“An insurrection of the slave population, mayhap,”--thought I, but their object was a very peaceable one, for presently, I verily believe, every man and officer in the regiment, had a tumbler of this, to me, most delicious beverage at his head--the drawing of the corks was more like street--firing than any thing else--a regular feu de joue. In the meantime, a council of war seemed to be holden by the mounted officers, as to how the obstacle in front was to be overcome; but at this moment confusion became worse confounded, by the approach of what I concluded to be the white man’s John Canoe party, mounted by way of preeminence. First came a trumpeter John Canoe with a black face, which was all in rule, as his black counterparts wore white ones; but his Device, a curious little old man, dressed in a sort of blue uniform, and mounted on the skeleton, or ghost, of a gig-horse, I could make nothing of. It carried a drawn sword in its hand, with which it made various flourishes, at each one of which I trembled for its Rosinante’s ears. The Device was followed by about fifty other odd-looking creatures all on horseback; but they had no more seat than so many pairs of tongs, which in truth they greatly resembled, and made no show, and less fun. So we were wishing them out of the way, when some one whispered that the Kingston Light Horse mustered strong this morning. I found afterwards that every man who kept a good horse, or could ride, invariably served in the foot--all free persons must join some corps or other; so that the troop, as it was called, was composed exclusively of those who could not ride, and who kept no saddle horses. The line was now formed, and after a variety of cumbrous manoeuvres out of Dundas, sixteen at the least, the regiment was countermarched, and filed along another street, where they gave three cheers, in honour of their having had a drink of spruce, and of having circumvented the bullocks and wagons. A little farther on we encountered four beautiful nine-pounder fieldpieces, each lumbering along, drawn by half a dozen mules, and accompanied by three or four negroes, but with no escort whatsoever. “I say, quashie, where are the bombardiers, the artillerymen?” “Oh, massa, dem all gone to drink pruce.” “What, more spruce!--spruce--nothing but spruce!” quoth I. “Oh, yes, massa--after dem drink pruce done, dem all go to him breakfast, massa--left we for take de gun to de barrack--beg one feepenny, massa”--as the price of the information, I suppose. “Are the guns loaded?” said I.