ffer of support. We have to fight
against the Duke and his lot anyhow, and the help of St. Paul couldn't
have done us any harm in that quarter, and it might have done us some
good in others. I shouldn't wonder if St. Paul had some friends and
admirers here still; and it is as likely as not that his being with us
might conciliate a few of the mad Radicals. They might like him just
because he is against his brother, the Duke."

"But Mr. Heron would not have such help as that," Lucy said, in tones
of pride.

"Oh, by Jove! if you want to carry an election--and now, I suppose, if
St. Paul has any influence at all, it will be given against us."

Minola thought of her unholy compact, and did not venture to say a word
on the subject.

THE "UNIFORMED MILITIA" SERVICE.

I spent seven years of my boyhood at school among the hills of old
Connecticut, about fifteen miles back of Bridgeport, in a region even
now in almost its primitive simplicity and pastoral beauty. It has been
left quiet and untouched between the iron ways of Housatonic and
Danbury, equidistant from both, and sufficiently far away from either
to be free from the impulse and incentive of that practical missionary
of modern progress, the railroad.

City born, but partly country bred, I understand well the sentiment of
the New Englander for his old home, and often live over again the days
in those familiar hills and valleys of Fairfield. I would revel in
enjoyment if it were possible for me to revisit them. It was there my
eyes were open to the delights of a "town muster," and my steps taught
rhythm by fife and drum.

In occasional musings I hear the old music as it used to reach me in
waves of sound, now faint, then loud, as the variable wind would waft
it, or as it escaped from obstructing hills. And I see the tall white
and red plume of the commandant, undulating with his stride, and
dipping salutes to the wind. Reader, if you have never realized the
excitement of a "general training day" in the country, you have missed
the freshest and most genuine pleasure of youth.

In the fall of 1842 occurred the Croton water celebration, a real city
holiday. The procession was long, interesting, and gorgeous, for all of
it except the military portion was profusely decorated with autumn
flowers, odorless but beautiful, rich in color and variety. It might
properly have been called the feast of dahlias.

The old fire department was out in all its glory, and ri