The parson is in my
tent doing his best to extract something solemn out of Willis' violin. Now he
stumbles on a strain of "Sweet Home," then a scratch of "Lang
Syne;" but the latter soon breaks its neck over "Old Hundred," and
all three tunes finally mix up and merge into "I would not live alway, I
ask not to stay," which, for the purpose of steadying his hand, the parson
sings aloud. I look at him and affect surprise that a reverend gentleman should
take any pleasure in so vain and wicked an instrument, and express a hope that
the business of tanning skins has not utterly demoralized him.
Willis pretends to a
taste in music far superior to that of the common "nigger." He plays
a very fine thing, and when I ask what it is, replies: "Norma, an opera
piece." Since the parson's exit he has been executing "Norma"
with great spirit, and, so far as I am able to judge, with wonderful skill. I
doubt not his thoughts are a thousand miles hence, among brownskinned wenches,
dressed in crimson robes, and decorated with ponderous ear-drops. In fact,
"Norma” is good, and goes far to carry one out of the wilderness.
SOURCE: John
Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 81
