppins is kept, is a wax figger of Queen Elizabeth, mounted on a fiery stuffed hoss, whose glass eye flashes with pride, and whose red morocker nostril dilates hawtily, as if conscious of the royal burden he bears.I have associated Elizabeth with the Spanish Armady.She's mixed up with it at the Surry Theatre, where "Troo to the Core" is bein acted, and in which a full bally core is introjooced on board the Spanish Admiral's ship, givin the audiens the idee that he intends openin a moosic-hall in Plymouth the moment he conkers that town.But a very interesting drammer is "Troo to the Core,"notwithstandin the eccentric conduck of the Spanish Admiral; and very nice it is in Queen Elizabeth to make Martin Truegold a baronet.
The Warder shows us some instrooments of tortur, such as thumbscrews, throat-collars, etc., statin that these was conkerd from the Spanish Armady, and addin what a crooil peple the Spaniards was in them days--which elissited from a bright eyed little girl of about twelve summers the remark that she tho't it WAS rich to talk about the crooilty of the Spaniards usin thumbscrews, when we was in a Tower where so many poor pepl's heads had been cut off.This made the Warder stammer and turn red.
I was so blessed with the little girl's brightness that I could have kissed the dear child, and I would if she'd been six years older.
I think my companions intended makin a day of it, for they all had sandwiches, sassiges, etc.The sad-lookin man, who had wanted us to drop a tear afore we started to go round, fling'd such quantities of sassige into his mouth, that I expected to see him choke hisself to death.He said to me, in the Beauchamp Tower, where the poor prisoners writ their onhappy names on the cold walls, "This is a sad sight.""It is, indeed," I anserd."You're black in the face.You shouldn't eat sassige in public without some rehearsals beforehand.You manage it orkwardly.""No," he said, "I mean this sad room."
