In the meanwhile the music had gathered in a cluster at a little distance, surrounded by the boys and “loafers” of the village. Now and then the muffled sound of a tattoo, beat upon the cords of the drum, arose, with the comic squeak of a fife accompanied by loud laughter from the idlers around, and sometimes a single “boom” from a blow upon the bass-drum. But the inspector, having left his last man, the word “attention the whole,” was loudly sounded, and the scene was changed in an instant. Those who had been lounging “at ease” upon their guns, stood erect and soldier-like—those seated upon the grass sprung to their places—the band hurried to its station at the head, and, in a short time the whole regiment was in marching order. The time had now arrived to pass in review before the colonel. With his staff upon either hand, that redoubtable hero had now stationed himself at the head of the green for the regiment to march past him. The command of “march” was given, the music struck up, and the regiment moved. Playing most obstreperously, the band passed the colonel, who sat, chapeau in hand, and then fell upon one side. The sight now became comic. The officers as they approached, prepared with great solemnity and very apparent consciousness of the importance of the manœuvre, to salute with their swords the puissant presence of the commandant, and the “rank and file” to perform the same ceremony with their presented guns. The first officer, who was a captain from the wilds of Lumberland, was so taken up by the immensity of the act he was to perform, that he forgot to perform it at all until quite past the colonel. Remembering himself then, in his nervous hurry, he brought his sword up so quickly to his face that he knocked his hat off, and stooping to recover it, he received such an impetus from his front rank, who were too intent upon their part of the performance to see any thing, that he was pitched without ceremony, in the most headlong and sprawling manner, after his hat.