GOING TO THE CATTLE SHOW
About this time we began to hear raccoons, in the early part of the
night. There were numbers of these animals in the woods about the farm;
they had their retreats in hollow trees and sometimes came into the corn
fields. I first heard one while coming home from the Edwardses one
evening; the strange, quavering cry frightened me; for I imagined that
it was the cry of a "lucivee," concerning which the boys were talking a
good deal at this time. One was said to have attacked a farmer on the
highway a little beyond the Batchelder place. The animal leaped into the
back part of the man's wagon and fought savagely for possession of a
quarter of beef. Repeated blows from a whip-stock failed to dislodge it,
till it had ridden for ten or fifteen rods, when it leaped off the
wagon, but followed, growling, for some distance. As nearly as this man
could judge, in the dim light of evening, the animal was as large as a
good-sized dog. The "lucivee," or _loup-cervier_, is the lynx
Canadensis, which ordinarily attains a weight of no more than
twenty-five pounds, but occasionally grows larger and displays great
fierceness and courage.
I made haste home and calling Addison out, asked him whether that
strange cry which still issued at intervals from the woodland, over
towards the Aunt Hannah lot, was made by the much dreaded "lucivee." He
laughed and was disposed to play on my fears for a while, but at length
told me that it was nothing more savage than a 'coon. The wild note had
struck a singularly responsive fiber within me; and to this day I never
hear a raccoon's hollow cry at night, without a sudden recurrence of the
same eerie sensation.
About this time we all became much interested in the approaching Cattle
Show, which was to be held at the Fair Grounds, near the village, during
the last week of September. Thomas bantered me strongly to raise two
dollars and go into partnership with him in an old horse which he knew
of and which he desired to buy and enter for the "slow race." The horse
could be purchased for three or four dollars and was so very stiff in
the knees as to be almost certain of winning the "slow race," thereby
securing a "purse" of ten dollars.
What with Thomas' enthusiasm, this looked to me, at the time, to be a
very alluring investment. Tom had also another scheme for winning the
"purse" of the "scrub race," where every kind of animal took the track
at one and the same time. The Harland boys--where we went to mill--owned
a large mongrel dog that had been taught to haul a little cart. He was
known to be a fast runner; and Tom had intelligence that he was in the
market, at a price of two dollars. If we could secure him, there was
little doubt that the scrub-race purse would easily drop into our hats.
I had to confess to doubts whether the Old Squire would consent to my
embarking in such speculations.
"But you needn't show in it," said Tom quietly. "I'll do all the trading
and keep them over at our barn." The way being thus opened to a silent
partnership, I began a canvass of all my assets.
Thomas was also intending to enter a colt and a yoke of yearling steers
for the premiums on those classes of animals. Addison intended to enter
one of the Old Squire's yokes of steers; and Tom acknowledged to me that
his own chance was slim on steers, since ours were the larger and
better-matched.
Gram usually sent in one or more firkins of butter, several cheeses and
even loaves of bread and cake. The Old Squire exhibited several head of
cattle and sometimes his entire herd; also sheep, hogs and poultry. Then
there was always an extensive exhibit of apples, pears and grapes,
arranged on plates, as also seed-corn, wheat, barley, buckwheat, oats
and garden vegetables. We were occupied for fully a fortnight, that
season, gathering and preparing our various exhibits.
In addition, Halstead and Addison expected to do a flourishing business
selling apples, pears and grapes; they also talked of opening an eating
booth on the Fair Grounds, with baked beans, cakes, pies and hot coffee;
and they had agreed with Theodora and Ellen to prepare the food
beforehand, and take a share in the profits. The previous fall they had
sold cider (moderately sweet) and done very well; but Addison had become
so rigid a temperance reformer, during the year, that he would not now
deal in cider.
This being my first season at the farm, I was not included as a partner
in these lucrative privileges, but expected to be admitted to them all
the following year. Meantime I intended to learn about it, and expected
to derive a great deal of pleasure from attending the coming exhibition.
There were to be numerous "attractions," besides the slow race, and the
scrub race, which was for any kind of animal that had legs and could run
except horses. I had finally raised two dollars to invest with Tom in
the old horse, named "Ponkus," previously alluded to, and by a hard
strain on my resources also became interested to the extent of another
dollar with him in "Tige," the cart dog, for the scrub race.
The Fair Grounds were located near the neighboring village, about seven
miles distant from the Old Squire's, and consisted of a large wooden
building and a high fence, enclosing about thirty acres of land. The
admission fee was fifteen cents. The Fair continued three days: Tuesday,
Wednesday and Thursday, of the last week of September.
We set off at four o'clock of the opening day, Addison, Halse, Thomas
and I driving three ox-carts, loaded with farm products. We had also to
lead "Ponkus" and a two-year-old Hereford bull behind the carts, and
manage a yoke of Durham steers for the "town team;" our progress was
therefore slow and it was nine o'clock in the forenoon before we arrived
at the Grounds and had made a disposition of our various charges.
A great crowd of people was pouring through the gate of the enclosure.
Fully four thousand people were already on the grounds; and a gaudy
array of "side shows" at once attracted our attention. There were
counters and carts for cider, gingerbread and confectionery. Loud-voiced
auctioneers were selling "patent medicines" and knickknacks of all
sorts.
Close at hand, a snare drum and fife, inside a tent, drew attention to
"a rare and wonderful show of wild animals," which the fakir at the door
declared to consist of "a pair of bald eagles, two panther cubs, a
prairie wolf and Hindoo seal," and sometimes he said "prairie wolf and
Bengal tiger."
Then there were rather disreputable fellows with "whirl-boards" at "ten
cents a whirl;" with "ring-boards" at "five cents a pitch," and ten
cents made when you lodged the rings on the points. There was also a
blind-fold professor of phrenology, who examined heads at fifteen cents
_per cranium_.
In the crowd, too, were even less reputable fellows, who sought to
entrap rural youths into "betting on cards," and making "rare bargains"
in delusive watches. Altogether it was an animated scene, for young
eyes. Addison, Halse and Theodora were occupied with their "booth."
Ellen and Wealthy were with Gram in the Fair building, where the fruit
and dairy products had to be watched and presided over. The Old Squire
was a member of numerous committees on stock and other farm exhibits. We
hardly caught sight of him during the day. For my own part I kept with
Thomas and "Tige," whose little wagon for racing we had brought down in
one of the ox-carts. We avoided the sharpers, for the good reason that
we had very little money in our pockets. We were cheated but once, by a
youthful Philistine who had "tumblers to break," suspended in a row by a
string.
We paid him ten cents, and standing off at a distance of forty feet,
threw a nicely-whittled club at the row of suspended glasses. If we
broke one, we were to receive twenty-five cents. The safety of the
tumblers lay in the extreme lightness of the clubs, which were of dry
pine wood, much lighter than their size indicated. Tom and I each threw
the clubs twice. Not a tumbler was injured. The proprietor called it a
"game of skill;" but it was nearer a game of swindling.
But the slow race and scrub race were the features that interested us
most. In explanation I may say that a "slow race" is not an uncommon
attraction at a county fair. Usually the object in racing horses is to
exhibit speed; but the "slow race" is for the slowest horse--the one
which is longest in hobbling a mile. To prevent cheating, no one is
allowed to drive his own horse; if he enters for the race he must drive
a horse that has been entered by another person. Of course, under such
conditions each man drives over the track as quickly as he can, since it
is for his interest to do so. The "purse," or prize, at the Fair that
fall was ten dollars; that is to say, the man who entered the slowest
old skeleton of a horse, received ten dollars, together with the cheers
and jeers of the crowd. Public sentiment is now more humane and
wholesome.
What Thomas and I had in view was the ten dollars; and we did not
believe there was a horse in the county that could beat our old
"Ponkus" at going slow.
There were no restrictions in the race. Anybody who had a horse was at
liberty to enter him for it. The time set for the race was four o'clock
in the afternoon. A little before that hour, Thomas drove Ponkus on to
the track, in an old "thoroughbrace" wagon.
We found that as many as twelve different horses (or wrecks of horses)
had been entered for the race. It was an odd and venerable-looking troop
that drew up near the judge's stand, which was to be the starting point.
There was one horse with the "spring halt" in both hind legs, and he
lifted his feet nearly a yard high at every step. There was another with
three "spavins" and a "ring-bone" on the remaining leg. Still another
had the "heaves" so badly that its breathing could be heard twenty rods
away. In fact, every one had some ailment or defect. The agents of the
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals had not yet made their
way into our locality.
The owners surveyed the rival nags with a critical eye. The bystanders
laughed and made bets. The horse with the "spring halt," that lifted
both hind legs so high, was the popular favorite at first. But soon a
fresh roar from the crowd told of the approach of another "racer."
A tin-peddler, with his cart and great bags of paper-rags on top, came
in. The first glimpse of the peddler's horse sent dismay to the rest of
us. Besides being utterly stiff-kneed and knock-kneed, it was really
nothing but a moving skeleton. Its hair looked as dead as that on a
South American cow-hide, and nearly every bone in its frame might have
been counted.
The crowd shouted, "Room! Room there! Room for old Rack-o'-bones! Don't
breathe or he'll tumble down! Is he balky? Will he kick? Check him up!"
The peddler had been passing the Fair Grounds on his way through the
county, when some wag had hailed him and induced him to enter his horse
for the race. He was a little wiry man forty or fifty years old, dressed
in a soiled tweed coat and a boy's cloth cap.
He wanted to drive his horse, harnessed as it was in the tin-cart; but
the rest of us cried out against it; he therefore took the cart off the
forward wheels, and strapped a salt-box to the axle, to sit on. It was a
queer sort of "sulky." There was not much to choose, however; all the
horses were in rickety wagons, or battered gigs.
The drivers "changed over." They then got the animals as nearly in line
at the bar as possible, ready for the word "Go." Just then it was
discovered that one of the horses had a sharp stone adroitly inserted in
his shoe, so as to press up against the "frog" of his foot, and still
further cripple the poor beast. The judges promptly excluded this horse,
and reprimanded his owner.
"Go!" was then shouted. And they went. The crowd whooped and cheered and
whistled. Such a strident chorus of "Get-daps," "Geh-langs," "Hud-dups!"
and such frantic efforts to get those horses into a trot were never
before seen or heard in those parts! Each jostled and ran against others
in his wild efforts to get past his neighbors and rivals. One gig broke
down, and the driver had to mount on horseback; but he went the better
for that, and got past all the rest. Altogether, it was the noisiest,
dustiest, most harum-scarum race that can be imagined! They got around
at last, the most of them, and began to look about. The peddler's horse
was not to be seen.
"Where's Rack-o'-bones?" we asked each other. The shouts and
gesticulations of the spectators soon told us as to his whereabouts. The
peddler's horse had not yet got _half way round_! A snail could have
crawled almost as fast. The animal could not step more than six inches
at once, to save its life.
The most amusing part of it to the crowd was that the little peddler did
not understand about the race, and thought that instead of winning he
was hopelessly beaten. It took the judges some minutes to make him
comprehend that he had won the race. His small, greedy, gray eyes shone
when he was given the ten dollars.
"Don't envy him, boys," said one of the judges. "The man is entitled to
the pity of the entire assemblage for owning or using such a horse."
The slow race came off the first day; but our folks attended the Fair,
not only upon the following day, which was the principal day, but on the
third day also. We did not reach home at night till eight or nine
o'clock, and were astir and off again by five o'clock next morning; for
we had our stock at the Fair Grounds to look after. Gram had hired Aunt
Olive Witham to stay at the farm that week and keep house; and she not
only kept house, but kept the barn as well, and did all the milking for
us.
On the second day came the _bona fide_ horse trots, of great interest to
all owning horses troubled with that dangerous disease--speed.
On the third and last day, a young fellow with a cageful of dancing
turkeys divided public attention about equally with a white-haired and
long-bearded man from Newfoundland who "ate glass tumblers," biting off
and chewing up great mouthfuls of glass, as if it were a crust of bread.
Afterwards this same old Blue-nose fought with his own large
Newfoundland dog, using only his mouth, growling and snapping in such a
frightful way that it was hard telling which brute was the dog. But the
final and most exciting feature of the day, was the "scrub race," which
came off at four o'clock in the afternoon.
In this race any and every animal was allowed to take part, except
horses. Men, boys, dogs harnessed into carts and carrying their owners,
cows, steers and goats, anything on four legs or two, could compete
except the genus _equus_. The prize was ten dollars to the winner,
meaning he, she or it, that first reached the judge's stand. An extra
rail had been put up in the fence enclosing the race-course, to keep the
contestants on the track and out of the crowd.
Among the competitors were three men and about a dozen boys. The
interest of the spectators, however, centered on the four-footed
"racers." Among these was a little black and white Canadian cow, with
fawn-colored legs and slim black-tipped horns. This creature was the
property of a Frenchman, who could speak scarcely a word of English. She
was harnessed, like a horse, and dragged an old pair of wheels.
_Jinnay_, as her owner called her, galloped over the track at an
astonishing speed.
Then there was a boy with a stub-tailed, brindled bulldog. The dog was
harnessed into a little four-wheeled wagon, just big enough for the
driver to sit in. Another lad, in a two-wheeled cart, drove a great,
curly, shaggy Newfoundland dog. And still another boy drove a small,
stocky, reddish-yellow dog, of no particular breed. This latter dog had
erect, prick ears, and a very surly expression of countenance. His tail
was apparently as straight and stiff as a file. He answered to the name
of Gub, and his master to that of Jimmy Stirks.
Then there was an old man with a large, mouse-colored jackass, and
another man with a mule. The mule, however, was ruled out by the judges,
on the ground that he had "horse-blood" in him.
All in good time Tom drove in with our "Tige."
At the word "Go" from the judges, there was a mad scratch for it. Men,
boys, dogs, cows and donkey started over the course, in most laughable
confusion. Tige barked from pure delight at the uproar, as he dashed
on, swinging his great bushy tail.
The Frenchman with his cow was the popular favorite. Above all the din
of the race, the voice of the little Canadian could be heard screaming,
"_Mush daw! Mush daw!_" as he plied his stick, and sometimes, "_Herret,
Jinnay! Herret, twa sacre petite broot!_" In the height of the
confusion, the jackass brayed. That was the final touch of fun for the
crowd.
Tige might have won, if he had attended to his business; but his delight
seemed to be in barking, and chasing Jinnay. The little yellow "chunked"
dog, with the prick ears, on the contrary, never turned to right or
left, but shot like an arrow straight for his mark. How those little
cart-wheels did buzz! And he won the race by eight or ten rods, leaving
men, boys, and Jinnay behind. His owner was a proud boy that afternoon,
and a "great man" among his fellows; but Tom and I were somewhat
depressed.
Addison took a premium with his yoke of yearling Durham steers, much to
the chagrin of Alfred Batchelder who had also entered a pair for the
prize. Alfred so far lost his temper as to talk outrageously to Addison
upon their way home, on the evening of the third day of the Fair, after
the awards had been announced. He alleged that the Old Squire, being on
the stock "committees," had given Addison the premium, unjustly. For he
thought (although no one else did) that his steers were the best on the
grounds. The charge was a baseless one; for the Old Squire was not a
member of the committee on steers that year, but only on oxen and
horses.
A ridiculous accident happened as the people were coming home from the
Fair that third night. There was a great deal to be drawn home; and
consequently a very long procession of carts and wagons was tailing
along the road, toward nightfall; also the cows and other cattle which
had been on exhibition. The Edwards family, the Wilburs, as also the
Sylvesters and the Batchelders, were well represented; and not only
those from our immediate neighborhood, but others from various places
more remote. All were journeying homeward along the highway beside the
lake; not less than forty teams all told, loaded with every variety of
farm produce, also the farmers' wives and children.
It was very dusty, and horse teams were constantly driving past the
slower ox-carts, for some of the young fellows and a few of the older
ones were quite ready to show off the paces of their nags. After this
manner they went on, with here and there two or three teams cutting in
ahead of the slower ones, till the forward teams reached "Wilkins Hill,"
a long, and in some places, quite steep ascent in the road about two
miles from the Old Squire's.
Near the top of the hill Roscoe Batchelder--an older brother of
Alfred--who owned a "fast horse" and had been driving past most of the
other teams on the way home, overtook Willis Murch with his ox-team,
consisting of a yoke of oxen and a yoke of two-year-old steers. Willis
had started quite early from the Fair Grounds and hence, although
driving slowly, had secured a long start of the others. Just at the top
of the hill, Roscoe, with a cigar in his mouth, whipped up to drive past
Willis, and feeling fine from some cause or other, cracked his whip at
the steers and gave a wild yell as he dashed past!
This startled the steers, unused to the excitements of the road; they
sprang forward with a jerk which somehow threw out or broke the pin
through the "sword" at the forward end of the cart body. With that the
cart tipped up, dumping the entire load into the road behind. Among
other farm produce in the cart were eight or ten huge yellow pumpkins.
At the Murch farm they always raised fine pumpkins and generally carried
a few large ones to the Fair. They cultivated a kind of cheese-shaped
pumpkins which often grew two feet in diameter, yellow as old gold.
When these great pumpkins were tipped out they began to roll down the
hill. Immediately there arose a shout of trouble and dismay from the
teamsters below. Something very much like a stampede ensued; for the
pumpkins came bounding under the horses and oxen. One cart ran into the
ditch and upset. Alfred Batchelder's prize steers ran away and caught
the hook of a chain which they were dragging, into the wheel of a wagon
belonging to the Sylvesters, and upset it. There was a wreck of all the
jelly and other prepared fruits and preserves in it, Mrs. Sylvester
being somewhat noted for her skill in these particulars. It was said
that the greatly grieved woman shed bitter tears, then and there.
Addison was driving our wagon home and had Gram and all the girls in it.
He was pretty well down toward the foot of the hill and hearing the
outcry farther up, jumped out and seized old Sol by the head, to keep
him from bolting. In consequence of this prudent manoeuver our folks
came through the tumult uninjured and without damage. One pumpkin came
rolling directly down toward Addison; but by a dextrous kick he turned
it aside.
Halstead and I, who were driving oxen and carts, did not fare quite as
well; for the team in advance, belonging to the Edwardses, backed down
into us, and our cattle, running out into the ditch, spilled a part of
our loads, including our exhibits of apples and vegetables. Our case,
however, was not as bad as many of our neighbors, some of whom met with
considerable loss. We were occupied an hour or two gathering up the
spilled loads.
So much for a youngster with a cigar in his mouth and a glass or two of
beer inside him. If an indignant community could have laid hands on
Roscoe Batchelder that night, he would have fared badly.
Addison and Halse had done a tolerable business with their cake, coffee
and fruit stand. They cleared about seven dollars each above expenses;
and Theodora and Ellen received four dollars apiece for their services
as cooks. I was about the only one in the family who had not received
something in the way of premiums and profits. Both my ventures, in the
"slow race" and the "scrub race," had collapsed. The Old Squire laughed
at me when he heard of my efforts to capture prizes, and advised me to
try more creditable schemes in future.