which--in mild and humorous profanity--States people are sometimes
assigned; and therefore proceed to Halifax and thoroughly "do" that
sedate, quiet, and delightfully old-fashioned city.

_En route_, as the train passes beyond Windsor, one says, "Here we are
out of sight of land"; and we then understand that it must have been
some one from this locality who christened the valley of Annapolis the
Garden of Nova Scotia; for here a scene of utter sterility and
desolation meets the view: not a foot of earth is to be seen, but rocks
are piled in wild confusion everywhere. A few dead trees stand among the
_débris_, emphasizing the loneliness; and Conductor says when the world
was created the "leavings" were deposited in this dreary tract.

By special arrangement with "Old Prob", there are none of the
prevailing fogs during our stay; and Aurora Borealis gets up a special
illumination. Regiments of red-coats, with torches and band,--aware
doubtless of the presence of such distinguished strangers,--march past
our hotel in the evening.

Though we are quartered in what is called the best hotel, it is a musty,
fusty, rusty old building; and we agree with our friends among the
residents (who vie with each other in showing us true English
hospitality) who say they need an enterprising Yankee to start a good
new hostelry, and "to show 'em how to run it."

Just at this time of year the city is full of summer tourists, many of
whom come direct from Baltimore by the ocean steamships, which touch at
this port; but, as we are subject to _mal-de-mer's_ tortures, we rejoice
that we came by "overland route".