let his tongue run on in chase of “a penny, a penny, a penny, a penny,” with the perseverance of a bloodhound. Elevated on one of the wagons was a member of the light-horse company. He had taken the post as a matter of joke, and was now holding up the different articles for sale with a merry smile on his face, and every now and then winking to the crowd as if to remind them what a capital jest his being there was. The pedler himself in the meanwhile, with an apple of a face perched upon a bean-pole of a form, was with great _nonchalance_ seated upon his box, evidently quite content that the light-horseman should do the work, and he sit by and receive the profits. So exciting and pleasant did the soldier find his self-imposed task, so elated by the possession of this new accomplishment, which had remained undeveloped even to himself until now, and so intoxicated with the flattery which the laughter of the throng at his jokes offered, that he continued there all day, incurring a fine for non-attendance at the parade. At the next “General Training” I saw the same fellow. Turned topsy-turvy by his success, he had abandoned his farm and “took to peddlen” on his own hook. But what a difference. Interested now in the occupation personally, and having the “keenest sort” of an eye to the profits, his selling was no longer a joke. The merry glance was replaced by a look of care, his dashing, off-hand manner was exchanged for an eager, beseeching air, his jokes were few and evidently forced; in short, in making his amusement his trade, he had made himself a very poor pedler. What became of him I don’t know, but I heard casually once that he had after a while betaken himself again to his little farm, (which he had mortgaged to obtain his fitting out as a pedler,) quite broken-spirited and out at elbows. Foremost in the tempest of martial music, towering, as it were, the very genius of the scene, was Joe Lippett. Joe was a capital hand at a fife, his long chin serving as a resting-place for the instrument. He was therefore engaged to play for half a dozen companies. It was a sight to see him. Marching forward with immense strides, his puckered lips and promontory-like chin forming a deep nook into which his fife was thrust, he sent forth his piercing notes like a north-wester. After escorting a company “into line,” he would vanish, and in a minute would be seen at the head of another, blowing away like Tophet, and after performing the same service to it, _presto!_ his shrill music would be heard, and his legs and chin seen coming from a different quarter.