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He thought he heard shouts in German, the galloping of horses, a distant sound of tattoo and whistle such as the battalions of the invaders made with their fifes and drums. . . . Then he lost all consciousness of his surroundings.
* This ancient corps is now entirely disbanded. Their last march to do duty at Hallowfair had something in it affecting. Their drums and fifes had been wont on better days to play, on this joyous occasion, the lively tune of "Jockey to the fair;" but on his final occasion the afflicted veterans moved slowly to the dirge of "The last time I came ower the muir."
Terrible years, years of bulletins, years of want, hard times, years when all the future was at stake, until finally that day in New York when she saw the remnant returning, marching up Broadway between the black crowds and the bunting, the drums beating, the fifes playing, "Returning, with thinned ranks, young, yet very old, worn, marching, noticing nothing."
"On Monday evening, being the last night of the old year, a suitable service was held in church, the subject being Psalm xc., 'So teach us to number our days, etc. On New Year's-day the festivities were renewed. Bugle-notes and drums and fifes, and the exercises of the volunteers, enlivened the scene. The youth of the village played football on the sands.
The victorious Tyrolese, mounted on the horses of Cite Bavarian cavalry, and headed by the proud and triumphant Speckbacher and a rural band of music, appeared with their prisoners. Two badly-tuned violins, two shrill fifes, two iron pot-lids, and several jews'-harps, were the instruments of this band.
But the music was sounding out in the big tent just next them drums and horns and bugles and fifes. The circus would start in a minute now and all the fun would be over. "Where's your ticket, Sonny?" asked Tody. "I haven't any," Marmaduke explained. "I've lost the Toyman and he's got my ticket an' an' I can't go in." "Don't you worry about that. You'll have the best seat in the whole circus."
He had liked many of the Mexicans and many of the Mexican traits, but he had felt with increasing force that he could never reach out his hand and touch anything solid. He thought of volcanic beings on a volcanic soil. The throb of a drum came from the street below, and presently the shrill sound of fifes was mingled with the steady beat.
The more he ran the nearer came the sounds of the fifes and the beating of the big drum: Fi-fi-fi; zum, zum, zum, zum. At last he found himself in the middle of a square quite full of people, who were all crowded round a building made of wood and canvas, and painted a thousand colors. "What is that building?" asked Pinocchio, turning to a little boy who belonged to the place.
But, "hurry up" became the word when the drums and fifes gave notice that the regiment was on the move, and that somebody would "get left" if they did not practise the "Pas redouble." By Teresa Herrick.
There is magic in a bugle call, there are whole volumes of countryside history in a posthorn's blast as the four-horse coach swings past. The beat of the drum and the shrill pipe of the fifes carry a "come-along" atmosphere with them, and if we fail to answer the call it is most likely with a lingering feeling of regret that the days of adventure for us are past and gone.
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