XXIV.
YONGE STREET—FROM THE BAY TO YORKVILLE.
he tourist of the present day, who, on one of our great lake-steamers, enters the harbour of Toronto, observes, as he is borne swiftly along, an interesting succession of street vistas, opening at intervals inland, each one of them somewhat resembling a scene on the stage. He obtains a glimpse for a moment of a thoroughfare gently ascending in a right line northward, with appropriate groups of men and vehicles, reduced prettily to lilliputian size by distance.
Of all the openings thus transiently disclosed, the one towards which the boat at length shapes its course, with the clear intention of thereabout disburdening itself of its multifarious load, is quickly seen to be of preëminent importance. Thronged at the point where it descends to the water's edge with steamers and other craft, great and small, lined on the right and left up to the far vanishing-point with handsome buildings, its pavements and central roadway everywhere astir with life, its appearance is agreeably exciting and even impressive. It looks to be, what in fact it is, the outlet of a great highway leading into the interior of a busy, populous country. The railway station seen on the right, heaving up its huge semicircular metal back above the subjacent buildings, and flanking the very sidewalk with its fine front and lofty ever-open portals, might be imagined a porter's lodge proportioned to the dignity of the avenue whose entrance it seems planted there to guard.
We propose to pass, as rapidly as we may, up the remarkable street at the foot of which our tourist steps ashore. It will not be a part of our plan to enlarge on its condition as we see it at the present time, except here and there as in contrast with some circumstance of the past. We intend simply to take note, as we ramble on, of such recollections as may spring up at particular points, suggested by objects or localities encountered, and to recall at least the names, if not in every instance, characteristic traits and words and acts, of some of the worthies of a byegone generation, to whose toil and endurance the present occupants of the region which we shall traverse are so profoundly indebted.
Where Yonge Street opened on the harbour, the observer some forty years ago would only have seen, on the east side, the garden, orchard and pleasure grounds of Chief Justice Scott, with his residence situated therein, afterwards the abode of Mr. Justice Sherwood; and on the west side the garden, orchard, pleasure-grounds and house of Mr. Justice Macaulay, afterwards Chief Justice Sir James Macaulay, and the approaches to these premises were, in both cases, not from Yonge Street but from Front Street, or from Market Street in the rear.
The principal landing place for the town was for a series of years, as we have elsewhere stated, at the southern extremity of Church Street: and then previously, for another series of years, further to the east, at the southern extremity of Frederick Street. The country and local traffic found its way to these points, not by Yonge Street, south of King Street, but by other routes which have been already specified and described.
Teams and solitary horses, led or ridden, seen passing into Yonge Street, south of King Street, either out of King Street or out of Front Street, would most likely be on their way to the forge of old Mr. Philip Klinger, a German, whose name we used to think had in it a kind of anvil ring. His smithy, on the east side, just south of Market Street, now Wellington Street, was almost the only attraction and occasion of resort to Yonge Street, south of King Street. His successor here was Mr. Calvin Davis, whose name became as familiar a sound to the ears of the early townsfolk of York as Mr. Klinger's had been.