-stepping childhood, with laths and broom-handles at shoulder, was
not fated, as in the insipid days of peace, to find, on running to the
corner, its high hopes mocked by a wagon of empty barrels rumbling over
the cobble-stones. No; it was the Washington Artillery, or the Crescent
Rifles, or the Orleans Battalion, or, best of all, the blue-jacketed,
white-leggined, red-breeched, and red-fezzed Zouaves; or, better than
the best, it was all of them together, their captains stepping backward,
sword in both hands, calling "_Gauche! gauche!_" ("Left! left!") "Guide
right!"--"_Portez armes!_" and facing around again, throwing their
shining blades stiffly to belt and epaulette, and glancing askance from
under their abundant plumes to the crowded balconies above. Yea, and the
drum-majors before, and the brilliant-petticoated _vivandieres_ behind!

What pomp! what giddy rounds! Pennons, cock-feathers, clattering steeds,
pealing salvos, banners, columns, ladies' favors, balls, concerts,
toasts, the Free Gift Lottery--don't you recollect?--and this uniform
and that uniform, brother a captain, father a colonel, uncle a major,
the little rector a chaplain, Captain Ristofalo of the Tiger Rifles; the
levee covered with munitions of war, steam-boats unloading troops,
troops, troops, from Opelousas, Attakapas, Texas; and a supper to this
company, a flag to that battalion, farewell sermon to the Washington
Artillery, tears and a kiss to a spurred and sashed lover, hurried
weddings,--no end of them,--a sword to such a one, addresses by such and
such, serenades to Miss and to Mademoiselle.

Soon it will have been a quarter of a century ago!

And yet--do you not hear them now, coming down the broad, granite-paved,
moonlit street, the light that was made for lovers glancing on bayonet
and sword soon to be red with brothers' blood, their brave young hearts
already lifted up with the triumph of battles to come, and the trumpets
waking the midnight stillness with the gay notes of the Cracovienne?--

"Again, again, the pealing drum,
The clashing horn, they come, they come,
And lofty deeds and daring high
Blend with their notes of victory."

Ah! the laughter; the music; the bravado; the dancing; the songs!
"_Voila l'Zouzou!_" "Dixie!" "_Aux armes, vos citoyens!_" "The Bonnie
Blue Flag!"--it wasn't bonnie very long. Later the maidens at home
learned to sing a little song,--it is among the missing now,--a part of
it ran:--