This was encored again and again. The only other song with a certain sadness in it was sung by a trumpeter boy not more than fifteen years of age. He stood up a little nervously before the audience and sang a song the name of which I never heard, but the verses finished with—
"It's only a leaf in my Bible,
I picked from my poor mother's grave."
He used to sing this song very frequently, as the men seemed fond of it, but I always noticed there was a certain quietness when it was over, though not from want of appreciation. There were many other well-known songs, and one of the most popular was that old friend the chorus of which runs—
"Wrap me up in my old stable-jacket,
And say a poor buffer lies low,
And six stalwart comrades shall carry me
With steps solemn, silent, and slow."
It is always a mystery where the things come from, but soldiers never seem at a loss if anything is required, never mind what it may be. In this way, and to our utter astonishment, the professional clown appeared rigged up in a complete fancy kit, with a wig, a very large false nose and spectacles, and a "billycock" hat.
