PETERSFIELD.
EASTER MONDAY. —This town was upon the qui vive from early dawn, till after the shades of night had set in. First the bugle call aroused many from their slumbers, exclusive of Volunteers for muster in the square to be off for the Brighton review. In the afternoon the streets were enlivened by the sweet strains of music from Middleton’s clever band, by way of announcing the performance in the evening at the Town Hall, where they have been exibiting their automaton figures, &c., for several days, with great success. And as if in contra distinction, as the shades of evening commenced, the most horrible din grated upon the ear, from every available pot, and kettle, horsebells, and cowhorns, with other discordant sounds, in consequence of an inhabitant of the square (holding a respectable position) having taken it into his head to ‟pummel” his wife, in the afternoon. A little after midnight, the Rifles returned, (namely the Petersfield division,) headed by the above named band, playing some spirited airs, who had gone to the railway station to meet them, and escort them back to the square.