Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1876-12-06
Only One Child.

One time, when the army of Italy was
crossing the Alps, three score and more
years ago, on that famous expedition with
which all adventurous history rings, a name.
less drummer boy was swept from the ranks
10y the sudden dash of an avalanche, hurry
ing him down into deep hollow, lined with
notwithstanding snow, such as frequently
lies along among these desolate mountains.
Singularly enough, he was not seriously in
jured by the plunge he had slipped and
slid over the crust of ice, and his light body
had met very few bruises, and no blows that
were fatal.
lie clambered mp to the top Of the mass,
and waved his hands aloft TO show that he
was alive. Along the giddy brink, two hun
dred feet above, the advancing train slowly
and YEARLY filed on His drum still hung
suspended from his neck. II could not be
said just what he intended, to keep his blood
warm, or TO attract the notice of the men.
but he began to beat the military calls and
changes to which he had been trained In
that clear, frosty air, sound goes to an almost
incredible distance. Every stroke of the
tattoo, the reveille, the advance, the charge
was heard by every soldier that marched on ;
they commented admiringly upon the pluck
of the brave little musician, who patiently
kept MS Stlcks nylng.
OF course the path up the mountain side
zig.zags, in order to rise over the immense
activity. Thus it came to pass that for
awhile the whole army would be out of
sight, and then return again, near in line,
but farther up die steep. Clear and echoing
iloated up that rafting drum-beat on their
ears. Hardy veterans were there who wept
as the hours passed, and they perceived they
laax fI., IL
mind seemed likely to come now for any eff
fort to save his life. Word had already
been sent to the Emperor, but he had de
cided to leave the lad where he was. What
was one single drummer-hoy TO the army of
Napoleon Bonaparte ? And before long it
became evident that SO the lad understood it
likewise.
He redoubled his activity, Natural fear
of freezing stimulated him for a short time
to renewed exertion, aud he vigorously piled
his arms to keep his life-pulse warm. Far
along the thin bright ridge above him, he
saw the vanishing columns growing fainter.
At last he knew that they did not intend to
give him rescue. Then, brave in the midst
OF absolute despair, he Suddenly changed
the brisk reliefcal he had been beating, TO
a sadder strain, and deeper meaning. He
paused few moments, then began funeral
march. They all heard these sober strokes
OF death in the cold air, but could give no
heed
1t can be well understood that every
father of son at home, among that vast
host yearned over the lad with deep suffer
ing OF agony that was almost sitting. For
AS he saw the courageous endurance and,
| finally, the heroic surrender, when the tired
boy at last decently composed his limbs on
the snowy bank to die, with the frost for his
shroud and the falling night for his pail, he
shuddered to think this lost lad might have
been his own. Since that for many year
so the romances of those days tell ls--the
veterans of the Italian campaign have
hushed their voices at the campfire as they
told the tale of the drummer boy of the Alps,
and thought of the silent soltudes where
now his slender body lay frozen beside his
drum.
Only child Yet children have souls
Souls are more than bodies. Immortal life
is more than temporal. Yet the calm world
marches on as if empires hung on the bal
ance of a moment, and even the drum-beat
of soul calling for help need not be needed
or heard,--Dr. Robinson, in s. s. World.