At Christmas time, a band of wind-instruments plays here generally late in the evening, and they mustered in force at my door; I knew this custom of old, and as I remembered all the tortures I had endured from their falsely harmonized chorales, I ordered the servant to tell them they would certainly get no Christmas-box from me, unless they promised never to return again. Trombone, much wounded, sent back to say, 'Tell your master, if he does not like music, he will not go to heaven.'