s of
expression, some common means of conveying their moods and their
thoughts to themselves and their world. The band feels the moods and
interprets the thoughts. A wise and sympathetic bandmaster--and the
masters that I have met have been that--can lift a battalion out of
depression, cheer it in sickness, and steady and recall it to itself in
times of almost unendurable stress. [Cheers.] You may remember a
beautiful poem by Sir Henry Newbolt, in which he describes how a
squadron of weary big dragoons were led to renewed effort by the strains
of a penny whistle and a child's drum taken from a toyshop in a wrecked
French town. I remember in India, in a cholera camp, where the men were
suffering very badly, the band of the Tenth Lincolns started a
regimental sing-song and went on with that queer, defiant tune, "The
Lincolnshire Poacher." It was their regimental march that the men had
heard a thousand times. There was nothing in it--nothing except all
England, all the East Coast, all the fun and daring and horse play of
young men bucketing about big pastures in the moonlight. But as it was
given, very softly at that bad time in that terrible camp of death, it
was the one thing in the world that could have restored, as it did
restore, shaken men back to their pride, humor, and self-control.
[Cheers.] This may be an extreme instance, but it is not an exceptional
one. Any man who has had anything to do with the service will tell you
that the battalion is better for music at every turn, happier, more
easily handled, with greater zest in its daily routine, if that routine
is sweetened with melody and rhythm--melody for the mind and rhythm for
the body.

Our new armies have been badly served in this essential. Of all the
admirable qualities which they have shown none is more wonderful than
the spirit which has carried them through the laborious and distasteful
groundwork of their calling without one note of music, except that which
the same indomitable spirit provided out of their own heads. We have all
seen them marching through the country, through the streets of London,
in absolute silence and the crowds through which they passed as silent
as themselves for the lack of the one medium that could convey and
glorify the thoughts that are in us all today.

We are a tongue-tied brood at the best. The bands can declare on our
behalf without shame and without shyness something of what we all feel
and help us to reach a hand towar