Every available space on the tops of the towers and other high places of advantage, as well as on the banks of the river, was covered by thousands upon thousands of human beings, of all kinds and colors, and from all climes, gazing upon the greatest and most sublime works of man and God—the like of which, in my humble judgment, has never before been seen on earth—surpassing, in many respects, the mighty pyramids of Egypt, the handiwork of the ancient world; and showing, to my mind, not only the wonderful skill of the human race, but also the power, wisdom, and goodness of the “Great Architect of the Universe.”
I had my doubts about the experiment of marching Jumbo over this great structure. I calculated that if I could coax him into keeping up regular marching order I might possibly get through the performance with safety, but then I also knew if he would commence any of his antics up aloft on that bridge, and begin to dance a hornpipe, so to speak, I expected he would shake the whole concern down into the river.
My readers may not readily understand what is meant here, so I will explain a little. If you will think for a moment you will see that when Jumbo put his foot down on the bridge, as he marched along from New York to Brooklyn, the bridge rebounded after the shock given by his foot. The rebound was met by his second footstep, and there was a great vibration caused by it.
I am said to have a pretty strong nerve, but it was something terrible to feel that vibration as we walked quietly along the promenade of the bridge. I assure my reader that I was thankful when we arrived on the Brooklyn side.
Of course the tens of thousands of spectators who perched and stood on every available space of the bridge and the banks of the river knew nothing of the danger. I alone, perhaps, was the only party in the transaction aware of it, and I was fortunate enough to keep Jumbo in good humor.
I may add that Jumbo was very much interested in what was going on around him. He knew just as well as myself that we were passing through an experiment (for had I not spent most of the previous night explaining to him what we were about to try and do), and as he looked down from the great promenade to the two lines of rails, one on each side, the two carriage drives, one on each side, and the railway underneath, all heavily freighted with human beings, he seemed to appreciate his high position. There were steamboats and ships sailing on the river, the beautiful islands lying out in the Bay, and the “City of Churches” in front of us, with all its array of spires, chimneys, and house-tops. I can tell you, my readers, it was no ordinary event, and neither Jumbo nor I had much time or disposition to think of the great crowds of spectators who were so intently looking on. I may be pardoned if I say, for the information of my readers of both countries, that I know of nothing in the world equal to the sight which I took in at the moment I looked at the uplifted faces of that mighty crowd of the human family.
CHAPTER XII.
HOW JUMBO WAS IMPRESSED BY THE “GREAT BRIDGE”—VARIOUS INCIDENTS AND CONCLUSIONS.
Jumbo was very much amused at looking down into the river below. He did not evidently understand the meaning of a steamboat rushing along under his legs, so to speak, and I felt rather funny as I watched his keen, intelligent eye. Indeed, I may say, that when I and Jumbo are experimenting we always watch each other, “looking into each other’s eyes, for the language of the heart,” and so far we have been able to understand each other. So much so, that if Jumbo was not fast by the foot to a cable-chain of enormous strength, he would at a look from my eye into his follow me wherever I might choose to lead him, and there is no power on earth, I think, that could prevent him obeying that look of command. But as I was saying Jumbo was constantly looking down below. He thought more about looking down to see what he was walking on than he did of looking up to the heavens, or at the gaping wondering crowd that occupied and lined the windows and house-tops, and which was to be seen on every available spot which commanded an elevated view.
As we looked down the funnels of the steamboats, and took a glance at the ships from a balloon-point of view, it was awfully interesting for me to answer Jumbo’s questions, for my reader must remember that Jumbo had never seen a steamboat on the river. Indeed, if Jumbo had not been interested asking me questions about railways, and road ways, and steam cars, and steamboats, and about how it was that instead of walking down the streets lined with thousands upon thousands of people, we were walking on a set of planks suspended by wire spans at an elevation level with the tops of houses and warehouses, ten stories high I am sure, as I said, if it had not been for his many silent questions, spoken of above, I could never have got him over Brooklyn Bridge. It was the first bridge of the kind that he ever walked on, and I for one was very thankful when the journey was ended and we were once more onterra firma.
The sea of human faces that greeted us as we left the bridge to promenade the Brooklyn streets and avenues was a sight never to be forgotten.
An accident occurred after we left the bridge, on the Brooklyn side, as we passed along Fulton Street. The crowd was so vast and so anxious to see Jumbo, the “wonder of the world,” that the people on the house-tops, on the balconies, and in the garret windows had to strain every nerve to look over each other, in order to get a sight of Jumbo. As we went up the street—one of Brooklyn’s widest and finest business streets—the excitement became so intense and demonstrative, that it was a relief when we got through. The accident occurred to a little girl, eagerly stretched out of a four-story window to obtain a peep at Jumbo. She overreached herself and fell to the ground, where she lost her young life. I only heard of this very sad accident a long time after it occurred, and at that distant time it caused me pain, as I thought of the poor mother’s feelings when she raised up the shattered remains of her darling child.
It now comes to the time of ending this book about Jumbo and his keeper, your humble servant. It is my first and perhaps last attempt to give to the world our histories. It is my sincere hope that my humble efforts may be received as kindly by you as the writer has always been. If so, it is needless to say I shall be more than rewarded; and if poor, dear old Jumbo could but speak he would join in what I say.
FINIS.
TRANSCRIBER NOTES
Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in punctuation have been maintained.
Some illustrations moved to facilitate page layout.
Original cover damage repaired.
[The end ofAutobiography of Matthew Scott, Jumbo's Keeper; also Jumbo's Biography, by Matthew Scott.]