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.
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