At that moment, Governor Brooks checked his horse, and, replacing his hat upon his head, dismounted, and walked towards the Colonel, who, comprehending the intention, returned his sword to its scabbard, and came to the ground, with the alertness of a much younger man. They met midway, between the line and the reviewing cortege--in an instant, each grasped the other's hand, with the ardor of men, who are mutually endeared, by the recollection of partnership, in days of danger and daring--they had been fellow lodgers, within the intrenchments of Burgoyne, on the memorable night of October 7, 1777. After a few words of mutual respect and affection, they parted--the review went forward--the fifers and drummers outdid themselves--the beholders sent forth an irrepressible shout--and when old Colonel Barnabas got up once again, upon his chestnut horse, I thought he looked considerably more like old Frederick, hat, queue, and all, than he did, before he got down. He looked as proud as Tamerlane, after he had caged the Sultan, Bajazet--yet I saw him dash a tear from his eye, with the sleeve of his coat--I found one in my own. How frail we are!--there is one there now! While contemplating the remarkable resurrection that has occurred, within a few years, of old chairs and tables, porcelain and candlesticks, I confidently look forward to the resurrection of cocked hats. They were really very becoming. I speak not of those vasty beavers, manufactured, of yore, by that most accomplished, gentlemanly, and facetious of all hatters, Mr. Nathaniel Balch, No. 72 old Cornhill; but such as he made, for his excellent friend, and boon companion, Jeremiah Allen, Esquire, high Sheriff of Suffolk. When trimmed with gold lace, and adorned with the official cockade, it was a very becoming affair. No man carried the fashion, as I have described it, in the commencement of this article, to a greater extent, than Mr. Thomas Marshall, more commonly known as _Tommy Marshall_. He was a tailor, and his shop and house were in State Street, near the present site of the Boston Bank. In London, his leisurely gait, finished toilette, admirable personal equipments, and exceedingly composed and courtly carriage and deportment would have passed him off, for a gentleman, living at his ease, or for one of the nobility. Mr. Marshall was remarkable, for the exquisite polish, and classical cut of his cocked hat. He was much on 'change, in those primitive days, and highly respected, for his true sense of honor. Though the most accomplished tailor of his day, no one ever suspected him of cabbage. When I began the present article, it was my design to have written upon a very different subject--but since all my cogitations have been "_knocked into a cocked hat_," I may as well close this article, with a short anecdote of Tommy Marshall.