The daily morning Astorian. [volume] (Astoria, Oregon) 1883-1899, 1889-03-14
THE SALVATION ARMY BAND.
ReVerie by Bill Nye During a Gospel
Serenade.

as pen tneSe lines, the plaintiff
wall of brass band comes stealing
through my easement. 1 trust that
the intelligent compositor will not
strive to set me right on that word.
L refer to the wall of the plaintiff
when he has tried to enforce the
payment of bill and finds that the
lawyer has had it but cannot really
refund it without personal inconveni-
ence to himself.
This music, to which I so feelingly
alluded, comes from the volunteer
band OF Salvation Army. They are
playing beneath my easement for my
benefit. They desired to snatch me
as brand from the burning, but l
am in Michigan, and I would
rather be brand at this season of
the year than to be outside making
large mouse-colored ass of myself.
l step to the window and say that
while thanking one and all for the
honor thus paid me, a comparatively
unknown man, am entirely unpre-
pared to say anything suitable for
the occasion, and being poor at extern.
poraneous speaking, seeking mod
estly to plug along and support my
family, l will once more thank one
and all for this hattering reception,
and say good by.
The leader is a large red-nosed
man who weeps easily and pulls out
the tremolo on his voice at all times
He wears a street-car conductors
cap with a red band around it, which
matches his nose, and as the night
is intensely cold, he wears a pair of
ear muffs which were formerly used
by the baby elephant, perhaps. Near
him with a bleak waste of purple
beak knocking poor and defenceless
tambourine silly, wearing a green
veil under her lower jaw in order to
protect her ears, and a pair OF her
favorite husbands socks over her
shoes to keep out the bitter cold from
her massive feet, stands a woman
with straws in the fringe of her
shawl and a vacant look in her hard,
cold eye. l was just going to say
she ought to be at home with her
family, but all at once it occurred to
me that it would be a great blow to
the family. So, perhaps, it is better
as it is.
The plan of salvation, as outlined
by the Salvation Army, is too vitu-
perative to be successful. Life is. of
course, a warfare, and nearly all OF
us have to fight more or less, with
the exception of the regular army;
but the war made on Satan by the
Salvation Army is too acrimonious,
it seems to me. 1t makes a good
deal of noise and requires good deal
of foraging, but is really harder on
the surrounding country than it is
Oh the enemy.
What is the use of bombarding
Satan all winter here in Michigan
when the chances are that he is down
at the Hot Springs?
Why make a personal attack upon
John G. Lucifer with a disagreeable
brass band here in the northwest
when he is in fact down at Washing
ton where he can hear good music?
: As 1 listen again at the window
, hear the voice of the lieutenant col
onel of the Salvation Army. He is
urging his little band of Don Quix.
otes to charge on the satanic wind
mill. He is speaking extemporane
, ously, and the woman in the large
wooden socks is trying to looi
pleasant. This frightens a loaded
team, and cord and a half of dry
maple wood expends itself along in {
street with great fury.
The leader goes on again to state
that we are journeying through an
) unfriendly world. That a man may
: lose his money or his clothing, or hi:
wife, and still recover. But when b,
4 loses bis soul his name is Denis. "Oh
then, let US fight for those souls, sucl
as thev are. Let US challenge ole
: Satan, and give him only time tC
) train down. Let us fight him withou
gloves. Let us knock his head off
Oh, l never saw better time thai
now, whilst he is thinking abOu
something else. Let us sock it tt
him now. Let US mutilate his disa
greeable features, and send him back
to hell looking like a man in tht
almanac who explains the zodiac, GnC
who allows his works to show fol
2 lDtuSGlNGS.
f The band then strikes up a selec
ton or fragment of a campaign song
that sounds so sacralegious that i
4 honestly makes the chills and no;
= flashes chase each other the entire
, length of my being. 1t is like hear
ing the 'RaZzle Dazzle" song owe
your mothers grave.
The band is composed of six pieces
+ the bass drum leading. II is sup
: ported by colored man who hai
S joined the band because he is passion,
e ately fond of music, can wear a cal
r with braid around it, and enjoy sea
son of much needed rest. Coming il
= at intervals there is a croupy basI
! horn that has lost its voice by sleep
: ing in barns throughout the state
!. There are four other pieces of music
t but their relations with each othel
/. are strained. The players pause eve
and anon to polish their red sweep oil
nose with the corners of their shawls
a or to agitate their chilblains agains
4 a brick building, and so it often falls
out that they lose various notes, fo
, which their auditors thank them and
I I anon SNOWFALL them as they are in tht
~ oof Of ior1rnayiD0 Tbror0b nv 49,