FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S LIFE 



One other weather- vagary is impressed upon 

 the minds of all who deal in show lore, and that 

 is the historic fog which played such havoc with 

 the Smithfield Show in 1873. The " London par- 

 ticular " of the ordinary type is trying enough, 

 especially to those unaccustomed to such visita- 

 tions, but the one in question was a denser and 

 more virulent compound than usual. It entered 

 into possession of the Agricultural Hall, and held 

 it in a deadly grip. So marked were the suffer- 

 ings of the poor beasts, accustomed to the pure 

 air of the country-side, and who, being in show 

 condition, were fat and scant of breath, that 

 they were taken at intervals out of their stalls, 

 and paraded up and down the roadway outside, 

 where the atmosphere was a little less oppressive 

 than that within the confined area of the Hall. 

 This afforded a modicum of relief, but not enough 

 to save the lives of some of the animals, who 

 either died forthwith or were slaughtered in order 

 to forestall decease, whilst others more fortunate 

 were dispatched home in hot haste. It was 

 remarked that the sheep and pigs did not suffer 

 to anything like the same extent as the cattle, 

 and it was said that this was due to their having 

 kept their heads in many instances under the 

 straw, which, to a certain extent, filtrated the 

 fog during respiration. If this were so, it is a 

 testimony to ovine and porcine sagacity, but 

 " I hae ma doots," as the explanation sounds a 

 little far-fetched. Men as well as beasts were 

 affected, and had good reason to regret breathing 

 an atmosphere so different to that to which they 

 had been accustomed. Many were laid up from 



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