Interspersed amidst this group were many of the village boys, edging their way at every practicable point nearer the musicians. One youngster, ragged as a saw, had succeeded in placing himself by the tenor drum, and was looking at the double performance of mouth and sticks, with the greatest admiration, whilst another, with open elbows and slouched hat, which was only prevented by a bulge in front from sliding entirely over his dirty face, was peering up into the twitching countenance of the bass-drummer, standing the thunder of the blows with all the nonchalance of a real veteran.
My attention was now, however, attracted toward the genius with the rifle, by his giving birth to a loud shout. Inflamed beyond bounds by the music which was now on a rattling quick-step, the red flanneled gentleman now made a spring in the air, and then dashed out into a “heel and toe” dance, flourishing his rifle as if it had been a walking-stick, now over his head, and now on each side of him, and making every thing fairly echo with his loud and frequent whoops. He at length became the lodestone of all eyes, except those of the musicians, fairly driving these worthies in the most ungrateful manner (they being the source of his inspiration) into the shade; becoming, as it were, the centre of a circle of grinning faces, until completely tired out with his exertions, he broke away, ascended the tavern stoop, and the next moment made the bar-room ring with his vociferation for “a small pull of some of the real grit!”
By and by the “trainers” began to appear at all points, some in groups, some singly, some by wagon loads. And one wagon came in so filled with bristling muskets, that it had the appearance of a huge steel porcupine.
The population of the surrounding country, men, women and children, commenced streaming in to gaze upon “the show,” and make merry amongst themselves. A number also of the surrounding farmers and their wives came as venders of pies, cake, small beer, cider, etc., turning their wagons into shops, wheeling them under the shadows of the trees, detaching the horses, flinging at the same time quantities of hay before them, and covering the seats of the wagons with cards of yellow gingerbread, mingled with pies, carved generally into quarters, and cider barrels at the ends, with faucets resembling hooked noses. Others again had erected booths of rough boards or hemlock boughs filled with articles of consumption. I looked at one for a few moments which Aunt Betsy Lossing had (as usual) erected.
It was composed of hemlock boards, with branches of the same tree. A rude counter had been placed athwart the entrance, behind which appeared Betsy’s red face and burly form, together with a boy and girl as assistants. Upon shelves were rows of casks lettered gin, brandy, whisky, etc.; on the highest shelf were two or three boxes of cigars, a dozen thick glass tumblers, and a small box of lemons, whilst below all, two barrels of cider (probably) looked out dimly from the shadow. The sunshine streamed richly in, lighting the lemons brilliantly, giving to the cigars a warm tint of brown, flashing upon the gilt letters of the casks, dancing on the glasses, and only failing to penetrate the recess where the barrels lay on their stomachs.
Still did the soldiery and country people stream in. By this time several pedlers had established their box wagons upon the grassy margins of the broad village street, and were as clamorous in their vocations as crows around a carrion.
The village was now a scene of active, noisy, bustling life. I amused myself for a short time by examining in detail the human current that flowed past my office steps. Now passed a pair of country lovers, the girl in the act of biting off a huge piece of mince pie, whilst the “he” was industriously engaged in puffing at a great black cigar, giving his rosy-cheeked sweetheart the benefit of the smoke gratis. Next a little rustic maiden alone, all beflowered and beribboned like a walking milliner shop; then a young woodsman, who had scarcely ever emerged from the forest before, but who had “left the saw-mill to-day to go a trainen,” sauntered past with his rusty old musket (which doubtless did service at Minisink in “granddaddy’s” hands) horizontal upon his shoulder; then a rough-looking check-shirted hunter, with his rifle in his grasp, and then a bumpkin from “Strong’s Settlement,” with his hands deep in his pockets, his “limpsey” hat upon one side of his head, minus half the crown and the whole of the rim, and opening his gray eyes so wide as fairly to pull his mouth open.
Succeeding this interesting specimen of humanity, minced along a youthful, undersized soldier, in an old blue artillery coat, made in the Revolution, the red-striped skirts striking his heels, the breast down to his hips, and the sleeves tucked up nearly to the elbows; and next strode a brawny hero, who crowded himself into a gray cavalry jacket, with its shadow of a skirt cocked up behind like the brush of a deer, and the breasts shrinking away nearly under his arms.
“I say there, hadn’t you two fellers better swap?” shouted a pedler from his box as the twain passed.
“Darn me,” added he, in an under tone, as they went regardless along, “if one of them are chaps don’t look loose enuff to run out of his coat like this ere old woman’s cider, whilst that are other crittur is screwed up so tight that he’ll sartenly bust up afore long. However it’s their business, not mine. Here’s a lot of fine spoons! no Garman silver about them. Come, roll up, tumble up, any way to get up—come, give us a bid!” etc. etc.