Daily Gazette & Comet [Baton Rouge , LA], January 10, 1860
It is known at home, if not abroad that Third street, in this considerable city is a fast place. The reasons why are diverse. It is not simply because fast people live in it, because fast people can be found all over the mile square, from Catfish to Spanish Town—from Goose Hollow even as far out as Pete’s Alley and Stag Hall. Third street is fast because it presents an inviting dead level of a mile, and because our clever friend in Main street, Capt. Tunnard has introduced to the attention of Red Stickers all the new fangled, two and four wheeled spider built traps in which fast people at the North and the West go, until they run down or run on a snag—or run against one another, and conclude everlastingly the race of earth. They have been putting down gas pipes in Third street recently and in doing this, they have been tearing up the earth in straight lines and the straight lines run into each other at right angles— forming oblong squares and triangles.
On Saturday evening last we noticed our fast friend, F., who knows a thing or two about fast horses and fast machines—going down the street with a fast nag fastened to the same. His continuations were spread out on either side of the machine at the angle marked by fashion—he held the strings “taught” in his left hand, and with his right ever and anon took six inches from his mouth of the divine weed from the Antilles in order to blow away smoke and steam from the furnace. The upper part of his body was slightly bent forward to give the machine additional impetus and on his head he had one of the close fitting caps which people who go fast and take the risk on their own shoulders, generally wear. The machine itself was bright with fresh varnish and threw the light about recklessly, as it passed down the street and disappeared. Presently we heard the dogs bark; the children cry and women scream; whilst gents with their coat tails standing out straight were making tracks to get out of harm’s way. We thrust our head further out the window and saw the sleek fast trotting animal making tracks back where he came from at a 2:32 rate; parts of the clay-colored machine flew up and parts flew down; whilst other parts were picked up by small boys on the lightning line. At the corner of Florida street the body of the fast trap lay, the other side up, the wheels danced round until they seemed spokeless, and a crowd gathered about to witness the motion.—After a full quarter’s spinning, certain brave gentlemen ventured to approach—stopped the unspent motion, and set it on its legs again. Where was our friend, F.? He brought up the rear with a single string in his hand—glad to say unhurt. We have been particular in this matter, because we made a prediction just a year ago, that to this complexion things would come at last. If there is a moral lesson in it, some gentleman of leisure will please point it out.