Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1878-05-15
Misttllaag.
Charley's Fiddle.

Il is A small matter to what army. north
Or south, this drummer boy belonged
yonnc he was, his fair skin tanned by the
1rim old sun, his blue eyes shining out
ike very for get not, in the dull, dark
Surroundings. They said of him in camp.
that That he was u boy, and surely they greeted
him. in their rough way, like child.
Sunburnt men called him Charley
talked with him, spoke of the scenes far
away where those whom these sunburnt
men loved more than anything else in the
world lived; and Charley listened to them,
and heard what was never told to older,
less unsophsticuted companions, for some
how his Young face, and light, cheerful
lauch appealed to these men, and made
them contide in him. There was even II
rumor that Sandy Green, the tall, awk-
ward widower, from the frontier. had told
Charley about his own young days, and
made the boys blue eyes brim over al
some little touch OF sentiment.
You may, perhaps, say that there is no
time, no place for sentiment among big,
brawny men, prepared for and experienced
in war. 1t was not so! around camp fires.
IN places at night, when the tramp, tramp,
tramp of the sentry seems ghostly, full of
dire warming, there are tales of love and
sorrow and loss and hope remembered and
told to listening ears, that hear these faint
est whispers AS greedily as they do the
awful, death delivering sound of cannon,
or soft whistle of the rife-ball. Thus was
Charley, the drummer hoy, a cyclopedia
of all the gentler thoughts of the soldiers
about him.
Often, in the dusk of evening, when the
men were lettering about the camp. and
the kindly stars were preping family out
above the white tents, there would come Il
little, wailing sound on the breeze, and
the listeners would stop in their game al
cards, or their wild talk, smile, maybe, Il
luIe. and say. That's Cha ley's fiddle!"
And did anybody take the trouble to
look for The boy, he might be seen perched
up on ledge of rocks, or sitting fat on
the ground, his chin pressed down, and
his bow in his hand, scrapng dolefully out
of his shabby violin all the old, old tunes
he remembered, and some of the new ones
made for the war, and even some silly.
love-lorn ditty, which had come by de.
vious way and fearful mischance into
camp, So, here among the purple shad-
ows, when the fire on the outpost shin
mered, and there was strange quie
around, while the little crickets chirped
Charley would play the tunes of peace
and happiness, the same as, miles away
they were being played and sung by laugh
ing, careless people in the crowded cities
filled with the rnmors of war, not under
stood, but app eciated.
But Charley had never been in an en-
gagement us yet, and the men said, Don
be so anxious, boy; it'll all come soor
enough" And IL did come soon enongh
for him.
Charley wrote TO his aunt that camp lit
was Just the thing for him, only it was 81
monolonous. He also told the boys tina
this aunt was the only relative he had il
the world, and that she was a queer oil
woman, strong of will and temper, an
that she was mortal angry with him
for going away from her-for somehow o
other, he guessed she "sort o. liked him.
That was all he told them. and they go
joke up about Aunt Teddy" and oftel
spoke of her to Charley, and told him
when they saw him busy writing. to b
sure to send much of their love 10 her.
You don't know her." said Charley
"or you wouldn't make SO light of it
Why, she could take any Of you singl
hanued, and you'd never know what hur
you" And so he wrote often and often T.
her.
But Charley's fiddle! Well it seemed
part of him He loved it! He loved III
miserable little tunes he could play on it
he loved to sit down anywhere. and at an
time, and strike up one of those it'll
tunes, and play and play and play. till
was a wonder how much endurance cal
cut has, not TO mention human fingers an
ptience. He wonld pat his fiddle almo.
rs though it were little child, and hi
blue eyes would flash rs his hands swer
over the strings. And the time went on
and in the intervals of Charley drum
taps his fiddle took 1t up.
The day came when there were prep,
rations tor a battle going on; the enem
were surrounding them; and Charley wa
glad hut quiet.
There was less time for fun in cam
now, and picket duty Was not sentiment
any mo, e-except that it WAS tragic. Tw
mrn had been picked off by scouts, IN
the grim faces of the boys looked lii
death when they heard of it.
Yet one pleasant, cool night, while Il
long white streets of the camp glisten,
in the moonlight, and it was not yet tin
for the men 10 turn in, Charley was 81,
by Sandy Green busily writing letter {
his drum head.
For Aunt Teddy, CharleyP" ask,
Sandy Green. And the boy nodded al
laughed.
Then the old man stood there loi
time and watched him. He saw the plea
ant, brown face, with the blue eyes be
over the wrting-and he WAS rough.
very rough man, mind you; a tall, ungai
ly, ed-haired backwoodsman. o der th,
middle life, too; and one 10 VIII nj troub
Was no account. because it must be ST
mounted. And yet he stood there in Il
early moonlight, watching the drumm
boy wri,e letter to AN old woman.
Charley looked up when he had finishe
" Ho, Sandy! you here yet?" said b
Then he folded the letter and directed
Sandy I'll give it to you 10 see post
for me. Will you do it? You We got mo
chances than have"
So Sandy took the letter, and said, as
turned to Charley:
Do you know, boy, that we expect
scrimmage morrow"
Yes, Charley knew it, and he was ola
He got Sandy Green to tell him ov
again about the battles that had be
fought before; he listened, and was brig
and chirpy over the slories and the {
man warmed with his subject, watch
the light in The boys eyes, and ended
patting him on the back.
You'll do! he said. "And now gi
us tune, for who knows-well. give u:
tune!"
So Charley brought his fiddle. and
down on the side of the drum. and San
laid his sprawling length on tho groul
his head ON his hand. Then tune, lis
and gay, went forth from the little fidd
And the tune went on and on, till the st
binked and grew brighter; and all
once Sandy said:
Say, Charley! give us the song J
played last night"
There was slight pause-and Il
quietly. plaintively, on the pleasant
lame the old tune of Home. Sw
Home" softly and slowly played. fill
the air ground, and touching with k
fingers the hearts of the listeners
boys head dropped over his fiddle, as
sat thpra hatunnod nm hic dyupo q