The William F. Cody Archive: Documenting the life and times of Buffalo Bill

Buffalo Bill's already strong programme has been decidedly strengthened by the introduction of the Cossack horsemen. "This beats the cowboys," said a voice behind me, as these children of the Caucasus were performing some of their marvellous evolutions. And though this was high praise indeed, I felt myself in accord with the speaker. They seem to be able to do anything and everything they like with their little Indian ponies, which I understand they have broken to their own method since their arrival in this country. At first they go past in an ambling trot, chanting a weird measure which bears a faint resemblance to the jodel of the Swiss mountaineers. Their appearance is certainly picturesque, with their astrachan caps, flowing robes, long cavalry boots, and ample outfit of deadly weapons. But it is when they are in full gallop that they give proof of their phenomenal skill in the saddle. They drop whips and handkerchiefs and pick them up with unerring aim with hands and teeth. They stand up—or rather upside down, hands on saddle and feet in air; they ride "with their back to the engine," holding on to nothing and flourishing their arms in the air, and finally they charge each other at lightning pace and fight with flashing swords. Like the other spectators, I was much amused at the dance given by two of the troop. One was tempted to overlook the real agility displayed in the grotesque effect of the gabardine-like garments flapping about in all directions, and revealing curious varieties of underwear.

I must add one word in praise of the Horticultural Exhibition proper. The covered portion of the show looks lovelier than ever. The azaleas are over and done, but they can be well spared for the roses, which are coming into splendid bloom. The exhibits in the main building, consisting of model greenhouses and garden implements and apparatus of every conceivable kind, are now in a state of completion, and will deserve a more careful scrutiny than that which they receive from the majority of visitors. But the rival attractions of the grounds are, I admit, too tempting to be lightly withstood. The Garde Republicaine band is immensely and deservedly popular. Its peculiar excellence appears to me to be in the stringed instruments, which are far superior to those of any al-fresco orchestra I have heard in London for many years.