The experiences of that second-year vacation kept pace with the advance in our studies. Uncles, aunts, and cousins, school-mates, neighbours, and chance acquaintances came rehearsing their aches and pains, expecting me in my inexperience to help them promptly. I took them all seriously. I was a good listener, but was often of little further help. So many of them had complaints about which we had as yet had no lectures. Still I had the hope and confidence that go with youth, and the temerity to “rush in” where the more experienced might fear to tread. The coloured woman who did our washing asked me to attend her in confinement--her confidence in me was touching; for, although we had had our lectures in obstetrics, and I had been to a few cases with seniors, I had then managed none myself. But Josie had had several children so would be likely, I thought, to have an easy time; and, if I should need help, I could call on Dr. Campbell--the physician for whom I had had the girlish infatuation. It was a hot Fourth of July when they called me. Josie’s poor little home was a paradise in neatness and order compared to those I had frequented in dispensary practice. I felt quite elated at the prospect of managing a case alone. But from my first examination I felt uneasy, seeing that I had a different condition to deal with than any encountered in my limited experience. As labour progressed, to my consternation I found the cord, instead of the head, presenting, so knew that I had a case of transverse presentation--one which would require turning and speedy delivery to save the child. Of course I was incompetent to do this, nor would it have been lawful to attempt it, being an undergraduate. Dr. Campbell responded promptly to my summons, performed version, and delivered the child and the adherent placenta. I managed the after-care without difficulty. Josie was glad of her enforced rest in bed. In the days preceding her confinement I had gone past her house and seen her, big with child, standing at the ironing-board, late at night, thus supporting her family while her great lazy husband, John Wesley Freeman, would loll about all day, then sit by her at night and read the Bible and exhort as she stood ironing. True to his name, he felt called to preach, and, failing a larger audience, preached to poor Josie, in and out of season. While I kept her in bed, the lazy fellow had to shift for himself or starve, as his swarming offspring were too small to be of service in the household.