[CUMBERLAND] THE FENIAN RAID OF 1866 87 
wards ordained in the ministry of the Church, and most of the others 
of the company became working laymen in the Synods and organiza- 
tions of the Anglican communion. Thus truely did the Trinity maxim, 
“Fear God and Honour the King,’ assert its virility. 
The first call to arms was disruptive of the continuity of educational 
routine. To some it was an interference with the earnestness of their 
studies in preparation for the final University examinations in June, 
to others a welcome interlude in the rigidity of college discipline, and 
an outlet for the sportive tendencies of vigorous youth. 
The hours of drill for the Volunteers had been so arranged that 
there should be as little interference for the city men as possible with 
their daily avocations; but at college the morning chapel bell still rang, 
some lectures continued, and evening “Gates” were still incumbent 
to the inflexible porter at the college entry. I fear me there was 
little thought for the professors’ grinds, for how could a fellow search 
for the most appropriate allusion in the pages of his Liddle & Scott, or 
puzzle out a differential calculus when, after drill, his table was encum- 
bered, and his sofa sprawled over by youthful forms, while with tunics 
released and loosened belts, they chatted to the accompaniment of 
the congenial pipe, and slaked their dusty throats (as we used to do in 
those days), with the steward’s mild beer from the buttery. Intricacies 
of the firing movements, the evolutions of company drill, the anticipa- 
tions of actual service in the field, were much more engrossing topics 
than the mutabilities of the aorist, or of the advance of the Israelites 
to the Promised Land. The incongruities of a green uniform peering 
through the voluminous folds of a surplice in the choir in chapel, or 
adorned in lecture but not concealed by the ragged remnants of a college 
gown, were but common accompaniments of the martial period. The 
Church Militant had been merged in the campaign expectant and 
proprieties had to give way to the imperative necessity of punctual 
attendance at the musters in the drill shed. 
So, too, no doubt, it was the same at University College, for once 
again it was in Toronto, as our poet Mair wrote of the gathering in 
York in 1812: 
“What news afoot? 
Why everyone’s afoot and coming here 
York’s citizens are turned to warriors. 
The learned professions go a-soldiering. 
Tecumseth.”’ 
Among the memories of this period is a garrison parade held one 
Sunday in St. James’ Cathedral. The church had then two high 
galleries, one on the west and the other on the east side of the central 
