In today’s world, nearly everyone has instant and constant access to a bewildering array of entertainment. This wasn’t true in the nineteenth century, and folks in isolated rural communities flocked to see, and were grateful for, any unusual occurrence to break the monotony of life. These occasions also provided fodder for conversation throughout the following weeks.
One typical exciting event was described in a book titled, “The Puddleford Papers,” authored by Henry Hiram Riley (1813-1888) and published in 1856. “Puddleford was a fictitious community in perhaps Indiana in the 1830s, then considered the “Far West.”
The first part of the story ran thus:
But the most remarkable exhibition that ever fell upon Puddleford occurred one autumn, when a man came through on horseback and announced that a “Grand Caravan,” of wild animals would be soon appearing in Puddleford. He also pasted up quite a flaming poster to precede the animals themselves. The bill was indeed a very colorful and attractive-looking affair. There was a lion and a tiger painted on it, at a dead lock. The lion, it appeared, had opened the tiger’s bowels, and the tiger had opened the lion’s bowels–the lion had torn the tiger’s head, and the tiger had torn the lion’s head–these two furious beasts seemed to be about on an equal footing. An elephant was also portrayed in a very stately manner, carrying a house full of people on his back, who were armed to the teeth, for some unknown purpose, and who also supported a stern-looking gentleman, seated upon his tusks, who carried a long pole in his hand. Monkeys of all sizes were scattered around the picture. Some climbing trees, some chattering higher up in the branches, and some cutting curious antics, evidently for the gratuitous amusement of the public who might choose to look on. This bill was posted up at the Eagle Tavern, and it created a very great excitement throughout Puddleford and the adjacent country. Scores of people came in from “round about,” to wonder over and digest this wonderful “picter.” Aunt Sonora, Mrs. Swipes, Mrs. Bird, Mrs. Beagle, Mrs. Longbow, and their husbands, the “Colonel,” Bigelow Van Slyck, Jim Buzzard, and scores of ragged children, pressed into the bar-room, day after day, and “Oh’d” and “Ah’d” over it. All kinds of comments were made by the multitude. The origin, history, habits, and ferocity of the animals were sagely discussed and settled. Squire Longbow told wonderful stories about the “roar” of the lion–how he “shak’t the whole woods, when he got his wrath up, and made all the other animals run and hide themselves–he said they’d all have to stop their ears if that feller (pointing to the said lion on the show-bill) giv’ ’em a blast–he heer’d one roar onct, down onter the Susquehannas, and he shouldn’t forget it the longest day he lived.”
         Aunt Sonora asked Squire Longbow, “where lions came from, and how they got ’em here, and if they were dang-rous animals, and would bite people.”
         The Squire drew a long a-hem! stretched out his legs, and looked very wise, for he thought if there was anything that he did know about, it was lions. He recollected just how that lion looked that he saw down on the Susquehannas. He knew, too, that there was no other person in Puddleford that could throw any light upon the subject of lions. So the Squire began in the most profound manner to answer Aunt Sonora. “The lion,” said the Squire, “the great African lion–jist sich a lion as you see on that ‘ere bill–inasmuch as you have axed me, I tell you, comes from the jungles of the torrid zone.”
         Turtle Bates wanted to know what “a jungle was, while he was about his lion story?”
         “A jungle–a jungle,” continued the Squire, coughing in his embarrassment; “a jungle–is–a–place–a kind-er cave, where the lions go, deep inter the airth, and where they can growl and roar, without disturbin’ anybody.”
         “Inter the airth?” exclaimed Turtle; “how do they catch ’em, then?”
         “How do they ketch ’em?–how do they ketch ’em?” exclaimed the Squire; “how do I know?–I’ve never been in Africa–I was only tellin’ how the lions liv’d.”
         Mrs. Bird asked the Squire what the lions ate?
         “Anything they can get,” answered the Squire, very philosophically; “they ain’t ‘tall particular.”
         “Don’t eat grass, do they?”
         The Squire said he “shouldn’t be s’prised if they did.”
         “Do they eat up men and women?”
         “Wal,” answered the Squire, “to tell you the plain truth, I s’pose they do.”
         “O Lordy!” exclaimed Mrs. Bird. “Ugh! how he looks!”
         During all this time the young Puddlefordians, dirty and barefooted, who had crowded themselves into a corner in a distant part of the room, were filled with terror during the Squire’s sage remarks, and fairly trembled for their safety.
         Jim Buzzard took occasion to say that “he s’posed the an-er-mals would bite, but he warn’t goin’ to be scart, if they had ’em fasten’d in cages–but if they were goin’ ter run loose, he’d be gaul-blasted if they’d see him round thar when they com’d–he’d jest let ’em know he warn’t a-goin’ to be eat up by their lions and elephuntses–he didn’t care nothin’ ’bout their monkeys–he warn’t ‘fraid of them, nohow–but them ‘are lions–what teeth they have got–O! Gosh amighty!–he guess’d they wouldn’t ketch him round them grinders.”
So the excitement and anticipation built toward the great day when the Grand Caravan would actually arrive. There is a lot more to the story which perhaps will be passed on to Farm Collector readers in the future.
