CHAPTER YI. 
DRAGGING THE SEINE; 
OR, A FISH FRY IN KENTUCKY. 
Fifteen years ago, a Kentucky fish-fry was one of tlie oc- 
casions to date from. Like tlie New England clam bakes, 
tkey were cliaracteristic local scenes, in which you saw more 
of the heart of the people in a few hours, than you might, 
under other circumstances, in years. 
We had other out-door festivals, to be sure, which were 
equally characteristic of time, place and people, but they 
were more public and miscellaneous — such as the barbecue, 
which was usually given in honor of some political person 
or event, and to which all classes were invited to join in 
festivities on a grand scale, and when oxen were roasted 
whole. 
Then there was the bran dance, which — commencing with 
the barbacued feast — wound up with a grand dance upon the 
rolled earth, sprinkled with bran beneath the arbors — and in 
which everybody, high or low, participated with a reckless 
abandon of jollity. The confused jumble of all classes in 
this rude festival, made it more an occasion for roystering 
fun than refined enjoyment, and although forty years ago 
they were participated in by our ladies, and I remember well 
hearing my aunt and mother tell, many times, of dancing 
with the young Harry Clay at the bran dance^. yet they grad- 
ually fell into disuse by the more refined. 
