"True, aunt; but when one has so much to tell, it is difficult to avoid digressions. Well, then--this vidette brought news of the attack on Baltimore; and, by daylight, there was as much confusion and hustle in the town, as if we had expected the enemy before breakfast." "We saw all the volunteers march off," said Harriet, taking up the narrative. "They started immediately to intercept the British on their way to Philadelphia,--for we were sure they would make an attempt to come. We had seen from our windows, these volunteers drilling for weeks before, in the State House Yard. It is delightful to have a house in such a situation. My favourite company was the Washington Guards, but Caroline preferred the State Fencibles. I liked the close round jackets of the Guards, and their black belts, and their tall black feathers tipped with red. There was something novel and out of the common way in their uniform." "No matter," said Caroline, "the dress of the State Fencibles was far more manly and becoming. They wore coatees, and white belts, and little white pompons tipped with red; pompons stand the wind and weather much better than tall feathers. And then the State Fencibles were all such genteel, respectable men." "So were the Washington Guards," retorted Harriet, "and younger besides." "No, no," replied Caroline, "it was their short, boyish-looking jackets that gave them that appearance." "Well, well," resumed Harriet, "I must say that all the volunteer companies looked their very best the day they marched off in full expectation of a battle. I liked them every one. Even the blankets that were folded under their knapsacks were becoming to them. We saw some of the most fashionable gentlemen of the city shoulder their muskets and go off as guards to the baggage-wagons, laughing as if they considered it an excellent joke." "To think," said Caroline, "of the hardships they have to suffer in camp! After the worst of the alarm had subsided, many of the volunteers obtained leave of absence for a day or two, and came up to the city to visit their families, and attend a little to business. We always knew them in a moment by their sunburnt faces. They told all about it, and certainly their sufferings have been dreadful, for gentlemen. Standing guard at night, and in all weather,--sleeping in tents, without any bedsteads, and with no seats but their trunks,--cooking their own dinners, and washing their own dishes,--and, above all, having to eat their own awful cooking!"