garry. In the center of the plateau a platform invites attention and on each side facing it rows of chairs for officers and their friends, among the latter some officers' wives, happy creatures and happy officers to have them so near and not 5,000 miles away.

The Commandant has been called away on a sad business, a soldier's funeral, hence the Junior Major of the 43rd as chairman of that important and delicately organized Committee of the Bandmasters and Pipe Majors of the various battalions is in charge of the program. Major Grassie is equal to the occasion, quiet, ready, resourceful. With him associated is Major Watts, Adjutant of the 9th, as 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 booming drones gorgeous with flowing streamers and silver

mountings, in march the 43rd Camerons. "Man, wouldn't 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 pipers! 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 comes the brave little pipe band of the 49th. This battalion has one Scotch company from Edmonton, which insisted on bringing its pipe band along. Why not? The Blue Bonnets is their tune and finely they ring it out. Now they are all in place, Bands, Bugle and Pipes. The massed Bands strike up our National Song, and all the soldiers spring to their feet and sing Oh, Canada. A little high but our hearts were in it. And so the program goes on. Single bands and massed bands with solos from French Horns, Trombones and Cornets, varied delightfully with the Highland Fling by Pipe Major Johnson of the 42nd, and the Sword Dance by Piper Reid of the 43rd followed by an encore, the Shean Trheubs which I defy any mere Sassenach to pronounce or to dance, at least as Piper Heid of the twinkling feet danced it that night. For he did it "in the style of Willie Maclennan," as a piper said, "the best of his day and they have not matched him yet." The massed pipe bands play The 79th's Farewell to Gibraltar. Forty-one pipers and every man blowing his best. "Aye man, it is grand hearing you," said a man from the north. Colonel Moore of the 9th, on a minute's warning, makes a fine speech instinct with patriotic sentiment and calls for three cheers for Canada. He got three and a tiger and "a tiger's pup." Major Grassie in another speech neat and to the point thanks those who had helped to celebrate our Dominion Day and once more calls for cheers and gets them.

Then the First Post warns us that we are soldiers and

under orders. The massed bands play Nearer My God to Thee. Full and tender the long drawn notes of the great hymn rise and fall on the evening air, the soldiers joining reverently. The Chaplain of the 43rd congratulates the Commandant upon the happy suggestion of a Tattoo, the Chairman upon his very successful program and all the Company upon a very happy celebration of our national holiday-then a word about our Day and all it stands for, a word about our Empire, our Country, our Kiddies at home, another word of thanks to the Committee for the closing hymn so eminently appropriate to their present circumstances and then God bless our King, God bless our Empire, God bless our Great Cause and God bless our dear Canada. Good night.

The Last Post sounds. Its piercing call falls sharp and startling upon the silent night. Long after we say "Good night" that last long-drawn note high and clear with its poignant pathos lingers in our hearts. The Dominion Day celebration is over.

IT

SIMPLE AS DAY

T WAS among the retorts and test-tubes of his physical laboratory that we were privileged to interview the Great Scientist. His back was towards us when we entered. With characteristic modesty he kept it so for some time after our entry. Even when he turned round and saw us his face did not react off us as we should have expected.

He seemed to look at us, if such a thing were possible, without seeing us, or, at least, without wishing to see us.

We handed him our card.

He took it, read it, dropped it into a bowlful of sulphuric acid, and then, with a quiet gesture of satisfaction, turned again to his work.

We sat for some time behind him. "This then," we thought to ourselves (we always think to ourselves when we are left alone) "is the man, or rather is the back of the man, who has done more" (here we consulted the notes given us by our editor) "to revolutionize our conception of atomic dynamics than the back of any other man."

Presently the Great Scientist turned towards us with a sigh that seemed to our ears to have a note of weariness in it. Something, we felt, must be making him tired.

"What can I do for you?" he said.

"Professor," we answered, "we have called upon you in response to an overwhelming demand on the part of the public_" The Great Scientist nodded.

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"—to learn something of your new researches and discoveries in-" (here we consulted a minute card which we carried in our pocket) “—in radio-active-emanations which are already be

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coming-" (we consulted our card again) "-a household word-"

The professor raised his hand as if to check us

"I would rather say," he murmured, "helio-radio-active—” "So would we," we admitted, "much rather—”

"After all," said the Great Scientist, "helium shares in the most intimate degree the properties of radium. So, too, for the matter of that," he added in afterthought, "do thorium, and borium!"

"Even borium!" we exclaimed, delighted, and writing rapidly in our note book. Already we saw ourselves writing up as our headline Borium Shares Properties of Thorium.

"Just what is it," said the Great Scientist, "that you want to know?"

"Professor," we answered, "what our journal wants is a plain and simple explanation, so clear that even our readers can understand it, of the new scientific discoveries in radium. We understand that you possess more than any other man the gift of clear and lucid thought—”

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The Professor nodded.

"--and that you are able to express yourself with greater simplicity than any two men now lecturing."

The Professor nodded again.

"Now, then," we said, spreading our notes on our knee, “go at it. Tell us, and, through us, tell a quarter of a million anxious readers just what all these new discoveries are about."

"The whole thing," said the Professor, warming up to his work as he perceived from the motions of our face and ears our intelligent interest, "is simplicity itself. I can give it to you in a word "