e of the extra cards of gingerbread that have
been laid in at the stores, and they will be on hand to see the
half-day's sport of training-day end before early tea-time with the
flashing of powder and the departure of the "sojers" for their homes.

A very different affair is the "muster-day" of the early fall, before
the cold days and nights have come to stay. The several adjoining towns,
that furnish each its own company or its quota of cavalry, take care of
the "regiment," by rotation, at such a time as this. No matter how
centrally located the town may be, the grenadiers must come a long way
over the hills from Stormont, and the riflemen must leave Acton soon
after midnight in order to obey the signal of the seven-o'clock gun,
which demands the presence of every company on the "parade-ground:" it
goes by the name of "the common" every other day in the year. The night
marches or rides are orderly, the more so in anticipation of what is to
follow. The sun rises upon a gala-day for the men and youth: the boys
had their time at the training. Now the crowd is greater, and there is
no room for the boys, except those who live in the town where the muster
is held. The field, at a respectful distance from the regimental
line, is covered with auctioneers' stands, peddlers' wagons,
refreshment-booths of rough boards, and planked platforms for dancing to
the music of the violin. It is the picture of a college town on
"commencement-day," magnified to ten times the proportions. As you
stand,--no seats are allowed,--you can partake of sweet cider, lemonade,
apples, gingerbread, and pies and buns of all kinds. If you call for it,
you can have New-England rum, or its more popular substitute,
"black-strap," one-half rum and the other half molasses. Awaiting the
inspection, soldiers on leave of absence mingle with the commoners,
partake of the refreshments, including the black-strap, and nod their
plumes or rattle their swords while they dance the "double shuffle" or
"cut a double pigeon-wing" on the platforms, to the great wonder of the
crowd.

When the regiment gathers itself together it is a sight to behold. There
are perhaps five hundred men, all told, in two ranks. A part of them
rejoice in gayly-colored uniforms, but the majority are "the
flood-wood," dressed in sheep's gray and blue jeans and armed with
rifles, muskets, and fowling-pieces of every pattern. This motley band
"toe the mark,"--a small trench that has been cut in th