Of course, this race was practically an all-day venture, and, equally of course, people got hungry; and throats, most particularly Kentucky throats, awfully dry. Mr. Tenbroeck provided liberally for such a contingency, so a luncheon was served al fresco, with lots of champagne, which latter did not dampen the ardor of those terribly dry throats. We assembled in little groups around the viands, and there were jokes and puns and stories that varied the monotony of horse talk, that had dominated every other topic for days. In all the circles there was fun and frolic. Kentuckians can be very hilarious. The unique vehicle that carried our party back to the hotel rocked and tumbled tipsily along. The sprightly crowd that departed in a somewhat steady condition in the forenoon were sleepily tired when they gained their sky parlors later in the day. A brief rest must have revived them, for as we passed through the hall to a rather late breakfast the following morning, trays of empty glasses and bottles, flanked by freshly blacked boots and shoes, afforded evidence that more refreshments had been absorbed later, and the parties had returned to the Land of Nod.

XXXI
LOUISIANA STATE FAIR FIFTY YEARS AGO

It was in 1859 or 1860—I cannot fix the exact dates of many events immediately prior to the war, for the rush of an overwhelming waste carried dates, as everything else, away, but it was before the war that several enterprising and advanced citizens of Louisiana planned and organized and “resolved” themselves into a committee to stimulate the indolent agricultural population to a more active life, by inaugurating a series of State agricultural and mechanical exhibitions, patterned as near as might be on the annual State and county fairs of Kentucky, Missouri and other enterprising agricultural States. Mr. John A. Dougherty, Major Sam Hart, George W. Ward, John Perkins, my husband, Mr. James McHatton and his brother Charles, Wm. A. Pike and others whose names escape me now, secured from the United States government, through the joint efforts of Hon. John Slidell and J. P. Benjamin, United States Senators from Louisiana, and Thomas Green Davidson, Representative of the Sixth District, temporary use of the then practically abandoned Barracks in Baton Rouge, as being the most available site in the State for the purpose of an experimental fair. Only a corporal’s guard had been stationed there, to furl and unfurl the flag and to fire the evening gun, as evidence that the grounds were United States property. In those precincts and under those auspices, were held the first and the last and only “Louisiana State Agricultural and Mechanical Fair.”

There came from New Orleans many exhibitors of farming implements and products; from plantations, whose owners happened to be “wide awake,” cattle, horses, sugar, molasses, and all such; from the small farmer who occasionally read the papers, and thereby kept in touch with the march of events, pigs and poultry; and from the homes of enterprising women, all sorts of fancy work and domestic articles. There were quite handsome prizes of silver, worth competing for, offered by the managers. The parade ground was ample to “show off” harness horses. An area was fenced off for cattle, and side-show places assigned for pigs and poultry. The Barrack buildings, two stories in height, surrounding the enclosure, offered abundant room for the exhibit of farming utensils, harness, etc. Rooms were appropriated for the luncheons and lounging places of friends and guests.

The first two days were rather disappointing, so few people understood just what was being attempted, but the number of the exhibitors increased day by day, so that, before the final day, the managers had reason to be enthusiastic at the success and consequent promise for future State fairs.

Old Mr. Kleinpeter, of the high lands, entered a sow with a litter of nine pigs, whereupon Granville Pierce “went one better” with a sow and fourteen pigs. To be sure, the pigs varied in size, and people made merry over the pig exhibit! From the “Cottage” plantation (Cottage, by the way, was a tremendous big house) came a hogshead of prize open kettle brown sugar. Immediately “Whitehall” plantation saw it could beat that—and next day a hogshead of the “Whitehall” brand was entered. It was thus the project expanded to creditable dimensions. An enterprising lady who had won a silver spoon prize at a similar fair in the West, entered a dressy bonnet, made entirely of fine corn shucks; bows, flowers, feathers and all! Whereupon, a smart miss from Grosse Tête sent three home-made sun bonnets. The domestic exhibit thus resolved itself into a competitive show. A Jew in town had met with indifferent success in a sewing machine venture (sewing machines were in their immaturity then, and not coveted by women who had domestics to order), till the happy thought of a chance at the fair. Soon there was a sewing machine on exhibition—a “Finkle and Lyon”—I don’t forget the make, now happily out of existence, for in an evil moment, moved by the Jew’s persuasive eloquence, I invested in a “Finkle and Lyon” which I quickly found could only be made to “run” by copious drenchings of olive oil, aided by the warm rays of the sun!

All the citizens of Baton Rouge entertained guests for the fair week, the Harney House and other small hostelries being totally inadequate. Several New Orleans merchants showed great interest in the venture. Cuthbert Slocomb entered a fine exhibit of plows, hoes and other farming tools, that were in his line of trade. So, also, did the firm of Slark, Day and Stauffer; Henderson & Gaines sent of their stock, as also did many others whose business brought them in contact with the agricultural world. The cattle display was quite surprisingly good, as were also the harness horses. The inexperienced judges of such stock were often criticised for their decisions, but the people were amiable and in a mood to enjoy everything.

Such an outpouring from the “Cajin” settlements on the river, and on Bayou Tête and Bayou Fordoche, and such other communities of small pretensions, and still smaller achievements, never, I am sure, had invaded Baton Rouge before. It was as “good as a play” to watch their interest and enthusiasm, to see the greetings of families and friends, who lived beyond the reach of a ramshackle voiture and a worn-out horse. I do not recall the season of the year that immortal fair occurred, but it must have been in late winter, for I remember a small dish of radishes on my lunch table, such a rarity that Col. Sparks ate every one. How one does recall, after a lapse of years, such insignificant things! Some of the bon vivants, like Dr. French, Mr. Bonnecage, and Dr. Harney, regretted that the enterprise was not postponed till artichokes and river shrimp were in season.