The mention of land-crab catching in Grenada recalls to me the lobster-spearing at Halifax, a sport which was carried on at night. In the bows of the boat large fires were kept burning. Standing ready, the sportsman holds in his grasp a trident, which is not pointed, but is like a huge pair of tweezers. The lobsters are seen crawling beneath the clear water. A sudden dart is made with the trident, the tweezers open, and seize the prey, which is hauled on board and thrown among others in the bottom of the boat. Many dozens are caught in this way, and the scene is very exciting when there are several boats, the fires in them looking strange and weird-like. If I were to begin recalling old times at Halifax, with its sleigh club in winter and the flowers of its summer, I fear I should become very wearisome. When my regiment was quartered in Nova Scotia, we got a bear, about the size of a small donkey, which became a great favourite. The order came for us to return home in the troopship _Resistance_, commanded by Captain Bradshaw. Great was our consternation when that officer issued a proclamation that only a certain number of pets, and no bears, should be allowed on board. We all vowed that the bear was not to be left behind, and a clever plan to smuggle it on board was hit upon by two of my brother officers. As there were many casks to be hoisted on board, chloroform was administered to our bear, and he was packed in one of them. As it was going to be hoisted in the air, the captain asked, ‘What’s in that big barrel?’ The Ranger, who was seeing it elevated, answered, promptly, ‘The warm clothing of the regiment, sorr,’ and being asked by a comrade why he said so, he observed, with a wink, ‘Begorra, I thought the ould Tartar moight see the fur through the bunghole of the cask and smell--a bear!’ The sailors were delighted and helped to stow our favourite away, and I believe the captain never knew anything about it till we had been some time at sea, and then he pretended to have been cognizant of the fact all along. Our bear was with us at Parkhurst Barracks, and was always in a friendly disposition with all. A young fellow dined at our mess, and I suppose drank too much champagne, for he was discovered peacefully reposing beside the bear in its kennel. The 38th Regiment brought home two bears, very fine, large animals. A child was playing with them and got a hug, which killed the poor little thing. Down came an official from the Horse Guards with orders that all regimental bears were to be destroyed; we gave ours, however, to the Zoo, where it lived in the pit and was fed with buns by children. Round its neck was a brass collar with ‘Connaught Rangers’ engraved on it. I do not know its further history. CHAPTER III. ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT.