Acadia | Page 5

decorations could not wake it up. The little old houses seem to look
with wondrous apathy as these pass by, as though they had given each
other a quiet nudge with their quaint old gables, and whispered: "Keep
still!"
I wandered up and down those old streets in search of something
picturesque, but in vain; there was scarcely any thing remarkable to
arrest or interest a stranger. Such, too, might have been the appearance
of other places I wot of, if those staunch old loyalists had had their way
in the days gone by!
But the Province House, which is built of a sort of yellow sand-stone,
with pillars in front, and trees around it, is a well-proportioned building,
with an air of great solidity and respectability. There are in it very fine
full-lengths of King George II. and Queen Caroline, and two
full-lengths of King George III. and Queen Charlotte; a full-length of
Chief-Justice Haliburton, and another full-length, by Benjamin West,
of another chief-justice, in a red robe and a formidable wig. Of these
portraits, the two first-named are the most attractive; there is something
so gay and festive in the appearance of King George II. and Queen
Caroline, so courtly and sprightly, so graceful and amiable, that one is
tempted to exclaim: "Bless the painter! what a genius he had!"
And now, after taking a look at Dalhousie College with the parade in
front, and the square town-clock, built by his graceless Highness the
Duke of Kent, let us climb Citadel Hill, and see the formidable

protector of town and harbor. Lively enough it is, this great stone
fortress, with its soldiers, swarming in and out like bees, and the
glimpses of country and harbor are surpassingly beautiful; but just at
the margin of this slope below us, is the street, and that dark fringe of
tenements skirting the edge of this green glacis is, I fear me, filled with
vicious inmates. Yonder, where the blackened ruins of three houses are
visible, a sailor was killed and thrown out of a window not long since,
and his shipmates burned the houses down in consequence; there is
something strikingly suggestive in looking upon this picture and on
that.
But if you cast your eyes over yonder magnificent bay, where vessels
bearing flags of all nations are at anchor, and then let your vision sweep
past and over the islands to the outlets beyond, where the quiet ocean
lies, bordered with fog-banks that loom ominously at the boundary-line
of the horizon, you will see a picture of marvellous beauty; for the
coast scenery here transcends our own sea-shores, both in color and
outline. And behind us again stretch large green plains, dotted with
cottages, and bounded with undulating hills, with now and then
glimpses of blue water; and as we walk down Citadel Hill, we feel
half-reconciled to Halifax, its queer little streets, its quaint, mouldy old
gables, its soldiers and sailors, its fogs, cabs, penny and half-penny
tokens, and all its little, odd, outlandish peculiarities. Peace be with it!
after all, it has a quiet charm for an invalid!
The inhabitants of Halifax exhibit no trifling degree of freedom in
language for a loyal people; they call themselves "Halligonians." This
title, however, is sometimes pronounced "'Alligonians," by the more
rigid, as a mark of respect to the old country. But innovation has been
at work even here, for the majority of Her Majesty's subjects aspirate
the letter H. Alas for innovation! who knows to what results this trifling
error may lead? When Mirabeau went to the French court without
buckles in his shoes, the barriers of etiquette were broken down, and
the Swiss Guards fought in vain.
There is one virtue in humanity peculiarly grateful to an invalid; to him
most valuable, by him most appreciated, namely, hospitality. And that

the 'Alligonians are a kind and good people, abundant in hospitality, let
me attest. One can scarcely visit a city occupied by those whose
grandsires would have hung your rebel grandfathers (if they had caught
them), without some misgivings. But I found the old Tory blood of
three Halifax generations, yet warm and vital, happy to accept again a
rebellious kinsman, a real live Yankee, in spite of Sam Slick and the
Revolution.
Let us take a stroll through these quiet streets. This is the Province
House with its Ionic porch, and within it are the halls of Parliament,
and offices of government. You see there is a red-coat with his
sentry-box at either corner. Behind the house again are two other
sentries on duty, all glittering with polished brass, and belted, gloved,
and bayoneted, in splendid style. Of what use are these satellites,
except to watch the building and keep it from running away? On the
street behind the Province