The streets are built on terraces cut in the hillside, or plunging down toward the water. Some of them are so narrow that they have room for only a single trolley track, on which are operated little one-man cars. I stepped for a moment into St. Paul’s Church, the first English house of worship in Canada. Its front pew, to the left of the centre aisle, is reserved for the use of royal visitors. Passing one of the local newspaper offices, I noticed a big crowd that filled the street, watching an electric score board that registered, play by play, a World Series baseball game going on in New York. The papers are full of baseball talk, and the people of this Canadian province seem to follow the game as enthusiastically as our fans at home. My nose will long remember Halifax. In lower Hollis Street, just back from the water-front, and not far from the low gray stone buildings that once quartered British officers, I smelled a most delicious aroma. It was from a group of importing houses, where cinnamon, cloves, and all the products of the East Indies are ground up and packed for the market. If I were His Worship, the Mayor of Halifax, I should propose that Hollis street be renamed and called the Street of the Spices. Just below this sweet-scented district, I came to a tiny brick building, with a sign in faded letters reading “S. Cunard & Co., Coal Merchants.” This firm is the corporate lineal descendant of Samuel Cunard, who, with his partners, established the first transatlantic steamship service nearly a century ago, and whose name is now carried all over the world by some of the greatest liners afloat. Another odour of the water-front is not so sweet as the spices. It is the smell of salt fish, which here are dried on frames built on the roofs near the docks. Nova Scotia is second only to Newfoundland in her exports of dried cod, and all her fisheries combined earn more than twelve million dollars a year. They include cod, haddock, mackerel, herring, halibut, pollock, and salmon. Lunenburg, down the coast toward Boston, is one of the centres of the deep-sea fishing industry, and its schooners compete on the Grand Banks with those from Newfoundland, Gloucester, and Portugal. I talked in Halifax with the manager of a million-dollar corporation that deals in fresh fish. He was a Gloucester man who, as he put it, “has had fish scales on his boots” ever since he could remember. “We operate from Canso, the easternmost tip of Nova Scotia,” he said. “Our steamers make weekly trips to the fishing grounds, where they take the fish with nets. They are equipped with wireless, and we direct their operations from shore in accordance with market conditions. While the price of salt fish is fairly steady, fresh fish fluctuates from day to day, depending on the quantities caught and the public taste. Such fish as we cannot sell immediately, we cure in our smoking and drying plants.