The Labor enquirer., 1882-12-16

J :
John Rayburn-he was from Hartford ;
lives in Hartford yet may be you know
him-and said "Rayburn quarter this
boy with the musicians. / am going to
enroll him as drummer boy and want
you to look after him and see that he is
we'll treated"
Well, Of course, intercourse between
the commandant of the post and the
drummer boy came to an end, now; but
the poor little friendless chap lay heavy
on my heart just the same. | kept on
the lookout, hoping to see him brighten
up and begin to be CHEEKY and gay; but
no, the days went by, and there was no
change. He associated with nobody; he
was also absent-minded, always thinking;
hiSeface was always sad. One morning
Rayburn asked leave to speak to me
privately. Said he:
81 hope don't offend, sir, but the truth
is, the musicians are in such a sweat 1t
seems as if somebody's got to speak.
"Why, what IS the trouble?"
"Its the Wicklow boy, sir. The mu-
sicians are down on him to an extent you
can't imagine.'
"Well 60 on, 90 ON. What has he been
doing?"
"Prayin, sir.
Spraying"
"Ges. sir, the musicians haven't any
peace Of their life for that boys prayin.
First thing in the morning he's at 1t ;
moons he's at it and nights-well, nights
he just lays into 'em like all possessed
Sleep? Bless you, they can't sleep; he's
got the floor, as the sayin' is, and then
when he once gets his supplication mill
agoin' there just simply amt any let-up to
him He starts ~ with the band master,
and he prays for him next he takes
the head bugler, and he prays for him
next the bass drum, and he scoops him
in; and so on, right straight through the
band, givin' them all a show, and takln'
that amount of interest in it which
would make YOU think he thought he
wern't but a little while for this world,
and believed he couldn't be happy in
heaven without he had a brass band
along, and wanted to pick 'em out for
himself, 50 he could depend on 'em to do
up the national tunes in style Suitin'
to the place, Well, sir, heavin' boots at
him don't have no effect it's dark in
there; and, besides, he don't pray fai.,
anyway, but kneels down behind the big
drum; so it don't make no difference if
they rain boots at him, he don't give a
! dern-warbles right along, same as if it
was applause. They sing out, oh, dry
up Give US a rest Shoot him. oh, ,
take walk and all sorts of such things
But what of it? 1t ntphaze him. He
don't mind it. After pause: kind Of
good little fool, too; gifts up in the
mornin and carts all that stock Of boots
back. and sorts 'em out and sets each
mans pair where they belong. And
they've been throwed at him somuchnow
that he knows every boot in the band
can sort em out with his eyes shut"
After another pause, which | forbore
to interrupt:
But the toughest thing about it is,
that when he's done prayin'-when he
ever does get done-he pipes up and be-
gins to sing. Well, you know what a
honey kind of voice he's got when he
talks; you know how it would persuade
cast-iron dog to come down of! of door
step and lick his hand. Now, if you'll
take my word for it, sir, it aint circum-
stance to his singin' Flute musicis harsh
to that boys singin'. Oh, he just gurgles
it out so soft and sweet and low, there in
the dark, that it makes you think YOU are
in heaven"
"What is there rough about that?"
"Ah, that's just it, sir. You hear him
sing
"'Just as Iam-poor wretched, blind
just you hear him sing that once and see
if you don't melt all up and the water
come into your eyes. I don't care what
he sings, it goes plum straight home to
you-it goes deep down to where you
Iive-and it fetches you every time Just
you hear him sing:
"'Child of sin and sorrow, filled with dismay,
Wait not till tomorrow, yield thee to-day:
Grieve not that love
Which. from aboye'-L