University of Virginia Library

AFTER THE CELEBRATION.

THE 5th of July is so closely associated with the 4th as to be a part of it. We don't care to think of the 5th on the 4th; but on the 5th we wish the 4th hadn't been quite so much to us as it was. The American mouth is equally extended on both

days,—shouting over the one, and yawning on the other. The family which celebrates awakes in a cloud of depression. The threads which were precipitately dropped on the 3rd, and fearfully entangled on the 4th, must be taken up again on the 5th, and brought out of the snarl, and carried forward as before. If we could bear this in mind at the first, we should save much trouble and annoyance. The re-action from the excesses of the day we celebrate depresses us; and then to have to take up duties which were too hastily and gladly put off appears to be a very good substitute for the feather which broke the camel's back. In the realization of an anticipation, we rest content to let the future take care of itself.

"That's all right; I'll attend to it to-morrow;" or, "Never mind, there'll be plenty of time to do it to-morrow,"—are household words on a 4th of July. The 5th of July is a most handy waste-basket. Every hour, from the eve to the close of the "glorious anniversary," we are pitching things into it; and the next day, with tired senses and muscles, we bend over the mass, and sort them out again. It is a dreary task; but it shall never happen again—shall it? We drop duties like hot shot; we sweep aside unperformed cares as so many cobwebs: every thing is thrown recklessly and carelessly down, while we plunge into the excitement of the event. There'll be plenty of time to-

morrow to attend to it all: we are too excited to do any thing now. If the whole world could be swept into eternity as soon as we should finish our celebration, what a grand day the 4th of July would be! We never shall have a perfect 4th until the 5th is exterminated. What a hollow mockery are the burned fire-crackers, and empty Roman candles, and charred pin-wheels, and broken rocket-sticks, the next day! How weak and insignificant look the bunting, and greens, and other decorations! How insipid are the mottoes which excited us the day before! How oppressive are the things to be put to rights, the extra dishes to be washed, the debris to be removed! How repulsive appear the every-day clothes which were thrown here, and kicked there, on the morning of the 4th, as if they were never to be donned again! There is a bitterness of spirit as we crawl back into them, which we cannot entirely conceal.

The family temper is fully alive on the 5th. There is but little in the house for breakfast, and scarcely any disposition on the part of the woman to prepare what there is. We all get out of bed on the wrong side, and are prone to think that our display of patriotism the day before amply compensates for all lack of charity now.

There never was such a hot, close, wretched day as this 5th of July. We judge it from the stand-point of a depressed system. The stomach has

been bombarded all the day before by ice-cream and lemonade, and recoils now from food, and in the recoil appears to have kicked us in the roof of the mouth with a pair of decayed overshoes.

"Thank Heaven, 4th of July comes but once a year!" is the spontaneous outburst from a million of hearth-stones on the morning of the 5th.