Catlin opens Volume II with the arrival of fourteen Ioway Indians in London, lodging in St. James’s Street. The narrative immediately establishes a pattern of cultural collision: the landlady’s alarm at her new tenants, the Doctor (medicine man) climbing atop the hall, and the Indians’ first bus ride. Catlin records their impressions of London with a specificity that avoids generalization—the Lascars sweeping streets, a man with a big nose, the railroad from Liverpool. These details ground the account in observed moments rather than abstract commentary.

The early chapters also introduce the “jolly fat dame,” a recurring figure whose interactions with the Indians—particularly her mistaken gift of a gold bracelet to the Doctor—generate both comedy and tension. Catlin’s method is to let such episodes unfold through reported speech and action, leaving the reader to gauge the power dynamics at play.

The Doctor’s Character and the Spectacle of Performance

Catlin devotes considerable attention to the Doctor, the medicine or mystery man, whose behavior oscillates between shrewd showmanship and genuine bafflement. In Chapter XVIII, the Doctor’s jealousy over the “jolly fat dame” favoring Roman Nose reveals a human vulnerability beneath the exoticized surface. Catlin describes the Doctor’s war-dress and war-paint with ethnographic precision, but he also notes the Doctor’s own speeches—such as his description of the railroad—which blend wonder with critique.

The performances themselves are catalogued in detail: the Eagle-dance, War-dance, Welcome-dance, Bear-dance, Pipe-of-peace (or Calumet) dance, and Scalp-dance. Catlin records audience reactions—great amusement, applause—but also the Indians’ own responses, like the Wolf-song. The chapter’s structure juxtaposes staged authenticity with the backstage realities of negotiation, payment, and the constant threat of misunderstanding.

Generosity and the Sight of Urban Poverty

A striking pattern emerges in the Indians’ daily habit of throwing pennies to the ragged poor they passed on their rides. Catlin reports that they changed shillings into pennies before starting, and that their carriage was soon followed by beggars. The Indians expressed surprise that poorhouses were full, and their generosity became so well known that “gangs of beggars were stationed great part of the day to get their pennies.” Catlin and Mr. Melody tried to check this, but the Indians persisted, scattering “some pounds of their money” into the streets.

This detail is not merely anecdotal; it recurs as a motif that contrasts the Indians’ own material circumstances with the poverty they witness. The War-chief later invokes this experience when refusing to discuss religion with visiting gentlemen, pointing to “the hundreds and thousands of poor and hungry people that we see in your streets every day.” The Indians’ almsgiving becomes a form of silent commentary on the society they are touring.

The War-chief’s Rejection of Missionary Overtures

One of the most pointed episodes occurs when two gentlemen propose to discuss religion and education with the Indians. Initially refused by Daniel, they are eventually admitted. The War-chief, sitting on the floor in a corner, tells them he sees no necessity for talk, as they have already heard from “much more intelligent-looking men” and given answers that “Chippehola” (Catlin) has written down. He then delivers a speech that directly links his disillusionment with white society’s religion to the visible poverty in London: “When we first came over we thought that where you had so many preachers … we should find the white people all good and sober people; but as we travel about we find this was all a mistake.”

The response is met with exclamations of “How, how, how!” from the other Indians, and Jim, lying on a table, turns over onto his back, drawing up his knees in an attitude of speaking. Catlin’s transcription preserves the oratorical structure and the collective assent, offering a rare instance of the Indians’ own critique of European civilization.

Roman Nose’s Decline and the Limits of Catlin’s Record

Throughout the excerpts, Roman Nose’s health deteriorates. Catlin notes that he “seemed daily to be losing flesh and strength,” and a physician diagnoses pulmonary consumption. Despite his fine appearance months earlier, Roman Nose becomes too weak to participate in exhibitions. Catlin’s language here is restrained: “This was the first decided alarm we had about him, and still it was difficult to believe.” The narrative does not speculate on outcomes, but the trajectory is clear.

Catlin’s role as both chronicler and manager is evident. He records the physician’s attendance, the Indians’ daily routines, and the growing apprehensions of Mr. Melody and himself. Yet the excerpts leave gaps: we do not learn Roman Nose’s fate, nor the full context of the Indians’ travels beyond London. Catlin’s method is to present what he observes, without filling in motives or futures. This restraint gives the account a documentary quality, but also leaves the reader to infer the emotional weight behind the clinical details.

Catlin’s second volume resists easy categorization as either travelogue or ethnography. It is a record of encounters—between Indians and audiences, between generosity and poverty, between performance and illness. The reader is advised to attend to the small moments: the Doctor on the housetop, the pennies thrown from a carriage, the War-chief’s refusal to speak. These are the points where the text’s documentary surface cracks, revealing the human negotiations beneath. Catlin’s own position as author, interpreter, and showman remains implicit, but his choices of what to record shape every page.