e turf to save
their reputation for alignment. Then they break into platoons, and are
inspected, man by man, by the adjutant and his aides. The inspection
being over about eleven o'clock, the colonel appears, all glorious in
brass buttons, epaulets as large as tin plates, and a cocked hat of
great proportions. Once more the regiment forms in double ranks, with
presented arms. The colonel and his "staff" ride slowly down the line,
turn back, and take their stand for review. The music, just as it came
from every town contributing to the regiment, has been "pooled" and
placed in the charge of a leader. It is a strange medley of snare-,
kettle-, and bass drums, of fifes, clarionets, and piccolos, with an
occasional "Kent bugle"--the predecessor of the cornet--or some other
instrument of brass. It is poor music at the best, and it cannot go far
beyond marking time for the marching. But is it not better than the
simple drum and fife of a common training-day? The "full brass band," we
must recollect, is too expensive a luxury except for the most
extraordinary occasions, and even then we run the risk of hearing
"Highland Mary" repeated all day long, so scant is the _repertoire_. The
regiment, headed by the cavalry and the music, passes the colonel and
his staff. The music wheels out of the line, gives "three cheers," and
remains at the colonel's side till the regiment has returned to its
place. A hollow square is formed, in imitation of the great Napoleon at
Waterloo, and the colonel addresses his "brother-officers and
fellow-soldiers" in a few fitting words, and retires from the field.

And now comes dinner,--a most important feature of muster-day. No one
has had a bite since his breakfast at home by candle-light,--unless he
has patronized the refreshment-booths. Even then he will not allow his
appetite for the noonday meal to become impaired. By previous
arrangement, each company dines by itself, or it joins forces with some
friendly company and hires the services of a caterer. The hotel of the
village cannot begin to accommodate the public, whether martial or
civilian, and temporary sheds cover long lines of tables on which the
feast is spread. It is a jolly company, and the scrambling for the
viands and the vintages, if there are any, is done in a good-natured
way. As the repast draws to a close and dessert is in order, the caterer
appears at the end of one of the tables in shirt-sleeves that are more
than wet with perspira