No waits at night, no chimes, no bells, no Christmas carols, no pianos, in fact no musical instruments of any kind, save the bell of the Fort. On one occasion a dance and supper were determined on, but where was the band? Nothing but Mr. Tod and his fiddle existed. Mr. Tod, a good soul, peace be with him, ever ready to assist, assisted. Mr. Tod had a peculiarity; when playing he would cast off a shoe, and kept time by stamping the resounding floor with his stockinged foot. However, an employee came forth, "I can help you, sirs; give me a sheet of tin." He got it, and in a short time came back with a tin whistle, on which he played admirably. This was the band, and everyone enjoyed the dance and everything else. The band, too, was the orchestra at a night of private theatricals, in which J. D. Pemberton and Joseph McKay were the star actors, whilst the others handed round port, ale, cider, ginger beer, oranges, lemons and nuts--that is to say they would if they had them. There were no public-houses nor public amusements at this time, turkeys unknown and beef scarce. In fact a rudimentary Christmas festival of a holiday, not holy-day, type. It may be here remarked that sixty years ago Christmas Day was but little observed in Scotland, and the same may be said of America. In England, however, where it was and is a statute holiday, Christmas was universally celebrated. Essentially it was a children's day and one of family reunions, and in those days when travelling was expensive and tedious, this meant more than it does to-day. The visitors received a joyous welcome, not a sort of empty every-day one. Plum pudding, roast beef, and mince pies and nuts were the order of the day, for beverage various kinds of drinks. Holly and mistletoe and evergreens obtained in nearly every house; in fact it was a joyous day from morn till night. Games of various kinds were played. Toys for children, rudimentary toys and picture books, cheap, and such as the too knowing children of to-day would turn up their little noses at, and my goodness! the fun of the mistletoe and mulberry tree! Spreading of course from British Columbia, but in sober earnest to the immortal Charles Dickens' works, particularly the Pickwick Club and the annual "Christmas Stories."