The book sits on a podium just inside the doorway of St. Paul's Church, the oldest gem in Halifax's impressive collection of 18th and 19th century heritage sites. Hastily built from a timber frame and pre-fabricated windows and doors shipped from New England, St. Paul's opened in 1750, the year after the founding of Halifax as a British colonial town. Today, the summer sunshine flooding in through the door warms the white-washed walls and chilly grey stone plaques commemorating early parishioners.

Outside, on nearby streets, more treasures await travellers like me who are curious about the past. In this small, pedestrian-friendly downtown, the best way to visit these sites is on foot.

The most famous icon in Halifax is probably the Town Clock, a parting gift from Prince Edward, father of Queen Victoria and commander of the British forces here from 1794 to 1800. The clock stands at the foot of Citadel Hill, which is home to a retired fort that operates as a museum. The Citadel features guided tours, period rooms, themed exhibits, live bagpipers and drummers, and the firing of the noon-day gun. At the entry, you'll discover a guard's room and a bare-bones lock-up for misbehaving soldiers. The size of the lock-up suggests that it was the original model for university dorms.

Down the hill from the fort near the waterfront stands a group of renovated warehouses and a former bank. Bearing the oddly generic name "Historic Properties", some of these buildings date back to the early 1800's. They were saved from the wrecking ball some years ago when a freeway was being built, and now form part of a pleasant recreational area. Clad in stone or plain timber painted in green or red with fresh white trim, these former warehouses stretch out along the wharves into the harbour, reaching for days gone by when the world's ships jostled for a berth at their sides.

These days the ocean-going ships dock further down the shore, and only small pleasure-craft and whale-sighting cruise boats bob in the water near the nostalgic warehouses. But the waterfront is as busy and bustling as ever. Locals and tourists swarm the docks, buy meals and drinks at the food court in Privateers Wharf, and sit by the water enjoying the breeze. Sailboats and sea-copters float by, and the fat blue-and-white ferry passes back and forth between Dartmouth and Halifax every few minutes.

I join the history and art fans hunting for treasures at the stores in the tastefully adapted buildings. One shop, the Carrefour Atlantique Emporium, is packed with books on Nova Scotian history, art and nature. At the door, a grinning folkloric carving of former Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau stands guard. Inside, at the counter, the garrulous Francophone store-owner includes in the price of each book his own verbal critique of the work. I purchase Thomas Raddall's classic "Halifax: Warden of the North" and Daniel Paul's "We Were Not the Savages", an eye-opening Mi'Kmaq perspective on Nova Scotian history.

A couple of blocks away you'll find Province House, Nova Scotia's provincial parliament and Canada's oldest seat of government. Opened in 1819, this Palladian treasure is surprisingly airy and bright for a government building. Dignified but compact and unassuming, it gives the illusion of wearing its power lightly. However, when the tour guide leads me into the legislative assembly chamber, I am astonished to see only fifty seats. It's hard to imagine that an entire province is ruled by such a tiny group of men-and the occasional woman.

After a day of walking, the hike back up the hill to the Halifax Public Garden is tiring, but it's worth the effort. This garden, which dates back to the 1830's, was extensively enlarged and remodeled in the 1870's and as a result is very Victorian. It features an ornate black iron gate, patriotic statuary, and a delightful soup-tureen-shaped fountain. Meandering paths entice visitors along beds of mixed flowers, stands of carefully-labelled exotic trees, lily-filled ponds and a stream.

The many ducks and geese that make their home here seem to consider the Halifax Public Garden some kind of bird heaven. As I lean back on a bench, close my eyes and listen to the sound of a brass band playing in the park gazebo, I smile and remember the podium at St. Paul's Church. Perhaps I should go back and jot a note in the book under "thanks for blessings received" - on behalf of the birds and me.