After the assassination of Henry IV., and greatly to the amusement of the gay and giddy courtiers of his successor, Louis XIII.--old Sully obstinately adhered to the costume of the former reign. Colonel Barnabas Clarke was very much of Sully's way of thinking. "And who," asks the reader, "was Colonel Barnabas Clarke?" He was a pensioner of the United States, and died a poor, though highly respected old man, in the town of Randolph, and Commonwealth of Massachusetts. For several years, he commanded the third Regiment of the first Brigade, and first Division of infantry; and he wore the largest cocked hat and the longest queue in the known world. He was a broad-shouldered, strong-hearted Revolutioner. Let me take the reader aside, for a brief space; and recite to him a pleasant anecdote of old Colonel Barnabas Clarke, which occurred, under my own observation, when John Brooks--whose patent of military nobilty bears date at Saratoga, but who was one of nature's noblemen from his cradle--was governor of Massachusetts. There was a militia muster of the Norfolk troops, and they were reviewed by Governor Brooks. They were drawn up in line. The Governor, bare headed, with his suite, had moved slowly down, in front of the array, each regiment, as he passed, paying the customary salute. The petty _chapeau militaire_ had then become almost universal, and, with, or without, its feather and gold edgings, was all over the field. Splendid epaulettes and eaglets glittered, on the shoulders of such, as were entitled to wear them. Prancing horses were caracoling and curvetting, in gaudy trappings. In the midst of this showy array, in front of his regiment, bolt upright, upon the back of his tall, chestnut horse, that, upon the strength of an extra allowance of oats, pawed the ground, and seemed to forget, that he was in the plough, the day before, sat an old man, of rugged features, and large proportions. Upon his head was that enormous cocked hat, of other days--upon his shoulders, scarcely distinguishable, was a small pair of tarnished epaulettes--the gray hairs at the extremity of his prodigious queue lay upon the crupper of his saddle--his ancient boots shaped to the leg, his long shanked spurs, his straight silver-hilted sword, and lion-headed pistols were of 1776. Such was the outer man of old Colonel Barnabas Clarke. As the Governor advanced, upon the line of the third Regiment of the first Brigade, the fifes of that regiment commenced their shrill whistle, and the drums began to roll; and, at the appropriate moment, the veteran saluted his excellency, in that rather angular style, which was common, in the days of our military fathers.