There was to be a General Muster that fall, and if you suppose the Perseverance boys had thought of anything else since the Fourth of July, that shows how little you know about musters.
A muster, boys—Well, I never saw a muster, myself; but it must have been something like this:—
A mixture of guns and gingerbread; men and music; horses and hard cider.
It was very exciting,—I know that. There were plumes dancing, flags waving, cannons firing, men marching, boys screaming, dogs barking; and women looking on in their Sunday bonnets.
The "Sharp-shooters" and the "String Beans" were there from Cross Lots; the Artillery from Harlow; the "Pioneers," in calico frocks, with wooden axes, from Camden; and all the infantry and cavalry from the whole country round about.
Seth Parlin belonged to the cavalry, or "troop," and made a fine figure on horseback. Willy secretly wondered if he would look as well when he grew up.
"Saddled and bridled and booted rode he,
A plume at his helmet,
A sword at his knee."
It seemed to be the general impression that the muster would do the country a great deal of good. The little artillery company, called the Never-Give-Ups, were on the ground before any one else, their cheeks painted with clear, cold air, and their hearts bursting with patriotism. As a rule, children were ordered out of the way; but as the little Never-Give-Ups had a cannon, they were allowed to march behind the large companies, provided they would be orderly and make no disturbance.
"Boys," said Willy, sternly,—for he felt all the importance of the occasion,—"boys, remember, George Washington was the Father of his Country; so you've got to behave."
The boys remembered "the father of his country" for a while, but before the close of the afternoon forgot him entirely. There were several stalls where refreshments were to be had,—such as cakes, apples, molasses taffy, sugar candy, and cider by the mugful, not to mention the liquors, which were quite too fiery for the little Never-Give-Ups.