Here, in Toronto, opportunities multiplied, and just when they were needed: in times of difficulty and trouble the call of Nature became paramount; during the vicissitudes of dairy and hotel the wild hinterland behind the town, with its lakes and forests, were a haven often sought. Among my friends were many, of course, who enjoyed a day “in the country,” but one man only who understood a little the feelings I have tried to describe, even if he did not wholly share them. This was Arnold Haultain, a married man, tied to an office all day long, private secretary to Goldwin Smith (whose life, I think, he subsequently wrote), and editor of a weekly periodical called _The Week_. He was my senior by many years.... At three in the morning, sometimes, he would call for me at the dairy in College Street, and we would tramp out miles to enjoy the magic of sunrise in a wood north of the city. And such an effort was only possible to a soul to whom it was a necessity.... The intensity of early dreams and aspirations, what energy lies in them! In later life, though they may have solidified and become part of the character, that original fiery energy is gone. A dreadful doggerel I wrote at this time, Haultain used in his paper, and its revealing betrayal of inner tendencies is the excuse for its reproduction here. It appeared the same week its author bought the Hub Hotel and started business with Kay, as “The Hub Wine Company.” LINES TO A DREAMER O change all this thinking, imagining, hoping to be; Change dreaming to action and work; there’s a God in your will. Self-mastery and courage and confidence make a man free, And doing is stronger than dreaming for good or for ill. Then make a beginning; don’t lie like an infant and weep. Begin with the dearest and crush some delight-giving sin Right out of your life, with a purpose of death before sleep; A passion controlled is an index of power within. Some hard self-denial; let no one suspect it at all. With ruthless self-torture continue, nor half an inch yield, Step fearless and bravely; hold on and believe--you won’t fall; Companions you’ve none but the best on this grim battlefield. Stagnation means death. If you cannot advance you retreat; Steel purpose maintain; let it be the first aim of your life; Beware of those mushroom resolves as impulsive as fleet, And remember, the nobler the end the more deadly the strife. For the hope that another may save you is coward and vain, And the ladder, by which you must climb to yon far starry height, Is of cast-iron rungs from the furnace of suffering and pain. Then forward; and courage! from darkness to truth’s golden light. CHAPTER VI The pictures that have occupied two chapters, flashed and vanished, lasting a few moments only. It was Kay’s voice that interrupted them: