AND KAYAK 217 



that come, even in Labrador, to mak? life 

 bright. How charming it is to hear the sound 

 of music on a dark Christmas morning, when 

 you waken with the frost of your breath upon 

 the pillow and the windows caked with thick 

 soft snow. On the snowdrift outside stands 

 Jerry with his troop of bandsmen : there a^e 

 small boys holding lanterns to show the players 

 their notes. The cold air nips their fingers, 

 the snow powders down upon their heads ; 

 but they puff lustily at their trumpets so that 

 you may wake to the sound of a Christmas 

 hymn. And so they move from house to 

 house, delighting the village with their in- 

 spiring noise. 



Jerry likes best to encircle himself with the 

 bombardon, to lend a solid foundation to the 

 harmony ; but if one of the men is away he 

 is quite able to take the cornet or horn or 

 whatever it may be, and leave the bottom 

 notes for Benjamin's trombone. It is hard 

 work, but the bandsmen are happy ; the 

 morning frost may settle on their heads, the 

 moisture may freeze inside their trumpets in 

 spite of shawls and stockings wrapped round 

 them, the mouthpieces may stick to their lips 

 with the cold ; but they are Eskimos ; winter 

 weather does not easily daunt them or numb 

 their fingers ; and, besides, to play a trumpet 



