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Monday, 26th.
Yesterday was evacuation day; but as yesterday was the Lord's day also, the American militia army postponed their yearly exhibition, and, instead of rushing about the streets in token of their thankfulness at the departure of the British, they quietly went to church, and praised God for that same. To-day, however, we have had firing of pop-guns, waving of star-spangled banners (some of them rather the worse for wear), infantry marching through the streets, cavalry (oh, Lord, what delicious objects they were!) and artillery prancing along them, to the infinite ecstasy and peril of a dense mob. Went to rehearsal at half-past ten. Was detained full ten minutes on the way thither, by the defiling of troops, who were progressing down Broadway. After rehearsal, came home—put out things for the theatre. Mr. —— called: while he was here, spent a delightful half hour at the window, which, overlooking the Park, commanded a full view of the magnanimous military marshalled there. O, pomp and circumstance of glorious war! They were certainly not quite so bad as Falstaff's men, of ragged memory; for, for aught I know to the contrary, they perhaps all of them had shirts to their backs. But some had gloves, and some had none; some carried their guns one way, and some another; some had caps of one fashion, and some of another; some had no caps at all, but "shocking bad hats," with feathers in them.[64] The infantry were, however, comparatively respectable troops. They did not march many degrees out of the straight line, or stoop too much, or turn their heads round too often. Mr. —— remarked, that militia were seldom more steady and orderly in their appearance. But the cava'ry! oh, the cavalry! what gems without price they were! Apparently extremely frightened at the shambling tituppy chargers upon whose backs they clung, straggling in all directions, putting the admiring crowd in fear of their lives, and proving beyond a doubt how formidable they must appear to the enemy, when, with the most peaceable intentions in the world, they thus jeopardied the safety of their enthusiastic fellow citizens. Bold would have been the man who did not edge backwards into the crowd, as a flock of these worthies a-horseback came down the street—some trotting, some galloping, some racking, some ambling; each and all "witching the world with wondrous horsemanship." If any thing ever might be properly called wondrous, they, their riders and accoutrements, deserve the title. Some wore boots, and some wore shoes, and one independent hero had got on grey stockings and slippers! Some had bright yellow feathers, and some red and black feathers! I remembered, particularly, a doctor, in a black suit, Hessian boots, a cocked hat, and bright yellow gauntlets; another fellow was dressed in the costume of one of the Der Freyschutz's corps: it looked for all the world like a fancy parade. The officers fulfilled completely my idea of Macheath's company of gentlemen of the road; only, I strongly suspect the latter would have been heartily ashamed of the unhappy hacks the evacuation heroes had gotten up upon. The parade terminated with a full half hour's feu de joie.[65]
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The bands of these worthies were worthy of them; half a dozen fifers and drummers playing old English jig tunes. In spite of the folly and injustice of such a comparison, I could not keep out of my head the last soldiers I had seen, those fine tall fellows, the grenadier guards, that used to delight us of a Sunday morning in St. James's Park, and their exquisite band, and dandy-looking officers. Those looked like soldiers, whatever they may fight like; and allowing these excellent good folks to be very lions, look you, I can only say their appearance approached the sublime, by as near as the French critic assures us the extreme of the ridiculous does. Dined at three; —— and —— called after dinner. My father went with Mr. —— to Tammany Hall,[66] where there was a grand democratic dinner, in honour of the triumph of the Jackson party, the mob men here. I sat writing to —— till time to go to the theatre. The play was Isabella; the house crammed; a regular holiday audience—shrieking, shouting, laughing, and rowing, like one of our own Christmas audiences. I acted like a wretch. My dresses looked very handsome, particularly my marriage dress; but my muslin bed-gown was so long that, I set my feet through it the very first thing; and those animaux bêtes, who dragged me off, tore a beautiful point lace veil I had on to tatters, a thing that cost three guineas, if a farthing! My father received a most amusing letter this morning from Lord ——, asking us to come over to Jamaica and act, offering us quarters in his house, and plenty of volunteer actors (did he include himself, I wonder?) to make up a company, if we will come. I should like it very well: to pass the winter in that nice warm climate would be delightful, and I dare say we should find our stay there amusing and agreeable enough. I wish we could do it.
Tuesday, 27th.
After breakfast, Colonel —— called. Put out things for to-night. At half-past twelve, went out with my father and Colonel ——. Called upon his honour, the Recorder, but he was in court, and not to be seen. Walked down to the Battery. The day was most lovely, like an early day in June in England: my merino gown was intolerable, and I was obliged to take a parasol with me, the sun was so powerful. The Battery was, as usual, totally deserted, though the sky, and shores, and beautiful bright bay, were smiling in perfect loveliness. A delicious fresh breeze came wandering over the wide estuary; and graceful boats, with their full sails glittering in the sun, glided to and fro, swift and strong, over the smooth waters, like summer clouds across the blue heavens—as silently, as rapidly, as tracklessly.[67]