By half-past eleven, the affairs of

Europe being settled, the drum and trumpet summon us from the diurnal exercise of the politician, to the diurnal exercise of the soldier. From the Steyne we walk up to the parade, and in the now well-known sounds of "Handle arms, ease arms;" our own parish, and our own corps, is recalled to our minds. From this sweet recollection of our own warlike progress and achievements, returning to contemplate the exhibitions before us, we admire the readiness, ability, and skill with which the soldiers perform their evolutions. Not a few of us conclude, that the military instructor who teaches them to handle arms, knows his business better than the political instructor in the library, who professes to handle the counsels of statesmen.