Down the River to the Sea

by Agnes Maule Machar

“Still, if people can’t have even that,” said Hugh, “it’s well there are institutions. I must say myself, that I don’t care much for doing things by wholesale, so I for one could never be a socialist. Things were better planned originally. ‘He setteth the solitary in families.’”

“That was long ago, my dear boy,” remarked Mrs. Sandford. “It’s getting to be an old world, and a cold world, too, I fear.”

“Oh, I hope not, Aunt Bella. The old order faileth, giving place to new, only the new hasn’t got well worked out yet.”

On their way back they took a look at the Old Fort Barracks, and at the site of the old French Fort, near which the exhibition buildings, or “Fair grounds,” yearly present such a striking contrast to what must have been the silence and loneliness of the spot when it first became a British settlement. And the cool lake breeze was most refreshing after the heat of the July day, and sent them back to the hotel, reinforced for dinner, after which they were not disposed to do more than sit quietly on one of the balconies of the hotel, Mrs. Sandford knitting with great satisfaction, and the others amusing themselves with observing the ever-varying line of pedestrians constantly passing to and fro on their way from places of evening entertainment.

Next morning all the junior members of the party started for a ramble on foot, going first along King Street and looking in a more leisurely fashion at the various handsome public buildings, the banks, the great newspaper offices, a little off King Street, the fine post-office on Adelaide Street, the attractive picture and bookstores, and then turning up Church Street, pursued their way to the Normal School buildings, where Kate exhibited to her companions with some pride, the various educational appliances of that center of the public school education of the province, the handsome, and even luxurious lecture-rooms, class-rooms, library, and last, but not least, the spacious and delightful Kindergarten, a paradise of infantine education, which was Kate’s especial delight, and which to Hugh and Flora was a charming novelty in “school-keeping.” After that they continued their walk in a desultory fashion along the shady streets of that quarter of the city, admiring the handsome churches and villa-like residences which there abound. Then they crossed the Park to take one more look at the beautiful University buildings, and came back to the Arlington by the way of St. George Street with its fine residences, and Spadina Avenue, just in time for an early luncheon before preparing for their departure by the good steamer Corsican.

The early afternoon found them all on the deck of the steamer, gliding swiftly out of Toronto Bay, leaving in the distance the long mass of fine buildings that extends along Front Street and gives the stranger some idea of the wealth and business of Toronto; past the long sandbar, which at once protects Toronto Harbor and serves as a “health resort” and “villegiature” for so many Torontonians. Very soon, as the steamer ploughed her way through the blue lake, calm as a millpond, Toronto had become invisible, and the high land of Scarboro Heights rose to the left, while to the right the blue horizon line again reminded the travelers of the sea. Presently, there arose the fresh, bracing afternoon breeze, most grateful to the strangers especially, who had felt the heat at Toronto rather oppressive. It was a delicious afternoon, and as the sparkling and quivering golden pathway thrown on the waters by the westering sun showed them that it was passing away all too soon, Hugh declared that if he lived in Canada he should want to spend most of the summer on a yacht on such halcyon waters.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Sandford, “yachting is very well in summer weather, when it is calm like this, but it’s dangerous at best on these great lakes where sudden squalls are apt to rise at any moment. Don’t you remember, Kate——”

“Oh, yes, Auntie,” Kate interposed, hurriedly, “don’t talk about it now. It’s too sad. But, Hugh, how would you like to ‘paddle your own canoe’ all the way down from Toronto to the foot of the lake, as they used to do in the brave days of old?”

“I shouldn’t fancy any one would try such an experiment in these days of rapid locomotion,” said Flora.

“Indeed, some people would, and think it great fun,” replied Kate. “A friend of ours, with his wife and little girl, paddled down the whole way to the St. Lawrence one summer, just for the pleasure of it. And his wife—just as the squaws used to do—helped him with the paddling.”