I said, "Be calm, madam, and gather your strength," and I told her what had happened. It seemed to age me to do this; what must it have been to this loving wife to listen to my tale! She sat as dead for a minute, and then she spoke. "John, I will go with you to my husband;" and, leaning and tottering on my arm, I took her to where her dead husband lay. It is awful to stand by the honorable dead when suddenly taken from us while in the prime and vigor of life, but this seemed beyond human endurance. No wonder I hate this accursed traffic. I was very busy and happy during my stay in Orillia. My employer and his good wife were exceedingly kind, and I became acquainted with many whose friendship I value and esteem to-day. At the end of the year I had saved all but $10 of my $60 salary, and with this to the good and with father's hearty encouragement, I started for college once more. This time I was at home at once. Even the old halls and class-rooms seemed to welcome me. Dr. Nelles took me by the hand in a way which, in turn, took my heart. I received great kindness from Dr. Harris and Dr. Whitlocke, Mr. (now Dr.) Burwash and Mr. (now Dr.) Burns. I had these grand men before me as ideals, and I strove to hold their friendship. That year at college, 1859-60, is a green spot in my memory. It opened to me a new life; it gave me the beginnings of a grip of things; it originated, or helped to originate, within me a desire to think for myself. Everywhere--on the playground, in the class-rooms, in the college halls, in the students' room--I had a good time. I was strong and healthy, and, for my age, a more than average athlete. I could run faster and jump farther than most of the students or townboys. I knew my parents were making sacrifices to keep me at college, and I studied hard to make the most of my grand opportunity. Thus the months flew almost too quickly, and college closed and I went home; and, being still but a young boy, was glad to see my mother and brothers and sisters, and to launch the canoe and fish by the hour for bass and catfish, and even occasionally a maskinonge. Why, even now I seem to feel the thrill of a big black bass's bite and pull. What excitement, what intense anxiety, and what pride when a big fellow was safely landed in my canoe! One day I was lazily paddling around Limestone Point. The lake was like a mirror. I was looking into the depths of water, when presently I saw some dark objects. I slowly moved my canoe to obtain a right light, so as to see what they were, when to my surprise I made out the dark things to be three large catfish. Quietly I baited my hook and dropped it down, down, near the mouth of one. They seemed to be sleeping. I gently moved my baited hook, until I tickled the fellow's moustache. Then he slowly awoke and swallowed my hook. I pulled easily, and without disturbing the others put him in my canoe, and repeated this until the trio were again side by side.