Acadia | Page 7

and fanciful enough, too,
for a garden of roses. And look you now! If here be not Die Vernon,
with "habit, hat, and feather," cantering gayly down the road between
the tents, and behind her a stately groom in gold-lace band, top-boots,
and buck-skins. A word in your ear--that pleasant half-English face is
the face of the Governor's daughter.
The road to Point Pleasant is a favorite promenade in the long Acadian
twilights. Mid-way between the city and the Point lies "Kissing
Bridge," which the Halifax maidens sometimes pass over. Who gathers
toll nobody knows, but I thought there was a mischievous glance in the
blue eyes of those passing damsels that said plainly they could tell, "an'
they would." I love to look upon those happy, healthy English faces;
those ruddy cheeks, flushed with exercise, and those well-developed
forms, not less attractive because of the sober-colored dresses and
brown flat hats, in which, o' summer evenings, they glide towards the
mysterious precincts of "The Bridge." What a tale those old arches
could tell? ¿Quien sabe? Who knows?
But next to "Kissing Bridge," the prominent object of interest, now, to
Halifax ladies, is the great steamer that lies at the Admiralty, the
Oriental screw-steamer Himalaya--the transport ship of two regiments
of the heroes of Balaklava, and Alma, and Inkerman, and Sebastopol. A
vast specimen of naval architecture; an unusual sight in these waters; a
marine vehicle to carry twenty-five hundred men! Think of this moving
town; this portable village of royal belligerents covered with glory and

medals, breasting the billows! Is there not something glorious in such a
spectacle? And yet I was told by a brave officer, who wore the
decorations of the four great battles on his breast, that of his regiment,
the Sixty-third, but thirty men were now living, and of the thirty,
seventeen only were able to attend drill. That regiment numbered a
thousand at Alma!
No gun broke the silence of the Sabbath morning, as the giant ship
moved from the Admiralty, on the day following our visit to Point
Pleasant, and silently furrowed her path oceanward on her return to
Gibraltar. A long line of thick bituminous smoke, above the low
house-tops, was the only hint of her departure, to the citizens. It was a
grand sight to see her vast bulk moving among the islands in the harbor,
almost as large as they.
And now, being Sunday, after looking in at the Cathedral, which does
not represent the usual pomp of the Romish Church, we will visit the
Garrison Chapel. A bugle-call from barracks, or Citadel Hill, salutes us
as we stroll towards the chapel; otherwise, Halifax is quiet, as becomes
the day. Presently we see the long scarlet lines approaching, and
presently the men, with orderly step, file from the street through the
porch into the gallery and pews. Then the officers of field and line, of
ordnance and commissary departments, take their allotted seats below.
Then the chimes cease, and the service begins. Most devoutly we
prayed for the Queen, and omitted the President of the United States.
As the Crimeans ebbed from the church, and, floating off in the
distance, wound slowly up Citadel Hill against the quiet clear summer
sky, I could not but think of these lines from Thomas Miller's "Summer
Morning:"
"A troop of soldiers pass with stately pace, Their early music wakes the
village street: Through yon turned blinds peeps many a lovely face,
Smiling perchance unconsciously how sweet! One does the carpet press
with blue-veined feet, Not thinking how her fair neck she exposes, But
with white foot timing the drum's deep beat; And when again she on
her pillow dozes, Dreams how she'll dance that tune 'mong summer's
sweetest roses

"So let her dream, even as beauty should! Let the while plumes athwart
her slumbers away! Why should I steep their swaling snows in blood,
Or bid her think of battle's grim array? Truth will too soon her blinding
star display, And like a fearful comet meet her eyes. And yet how
peaceful they pass on their way! How grand the sight as up the hill they
rise! I will not think of cities reddening in the skies."
It was my fate to see next day a great celebration. It was the celebration
of peace between England and Russia. Peace having been proclaimed,
all Halifax was in arms! Loyalty threw out her bunting to the breeze,
and fired her crackers. The civic authorities presented an address to the
royal representative of Her Majesty, requesting His Excellency to
transmit the same to the foot of the throne. Militia-men shot off
municipal cannon; bells echoed from the belfries; the shipping fluttered
with signals; and Citadel Hill telegraph, in a multitude of flags,
announced that ships, brigs, schooners, and