"YES, dear; it is a queer-looking old glove with that little portrait on the back; and you are quite right in saying that it is a picture of the Marquis de Lafayette. It is just seventy-two years ago this year that I wore that glove with its mate at the ball given by the city of Philadelphia in honor of the return of the Marquis, who was visiting again the country he had helped many years before to wrest from the King of England. "The whole country went quite wild with enthusiasm over the brave young man who had proved himself to be such a trusty friend to our beloved Washington; and when my honored father came home from the court-house one afternoon, and told mother to get the girls' dresses ready for the ball, and to spare no expense, as there might be a possibility of one of them being chosen by the Marquis for a dance. a promenade, my little heart beat high. with anticipation. But, alas! I was reminded that I was only a very small child,- only twelve years old,- and as I could not even make a proper courtesy, I would certainly have to stay at home. So I accepted my bitter disappointment as a necessity, and watched the great preparations made by the rest of the family with much interest and not a little envy. "The girls practised their steps dutifully, and made graceful courtesies before the long mirrors in the drawing-room, until I could stand it no longer; and I rushed away to the prim old Copyright, 1897, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved. 708 HOW GRANDMOTHER MET THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. garden, and there, in the privacy of that retreat, I bobbed and bowed, imitating the sweet smiles and coy glances I had watched so closely in the house. Then, when I felt that I could bow and smile at the same time, not forgetting the one in the exertion required for the other, I stole quietly into father's study, and climbing up on the arm of his chair, I coaxed to be allowed to go. I finally assured him that I could make a most beautiful courtesy, and I showed him. To my great delight, he caught me in his arms, and laughing merrily, he cried : "You shall certainly go to the ball; and if the Marquis can resist that-that salutation, he is not a Frenchman!' "The girls 'fied' at me when they knew it; but my dear little mother had a simple muslin made for me, in which, with the dainty rosebud trimming, I felt quite as fine as my sisters in their gorgeous silks and their pow dered hair; and, to make my happi ness complete, just before we started for [JULY, and I watched curiously to see if he noticed the decoration on their gloves: but he did not seem to at all. "I had been placed in the corner of the room, and was told to keep very quiet, as it "IN THE PRIM OLD GARDEN I BOBBED AND BOWED." was a most unusual thing for young folks to appear in so public a place. So after the 1897-] HOW GRANDMOTHER MET THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE. dancing began I looked eagerly at couple after couple as they glided slowly past me, marveling at the magnificent gowns, the gaiety of it all, and keeping time with my restless slippered feet to the rhythm of the music. Presently, before I could notice who they were, two gentlemen stepped just in front of me, and began discussing the beautiful scene before them. When, quite accidentally, I caught a glimpse of the face of one of them, and saw it was the Marquis, I uttered an exclamation of delight at being able to see him so closely. I think he must have heard me, for he turned quickly, and noticing that he was obstructing my view of the room, came hastily toward me, and holding out his hand, said: 709 the courtesy that I had practised so long in the garden, to the edification of the box-trees and holly-bushes; but, as he kissed the glove, a mischievous idea caused me to smile, and he asked: "What amuses mademoiselle?' "Oh, monsieur,' I said, with a little laugh, you kissed your own face!' and I showed him the portrait on my glove, which he regarded gravely. "What a mistake!' he remarked; and, looking down at me quizzically, he added, 'I must correct it.' A SUMMER PICTURE. BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE. THE grass is green upon the hill; Beneath the summer sky we watch And some are sails of sturdy ships And some of little pleasure-boats And I, so old and full of care, The grass is green; and blue the sea; The boats go sailing by; And no one here but you and me, V I THE THINK few know that of all the time-honored equipments of war which these days of military progress have left to us, the drum is the oldest; but, like the sword and the bayonet, the drum is fast disappearing. Its companion the fife, hallowed by traditions of valor even in our own history, from Lexington to Gettysburg, is already gone, and another decade will still forever the inspiriting martial music of the drum. What boy has not felt his pulses thrill and his heart swell with patriotic pride and martial ardor while gazing upon the well-known picture of the Revolution, the "Minute Men of '76" forsaking the plowshare and flying to take down the old flintlock at the tocsin of war-the throbbing of the drum and the shrill screaming of the fife, sounded by two scarred veterans, bare-headed, white-haired, and in their shirtsleeves, marching through fields and along the roads, calling the patriots to arms! Every New England schoolboy has read * The story is told in ST. LAST DRUMS BY CON MARRAST PERKINS, First Lieutenant United States Marine Corps. the story of Abigail and Elizabeth, the sisters of Newburyport, who during the Revolution repelled alone an attack of the British by beating furiously an old drum and blowing a fife.* The British troops, who were about to land, hurried back to their ships, thinking a whole army lay in ambush to repulse them! Thus did a fife and a drum drive off the enemy, and save a town from pillage and ruin. The military drum is supposed to have been. introduced in Europe by the Moors and Saracens, during the middle ages, and was quickly adopted by armies. The drum of to-day differs little, and in appearance only, from the earliest form. It consists, as every boy knows, of two pieces of parchment, or batter-heads, stretched over the ends of a hollow cylinder, and struck with sticks. For ages this instrument has been known among savage tribes and barbaric nations, who use its weird music to accompany their religious rites, as well as for war purposes. The tom-tom of the Sioux Indian is a good example of a primitive drum. In civilized warfare the drum has ever been connected with deeds of martial valor, and its voice is dear to the heart of the soldier who has followed its pulsing into the deadly fire of battle, or even in reviews and military parades, when rank upon rank sweep up a street keeping perfect alignment and step to the drum's inspiring beat. It has found a place in history through the daring bravery of more than one beardless boy who has sounded at the critical moment the NICHOLAS for July, 1874. pas de charge or "rally " just in time to turn the tide of battle. Johnny Clem, the " drummer-boy of Shiloh," who beat the rally without orders when his regiment had broken, panic-stricken, and thus helped to save the day, was made an officer for his heroism, and is now a major in the United States army. In fable, song, and story the drum has ever kept pace with the most valiant deeds of men. Rudyard Kipling's pathetic little story of "The Drums of the Fore and Aft," two courageous drummer-boys who, at the cost of their own lives, led the charge and saved the honor of their regiment when routed by the Afghan's, tells of a deed such as is to be found in history as well as in fiction. More than once has the drum claimed a place in the front rank of storming battalions, or led desper throb"; for we know that the advance of mili tary science, with all its death-dealing machine-guns, magazine rifles and its smokeless powder, will surely sound the knell of the drum. Ten years ago the French army, whose imperial legions under Ney, Soult, and Macdonald, Napoleon's most valorous marshals, had so often been led to victory by the drum, decided to abolish it. It is related that upon news of the decree of the Minister of War reaching the army, a vet eran drummer of Napoleon's Old Guard, who, as a boy, had sounded the pas de charge at Austerlitz and Jena, died of a broken heart. THE DRUMMER-BOY'S DREAM. The Emperor himself dearly loved the rataplan of the drum, and is said always to have had the reveille beaten to awaken him each morning. Of all the regular organizations in the United |