The weather of the past few days has been quite pleasant. Seldom is such moderate weather experienced so late in the season. Even at dawn this morning the atmosphere was quite balmy, and the weather, but little hazy, altogether suitable for a morning jaunt. Light had dawned upon a city of stillness. The streets were without an echo, save when the sentry’s musket struck the pavement, or the lumbering of a distant wagon made a heavy murmur up in the air. The beautiful river slept without a wave beneath the early light, and shone in the thin mist like burnished steel.
Very soon signs of awakening began to show—an early riser passed on towards his business—shutters began to open, and thin lines of smoke, mounting from chimney tops, told that a ruddy blaze was sparkling beneath. Then men and women passed along with baskets towards market or towards camp, to sell or buy; Wagons made the streets groan, beneath their heavy loads; carts and drays rumbled on towards the wharf; stores began to show their assortments in the unveiled windows, and rude noises within give indications of kindling wood being got ready, and from all sides came evidences that the old town was shaking off sleep, and making ready for another day.—The market is first astir, with full activity, then King street awakes, and gradually the side streets come in for their share of busy life. Music sounds near the headquarters of the U. S forces, and the daily process of guard mounting is gone through with. The mail opens—applicants for passes spread themselves along the sidewalk—and soon the town clock strikes—the Pensacola‘s bell rings over the river—and it is high noon.— The wharf has not yet awakened to business—it has been asleep for many months, and, like Rip Van Winkle, it sleeps yet.
The Local News, Alexandria, VA