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It's a pity I haven't the power to paint a good word picture of what I saw from my post, for the sight was fairyland.  The lights of New York were enough in themselves to satisfy any [[strikethrough]] any [[/strikethrough]] mortal who craves the effect of an immense [[strikethrough]] area [[/strikethrough]] ^[[area]] ablaze at night.  In the harbor all manners of boats flashed other lights and the ferryboats appeared as huge floating squares as they silently swept by.  The Jersey Shore and Staten Island were also a bank of electricity in the form of light.  The sounds were many also.  The water lapped the shore, the whistles of multitude of craft tore, shrieked, boomed, bellowed, piped, snarled, crashed.  A thousand and one little night noises that would ordinarily go unnoticed were borne to the island after darkness.

In the two A.M. march, however, everything was changed.  Not many sounds, except the