result that we were late for the train into Italy. The day was wet and cold, and in order to pass a part of it in motion we took the next train to Lucerne, hoping for a change. But this beautiful city was draped in sombre garb. A canopy of cloud shrouded from our view the mountains, while a ceaseless drizzle damped our desire for sight-seeing. Some of the party, however, visited the remarkable “glacier garden” near the city; and after dinner at the hotel we were glad to find ourselves again in the train, notwithstanding the disappointment of being obliged to cross the Alps at night. But though night, all was not dark. As we ascended the mountains towards the St. Gothard Tunnel the canopy of cloud melted away; and about midnight the moon and stars shone forth, illuminating the snow-clad heights on the one hand, and throwing into still deeper shade the ravines and frowning precipices along which we threaded our way. On issuing forth from the tunnel on the Italian side, and as break of day approached, we found the sky clear, and we descended into the plains of Lombardy amidst a blaze of sunshine, which cheered our spirits; and under such circumstances we drove through Milan, visited the cathedral, and in the afternoon took our seats in the train for Venice which we reached after dark. It was a new experience for all of our party but myself to find ourselves seated in a gondola, and piloted along through the canals, shooting numerous archways, and gliding along the dark, mysterious walls of houses, churches, and palaces, to the steps of the Victoria Hotel, where we were soon comfortably housed, to await the departure of the P. and O. steamship “Tanjore” for Egypt on the following Thursday.
We endeavoured to put our time to good account, and see as much of the “Queen of the Adriatic” as possible. I found that my former visit had in no way lessened the pleasure of a second, and I saw and heard much that had escaped me previously. Engaging the services of a very efficient guide, who informed us that he had accompanied Mr. Ruskin when collecting his materials for “The Stones of Venice,” we made a very full examination of the Palace of the Doges, the Duomo of St. Mark, and other sights of this wonderful city. In the evenings we sipped our coffee under the colonnade of the Piazza, listening to the music of a very fine military band, or gazing with wistful eyes into the brilliantly lighted shops, so eminently calculated to elicit the last lira from the pocket of the beholder. Though we made some purchases, I fear our stay in Venice did not add materially to the wealth of the city. We recollected there
