At last, after great exertions, involving vast displays of horsemanship, and large, particularly guttural, words of command, continual risings in their stirrups, and occasional looks of deep ferocity, the junior officers of the day succeeded in getting the regiment into line, as it is called in military parlance, but in fact into a curve, as the middle sagged a good deal inward. Still it presented something of a front, and along it the young officers went into violent spasms of dexterous riding, spurring their horses and curbing them tightly at the same time, thus causing them to advance backward, as it were, and perform feats with their hoofs, somewhat dangerous to the pie-eating and cider-drinking spectators. At length I discovered the cause of this great display by the youthful gods of war, by happening to observe them glancing at the windows opposite, where I discovered their dulcineas looking at the whole affair with immense interest. It was amusing to note the various aspects of the soldiers composing the line. One had a nose like a triangle, another as if an oblong piece of dough had hit him in the face, and had clung there; the next had a little pair of eyes flying about as if anxious to hide away in their sockets, whilst the next appeared so determined to stare with his great goggle eyes that he seemed to suppose to wink would be time wasted. Here was a mouth with the corners turned up into a sculptured grin; there was another turned down, as if with a perpetual colic. Here were cheeks rounded out as if blowing a trumpet, whilst there were others so fallen in, that they seemed glued to their side teeth. In short, there was no end to the differences in the physiognomies of the “citizen soldiery,” as that patriotic and intellectual portion of our people, the politicians, (those particularly who wish to go to the “legislater,”) term them. A file of men was now detached for the standard of the regiment—a great blue thing, as large nearly as a ship’s top-sail. The men were paraded in front of the tavern steps—the standard appeared on the stoop—a flourish of drum and fife—the standard waved, then descended, and borne by little Billy Waddle, went gayly to its appointed place under the inspiriting influence of a favorite quick step.