Down the River to the Sea

by Agnes Maule Machar

“Yes,” replied Hugh. “And I have no doubt the University will be the gainer in the end, as the trash will have been all disposed of, and the scientific books will be all new and up to date. But I can imagine what a catastrophe it must have been at the time. It made quite a sensation, even among us students in Edinburgh. Though, apart from the associations, I’m afraid some of us wouldn’t have been sorry to have had our old building and old books renewed in the same way! It’s too bad for a Scotch university to be eclipsed, architecturally, by a Canadian one!”

“Ah, well, you see, we had the improved taste of this age to guide us,” remarked Kate.

“And the taste of a Scotchman, at that, if I am not mistaken,” added Hugh.

“Oh, yes, we must grant you the credit of Sir Daniel Wilson and his Edinburgh training. But look at this fine gateway. Fortunately it was not injured by the fire, and is just as it was. I think it’s the finest bit of the building.”

Hugh admired it all so enthusiastically that May, who had of course seen very little of fine architecture, was glad to have her own admiration endorsed by one who had seen so much more. And, happily, they encountered a stray professor, well known to Mrs. Sandford, who insisted on looking up the janitor, and personally conducting them through the interior of the building, which the tourists were very anxious to see, and which Hugh inspected with the critical eye of a student, approving of the various improvements everywhere introduced, and only regretting the lost glories of the Convocation Hall, on which the professor regretfully descanted.

“But we must wait for some Canadian millionaire to give us a Canadian Christ’s Church,” he said, smiling.

“Indeed, I think it is wonderful, as it is, for a new country,” said Hugh, as they exchanged a cordial adieu, Hugh promising in return to show him Edinburgh University if he would look him up over there.

From the University they drove down the fine shady avenue, to show the strangers, a little way from the University, on a little knoll in its picturesque grounds, a monument to the young volunteers who fell at Ridgeway. Hugh and Flora had already heard the story of the Fenian émeute that caused so much temporary excitement, and they looked with respectful sympathy at the monument so justly raised to these gallant young men, as true patriots as if the field on which they fell had been one of the historic battle-grounds of the world. The monument to George Brown also claimed their attention for a few moments, and Hugh triumphantly declared to Kate, that, so far as he could see, all the great leaders of Canada had been his fellow-countrymen.

Then they continued their drive down the fine avenue, past the School of Technology, and the great, new Parliament buildings, fast rising to completion, and down the alley of chestnuts on to which, under the spreading horse-chestnuts, leads down Queen Street, where they duly admired the classic stateliness of Osgoode Hall,—the law center of Ontario. Then they returned to King Street once more, and followed its coarse westward for some miles, to see the former site of the Old Fort near the Exhibition buildings, and the various great institutions of Toronto along its line. The old red brick building of Upper Canada College,—one of the oldest grammar schools in Canada; the handsome front of Trinity College, farther on, in its beautiful park, the grounds and buildings of which Hugh would fain have stopped to explore; the great gloomy-looking, high-walled inclosure of the Lunatic Asylum, with its saddening associations; and then, still sadder sight, the grim Central Prison and the Mercer Reformatory for women. A somewhat more cheerful object of contemplation was the large pile of buildings that form the beautiful Home for Incurables, which Kate declared was quite an ideal institution, at least so far as its plan and appointments were concerned. “But it is a rather melancholy place too,” she admitted, “though, if people are incurable, it is nice to know that they will be comfortably provided for!”

“I don’t believe much in institutions,” said Flora, in her soft voice and pretty Scotch accent; “I would rather have one of the plainest little rooms, in a wee, real home, than the most luxurious one in these great institutions!” and May warmly endorsed the sentiment.