Excerpt from Parson Gay's Three Sermons: Or Saint Sacrement

From an old-fashioned house drawn out like a telescope along the side of the Village green issued, one pleasant spring afternoon, the notes of a piano on which hands evidently skilful were playing The Battle of Prague. As an occa sioual passer, probably with plenty Of leisure, attracted by the sound, glanced across the little flower garden with its cherry trees clothed in white, its crown imperials, its daffodils, its bed of periwinkle, its monk's-hood and larkspur, he might have seen crossing the open front door at short intervals a little boy helmeted in a cocked hat Of newspaper, from be neath which hung down his back long flaxen curls. Epaulettes of colored paper denoted an indefinite but undoubtedly very high rank. In addition to his uncle's cane, carried over his Shoulder, he dragged by his Side a sabre of moderate dimeh sions, but long enough to clank proudly with every step. The march extended from the seldom used parlor with its formal antiquated furniture through the Sitting-room, where a fair young lady was representing in martial music the great Frederic and the empress-queen, then through the dining room to the kitchen, where sat Maria comfortably knitting with Prim, the gray cat, purring by her side.

In the Sitting-room was a little, Sprightly, brown-haired lady, not too busy with her worsted work to look up with a smile for her grandson as the warrior passed and saluted.

An elderly man came in and seated himself for a rest from his professional labors; soon his strongly marked kindly countenance was directed to the ceiling, while his scanty gray locks hung over the back of the chair. He said the music would not keep him awake, but he feared that the clatter and jingle of so large an army might do so. A Signal from the grandmother attracted the attention of the young soldier, and as he turned suddenly the sabre got between his legs and the whole battalion fell upon its nose.

The music at this time had reached the passage represent ing the cries of the wounded, and the performer expected that it would now be reinforced by something more realistic.

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