The Port Gibson reveille. (Port Gibson, Miss.) 185?-1857, 1854-05-10

on my feet In an instant, and had reached the
outer door before the tones Of the old time.
piece had died away in echo.
What time is it, my son - enquircd nv
mother, Il have not heard The clock"
oh, it's two o'clock, mother, and the
horn will blow directly. Oh, there it is now
Don't you hear Il"
Two fddle.sticks :" growled nv father.
Why. boy, that's the bell on Old BrindIe
Back to bed with YOU"
Why. father. I'm sure twas the horn.
Therc-there it is again! Don't yOu hear it,
mother ?"
Sure enough, the horn aoas blowing, and
in the distance was heard the sound Of the
stage wheels. rafting DER the stony streets.
You will find dollar on the mantlepiece,
my son" said my mother. Buy me two
papers Of pins, and keep the rest for pocket
money"
A dollar. a silrer dollar. Heavens
t0asn't Irich! What visions Of gingerbread,
honey, spruce.beer. candy, frc-crackers, &C..
fitted before my Imagination A dollar :
why, could buy jack-knife, jewsharp,
and heap Of things not reclsoned on before.
One hundred and seventy.fye cents, all in
coppers, will make tremendous pile Yes.
will get my silver changed into cents. and
then srhat lots Of money I'll lave.
But there is the horn, again. Imust make
haste. Hold on. boys. I'm comingm /
shouted. as off bounded at full speed, to
reach the stage which was waiting at the cor
ner Of the street, while the driver "a youth Of
eighteen summers) was blowing bis horn loud
enough to deafen the whole neighborhood.
We we're soon under hcadway for the mus.
terrified. for boys arc not apt to be tardy when
pleasure IS the reward Of punctuality.-0ur
party consisted Of six or eight boys, mostly be-
tween the ages Of fourteen and eighteen; and
our home once lost to view, aud We out
Of hearing. Lord didn't We make Rome
howl "-The muster was to be held at small
village called Cornish Flat. in the State Of
Nss -I-ssagPsbiEer saas eight or Eten-miles from
wiudsor. Vt, the place from whence We
started. II was September morn, and the
cold fog rolled heavily down the valley Of the
Connecticut, and hung in great grey masses
round the skirts Of Cornish Hills.
But what cared we for fog or what carOd
VIC for cold? Pooh. Jack Frost had no ter
rors for US, for-we were going to muster =
Our team consisted Of four forlOrn-looking,
wind-broken old nags, who looked as il
Corn and they
Strangers long had been.p
But no matter for that. provided We reached
Cornish Flat ia tinlc-- Put on the braid,
driver! We're free. now whoOp-e-e. hur.
rah rre're free'
"Hillo tho house :" cried Tom White,
witty, red-haired yOuugster, who occupied
scat with the driver. "Hillo. hillo the
house -
"HiIlo YOURSELF" replied the farmer. ap-
pcaring at the door with one leg in bis bree-
ches; "what do you want! ?"
do you live here. sir ?" enquired Tom.
i've never died here yet" replied the
farmer, laconically.
do you own this house - said Tom.
"Sir, it belongs to me and ny heirs fOrev-
er." replied he good-natured farmer.
Would you like to let this LOuse on good
terms. my friend ?" said Tom.
Il don't know-why!"
"Oh, nothing particular. sir | was Just
thinking that if ven had any thoughts Of
movsng IL ovey 10 Windsor, there would be
a fine chance for speculation. that's all ("
You impertinent scamp" yelled the
eurared farmer. "Here, Tigel seek him.
st-boy. st-boy!"
"Ha. ha. ho +. ho Put on the BRAID
driver. put on the braid"!'
The journey drags heavily for the last three
or four miles, for the road is very billy and
lonely. We pass an apple-Orchard-of jumps
Tom. throws dozen or two apples into US
boys. and fills bis pockets with rosy-lookIng
fruit, to cat on the road. They are all sour
and hard, and are soon smashed to pumice
against the nearest trce.-Hurrah we're on
the road to muster Wagons loaded with
cider barrels are trundling slowly along TO-
wards the great point Of attraction and hay
carts loaded with boys arc to be seen coming
down the cross road. just ahead Of US.
Put on the braid. driver put on the
braid. Don't let them pass us !"
The antiquated nags jump forward briskly'
aud VIC pass the hay-cart just two feet ahead
but twas tight squeeze at that.
The gray streaks Of morn are just begin
ming to appear in the east, and chantlcleer
crows Justify for old Sol to make haste.
HilIo tho house e cries Tcm, as we near
- k.,..n r,hoea inmates had not vet arisen