To the far-off Atlantic, and to the misty isles beyond—the true Insulæ Fortunatoe—we need not name them—the glittering slip which we are still permitted to see yonder, is the highway—the route by which the fathers came—the route by which their sons from time to time return to make dutiful visits to hearthstones and shrines never to be thought of or named without affection and reverence.—Of that other ideal ocean-stream, too, and of that other ideal home, of which the poet speaks, our peep of Ontario may likewise, to the thoughtful, be an allegory, by the help of which
In a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither; Can in a moment travel thither— And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore!
The Church with the twin turrets, now seen in the middle space of Trinity Square, was a gift of benevolence to Western Canada in 1846 from two ladies, sisters. The personal character of Bishop Strachan was the attraction that drew the boon to Toronto. Through the hands of Bishop Longley of Ripon, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, a sum of £5,000 sterling was transmitted by the donors to Bishop Strachan for the purpose of founding a church, two stipulations being that it should be forever, like the ancient churches of England, free to all for worship, and that it should bear the name of The Holy Trinity. The sum sent built the Church and created a small endowment. Soon after the completion of the edifice, Scoresby, the celebrated Arctic navigator, author of "An Account of the Arctic Regions, with a History and Description of the Northern Whale Fishery," preached and otherwise officiated within its walls. Therein, too, at a later period was heard the voice of Selwyn, Bishop of Lichfield, but previously the eminent Missionary Bishop of New Zealand. Here also, while the Cathedral of St. James was rebuilding, after its second destruction by fire in 1849, Lord Elgin was a constant devout participant in Christian rites, an historical association connected with the building, made worthy of preservation by the very remarkable public services of the Earl afterwards in China and India.—We recall at this moment the empressement with which an obscure little chapel was pointed out to us in the small hamlet of Tregear in Cornwall, on account of the fact that John Wesley had once preached there. Well then: it may be that with some hereafter, it will be a matter of curiosity and interest to know that several men of world-wide note, did, in their day, while sojourning in this region, "pay their vows" in the particular "Lord's House" to which we now have occasion to refer.
In the grove which surrounded Sir James Macaulay's residence, Wykham Lodge, we had down to recent years a fragment of the fine forest which lined Yonge Street, almost continuously from Lot Street to Yorkville, some forty years since. The ruthless uprooting of the eastern border of this beautiful sylvan relic of the past, for building purposes, was painful to witness, however quickly the presence of rows of useful structures reconciled us to the change. The trees which cluster round the great school building in the rear of these improvements will long, as we hope, survive to give an idea of what was the primeval aspect of the whole of the neighbourhood.
The land on the opposite side, a little to the north of the point at which we have arrived, viz., Carleton Street—long remaining in an uncultivated condition, was a portion of the estate of Alexander Wood, of whom we have already spoken. His family and baptismal names are preserved, as we have before noted, in "Wood" Street and "Alexander" Street.
The streets which we passed southward of Wood Street, Carleton, Gerrard, Shuter, with Gould Street in the immediate vicinity, had their names from personal friends of Mr. McGill, the first owner, as we have seen, of this tract. They are names mostly associated with the early annals of Montreal, and seem rather inapposite here.
Northward, a little beyond where Grosvenor Street leads into what was Elmsley Villa, and is now Knox College, was a solitary green field with a screen of lofty trees on three of its sides. In its midst was a Dutch barn, or hay-barrack, with movable top. The sward on the northern side of the building was ever eyed by the passer-by with a degree of awe. It was the exact spot where a fatal duel had been fought.
We have seen in repeated instances that the so-called code of honour was in force at York from the era of its foundation. "Without it," Mandeville had said, "there would be no living in a populous nation. It is the tie of society; and although we are beholden to our frailties for the chief ingredient of it, there has been no virtue, at least that I am acquainted with, which has proved half so instrumental to the civilizing of mankind, who, in great societies, would soon degenerate into cruel villains and treacherous slaves, were honour to be removed from among them." Mandeville's sophistical dictum was blindly accepted, and trifles light as air gave rise to the conventional hostile meeting. The merest accident at a dance, a look, a jest, a few words of unconsidered talk, of youthful chaff, were every now and then sufficient to force persons who previously, perhaps, had been bosom friends, companions from childhood, along with others sometimes, in no wise concerned in the quarrel at first, to put on an unnatural show of thirst for each other's blood. The victim of the social usage of the day, in the case now referred to, was a youthful son of Surveyor-General Ridout.
Some years after the event, the public attention was drawn afresh to it. The surviving principal in the affair, Mr. Samuel Jarvis, underwent a trial at the time and was acquitted. But the seconds were not arraigned. It happened in 1828, eleven years after the incident (the duel took place July 12, 1817), that Francis Collins, editor of the Canadian Freeman, a paper of which we have before spoken, was imprisoned and fined for libel. As an act of retaliation on at least some of those who had promoted the prosecution, which ended in his being thus sentenced, he set himself to work to bring the seconds into court. He succeeded. One of them, Mr. Henry John Boulton, was now Solicitor-General, and the other, Mr. James E. Small, an eminent member of the Bar. All the particulars of the fatal encounter, were once more gone over in the evidence. But the jury did not convict.
Modern society, here and elsewhere, is to be congratulated on the change which has come over its ideas in regard to duelling. Apart from the considerations dictated by morals and religion, common sense, as we suppose, has had its effect in checking the practice. York, in its infancy, was no better and no worse in this respect than other places. It took its cue in this as in some other matters, from very high quarters. The Duke of York, from whom York derived its name, had himself narrowly escaped a bullet from the pistol of Colonel Lennox: "it passed so near to the ear as to discommode the side-curl," the report said; but our Duke's action, or rather inaction, on the occasion helped perhaps to impress on the public mind the irrationality of duelling: he did not return the fire. "He came out," he said, "to give Colonel Lennox satisfaction, and did not mean to fire at him; if Colonel Lennox was not satisfied, he might fire again."