Mr. Harry Glide, from whom I got these particulars, is a pioneer of 1856, and lived near the outer wharf. He married a daughter of Mr. Laing. He says all James Bay from the bridge to the mouth of the harbor was covered with pine trees, and all this land, together with that facing Dallas Road up to Beacon Hill, was called Beckley Farm. The greater part of all these trees were cut down for Kavaunah, a man whom many will remember as having a woodyard about where the James Bay Athletic Association now stands. Mr. Glide says that there were quite a lot of Cherokee Indians here who came from their native land to the coast of British Columbia for work, and a fine body of men he says they were, most of them over six feet and strongly built. It does seem strange that they should have travelled so far from their homes and country. There were also many Kanakas here, who came on vessels from Honolulu at odd times. They formed a small colony and located on Kanaka Road, or Humboldt Street, as it is now called. I can remember them in 1860, one family attending service at Christ Church regularly. The most prominent building in sight is Victoria District Church, as it stands out in relief on Church Hill. When I first went there as a boy, it was a most primitive-looking building, with its low steeple or dovecote (as it looked like). There were two bells in this steeple, one larger than the other, which sounded ding dong, ding dong, many a year, until early one morning James Kennedy, an old friend of mine, as he was going home saw flames issuing from the roof. He gave the alarm, and shortly after the whole town was there, and the engines with volunteer firemen. Nothing could save it though, as it was summer-time and very dry, and it was not more than an hour or two before it had disappeared. The other day I had the pleasure of meeting one of my schoolfellows of 1859, Ernest A. Leigh, of San Francisco, a son of the second city clerk of Victoria, and who was here on a visit to his niece, Mrs. George Simpson (customs). We of course had a long talk over old times, the days of yore, the days of '59. In looking over this old picture he exclaimed, "There is the old church we went to! My father built it," and then I remembered the fact. Well can I remember the old church, with its old-fashioned windows, seats and gallery, and its organ that stood in the gallery, facing the congregation. When I first remembered it, Mrs. Atwood, now Mrs. Sidney Wilson, was organist, and I was organ-blower. Originally it was played as a barrel organ, as it contained three barrels which contained ten tunes each, but Mr. Seeley, the owner and proprietor of the Australian House, at the north end of James Bay bridge, made and adapted a keyboard to it, and Mrs. Wilson played it in the morning and in the afternoon. In the evening the keyboard was removed, and your humble servant ground out the hymn tunes as on a barrel organ.