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Eulogy
– McCawley
New
Acadia
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and Woods
Windsor
Scenery
Electric
Light
Adjoining
Clifton
Ornamental
Trees
Filling
“Bog Pond”

Sept
1879

That Room-Mate of Mine

The last news
I heard from my friend Joe, was a short note informing me that
– "Tis
now September,
the hunters’ moon begun,"
and that consequently he
is just beginning to enjoy his holidays. I have no doubt that the prospect of
bringing home a brace of partridges, rouses him from his bed much earlier and
much more readily on these frosty fall morning, than will the chapel bell a month
later. But then, you know, it is holidays now, and that makes a great difference,
and moreover he has, with the exception of a few days trouting, been enjoying
almost a continuous sleep for the past two months. Now, however, when he can amuse
himself with shooting partridges without infringing the laws, (as once he did
in his Freshman year, by shooting robins, and feared to go into Windsor for the
next fortnight in consequence, lest he should meet the constable,) he applied
himself zealously to the business of having a good time.

The
opportunities which Joseph enjoyed while at College, for such sport, were few,
but what he had, he made the most of; and although he never met with any great
success with his gun, many remember with pleasure the strings of excellent trout,
which he brought home from some of his Saturday excursions, for they were always
generously shared with his friends, and sometimes made a Sunday morning breakfast
for us all.

One of those fishing expeditions, I think my room-mate
will long remember. One Saturday morning, Joseph, in company with another man
of congenial disposition, taking his rod and a lunch, started by the early train
to Stillwater, intending to return by the evening train. They arrived at the station
all right, walked down to the mill and took a boat to row up the lake. The troat
did not seem to bite well where they use to fish, so they decided to row up a
little further. Thus they tried one spot and another in indifferent success, and
before the day seemed half gone, it was time to go home. To row down the lake,
however, was not such an easy task as rowing up had been, for the wind had sprung
up, and was blowing directly up the lake. The only thing to do was to work hard,
and that they did. Slowly but surely they make their way. At length, they are
in sight of the mill. A few minutes more now will take them to the landing; but
before those few minutes were up, the train is heard whistling at the station.

Using
every effort now, they pull with a will, and just reach the shore as the train
blows for Stillwater. There is yet a quarter of a mile to the station. Seizing
their lines and fish, they jump ashore, and hasten up the road. They hear the
train come in, and Joe, giving his fish to his companion, hurries to stop her.
But his haste is in vain, for just as he comes round the turn, in sight of the
station, he sees the train move off, and knows it is too late.

He
waits for his companion and both sit on the platform of the station to rest, and
discuss their situation. It is Saturday night and the next train to Windsor, is
the Halifax Express on Monday. They are not prepared for camping out, nor have
they money to pay for lodgings, if obtainable, and it is a dreary place to spend
a Saturday at any rate. Moreover, they are not excused from Chapel, nor from the
lectures which they must miss on Monday.

They cannot stay here,
and there is only one alternative – to walk to Windsor. Fifteen miles [I think
that is about the distance] is no light walk, over railroad sleepers, but it must
be done, and that, if possible, before the Chapel bell rings. Fortunately [for
them] they have but few fish, and so not much to impede them. The sun has set,
and it’s getting dark. They pass Ellershouse and Newport, and when they reach
Three Mile Plains, they feel they are nearly home.

At last
they leave the railroad, and their feet are relieved somewhat by the change to
the smooth road. A few minutes more, and they are at the Parish Church, and see
the welcome lights of the College before them. The Chapel is lighted, and just
as they turn into College road, the half-past nine bell begins to ring. They are
just in time; and as the other students file into Chapel, they can hardly refrain
from smiling at the two dusty, gownless, perspiring travelers, who are now taking
their first rest after their unenviable tramp, and heartily
"Rejoice
within those ancient walls
to find themselves once more."

Vroom
[hand written in]

 
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