The Port Gibson reveille. (Port Gibson, Miss.) 185?-1857, 1854-05-17

Why"
Got any cider and gingerbread ?" on.
quired Of the nervous, little old man. won.
dering the while how he could talk 50 fast.
Yes, sir" blandly replied he; "how
much will you have! Cider only three cents
glass"
Three cents" exclaimed amazed.
Three cents - echoed Tom; "why,
t'ro cents bas always been the price"
Three cents is the price, boys. with
plate Of baked beans throwed In"
Let's pitch in. boys" said Tom.
Darn the expense :" muttered the driver,
and we were soon seated at the rough board
table. eating to our hearts content.
All. We arc in our glory, now! The
various companies are marching to the mus
foreground, and the music Of their bugles and
rattling Of their drums caused our young
hearts to swell with deep emotion; and as we
looked with sparkling eyes upon their waving
plumes, bcheld their white breeches, and blue
coats trimmed with red. the big tears start
ed with an unwonted force, as we sighed " o,
would | were old enough to train"
Lord what a hubbub is now being rails.
ed. The officers seem to take delight in seeing
how loud they can shout and the bass-drums
roar most awfulIy! Here is one band play
ing Yankee Doodle there one playing
Dearest May while round the corner wheels
the valiant Fusileers, whose musicians are
playing most terrihcly On the Road to Bos-
tom" Halt" cries one Captain; Right
wheel" cries another; Shoulder arms"
shrieks a third; Music" yells a fourth !:
so at length nothing can be heard but com
plete medley Of voices. which continue to cry
in hOarse and deafening tones" " 'Tention.
company Forward march Walk up, walk
up, gentlemen here's-going at twenty-five,
Eve, five, five music halt first bat
tallion, left wheel .--for-w-a-r-d.-left right I.
right, left = tention, company -
shoulder arms - going at tw-tw-tw-do 1
hear any more music march halt -
twenty-five ccnts-going, going, going
buzz, buzz, buzz, buz-z-z.z-z-zzzzzzz -
Yes, twas hard to decide which made the
most noise at those old musters-thO drums,
the officers. or the Yankee peddlers
-'Tis ten O'Clock, and still resOund the
clamorous voices 'Tis ten o'clock, and still
are the companies marching hither and thith-
or, raising a most suffocating dust at every
step. 'Tis ten o'clock. and still cry the ped
ders in rapid tones the cheapness and the use
fulness of their wares. Yes. It's ten o'clock,
and still stroll we boys around the field. now
following about the "trainers." now dodging
a fire.cracker. aimed at our head by some
mischieyous urchin. and now stopping in front
Of a peddler's cart, to see with what rapidity
he disposes Of his Yankee notions.
"Six cents - bids Tom, as a jewelry man
is crying off lot Of trinkets which he holds
up at arms length. that the gaping crowd may
have fair view Of their beauties.
Seven" bids bystander.
"Seven, seyen-do hear eight ?" cries
the peddler.
mine" bids Tom.
"Hal ha old Sorrel-top" cries the bid
der "yeou may have it, in welcome"
What did you call me ?" fercely cries
Tom, turning upon the stranger at the allusion
to his red head for Tom was very sensitive
on that point.
81 say YeOu may have it. Mister SOrrel-
top. or whateyer-yer-name-is," replied the
stranger, in an insulting tone.
"Sorrel-top, is it ? you long-legged, pug
nosed, cross-eyed, humped-back, white-livered
son.ofa,gun! Sorrel-tOp, is it Take that
then :" and Tom bit the stranger blow III
face which sent him reeling to the ground.
MAKE ring" cries one.
Fair play (" yells another.
"Part 'em, part 'em" bawls third.
"Let EN- fght it out |" roars fourth =
and 50 they are like to do. Here ensues
scene of confusion which none but those who
have been to muster can appreciate. The
crowd surges backward and forward, curses
rroans shouts, laughter, and yells rend the AR,
while little men with game legs bObble out of
the way. and little dogs with short tails and
dogs with long tails. and dogs Of various col
ors, yelp in piercing tones. as they strive IN
vain to escape from the general melee.-
SoyeI-top is it ?" cries Tom, and he
pummoIs his foe most numerically.
"Give it to him. Tom" cries the driver.
encouraginely, as we boys crawl inside of the
living ring. Give it to him, Tom hurrah'
hur-"
..xut..t ,ho ola Harry are mean Growing