In the Parliament building we study the old portraits, concluding that the wigs must have been uncomfortable. Octavius wickedly hints that there _is_ a fashion among ladies of the present time!--but as he does not tread on our toes, we ignore this insinuation, and turn our attention to the elaborate ornamentation of the woodwork--which is all antique hand-carving--in the council chambers; and are much interested in some rare old books in the Library,--among them a copy of the Psalms, three hundred years old; and another, with music, dated 1612. Here also we see and are actually allowed to handle a book,-- "PRESENTED TO THE LEGISLATIVE LIBRARY OF NOVA SCOTIA IN MEMORY OF HER GREAT AND GOOD HUSBAND BY HIS BROKEN-HEARTED WIDOW VICTORIA R." and of course are duly overpowered at beholding the valuable autograph of that sovereign. In one of the churches we are informed that a certain balustrade "is from America, and is all _marvel_" but do not find it marvelously beautiful nevertheless. Of the gardens the natives are justly proud, as in this moist atmosphere plants, trees, and flowers flourish remarkably; still, we are not willing to concede that they are "the finest in America", as we have been told. We conclude, as we pass the large Admiralty House, with its spacious and beautiful grounds, that Sir Somebody Something must find it a comfortable thing to be "monarch of the sea, the ruler of the Queen's nave," and may with reason say,-- "When at anchor here I ride, my bosom swells with pride," while Halifax herself, with her famous harbor, in which the navy of a great and powerful nation could find safe anchorage, with room to spare, might justly finish out his song with the appropriate words concluding the verse:-- "And I snap my fingers at a foeman's taunts!"