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Updated: May 17, 2025
It held within it the thunder of the spheres rolling through the infinite, the birth-song of suns made manifest in the womb of space; echoes of creation's supernal chord! It shook the body like a pulse from the heart of the universe pulsed and died away. On its death came a blaring as of all the trumpets of conquering hosts since the first Pharaoh led his swarms triumphal, compelling!
On that October evening crowds packed Montgomery Street; the booming of cannon and the crashing of anvils loaded with black powder, the blaring of brass bands and the voices of orators, all mingled in one glad uproar, to tell the world that the people by the Golden Gate appreciated the occasion. In St. Louis, the eastbound mail was an hour earlier.
When I had got as far as this from all sides came a tremendous blaring of barbaric trumpets those long brass trumpets that can make one's blood curdle horribly, a blaring which has now upset everything I was about to write and also my inkpot.
"What was he like?" "He was a stupid old German. I always thought he was a sort of a natural." "Yes?" Average Jones peered out of the window. "Is this the man, coming up the street?" "It surely is," said the old lady. "Now, Mister Jones, if he commences his blaring and blatting and ". "There'll be no more music, ma'am," promised the young man, laughing, as she went out to answer the door-bell.
So Dick Royson's placid temper was again ruffled, and he might have said nasty things about Fate had not that erratic dame suddenly thought, fit to alter his fortunes. As the street narrowed between lofty buildings, so did the blaring thunder of the music increase. The mob closed in on the soldiers' heels; the whole roadway was packed with moving men.
William nodded, and the women in the cave began to wail while I unstrung my bow and set it in its case, from habit I think, seeing that I never hoped to look upon it again. Just then from the French ships in the harbour there came a great blaring of trumpets giving some alarm, and the Frenchmen of a sudden, ceasing from their attack, turned and ran towards the shore.
Beyond the ridge the road straightened out suddenly. Better time now: twenty-five miles, thirty, thirty-five and then, down in the valley, forty-five miles, fifty, fifty-five her horn blaring, sending far and wide its defiant, warning echoes, her headlights flashing across trees, fences, patches of brush, and rolling hills sixty miles.
For so long Hollister had lived amid blaring noises, the mechanical thunder and lightning of the war, the rumble of industry, the shuffle and clatter of crowds, he had forgotten what it was like to be alone, and in the most crowded places he had suffered the most grievous loneliness. For the time being he was unconscious of his mutilation, since there was no one by to remind him by look or act.
Indistinguishably blent were the sounds of hosts on the move, field-guns pounding to the front, troops shouting, the clink and rattle of metal, officers calling, bugles blaring, drums rolling, mules screaming, all heard as a running accompaniment to the cannon heavily punctuating the multitudinous din.
His ears were filled with the incessant hum in various notes, now the busy hum of the working bee flying quickly off, then the blaring of the lazy drone, and the excited buzz of the bees on guard protecting their property from the enemy and preparing to sting. On the farther side of the fence the old bee-keeper was shaving a hoop for a tub, and he did not see Levin.
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