ooted 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.

At every halt in the march the boys bought something to eat or drink.
There had been a barrel of cider brought from Mr. Chase's for their
especial use, and Fred sold it out to the boys for four cents a glass.
This was a piece of extraordinary meanness in him, for his father had
intended the cider as a present to the company. The boys did not know
this, however, and paid their money in perfect good faith.

"Hard stuff," said Willy, draining his mug. "I don't like it much."

"Why, it's tip-top," returned Fred. "My father says it's the best he
ever saw."

Mr. Chase had never said anything of the sort. He had merely ordered his
colored servant, Pompey, to put a barrel of cider on the wheelbarrow,
and take it to the muster-ground. Whether Pompey and Fred had selected
this one for its age I cannot tell, but the boys all declared it was "as
hard as a stone wall."

Dr. Hilton, who seemed to be everywhere at once, heard them say that,
and exclaimed,--

"Then I wouldn't drink any more of it, boys. Hard cider does make
anybody dreadful cross. Better let it alone."

I fear the boys did not follow this advice, for certain it is that they
grew outrageously cross. The trouble began, I believe, with Abram
Noonin, who suddenly declared he wouldn't march another step with Jock
Winter. As the marching was all done for the day, Abram might as well
have kept quiet.

"Yes