fearless enterprise of a Western American city to the social conservatism and dignity of an English community, and presents a strange and interesting combination of Cambridge and Chicago.

The streets which run north from the harbour are broad and straight, with commodious openings towards the Esplanade, and apparent capabilities of being prolonged indefinitely into the country, even to parallel the ten-league length of Yonge Street. These, running towards the north star, are intersected at right angles by a score of east-and-west streets, giving to the ground-plan of the city a remarkable degree of regularity and commodiousness, which is increased by the level condition of the roadways, and their carefully-laid pavements. There are two lines of tramway running across the town from east to west, and two others running from the harbour to the northern suburbs.

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Yonge Street and Dundas Street were carved through the trackless wilderness of Western Canada, by order of its first Governor, as nearly as possible in right lines, the one running north and south, and the other east and west. They were primarily intended for military ways, and received the name of streets in allusion to the famous Roman roads, still existing in rural England, and popularly called Watling Street, &c. These great highways were cut through the endless forests north of Lake Ontario, slowly and painfully, but with patient tenacity of purpose, until Lower Canada saw itself connected by land with the great vacant domains on the west. They crossed each other near the centre of Toronto. The original design of Yonge Street was the formation of a practicable route through British territory to the great lakes in the interior of the American continent. The natural route between Lake Ontario and the upper and greater lakes lies through Lake Erie, but the inlet of the latter is commanded by American batteries, and the outlet is so close to the republican territory that it could easily be seized by hostile forces. It was the design of Governor Simcoe (who greatly distrusted the Americans) to establish a new commercial and military route, safely secluded in the heart of his Province, and this he found by making a portage-road, thirty-three miles long, running north from Toronto to the navigable waters flowing into Lake Simcoe-from which practicable rivers flowed into the eastern bays of the great Lake Huron. The road was cut through by the Queen's Rangers, a regiment which had been recruited among the mechanics of England, expressly for Canadian service. For many years the lower half-mile of Yonge Street was but an untravelled lane, because the principal landings of the town lay to the eastward, and were approached by irregular cart-tracks, diverging thitherward. Two villas, with extensive grounds, stood at the harbour-end of the street, and even these fronted on other thoroughfares. Now the street cuts its undeviating way from the harbour northward; and on and about the lower part is the busy financial quarter. Within a space of a halfmile square there are more than a dozen banks, several railway offices, the head-quarters of the chief newspapers, the Post Office, Custom House, Cathedral, Court House, Opera House, City Hall, and other spacious and costly public buildings, most of them in modern American forms of architecture.

Farther to the north is the suburb of Yorkville, which grew up around the famous old Red Lion Tavern; and the estates of Rosedale, Chestnut Park, and Summer Hill lie beyond. Still more distant are the neighbourhoods formerly settled by families from the West Indies, and by colonies from Germany. The German Mills (so-called) were at one time owned by

Captain Nolan, of the 70th Regiment, whose famous son fell in the charge of the Light Brigade; and one of their managers was grandson of Prince Charles Edward Stuart's secretary and a personal friend of Sir Walter Scott. The next village on Yonge Street is Thornhill, settled by Dorsetshire families; and this is followed by the Oak Ridges, anciently the home of the McLeods of Skye and their Gaelic court, and of the Vicomte de Chalûs, the Comte de Puisaye, and many other unfortunate French émigrés, who, as Burke said, "quitting that voluptuous climate and that seductive Circean liberty, have taken refuge in the frozen regions, and under the British despotism, of Canada." Elsewhere, on and near Yonge Street, were colonies of banished American loyalists, Quakers from Pennsylvania, Mennonites, and other singular communities, hidden in this gloomy northern wilderness, and occasionally visiting Toronto to purchase supplies. It was a museum of strange types, through which Yonge Street stretched its unswerving lines, a collection of human oddities, merging now rapidly into the well-known and clearly-marked Anglo-Canadian race. During the Canadian rebellion of 1837, a strong force of insurgents marched from these forest-towns against Toronto, and advanced into its immediate suburbs. Eight hundred of them attempted to enter the city, but were repulsed by a handful of militia; and soon afterwards Sir Allan MacNab, a gallant Scottish-Canadian chieftain, attacked their position with a thousand volunteers, and scattered the ragamuffin army, with severe loss.

The intersection of Yonge Street and King Street, within a quarter of a mile of the harbour, is the heart of the town, and forms a very striking and attractive carrefour, with stately buildings and busy thoroughfares stretching away to the four points of the compass, and all the life and beauty of Young Canada moving along the side-walks, or in vehicles on the well-paved roadways. The Masonic Temple is in this vicinity; and also the large and picturesque building of the United Empire Club. The Toronto Club and the National Club, in other parts of the city, are powerful and well-known organisations. One of Lord Dufferinʼs most famous speeches was made at a feast of the Toronto Club, in 1874. The commercial and financial district surrounds the lower part of Yonge Street, and attests its prosperity by the magnitude and costliness of the buildings occupied. There are fifteen banks, wherein a large part of the financial business of Ontario is transacted, and most of these occupy handsome stone buildings, rich in architectural adornments. Here are the offices of the manufacturing corporations, whose works supply a great part of Upper Canada. The journalistic enterprise of Toronto is exemplified by three thriving daily newspapers. The Globe is a powerful factor in Canadian politics; and the Mail owns and occupies one of the finest buildings in the city. There are nineteen weekly papers, half of which are religious in character, and seventeen monthlies. Grip, the Canadian Punch, is published here. The first locomotive railway engine made in the colonies of Great Britain was completed at Toronto, in 1852. The manufacturing interests are now large and important, and include iron and steel works, enormous breweries, tanneries, distilleries, and other profitable industries. Not far from the site of the railway-station stood the house of the Jamesons. Mr. Jameson, Vice-Chancellor of Upper Canada, was famous for his conversational powers, his high culture, and rare versatility; and no English or American student of art and belleslettres needs to be told who Mrs. Jameson was. In one of her charming books she gives a description of Canada as it appeared during her sojourn.

The head-quarters of the law courts of Upper Canada is in the noble building of Osgoode Hall, whose name commemorates an ancient chief justice of the Province (who was said to have been, also, an illegitimate son of George III.). About twenty years ago. the matter-of-fact legal buildings on this site were remodelled and richly adorned with a façade of cut stone, and the wings received the addition of elaborate Ionic colonnades and pediments. The inner court is lined with bright Caen stone, and kept in immaculate order and neatness. The library, a noble hall, adorned with portraits of the foremost jurists of

Canada, contains thousands of volumes, where the young lawyers of the Province find abundant material for legal study and research.

One of the first duties of the British colonist is to establish the forms and laws of his native land; and the sanctuaries of justice and legislation are held as more important than walls of defence or the cloisters of religion. When the pioneers occupied the site of Toronto, Houses of Parliament were speedily erected-plain and commodious wooden buildings, near the mouth of the Don river-and the Court quarter of the backwoods Westminster, where the provincial magnates dwelt, arose among the adjacent primeval groves. Here, at the opening and closing of the annual sessions, the world-encircling British ceremonials were celebrated, as the representatives of the Sovereign-famous Canadian knights and gentlemen-passed to or from the assembled Estates of the people. Palace

Street was the main thoroughfare, and the names of the other streets commemorated the devotion of the citizens to the Hanoverian dynasty.

The present Parliament Buildings and Government House of the Province of Ontario are plain, spacious, and homely structures of red brick, secluded from the streets, and not far from the Union Railway Station and the principal hotels. The legislators who assemble here administer the local affairs of Ontario, a Province covering 121,260 square miles, which is larger than Hungary, Norway, or Italy, and within two square miles of the combined areas of Great Britain and Ireland. Nor is this so far a solitude as to have nothing but territorial area to boast of, for within less than a century its population has grown from 2,000 to upwards of 2,000,000, and even now exceeds that of Greece or Denmark, Saxony or Switzerland. There are two or three unimportant newspapers in Canada which advocate annexation to the United States, but no sentiment of that kind prevails among the people. Enjoying the privileges of autonomy, without its dangers, the greatest of the British colonies has developed rapidly and securely into a semi-independent State, and in time will probably expand into a conservative Republic, influenced by English traditions, and firmly allied to the mother-country by countless ties of duty and affection.

Sixty years ago, it was thought that Upper Canada could not support a college, and a romantic and ingenious scheme came under consideration, by which twenty-five lads should be sent annually to Oxford and Cambridge, at the cost of the Province. It was thought that many others would follow them, and that the beneficiaries themselves would be stimulated to extraordinary exertions, returning to Canada finished scholars, to leaven the crudity of the new country with their wisdom. "What more especially invites the adoption of such a scheme is the amiable and affectionate connection which it would tend to establish between Canada and Britain." Planted in poverty and adversity, however, and nurtured in discouragement, the colleges of Ontario have grown into strength and respectability, and bid fair to become wealthy and renowned. Toronto is now a University town of no mean rank, visited by many hundreds of earnest students, who learn here the best-approved methods of caring for bodies or minds diseased, of repairing broken States, of enlightening remote wilderness places.

University College stands in a beautiful and diversified park in the northern part of the city, and is approached by way of College Avenue, a grand thoroughfare nearly a mile long, and 100 feet wide, running due north from the business district. Double lines of trees border the avenue, and the park is adorned with many stately oaks. The building occupied by the college is the finest piece of Norman architecture in America, and forms three sides of a large quadrangle, the walls being of grey stone, trimmed with blocks from the quarries of Caen, charmingly irregular in outline, and mediæval in effect. From one side it suggests Rugby or Warwick; from another, Bury St. Edmund's; and many another similitude is found by the English exiles of Toronto. From the centre of the southern front rises a tall square tower, sustaining the great bell which, "swinging low with solemn roar," repeats the old-time curfew every evening. The main portal and window beneath form a perfect flower of Norman architecture; and the entrance hall, with its stunted columns and quaintly-carved capitals, is suggestive of the grey cathedral towns of England rather than of this new-born forest city. Under the pointed oaken roof of the