Daily inter mountain. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1881-1901, 1900-06-23
THE RURAL BAND.

Lewiston Journal: The rural band
can do things that Sousa's band even
cannot.
It can go on an%excursion and play its
three tunes, one after the other, from
the time the excursion starts until 1t
ties up at home. You can never tucker
a new band. Later, when they get to
be symphonic and s~oloistic and all OF
that, they get woefully tired and play
slow tunes and take long rests and look
bored when they receive an encore. 1
like to see a new ban get an encore,
even after it had been playing all day.
They strike right in and jam WING with
all the enthusiasm displayed by Lewis
toms new fire whistle
Once l saw a rural band playing IN
front of a country hotel. A steep en-
bankment ran sloping from the piazza.
The band men stuck their toes in and
hummed away cheerfully at The
Washington Post March" and every
thing was going handsomely. But the,
bass drummer forgot himself and went
to wipe his heated brow. To do that he
was obliged to let go of his big drum.
The drum started rolling down the hill.
Drummer ran after it. The pitch was
so steep and his legs were so short that
he just missed reaching it with his hand,
but he was able to hit with the drum
stick and SO kept up the regular beat
all the way down the hill. Never MISS
ed a Strickland the band kept on! At
the foot of the incline the drum went up
against an obstruction, and halted so
suddenly that the drummer went over
it head first. It happened that there
vas a rest Of a few beats for him at that
place in the music, and he was able to
get on his feet and boost the drum on
his knee in season to take up the thing
where he lef OFF. And as he marched
back again up the hill, pounding cheer
f,,11v vua M n Who fhink ho didn't
get 1.-The hand.'
Now, I'll wager that Sousa's bass
drummer couldn't do that
The leading man of the town had died
and the village band was engaged to
lead the cortege to the burial yard. The
Dead March" as played by the band.
with most lugubrious tootle by all brass
instruments, was especially solemn.
The most solemn part was when the
band was entering beneath the gateway
of the village cemetery.
It was a solemn place that cemetery
gateway with it's funeral trimmings. It
was a double gate. In the center on the
ground was the little block where the
gates were latched at the foot. The
trombone player, with his eyes intent
on the solemn music in his catch, stub
bed his toe against the block. AS he
tripped he threw out a hand to ave
himself, and the trombone blatted SO
ferociously-right in the midst of those
! solemn chords-that every one jumped
in alarm. Then the trombone's end
struck the ground ere he could get his
mouth away from the end. The instru-
ment emitted another bray that was
fairly demoniac.
It happened right under the noses Of
the horses drawing the hearse, and, Of
course, they SHE'D, and n of e
stepped on the trombone. That scared
them in earnest and they started. They
ran the band down-they routed it, and
!, they tore down the cemetery avenue
with the driver hanging on for grim
death. He made a circle of the main
drive twice ere he was able to master
the terrified animals, and the rest of
the funeral train remained quiet and
witnessed that remarkable "hOss race"
with varying emotions
There have been many things happen
in that particular town, but nothing that
developed SO suddenly from the deeply
solemn into the intensely exciting.
The trombone player had recovered
his battered horn and stood there dusty
and hatless and watching the i'm.
promptu chariot race.
When the horses were finally captur-
ed and subdued he looked at his torn
trousers, then at his battered horn, then
at the little block in the roadway, and
! finally at the horses once more And he
isn't a wicked man. II he We're I should
have to paint a red streak across the
foot of this column. AS it was. he SLOW
ly wiped his mouth, looked again at the
crushed horn. oval, Til be dod-butter-
ed to swan a. he.
And the meek shall inherit the earth!
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