the regiment. For almost
three years that one particular march had been the review march of the
regiment--that is, it had been played always whenever the regiment
had passed in review before the colonel, inspector general of the
department, or any official of sufficient rank and authority to review
the troops.
The car seemed to go miles before it came to a place where I could get
off. Every second was most precious and I jumped down while it was still
in motion, receiving a scathing rebuke from the conductor for doing so.
I almost ran until I got to the walk nearest the band, where I tagged
along with boys, both big and small. The march was played for some time,
and no one could possibly imagine, how those familiar strains thrilled
me. But there was an ever-increasing feeling of indignation that a
tawdry coated circus band, sitting in a gilded wagon, should presume to
play that march, which seemed to belong exclusively to the regiment, and
to be associated only with scenes of ceremony and great dignity.
The circus men played the piece remarkably well, however, and when it
was stopped I came back to the hotel to think matters over and have a
heart-to-heart talk with myself. Of course I am more than proud that
Faye is an aide-de-camp, and would not have things different from what
they are, but the detail is for four years, and the thought of living in
this unattractive place that length of time is crushing. But Faye will
undoubtedly have his captaincy by the expiration of the four years, and
the anticipation of that is comforting. It is the feeling of loneliness
I mind here--of being lost and no one to search for me. I miss the
cheery garrison life--the delightful rides, and it may sound funny, but
I miss also the little church choir that finally became a joy to me.
Sergeant Graves is now leader of the regimental band at Fort Snelling,
and Matijicek is in New York, a member of the Damrosch orchestra. It is
still something to wonder over that I should have been on a street car
that carried me to a circus parade at the precise time the Review March
was being played! It seems quite as marvelous as my having been seated
at a supper table in a far-away ranch in Montana, the very night a
number of horse breakers were there, also at the table, and one of them
"put up" Rollo and me to his friends. I shall never forget how queer
I felt when I heard myself discussed by perfect strangers in my very
presence--not one of whom knew
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