The persons who appeared least to enjoy the _eclat_ of this military _fete_ were the officers of the regular United States' army. They were readily distinguished by their upright, soldier-like air, together with a certain cold, half-proud expression, as though they discovered no fun in the thing, and moreover were insensible to the honour of the companionship they were admitted to. Added to the above characteristics which struck me, I perceived that not one of these gentlemen had so much as unsheathed his sword, or seemed aware of having such an appendage by his side; whereas, of the gallant volunteers, there was not a man, from the surgeon to the colonel, but had his iron out brightly flashing back the sunbeams, although to some of the mounted officers this must have been a matter of additional inconvenience, not to say considerable peril. During the course of the procession a salute was fired from the battery by the mounted artillery corps; the bands played, and the bells of the different churches on the line of march tolled for the dead. On the whole, this little affair was very well conceived, and better managed, than it would have been by any other citizen troops, excepting, perhaps, the French, who appear to adopt the air and habit of soldiers more perfectly than any other _bourgeoisie_ whatever. On Friday, May 28th, I acted for the last time in the States, and so ended at the Park, where I began, and as I began, to a crowded audience. But the merry faces assembled here were no longer unknown to me; I was on my _debut_, a stranger amongst strangers: I now felt myself surrounded by personal friends, and by an audience which had frankly welcomed me; which had continued to cherish my efforts by increasing kindness and consideration, and which had now thronged here less perhaps to witness a performance so often repeated, than to take leave of an individual with whom the persons composing it had cultivated a close acquaintanceship, and for whose talent they had encouraged a preference. I am not of those who look upon the bond linking audience and actor as a mercenary contract, for the hours during which the latter yields his quantum of strength and spirit to the former for so much coin, and there is an end. Were I, unhappily, possessed by such a morbid feeling, I could no longer act, the spell would be broken. It is true, I might constrain bone and sinew to administer to my necessities, and continue to barter these with the public for bread; but the inspiring spirit would be away, sunk past recall. Severed from the sympathies of those it wrought for, it would cease to lighten upon the scene, which the power of enlisting those sympathies alone redeems from contempt.