The march to and from the Parliament building did not tire me, neither did the extreme cold nor loss of skin from my lips greatly affect me. I was so proud to wear the uniform that nothing else mattered, and I felt greater than any king. Oh how our pride upholds us! I remember of meeting my father when on the way home, but instead of affectionately greeting him as a son naturally should, I simply saluted him and - walked on.
A few of my schoolmates also were with me, and proud to walk with one of the Queen's Own Regiment. But they did not know that I had not played a note during the entire march, nor did I enlighten them. For some days afterwards my poor lips were pretty sore from the loss of skin and I could not practice comfortably. Nevertheless, I had learned several great lessons during the day, and that in a way compensated for the secret humiliation of knowing I had not earned that fifty cents for the parade.