My attention was now, however, attracted toward the genius with the rifle, by his giving birth to a loud shout. Inflamed beyond bounds by the music which was now on a rattling quick-step, the red flanneled gentleman now made a spring in the air, and then dashed out into a “heel and toe” dance, flourishing his rifle as if it had been a walking-stick, now over his head, and now on each side of him, and making every thing fairly echo with his loud and frequent whoops. He at length became the lodestone of all eyes, except those of the musicians, fairly driving these worthies in the most ungrateful manner (they being the source of his inspiration) into the shade; becoming, as it were, the centre of a circle of grinning faces, until completely tired out with his exertions, he broke away, ascended the tavern stoop, and the next moment made the bar-room ring with his vociferation for “a small pull of some of the real grit!” By and by the “trainers” began to appear at all points, some in groups, some singly, some by wagon loads. And one wagon came in so filled with bristling muskets, that it had the appearance of a huge steel porcupine. The population of the surrounding country, men, women and children, commenced streaming in to gaze upon “the show,” and make merry amongst themselves. A number also of the surrounding farmers and their wives came as venders of pies, cake, small beer, cider, etc., turning their wagons into shops, wheeling them under the shadows of the trees, detaching the horses, flinging at the same time quantities of hay before them, and covering the seats of the wagons with cards of yellow gingerbread, mingled with pies, carved generally into quarters, and cider barrels at the ends, with faucets resembling hooked noses. Others again had erected booths of rough boards or hemlock boughs filled with articles of consumption. I looked at one for a few moments which Aunt Betsy Lossing had (as usual) erected. It was composed of hemlock boards, with branches of the same tree. A rude counter had been placed athwart the entrance, behind which appeared Betsy’s red face and burly form, together with a boy and girl as assistants. Upon shelves were rows of casks lettered gin, brandy, whisky, etc.; on the highest shelf were two or three boxes of cigars, a dozen thick glass tumblers, and a small box of lemons, whilst below all, two barrels of cider (probably) looked out dimly from the shadow. The sunshine streamed richly in, lighting the lemons brilliantly, giving to the cigars a warm tint of brown, flashing upon the gilt letters of the casks, dancing on the glasses, and only failing to penetrate the recess where the barrels lay on their stomachs. Still did the soldiery and country people stream in. By this time several pedlers had established their box wagons upon the grassy margins of the broad village street, and were as clamorous in their vocations as crows around a carrion.