An advert in today’s Toronto World Dec 2, 1916:


Let every citizen appreciate the profound importance of this duty. Send us the name of one man who should go overseas. Also, if you know it, send us his reason for not going. The safety of Canada is at stake to-day.


To Officer Commanding 255th (Q.O.R) Overseas Battalion, Toronto Armories:

Sir, I beg to give a name, hereunder, of a man who, to the best of my knowledge, is eligible to enlist.

His name is: ________________________

His business address: ____________________

His private address: ____________________

Occupation: _________________________

(You may sign this coupon, or not, as you wish)



Sunday, December 3rd

Massey Hall 8:15 pm

The Charter’d Streets of Toronto

December 2, 1916

Wandering through the streets of Toronto, especially through the Ward, I can’t help but be reminded by the poem of William Blake. I’ve copied it below:


BY William Blake

I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls
But most thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blasts the new-born Infants tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse

December 2, 1916

December 2, 1916

I woke up early this morning dreaming about Mowat Lodge. I am looking forward to returning North in the spring. It was still too early to get out of bed so I lay there and stared at the beaverboard ceiling. It’s rather close as my bunk is up on the upper level. I can almost reach up and touch the ceiling. If I had a paintbrush in my hand I certainly could.

Later in the morning I did little but smoke my pipe and read the paper. I won’t spend the money to get the paper, so I read the day-old from the foyer at the Studio. I get my mail there too because the postman won’t deliver to the Shack. Wise choice for him.

Florence visited again today. I never know when she is in the city. She takes the train in from Whitby and stays with friends in the City.