back home-第16部分

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zabeth；　and　Martin　Luther；　and　all　the　family；　clean　down　to　Teedy；　the　baby。　　He's　named　after　Theodore　Roosevelt；　and　they　have　the　letter　home　now；　framed　and　hanging　up　over　the　organ。　But　for　all　the　wagon　is　so　full；　there　is　room　for　a　big　basket　covered　with　a　red…ended　towel。　　（Seems　to　me　I　smell　fried　chicken；　don't　you？）

I　just　thought　I'dt　see　if　you'd　bite。　　You've　formed　your　notions　of　country　people　from　〃The　Old　Homestead〃　and　these　by…gosh…Mirandy　novels。　　The　real　farmers；　nowadays；　drive　into　town　in　double…seated　carriages　with　matched　bays；　curried　so　that　you　can　see　to　comb　your　hair　in　their　glossy　sides。　　The　single　rigs　sparkle　in　the　sun；　conveying　young　men　and　young　women　of　such　clean…cut；　high…bred　features　as　to　make　us　wonder。　　And　yet　I　don't　know　why　we　should　wonder；　either。　　They　all　come　from　good　old　stock。　　The　young　fellows　run　a　little　too　strongly　to　patent…leather　shoes　and　their　horses　are　almost　too　skittish　for　my　liking；　but　the　girls　are　all　right。　　If　their　clothes　set　better　than　you　thought　they　would；　why；　you　must　remember　that　they　subscribe　for　the　very　same　fashion　magazines　that　you　do；　and　there　is　such　a　thing　as　a　mail…order　business　in　this　country；　even　if　you　aren't　aware　of　it。

All　the　little　boys　in　town　are　out　with　their　baskets　chanting　sadly：

PEANUTS？　　FIVE　A　BAG

You　'll　hear　that　all　day　long。

But　there　isn't　much　going　on　before　the　excursion　trains　come　in。　Then　things　begin　to　hop。　　The　grand　marshal　and　his　aides　gallop　through　the　streets　as　if　they　were　going　for　the　doctor。　　The　trains　of　ten　and　fifteen　coaches　pile　up　in　the　railroad　yard；　and　the　yardmaster　nearly　goes　out　of　his　mind。　　People　are　so　anxious　to　get　out　of　the　cars；　in　which　they　have　been　packed　and　jammed　for　hours；　that　they　don't　mind　a　little　thing　like　being　run　over　by　a　switching　engine。　　Every　platform　is　just　one　solid　chunk　of　summer　hats　and　babies　and　red　shirts　and　alto　horns。　They　have　been　nearly　five　hours　coming　fifty　miles。　　Stopped　at　every　station　and　sidetracked　for　all　the　regular　trains。　　Such　a　time！　Lots　of　fun；　though。　　The　fellows　got　out　and　pulled　flowers；　and　seed　cucumbers；　and　things　and　threw　them　at　folks。　　You　never　saw　such　cut…ups　as　they　are。　　Pretty　good　singers；　too。　　Good　part　of　the　way；　they　sung　〃My　Bonnie　Lies　Over　the　Ocean；〃　and　〃How　Can　I　Bear　to　Leave　Thee；〃　nice　and　slow；　you　know；　a　good　deal　of　tenor　and　not　much　bass；　and　plenty　of　these〃　minor　chords。〃　（Yes；　I　know；　some　people　call　them　〃barber…shop　chords；〃　but　I　think　〃minor〃　is　a　nicer　name。）

The　band　played　〃Hiawatha〃　eighteen　times。　　One　old　fellow　got　on　at　Huntsville；　and　he　says；　to　Joe　Bangs　（that's　the　leader）；　〃Shay；〃　he　says；　〃play　'Turkey　in　er　Straw；'　won't　you？　　Aw；　go　on。　Play　it。　　Thass　goof　feller。　　Go　on。〃

Joe；　he　never　heard　of　the　tune。　　Don't　you　know　it？　Goes　like　this：　　。　。　。　　No；　that　ain't　it。　　That's　〃Gray　Eagle。〃　　Funny；　I　can't　think　how　that　tune　starts。　　Well；　no　matter。　　They　played　an　arrangement　that　had　〃Old　Zip　Coon〃　in　it。

〃Naw；〃　he　says；　〃tha'　ain'　it　't　all。　　Go　on。　　Play　it。　　Play　'Turkey　in　er　Straw。'　　Ah；　ye　don't　know　it。　　Thass　reason。　　Betch　don'　know　it。　　Don'　know　'Turkey　in　er　Straw！'　　Ho！　　Caw　seff　ml…m'　sishn。　Ho！　　You　…　you　…　you　ain'　no　m'sishn。　　You　…　you　you're　zis　bluff。〃　Only　about　half…past　eight；　too。　　Think　of　that！　　So　early　in　the　morning。　　Ah　me！　　That's　one　of　the　sad　features　of　such　an　occasion。

If　there　is　anything　more　magnificent　than　a　firemen's　parade；　I　don't　know　what　it　is。　　The　varnished　woodwork　on　the　apparatus　looks　as　if　it　had　just　come　out　of　the　shop　and　every　bit　of　bright　work　glitters　fit　to　strike　you　blind。　　You　take；　now；　a　nice　hose…reel　painted　white　and　striped　into　panels　with　a　fine　red　line；　every　other　panel　fruits　and　flowers；　and　every　other　panel　a　piece　of　looking…glass　shaped　like　a　cut　of　pie　and；　I　tell　you；　it　looks　gay。　　That's　what　it　does。　　It　looks　gay。　　Some　of　the　hook…and…ladder　trucks　are　just　one　mass　of　golden…rod　and　hydrangeas；　and　some　of　them　are　all　fixed　with　this　red…white…and…blue　paper　rope；　sort　of　chenille　effect；　or　more　like　a　feather　boa。　　Everybody　has　on　white　cotton　gloves；　and　those　entitled　to　carry　speaking　trumpets　have　bouquets　in　the　bells　of　them；　salvias；　and　golden…rod；　and　nasturtiums；　and　marigolds；　and　all　such。

The　Wapatomicas　always　have　a　dog　up　on　top　of　their　wagon。　　First　off；　you　would　think　it　didn't　help　out　much；　it　is　such　a　forlorn　looking　little　fice；　but　this　dog；　I　want　you　to　know；　waked　up　the　folks　late　one　night；　'way　'long　about　ten　or　eleven　o'clock；　barking　at　a　fire。　　Saved　the　town；　as　you　might　say。　　And　after　that；　the　fire…boys　took　him　for　a　mascot。　　I　guess　he　didn't　belong　to　anybody　before。　　And　another　wagon　has　a　chair　on　it；　and　in　that　chair　the　cutest　little　girl　you　almost　eyer　saw；　hair　all　frizzed　at　the　ends；　and　a　wide　blue　sash　and　her　white　frock　starched　as　stiff　as　a　milk…pail。　　Everybody　says：　〃Aw；　ain't　she　just　too　sweet　？〃

The　Caledonias　have　tried　to　make　quite　a　splurge　this　year。　　They　walk　four　abreast；　with　their　arms　locked；　and　their　white　gloves　on　each　other's　shoulders。　　Their　truck　has　on　it　what　they　call　〃an　allegorical　figure。〃　　There　is　a　kind　of　a　business　（looks　to　me　like　it　is　the　axle　and　wheels　of　a　toy　wagon；　stood　up　on　end　and　covered　with　white　paper　muslin　and　a　string　tied　around　the　middle）　that　is　supposed　to　be　an　hour…glass。　　Then　there　is　a　scythe　covered　with　cotton　batting；　and　then　a　man　in　a　bath…robe　（I　saw　the　figure　of　the　goods　when　the　wind　blew　it　open）　also　covered　with　white　cotton　batting。　　The　man　has　a　wig　and　beard　of　wicking。　　First；　I　thought　it　was　Santa　Claus；　and　then　I　saw　the　scythe　and　knew　it　must　be　old　Father　Time。　　The　hour…glass　puzzled　me　no　little　though。　The　man　has　cotton　batting　wings。　　One　of　them　is　a　little　wabbly；　but　what　can　you　expect　from　Caledonia？　　They're　always　trying　to　butt　the　bull　off　the　bridge。　　They're　jealous　of　our　town。　　Oh；　they　stooped　to　all　the　mean；　underhanded　tricks　you　ever　heard　of　to　get　the　canning　factory　to　go　to　their　place　instead　of　here。　But　we　know　a　thing　or　two　ourselves。　　Yes；　we　got　the　canning　factory；　all　right；　all　right。

Did　you　notice　how　neat　and　trim　our　boys　looked？　　None　of　this　flub…dub　of　scarlet　shirts　with　a　big　white　monogram　on　the　breast；　or　these　fawn…colored　suits　with　querlycues　of　braid　all　over。　　They　spot　very　easily。　　And　did　you　notice　how　the　Caledonias　had　long；　lean　men　walking　with　short；　fat　men；　and　nobody　keeping　step？　　Our　boys　were　all　carefully　graded　and　matched；　and　their　dark　blue　uniforms　with　just　the　neat　nickel　badge；　I　think；　presented　the　best　appearance　of　all。　　And　I'll　tell　you　another　thing。　　They'll　put　it　all　over　the　Caledonias　this　afternoon。　　They　won't　let　'em　get　a　smell。

Don't　you　like　the　fife…and…drum　corps？　　The　fifes　set　my　teeth　on　edge；　but　I　could　follow　the　drums　all　day　with　their：

　　Tucket　a　brum；　brum　brum…brum；　tuck…all　de　brum　　　Tucket　a　brum…brum；　tuck…all　de　brum…brum…brum　　　Tucket　a　blip…blip…blip…blip；　tucka　tuck…all　de　brum；　　　Tucket　a　brum…brum；　tuck…all　de　brum…brum…brum！

Part　of　the　time　the　drummers　click　their　sticks　together　instead　of　hitting　the　drum…head。　　That's　what　makes　it　sound　so　nice。　　I　wish　I　could　play　the　snare…drum。

In　the　Mechanicsburg　band　is　a　boy　about　fourteen　years　old；　a　muscular；　sturdy　chunk　of　a　lad。　　He　walks　with　his　heels　down；　his　calves　bulged　out　behind；　his　head　up；　and　the　regular；　proper　swagger　of　a　bandsman。　　He　hasn't　any　uniform；　but　he's　all　right。　He　plays　a　solo　B　part；　and　he　and　the　other　solo　cornet　spell　each　other。　　On　the　repeat　of　every　strain　my　boy　rests；　and　rubs　his　lips　with　his　forefinger；　while　he　looks　at　the　populace　with　bright；　expectant　eyes。　　When　he　blows；　he　scowls；　and　brings　the　cushion　of　muscle　on　the　point　of　his　chin　clear　up　to　his　under　lip；　and　he　draws　his　breath　through　the　corners　of　his　mouth。　He's　the　real　thing。　　Bright　boy；　too；　I　judge；　the　kind　that　has　a　quick　answer　for　everybody；　like：　〃Aw；　go　chase　yerself；〃　or　〃Go　on；　yeh　big　stiff。〃　　Watch　him　on　the　countermarch　when　they　pass　the　Radnor　cornet　band。　　The　Radnors　broke　up　the　Mechanicsburg　band　last　year　and　they're　going　to　try　to　do　it　again　this　year。　The　musicians　blow　themselves　the　color　of　a　huckleberry；　and　the　drummers　grit　their　teeth；　and　try　to　pound　holes　in　their　sheep…skins。　　Aha！　　It's　the　Radnor　band　got　rattled　in　its　time　this　year。　　Went　all　to　pieces。　　The　boy　snatches；　a　rest。　　〃Yah！〃　he　squawks。　　〃Didge　ever　get　left？〃　and　picks　up　the　tune　again。　　I　wish　I　could　play　the　cornet。　　Wouldn't　play　solo　B　or　I　wouldn't　play　any　…　　Ooooooooh！　　Did　you　see　that？　　Took　that　stick　by　the　other　end　from　the　knob　and　slung　it　away；　'way　up　in　the　air；　whirling　like　sixty；　and　caught　it　when　it　came　down　and　never　missed　a　step。　　Look　at　him　juggle　it　from　hand　to　hand；　over　his　shoulder；　and　behind　his　back；　and　under　one　leg；　whirling　so　fast　that　you　can　hardly　see　it；　and　all　in　perfect　step。　　Whope！　　I　thought　he　was　going　to　drop　it　that　time　but　he　didn't。　　That's　something　you　don't　see　in　the　cities。　　There；　all　the　drum…major　does　with　his　stick　is　just　to　point　it　the　way　the　band　is　to　go。　I　like　our　fashion　the　best。　　Geeminentally！　　Look　at　that！　　I　bet　it　went　up　in　the　air　forty　feet　if　it　went　an　inch。　　I　wish　I　was　a　drummajor。　　I　guess　I'd　sooner　be　a　drum…major　than　anything　else。　Oh；　well；　detective　…　that's　different。

Let's　go　farther　along。　　Don't　get　too　near　the　judges'　stand。　　I　know。　　It's　the　best　place　to　see　the　finish　of　an　event；　but　I've　been　to　Firemen's　Tournament　before。　　You　let　me　pick　out　the　seats。　Up　close　to　the　judges'　stand　is　all　right　till　you　come　to　the　'wet　races。〃　　What？　　Oh；　you　wait　and　see。　　Fun？　　Well；　I　should　say　so。　　Hope　they'll　clear　all　those　boys　off　the　rail。　　Here！　Get　down　off　that　rail。　　Think　we　can　see　through　you？　　You're　thin；　but　you're　not　thin　enough　for　that。　　Yes；　I　mean　you；　and　don't　you　give　me　any　of　your　impudence　either。　　Look　at　those　women　out　there。　　Right　spang　in　the　way　of　the　scraper。　　Isn't　that　a　woman　all　over？　　A　woman　and　a　hen；　I