New York, was first attracted, while driving
through Broadway, by "the Monument," which
was hung with black and white flags, in addition
to the national emblems, that have everywhere
adorned the city since the commencement
of the war. He asked the meaning of
these funeral symbols, and was told that the
country was wearing mourning for her children
who were killed at Bull Run.

"But I thought Bull Run was a victory?"

"Oh no, it was a prudent retreat."

This seemed to the travellers rather a sorrowful
awakening from the dream of triumph which
had been previously trumpeted in the New York
journals.

Some days later, M. Sand found all the public
edifices of New York illuminated, and the
population keeping holiday in the streets. Flags and
lighted torches were being carried about by girls
decked out with ribbons and flowers. The firemen
were out with their engines, brilliant with
red, white, and blue lamps—the Union colours
—the militia was under arms with a band at its
head. Music, dancing, and drinking were everywhere.
What can all these exclamations mean?
—"Where are they?" "Are they coming?"
Who? What? Is it the celebration of
another victory? Has there been a repetition of
Bull Run? No; here they come: hurrah!
Long live the volunteers of the Sixth Regiment!
It was the return of the vanquished soldiers
from the Potomac. Strange indeed! An
ovation to a band of runaways!

The business of enlistment seems to be carried
on (or seems to have been, when it was carried
on) with about as much seriousness as a show at
a fair. Here is a description of a recruiting-officer
endeavouring to obtain a fresh supply of
noble defenders of their country. The scene
was a tent, adorned with warlike ornaments. A
person attired in black clothes like a gentleman,
but acting like a mountebank, having succeeded
by means of a trumpet in drawing a large crowd
around him, began thus to announce his
business: "Make haste, for there are not more than
twenty places left! Just see now, how I dress
my soldiers," producing at the same time two
fellows whom he used as advertisements, clothed
in a fantastic Zouave costume. "Food, washing,
and clothes, and twelve dollars for pocket-money!"
His eloquence prevailing on some of
the crowd, they entered the tent and enlisted
and were marched off immediately, flags flying
and drums beating.

What a strange country! exclaims M. Sand.
If among all these adventurers, whose only
dream is of dollars, or if among those poor
volunteers who are satisfied if they can get
food and clothing for three months, there should
be any true patriots, what steadiness of faith
and devotion must they need to overcome the
disgust inspired by these ridiculous affectation
of enthusiasm!

The names of the recently-formed corps are
placarded everywhere: sometimes accompanied
by pictures, which connoisseurs of military
costumes behold with amazement. There are German
sharp-shooters, English volunteers, Scotch rifles,
Garibaldians, Swiss cavalry, the guards of
Lafayette, American chasseurs. The so-called
uniform of the remainder is made up of bits of
each of the others. The corps which is
pre-eminently the favourite, is the Zouave.
Everything is à la Zouave—women's and children's
clothes, gaiters, bonbons, trousers, and soup. As
or the puffing placards, here is a specimen:

Do you know a finer regiment than the Zouaves
of New Attica?

No!

Do you know a regiment better commanded than
the Zouaves of New Attica?

No! no!

Do you know a fiercer regiment than the Zouaves
of New Attica?

No! no! no!

Do you wish to avenge your country?

Yes!

Do you wish to get twelve dollars a month?

Yes! yes!

Enrol yourself then in the Zouaves of New Attica!!!

Yes! yes! yes!

The whole is finished by an appeal "To Arms,"
in letters three feet high, with fifteen notes of
admiration.

M. Sand visited the camp or depot for recruits
on the Hudson: made up of one of the most
heterogeneous and motley companies of men that
was ever dignified by the title of a military station.
Nearly all the European nationalities were
here represented—Germans, Irish, Swiss,
Hungarians, Italians, and French; of Americans
there certainly was not ten in a hundred. Many
of the wretched fellows were men out of
employment, who had preferred joining the Union
army, to dying of hunger; for they at least
got bread to eat, though little else, in spite
of tempting promises. One of the recruits, a
Frenchman who looked as if he were going
to be hanged, said, "Yes, the promises are all
well enough; sixty francs a month, exclusive
of food and clothing, looks very attractive; but
all the while we have been in camp we have
not seen the colour of their dollars. For clothing
they have given us one pair of gaiters and one pair
of braces. The rations are very well for those
who are particularly fond of ice, journals, and
tobacco, but these don't happen to agree with
me. I have engaged myself for three months,
and I have yet six weeks more to remain. When
that time has expired I hope they may get me
here again."

There was also in camp here a company
of the celebrated American Zouaves, almost
entirely composed of Frenchmen who have seen
but little service, and [French] Canadians who
have seen none. This would not matter much,
provided they were ready and willing; but
respecting discipline? "Oh! discipline," said one
of them; "what can you expect? There are
those Canadians made corporals and sergeants
because they can speak English; and difficult
enough it is for us to obey commands given in
that villanous language of theirs, of which we
do not understand one word." "Then," said