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 on _terra 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 of _Autobiography of Matthew Scott, Jumbo's Keeper; also
Jumbo's Biography_, by Matthew Scott.]