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Wood, Eugene, 1860-1923

"Back Home"

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.


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