The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1893-05-28

DeeQ DdSeQ upon an occurrence WnlIS Iu6
union and confederate armies confronted
each other at Fredericksburg, the two
camps being separated only by the mar
row Rappahannock river. The story
goes that company OF union soldiers
struck up the 'tStar Spangled Banner
and the confederates responded with the
"Bonnie Blue Flag and alternately
each sang America and 'sDixie" and
other union and confederate melodies I'M
til. as if by inspiration, ''Home Sweet
Home rang out upon the still night air,
and all with common impulse united in
the song which brought tender memories
of home, and for a time political differ
ences were forgotten in the ''touch OF ma
tnre which makes the whole world kin. -
The incident is not we'll authenticated,
and imagine the author drew as YividIy
on this inventive genius as the small boy
who said he had made fiddle all out of
his own head and had wood enough left
to make another.
One of the fayorjte songs which had a
ringing chorus was the weird composition
of an English officer in India, at time
when the plague was hourly sweeping off
his companions. and he himself did not
long survive his sepulchral production
1t is called the "Revelry of the Dying, -
ana is sung to the tune, "Away with
Melancholy The first and last verses
read:
We meet meath the sounding rafters,
And the walls around are bare,
AS they shout TO our psalS OF laughter,
Il seems that the dead are there;
But stand TO your glasses. steady
We drink to our comrades eyes,
QUAR- a cup to the dead already.
And hurrah for the next that dies
Cut off from the land that bore US,
Betrayed by the land we find,
Where The brightest have gone before us,
And the dullest remain behind:
Stand. stand TO your glasses steady
IT'S all we have left 10 prize;
cup 10 the dead already,
And hurrah for The next that dies
have before me some crude impromptu
verses which were sung at a social gath
ering at our headquarters, about three
miles from Winchester, in the spring OF
1865, and give them:
On the morn of each bloody battle,
Neither caring to live nor die
To the music Of the cannon's rattle,
Ger the dead and dying we fly.
Brave Buford's spirit fingers.
And Lowells fair hands on the cup
Here's host of heroes with them,
To drink G the last dregS up.
Then hurrah for the war and its dangers,
Its honors, its harvest OF death.
Three cheers for the first shrill bullet
The first verse was by Lieutenant Wig
gins, and the last by Colonel Bean, both
of whom survived the war, but since have
gone over to the majority. General John
Buford and Colonel Lowell Of the First
Massachusetts cavalry were in the first
division. The former died in 1863 from
exposure, and the latter was killed at
Cedar Creek.
In one OF our reconnoisances to find out
the position of the enemy we made halt
for one night at Front Royal, occupying a
part of the residence of refined family,
who had the usual intense prejudice
against the "Yankee invaders.'' There
was d very good piano, but, like all the
( pianos we came across in our peregrina
tions, it had long been a stranger to the
cunning hands of the tuner. In antici-
patton of this, our blacksmith, under my
| tutelage, had devised a very good tuning
hammer, which on this and other occa-
sions was most welcome visitor. Fol
while | had never tuned piano in my
| life before the war, had the courage OF
necessity, and although the thirds.
fifths and octaves were not tuned with
that nicely which Paderewski ex-
acts, they were a vast improve
ment on the .discordant condition in
which ] found them. This benificent
work or a lively waltz or polka was usu
ally an open sesame TO the acquaintance
of the household, and for time at least
the discord of war was forgotten in the
more pleasing harmonies OF the divine
art. / remember that the night was 8
very jolly one, for we had to sit up pretty
late to await the return OF scouting
party, and all hands, youth and nsaidens
fair, joined in singing the choruses of the
day, we Union officers, with great impar-
TALLY, uniting with the young ladies in
their rendering of some of the southern
compositions of the day, which berated
the Yankee mud-sills in no very com
plimentary terms.
OF course there were many occasions oil
like character which do not call for par
ticular mention. In February, 1866. We
4 LETT the valley and took soutberIv
course, destroying the canal and rail-
roads, making moro mud and going
deeper into Virginia soil than any one
ever did before or since unless buried
and came out at bhe White house on the
Pamunky river with the song pretty much
taken out of the jaded command. Theu
we crossed over the pontoon bridge from
which we saw Lincoln S wan face at ti,s