I must tell an amusing story of our camp fire one summer. As the ground was by this time well occupied, we decided to have the bonfire on a raft out in the stream, while the crowd sang the songs and listened to the speeches from the Hall of Philosophy on the shore. But when we met at night for the services, the raft and the materials ready for lighting had disappeared! We were told that the janitor had thought it an improvement to have the fire lighted above, in a bend of the river, and float down to the Hall. We waited, not exactly pleased with the janitor's unauthorized action, and after a time we heard a mighty racket. The raft with the bonfire was floating down the stream, while around it was a convoy of about a hundred boats, loaded with boys, and each boy blowing a horn or yelling in the most vociferous manner. That put an end to any prospect of songs and speeches, for who could command silence to such a din? But that was not all nor the worst. The janitor tried in vain to anchor his raft, but it still floated downward. We saw our camp fire sail majestically down the river, until it approached the mill dam and the falls, when the boys desperately rowed their boats out of danger. Raft and contents went over the falls and the bonfire was quenched in the devouring flood. As we saw it going to its doom, I distinctly heard the word "dam" spoken, and I fear it was intended to include a final "n." But that was the last attempt at a camp fire. When I proposed one at the next season, the entire Round Table burst out with a roaring laugh. The success of Ottawa led to the opening of many other Assemblies all over the State, and by degrees weakened this, the mother Chautauqua of Kansas. It is still maintained, but in a small way, as one of the chain Chautauquas.