He was Major General Barlow, then, one of the great generals of
the Union Army, but he was, first, last and always, a Brook Farmer, so I
signaled to him with the same old call. He came to an abrupt halt,
answered my greeting and dashed across the Avenue with both hands
extended. Neither of us had more than a short allowance of time, but we
could do no less than adjourn to a convenient resort for a good hearty
talk about the old days in West Roxbury.
Other experiences with the call have come to me since then but none that
I remember with more pleasure. To-day there are few or none to answer,
no matter how earnestly I might sound the old appeal. As may be seen
above, the little succession of notes is very simple, but they convey a
world meaning to my old ear.
If two little Dutch boys in the Old Colonie composed this memorable opus
they surely did better than they knew, but my notion is they must have
heard something like it and repeated the sounds without being aware that
they were merely memories, not original inventions.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47