It was impossible to go on with the lecture, so
I stopped. On inquiry, the unearthly din was found to proceed from a
detachment of the Salvation Army outside the building. After some
parleying, they consented to move on and storm some other citadel.

But it was a stormy evening, and peace was not yet.

[Illustration: A SALVATIONIST.]

As soon as I had fairly restarted, a person in the audience began to
show signs of disapproval, and twice or thrice he gave vent to his
disapproval rather loudly.

I was not surprised to learn, at the close of the evening, that this
individual had come in with a free pass. He had been admitted on the
strength of his being announced to give a "show" of some sort himself a
week later in the hall.

If a man is inattentive or creates a disturbance at any performance, you
may take it for granted that his ticket was given to him. He never paid
for it.

To-morrow I go to Toronto, where I am to give two lectures. I had not
time to see that city properly on my last visit to Canada, and all my
friends prophesy that I shall have a good time.

So does the advance booking, I understand.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXI.

TORONTO--THE CITY--THE LADIES--THE SPORTS--STRANGE CONTRASTS--THE
CANADIAN SCHOOLS.

_Toronto, February 9._

Have passed three very pleasant days in this city, and had two beautiful
audiences in the Pavilion.

Toronto is a thoroughly American city in appearance, but only in
appearance, for I find the inhabitants British in heart, in tastes, and
habits. When I say that it is an American city, I mean to say that
Toronto is a large area, covered with blocks of parallelograms and dirty
streets, overspread with tangles of telegraph and telephone wires. The
hotels are perfectly American in every respect.

The suburbs are exceedingly pretty. Here once more are fine villas
standing in large gardens, a sight rarely seen near an American city. It
reminds me of England. I admire many buildings, the University[2]
especially.

English-looking, too, are the rosy faces of the Toronto ladies whom I
passed in my drive. How charming they are with the peach-like bloom that
their outdoor exercise gives them!

I should like to be able to describe, as it deserves, the sight of
these Canadian women in their sleighs, as the horses fly along with
bells merrily jingling, the coachman in his curly black dogskin and huge
busby on his head. Furs float over the back of the sleigh,