4" and "Washington, No. 2," until the dawn of day.
"I wish to mercy I'd gone home!" sighed Madam Conway, as weak and
faint she crept down to the breakfast table, doing but little justice
to anything, and returning to her room pale, haggard, and weary.
Ere long, however, she became interested in watching the crowds of
people who at an early hour filled the streets; and when at last the
different fire companies of the State paraded the town, in a seemingly
never-ending procession, she forgot in a measure her trouble, and
drawing her chair to the window sat down to enjoy the brilliant scene,
involuntarily nodding her head to the stirring music, as company after
company passed. Up and down the street, far as the eye could reach,
the sidewalks were crowded with men, women, and children, all eager
to see the sight. There were people from the city and people from the
country, the latter of whom, having anticipated the day for weeks and
months, were now unquestionably enjoying it to the last degree.
Conspicuous among these was a middle-aged woman, who elicited remarks
from all who beheld her, both from the peculiarity of her dress and
the huge blue cotton umbrella she persisted in hoisting, to the great
annoyance of those in whose faces it was thrust, and who forgot in a
measure their vexation when they read the novel device it bore. Like
many other people, who can sympathize with the good woman, she
was always losing her umbrella, and at last, in self-defense, had
embroidered upon the blue in letters of white:
"Steal me not, for fear of shame.
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