AMONG THE CROWD.

Press, Volume LXVI, Issue 13888, 12 November 1910, Page 10

AMONG THE CROWD.

I x\ CHEERFUL MULTITUDE. ] ' The genius who gave the name of '» '''People's Day' , to the final gathering \i ;of the Show deserves a laurel wreath jlLind a monument all to himself. He 4 hit on a term which was most happily ■| descriptive, and which most accurately ;| fitted the occasion. It is really (and § truly "People's Day." The people are i| there, not in paltry hundreds or if thousands, but in teeming tens of ;| thousands. The attendance should I; make the managers of other attracj twjas green with envy, if it is possible \ Jr,x their complexion* to tnke on that colour. No event in Canterbury appeals so powerfully to the :n----|habitants. The squatter leaves his '•station;, the farmer abandons his

farm, and comes into the city and the Show ; the farm and station hand ha* a holiday at tho Show; and the city •dueller shuts up house and shop and. uoes out. to .Addington. The Show ground is the great meeting plac? on People's Day. It may be said that the. jjreat majority do not go there to sec the prize-winners, either in animals , or produce, but just to sco tho crowd, browse round, and be amused. There i.s a light-hearted ieelint; abroad, and thousands travel out just localise they <lo not wish to miss the fun of the fair. It will be a pleasant memory for the succeeding year. ''.Sunshine without, laughter within.

This was the political advertisement a leatlier-ltinned barker gave bis show, in an endeavour to extract the admission shilling from the pocket. , * of his auditors. The phrase seemed to sum up the. conditions under which tho People's I>ay was being celebrated. There was the sun pourins out his almost embarrassing warmth, and there were the jovial crowds sweeping by on their happy excursions. One conkl not fail to be impressed with tho air of happiness and content which abounded. The yrizzlrd farmers, the country Phyllises and Corydons, and the pay crowd promenading; the khaki-coloured lawn gave, out not one discordant note to mar the day's harmony.

The nowc of* the Show 'Ground does Tiot pall on one who is moving about, unci the full benefit of its variety. It is insistent, in some places blarinir, but the ensemble is cheerful find lively. Tin; brass bands mix wrtn the pianolo and barrel organ: the full--1 tinned patter of the side-show men and cheapjacks top off tlio low-toned roar <>f the conversation of thousands; the bellowing of cattle, the ncighinp; of horses, the baa-ing of sheep, the rattle of machinery—they all work into the scheme of tilings. It is all discord, but there is a wonderful harmony when every voice takes its part in this extraordinary orchestra.

Cot between thirty and forty thousand people into the Show Ground on a bright day. and you have a magnili* cent sight spread before you. There is a blaze of colour in the ladies' dresses

--and surely every lady wears her gayest and best. One could hardly pielc a prevailing colour any more than there was a prevailing fashion. The ''hopplo skirt" has not yet laid its clinging lines on rural femininity, and probably it will never do so. There was, however, a predominance of light and attractive colours, which suited both tho day and tho occasion. Mere man has not yet got beyond tho dull drab of respectability in* his clothes. The most daring rely on their ties to lift them out of tho ruck sartorially, but in all else the convention which demands a dolorous calm is usually observed. It is tho ladies, therefore, who make the scene on tho Show Grounds the feast of colour it is. Every corner, every avenue and every lawn has its crowd moving in and out, to and fro, and combining to form a picture which for animation and spectacular beauty is not to bo seen at any other gathering. And what are tho attractions of the Show ? The sheep and cattle pens, and tho horse boxos draw their quota, consisting mostly of people whose interests are bound up in the land and what it produces and supports. Tho animals wearing tho red ribands, or flashing the red tickets denoting competitive victories, arc surrounded by admiring and critical groups, and the merits of tho judgments aro canvassed pro and con. Ther. the jumping attracts its thousands—people who have been over the hurdles, and people who have never been across a horse's back in their lives. They all love the horse, they lovo to sco him jump, and they do not object to the occasional thrill inspired by a spill.

The side shows competo with the .jumping as a popular attraction. There is something infinitely attractive about I tho fairy tales spun by tho barkers; tho shrieking posters are entertaining and audacious; and one likes to see tho free display by performers between the performances. The barkers invite the public to Tide their fiery untamed steeds or wrestle their strong men. There is always an acceptor, and tho crowd goes in and paj-s its shilling. These acceptors aro not always without suile. A Maori'had an apparently acrimonious discussion with n "barker" about tho terms on which he was to ride a buckjumper, but they came to terms quite dramatically in view of the public. Half an hour later a strong man was inviting challengers, and a young man stepped up. It was the same Maori, smiling and dramatic as usual. The incident made one sceptical as to the "jeenuineness" (as one barker called it) of .the bouts. The cheapjacks draw their circle of buyers, and give thorn their moneys worth in witticisms. "I get up and work at .six ei'ery morning!" one explained. "Ha, ha!" yelled the unbelieving audience. "Yes, ,1 eat some of your New-Zealand mutton, and if that ain't worjk I don't know what is!" came the retort, and another guffaw arose. It is hard to take a rise cut of a cheapjack. The tmrade, the jumps, the sideshows, " tho tents, the animals, and the booths, are done, and as the afternoon wears on the people conclude that People's Day is passing. A steady stream of humanity sets in towards tho gates, and there is a rush and squeeze for trams, motors, drags, carts, "taxi-cabs, and the motley collection of vehicles which one sees at a Show. On the road home there is infinite entertainment to be got from the scenes on the road. Massive draughts, unused to so much activity, prance heavily about. Lighter animals frisk all over the road, to the danger of life and limb. Vehicles of all kinds, sizes, and ages, flit or rumble past and disappear. The crowd is getting home, and the Show of 1910 is over.