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Rh music, I proceeded up Summer Street, and encountered a motley procession, headed by a neatly uniformed brass band. who discoursed exquisite airs alternately with this discordant, ear-torturing performance of the ragged members of a tin pan and thistle band. Appeared the procession of the "Ancient and Honourable Order of Antiques and Horribles." Uproarious cheers and hoots of laughter greeted the body as it filed up the street. My astonished eyes were opened to their fullest extent at the fantastic and wildly different costumes of the grotesque procession. Here were Hamlet, and Don Caesar de Borzan, aria in aria, masked, and kissing sensuous bouquets of the ladies; here Punch and Judy, in a carriage, affectionately embracing and then sparring scientifically to each other with connubial earnestness; here a sham female with exaggerated hoops and a very small apology for a bonnet, affecting most ridiculous coquettish airs; Don Quixote—not a bad specimen of the Yankee, riding on a very sorry Rosimante indeed, abreast with the Rev. Mr. Snowball, a colored clergyman with very large blue spectacles and proportionate shirt collar, and Sancho, dressed as a clown, clinging to the tail of Rosimante; And Lomis Napoleon taking snuff with Brother Jonathan, the latter comporting himself with more dignity than his imperial majesty. The characters throughout were inimitable. Besides, sprinkled here and there, clowns and harlequins gesticulated and twisted themselves into all sorts of shapes; mock beans exhibited their Terpsichorean powers; monkeys, jabbers etc. Not the least in conspicuous display was an allegorical representation on a ear of the devil inciting Tyranny, crowned and dressed as a monarch, to acts of cruelty towards a group of cowering wretches in chains, whilst the angel of Liberty was be degrees releasing them from slavery, and the tyrant eventually becomes the prey of the Arch-Fiend. Having feasted myself to my hearts content, I returned to breakfast, and, after doing justice to that meal, I set about arranging my stock of fireworks to be in readiness for a cousin of mine whom I had persuaded to spend the day with me. Pending his arrival, I amused myself with looking out the window and watching the boys in the street, in all the enthusiasm of Young America, discharging pistols, piles of India crackers, etc. On the outside ledge of the parlor-window below, I spied a heap common fire-crackers. A brilliant idea occurred to me which was forthwith put into practice. Attaching a piece of lighted fuse to a string, I lowered it among the incendiary materials, and the consequence was not only that they went off with spirit-stirring reports, but, flying about us in all directions, burnt holes in the Brussels Carpet, and set fire to the window-curtains. Opportunely entering the room in the moment, the servant-maid, by extinguishing the fire, prevented it doing more mischief. Nobody being able to trace the cause of the accident, I of course, escaped blame, not being even suspected. Joined by my cousin, he and I sallied forth about town. The din was such as to fill our youthful hearts with unbounded delight, being incessant and deafening beyond description. On Washington Street, we witnessed the marching past of troops of soldiers,—horse, footman, artillery,—the governor and state officials, the corporation and other civic officers, the different bodies of the city militia in their rich uniforms, and the noble and gallant firemen in their redshirts, dragging their favorite engines, which were gayly decked out in ribbons and flowers. The houses in the line of marchers were hansomely decorated with appropriate flags, floral festoons, and banners, worked with designs and mottoes significant of the occasion. Stretched across Washington Street (the principal thoroughfare of the City) from Old South Church was a banneret bearing the announcement of that sacred edifice—the sanctuary of the Most High—during the occupation of Boston by the British troops in the Revolutionary war, was used as a stable by the royal chagoons. Pushing on through the crown, we made our way to the common,—the pride and glory of Bostonians,—a small park, forty-four acres in area, and boasting a pond, the breadth of which might be cleared by a vigorous hop, step and leap. On Sundays and the evenings of all other days, the Common, with its contiguous streets is the favorite promenade of the citizens, and on public festivals is the center of attractions. Its chief ornaments are the "Liberty Tree"—a large and very aged elm—and the "Smoker’s Circle," whose precinct is nearly always occupied by lounges. The Common is the bequest of an Irishman to the Corporation of the City of Boston for ever. To admit that one never heard of the existence of Boston Common, would, in the eyes of the natives, betray a gross ignorance of history and geography. the Common was swarming with both sexes and all ages, and with all the exuberance of infantile glee, manhood and even tottering age united with their juvenile companions in forwarding the general hilarity by contributing their share towards increasing the noise. Now, however cam a slight lull; the monster concert was about to commence. Eight brass bands, placed at some distance apart, opened with the national air of "Hail Columbia": a park of artillery— battery, which afterwards played such a prominent part in that unhappy war between the North and South—keeping time to the notes of the drum with the most exact precision. Besides operatic and other selections, the national anthems of the principal nations of the globe were performed, wit the exception of that of England it being, to my no small surprise and delight, substituted by "St. Patrick’s Day."

Kappa.

Abyssinia, via Trinidad, Nov 18.—

It is reported that the Emperor Theodore is willing to hear on the terms of a peace. The British Commander in chief, with his army, has gone to -.

"Mother Carey’s chickens," in their pursuit of, have scratched the outer covering of the Atlantic Telegraph cable.—Insulation destroyed. John Dorey has been engaged to repair it.