Just how this invasion will affect the Toronto of tomorrow no one seems willing to prophesy. The men from Glasgow and from Manchester are used to municipal street railroads and such schemes and the New England town-meeting ideas, which were the products of Anglo-Saxon spirit, come home to rest in English hearts. The street railroad system of Toronto may groan under its burden--it is paying over a million dollars this year to the city and is constantly threatened with extinction as a private corporation. But the Englishman of that city merely grunts at the bargains it offers--six tickets for a quarter; eight in rush-hours, ten for school children and seven for Sabbath riding, all at the same price--and wonders "why the nawsty trams canna' do better by a codger that's workin' like a navvie all the day?" Toronto will see that they do better--that is her vision into the future. But just how the new blood is to infuse into some of the Puritan ideas of the town--there is another question. Here is a single one of the new puzzling points--the temperance problem. It was not so very long ago that Canada's chief claim for fame rested in the excellence of her whiskey--and that despite the fact that the Canadian climate is ill-adapted to whiskey drinking. The twelfth of July--which you will probably recall as the anniversary of the battle of the Boyne--used to be marked by famous fights, which invariably had marine foundations in Canadian rye. However, during the past quarter of a century, the temperance movement has waxed strong throughout Ontario. Many cities have become "dry" and it is possible that Toronto herself might have been without saloons today--if it had not been for the English invasion. For your Englishman regards his beer as food--"skittles and beer" is something more than merely proverbial--and he must have it. He looks complacently upon the stern Sabbath in Toronto--Sunday in an English city is rarely a hilarious occasion--but he must have his beer. Up to the present time he has had it.