"But all was false and hollow, though his tongue
Dropt manna; and could make the worse appear
The better reason."
—Milton.
"I will surely be recognized by some one, if I stay here this evening," Guy said, as he brushed his hair and readjusted his cravat, before a neat mirror in one of the prim bed-rooms of a Sparks street boarding- house. "I had better seek some way of keeping myself ahide for awhile, until I find out, how love-matters are progressing in a certain quarter," and as he soliloquized, he turned to the open window that faced the busy street, just in time to catch a glimpse of the "street car," as it hurried by. There was a placard in conspicuous letters on either side announcing to the public that a "moonlight excursion would take place, that night per steamer 'Peerless.'"
This suggested itself to Guy as one way of spending his dull evening in tolerable comfort. He looked at his watch, and found it wanted yet a quarter to half-past seven. He looked out at the dull gray sky, "I don't think fair Luna under whose patronage they give their excursion, will favor them with her presence to-night," he muttered in a satisfied voice, "and for that I thank her profusely."
He opened his large valise, that lay beside the bed and took from its respectable inside, a handful of good cigars, these he deposited in his coat-pocket, he then thrust his head into a large rimmed felt hat, that partially covered his features, and otherwise gave him an appearance of disguise, and having carefully closed both window and door of his tidy room, went quietly out.
Down through the familiar streets, where he had so often strolled a few little years ago, he strolled again to-night, but how different a man! The usual processions of the working-class were thickening as the "after tea," leisure hours advanced: the "loafers" of the old type with soft slouched hats bent over their eyes, and with mouths full of very strong tobacco and language were posed artistically here and there in classic- looking groups, at the corners of Sparks and its intersecting streets. Cabmen lounged around the vicinity of Dufferin Bridge, as it were in the very postures he had seen them take, when last he strolled along that path, a dissipated, reckless, love-sick youth. But it gratified him to-night beyond anything, as he looked in critical survey from corner to corner of the "Russell," to recognize among that never failing gathering which haunts the thresholds of this flourishing hotel, the "friends of his youth" without him. He had not realized the step he had taken, until these scenes brought back the past so forcibly, to lay it beside the prosperous present. How many times had he stood idly before those doors, reckoning it worthy sport indeed, to pass unscrupulous remarks on passers-by behind his half-smoked cheroot: he cast a sympathetic look, as he thought, at a couple of unsuspecting girls, who just then were making their way along that thoroughfare, and his face said very plainly, "Well, you hardly know poor creatures, what noble jests your tiny feet, and tiny waists, and faces and figures, your gait and your dress, are causing for that high-minded audience across the way."
Sussex street had its same quaint, deserted, look, except that the different stocks in the melancholy business establishments looked a little more fly-stained, and time-worn, the sausages and meat-pies in the restaurant windows were a trifle staler looking, and more suggestive of sea-sickness; the thriving hotels, and boarding-houses were a degree dingier, time having laid his dusty finger unmolested, on their muslin-screened windows, telling a woeful tale of laziness and neglect.
At last the bright broad "Ottawa," came in view, sparkling and rippling in the red sunset, like a mass of liquid gems.
The majestic "Peerless," was at her old post near the wharf looking as comfortable and as inviting as ever: the same Notice stood out in all its faulty spelling, where pleasure-boats were for hire, and all the bright yellow sawdust which of late years has so deeply wounded the delicate enthusiasm of the aesthete, traced in golden letters its story of industry and honest labor, on one of nature's unwritten pages. The decks of the favorite "Peerless" were already well-filled with excursionists, who looked over the firm balustrades at the numbers of eager pleasure-seekers who still poured down the steps leading to the boat. Pulling his broad brimmed hat more definitely over his face, Guy fell in behind a group of descending people, and reached the boat barely in time, for as he stepped on board, the captain followed, the men hauled in the gang-way, the last shrill whistle deafened the ears of the passengers, those on the shore who watched the pleasant proceedings, now waved their handkerchiefs and hats, there was a great paddling and splashing until the steamer turned out into the broad river, then quietly, gracefully and lightly, she skipped along the clear calm water, just as the evening shadows were veiling the turrets and spires of surrounding edifices in their heavy mist.
Soon the wharf and its anxious spectators faded from view, then by degrees the towers and gables of the Parliament Buildings dropped into the shadowy distance, the tall pine trees along the shore receded within clouds of dark, smoky, blue, little twinkling lights sprung from the gathering darkness along the water's edge; the twilight was growing into black night, and the tame pleasures on board were developing into wild merriment.
There was no moon, but this is not necessarily a great disappointment, provided her absence does not foretell rain. A very dark night on deck, with strains of dreamy music echoing from the lighted apartment within, does not seem to the young couples seated by the railing outside, looking into the blue-black waves, as the most tiresome and unsuggestive circumstance in life.