Hinman's judicious coaching, before the
assembled school, with feelings, nay, emotions which I now shudder to
recall, I did my first "song and dance." Many times before had I stepped
off a solo-cachuca to the staccato pleasing of a fragment of slate
frame, upon which my tutor was a gifted performer, but never until that
day did I accompany myself with words. Boy like, I had chosen for my
"piece" a poem sweetly expressive of those peaceful virtues which I most
heartily despised. So that my performance, at the inauguration of the
strike, as Mr. Hinman conducted the overture, ran something like this--
"Oh, not for me (whack) is the rolling (whack) drum,
Or the (whack, whack) trumpet's wild (whack) appeal! (Boo-hoo!)
Or the cry (swish--whack) of (boo-hoo-hoo!) war when the (whack) foe
is come (ouch!)
Or the (ow--wow!) brightly (whack) flashing (whack-whack) steel!
(wah-hoo, wah-hoo!)"
Words and symbols can not convey to the most gifted imagination the
gestures with which I illustrated the seven stanzas of this beautiful
poem. I had really selected it to please my mother, whom I had invited
to be present, when I supposed I would deliver it.
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