hland_, quivering and rolling
over the dull March waves of the Atlantic. Then the morning sunlight
streams on the jagged rocks of the Lizard, where two wrecked steamships
are hanging, and on the green headlands and gray fortresses of Plymouth.
Then a soft, rosy sunset over the mole, the dingy houses, the tiled
roofs, the cliffs, the misty-budded trees of Cherbourg. Then Paris at
two in the morning: the lower quarters still stirring with
somnambulistic life, the lines of lights twinkling placidly on the empty
boulevards. Then a whirl through the _Bois_ in a motor-car, a breakfast
at Versailles with a merry little party of friends, a lazy walk through
miles of picture-galleries without a guide-book or a care. Then the
night express for Italy, a glimpse of the Alps at sunrise, snow all
around us, the thick darkness of the Mount Cenis tunnel, the bright
sunshine of Italian spring, terraced hillsides, clipped and pollarded
trees, waking vineyards and gardens, Turin, Genoa, Rome, arches of
ruined aqueducts, snow upon the Southern Apennines, the blooming fields
of Capua, umbrella-pines and silvery poplars, and at last, from my
balcony at the hotel, the glorious curving panorama of the bay of
Naples, Vesuvius without a cloud, and Capri like an azure lion couchant
on the broad shield of the sea. So ends the first series of films, ten
days from home.

* * * * *

After an intermission of twenty-four hours, the second series begins on
the white ship _Oceana_, an immense yacht, ploughing through the
tranquil, sapphire Mediterranean, with ten passengers on board, and the
band playing three times a day just as usual. Then comes the low line of
the African coast, the lighthouse of Alexandria, the top of Pompey's
Pillar showing over the white, modern city.

Half a dozen little rowboats meet us, well out at sea, buffeted and
tossed by the waves: they are fishing: see! one of the men has a strike,
he pulls in his trolling-line, hand over hand, very slowly, it seems, as
the steamship rushes by. I lean over the side, run to the stern of the
ship to watch,--hurrah, he pulls in a silvery fish nearly three feet
long. Good luck to you, my Egyptian brother of the angle!

Now a glimpse of the crowded, busy harbour of Alexandria, (recalling
memories of fourteen years ago,) and a leisurely trans-shipment to the
little Khedivial steamer, _Prince Abbas_, with her Scotch officers,
Italian stewards, Maltese doctor, Tu