THE KILBURN SLOUGH 



anything else I wot of, whilst I know of few more 

 pathetic sights in this world than a bevy of holiday- 

 seekers striving to be " merry and bright " when 

 struggling through a sea of mud in the midst of a 

 pitiless downpour. 



The historic Kilburn Show of the Royal Agri- 

 cultural Society in 1879 touched the zenith of 

 watery desolation, and happy were those indi- 

 viduals who, appalled at the sight which met 

 their eye as they passed through the gates, turned 

 tail, as many did, at once, and made for home. 

 Happier still were others who, like myself, got 

 no farther from their home than the local railway- 

 station, and then, thinking better of it, returned 

 to the bosom of their family. We never had 

 anything at the Bath and West Show to compete 

 with Kilburn in misfortune. We have had 

 traction-engines embedded in the native soil for 

 a day or so, but never for weeks, as at Kilburn. 

 "It is an ill- wind that blows nobody any good," 

 and often when our visitors have passed the exit- 

 gates, with much of the upper-crust of the land 

 adhering to them, they have found awaiting them 

 outside a force of enterprising cleansers, ready 

 with straw and buckets of water, to turn an honest 

 penny by relieving them of some of their super- 

 fluous weight of earth. Weather productive of 

 such results is a double misfortune to a Society, 

 forasmuch as it not only impoverishes the attend- 

 ance but involves no small expenditure for timber 

 for temporary crossings and an appalling con- 

 sumption of straw for live-stock bedding, while 

 many " shocking bad colds " bring grist to the 

 mill of the vet, as well as the family doctor. 



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