The militia muster, once a year, is a celebration peculiar more
particularly to New England. It is called the “General Muster.” Each
little town comes in with its quota of militia; the bands as numerous
as the troops. They make a holiday of it. One afternoon an old couple
on the hill-side of the little town go out to catch a glimpse of
the festivities. They are old and alone, managing to drag a mere
subsistence out of the sour soil. Their children have gone West,—a
son here, a daughter there. They are content to spend the winter of
their days in the old, hard nest where they have reared their young;
old folks, so old!—parchment faces, bony hands. They totter to the
town, and rest on the way in the cemetery, or church-yard, and look at
the graves as such grizzly veterans will. One of the militia fellows,
going home,—he had got fuddled rather earlier than usual,—sees them.
“Hello!” he shouts. “Go right back, right back, my friends; _this is
not the general resurrection, it is the general muster_!”
“By the way,” said Irving, “did I tell you of the amusing incident
that occurred at Philadelphia? It was on the last night of the first
visit. We were playing ‘The Belle’s Stratagem.’ You know how difficult
it is sometimes to keep the wings clear of people,—goodness knows who
they are! Well, my way was continually blocked by a strange-looking
crowd. I remonstrated with them once, and they moved; but they were
back again. The cue for my entrance during the mad scene was at hand,
as I said to these fellows, ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ ‘Baggage!’
exclaimed two of them, both in a breath. I did not know what the deuce
baggage meant; whether the reply was a piece of information or a piece
of impertinence; so I thought I would astonish them a little. Getting
my cue on the instant, I stepped back a yard or two, and dashed in
among them, yelling my entrance line, ‘Bring me a pickled elephant!’
They scattered right and left, and fell over each other; but before
they had time to defend themselves from what they evidently thought was
a furious attack I was on the stage.”