I was sitting before my comfortable library fire in midwinter, 1854, and had been reflecting upon the mutability of human affairs generally, and the uncertainty of Shanghae-ism more particularly, when I finally dropped into a gentle slumber in my easy-chair, where I dozed away an hour, and dreamed.
My thoughts took a very curious turn. I fancied myself sitting before a large window that opened into a broad public street, in which I suddenly discovered a multitude of people moving actively about; and I thought it was some gala-day in the city, for the throng appeared to be excited and anxious. "The people" were evidently abroad; and the crowds finally packed themselves along the sidewalks, leaving the wide street open and clear; and I could overhear the words "They're coming!" "Here they are!"
I looked out, and beheld an immense gathering of human beings approaching in a line that stretched away as far as the eye could reach,—a dense mass of moving mortality, that soon arrived, and passed the window, beneath me. I was alone in the room, and could ask no questions. I could only see what occurred before me; and I noted down, as they passed by, this motley procession, which moved in the following
Order of March.
Escort of Indescribables.
Hatless Aid. [ Chief Marshal in Black. ] Bootless Aid.
Police. Two Ex-Mormons in White Tunics. Police.
Calathumpian Band.
| Whig Office-holders. | { | The "Know Nothing Guards," with guns enough for all useful purposes. | } | Democrat Expectants. |
The "Ins." [ Collector and Postmaster. ] The "Outs."