Musical Director; in peaceful times organist and choir master of
a Presbyterian congregation in Edmonton far away.

Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bang! Bang! Bang!

The drums in the distance begin to throb and from the eastern side
of the plain march in the band of the 9th playing their regimental
march, "Garry Owen," none the less. From the west the band of the
11th, then that of the 12th, finally (for the 43rd Band is away
on leave, worse luck) the splendid Band of the 49th, each playing
its own Regimental march which is taken up by the bands already
in position. Next comes the massed buglers of all the regiments,
their thrilling soaring notes rising above the hills, and take their
stand beside the bands already in place. Then a pause, when from
round the hill shoulder rise wild and weird sounds. The music of
the evening, to Scottish hearts and ears, has begun. It is the
fine pipe band of the 42nd Royal Highlanders from Montreal, khaki
clad, kilts and bonnets, and blowing proudly and defiantly their
"Wha saw the Forty-twa." Again a pause and from the other side
of the hill gay with tartan and blue bonnets, their great blooming
drones gorgeous with flowing streamers and silver mountings, in
march the 43rd Camerons. "Man, would Alex Macdonald be proud of
his pipes to-day," says a Winnipeg Highlander for these same pipes
are Alex's gift to the 43rd, and harkening to these great booming
drones I agree.

Ah these pipes! These Highland pipes! Truly as one of them said,
"Pipers are no just like other people!" Blowing their "Pilrock
of Donald Dhu" they swing into line, mighty and magnificent. Last