d of our pilgrimage.

Should we cross the Pyrenees and traverse Spain, visiting Madrid and the
Escurial _en route_ to Seville, and thence through Andalusia and
Granada, and home by Valencia, Malaga, and Barcelona? Visions of Don
Quixote, Gil Blas, the Great Cid, and the Holy (?) Inquisition passed
before our mental eye in wondrous confusion.

"No, I don't think Spain will do," remarked my wife, slowly. "I fear
Spanish hotels--_posadas_, don't they call them?--are not very
comfortable."

"You are right," was my reply. "I have never heard Spain praised for
her hotel accommodation; and as we are going for pleasure, and wish to
be as comfortable as possible, we will leave Spain till _posadas_ are
things of the past. But what do you say to Italy? Beautiful climate,
charming scenery, the choicest Art treasures in the world, every mile
teeming with historic and poetic interest, good hotels, and generally
comfortable travelling!"

"Yes, Italy will do," decided my wife; and we folded up the map and
proceeded at once to examine the time-tables, lists of fares, calculate
the costs of first and second class, and plan our route. The book of
mystification was then almost ungratefully closed, and the serious
business of packing commenced.

On the 20th of December, 1882, my wife and I,

"Fired with ideas of fair Italy,"

started on our travels in good spirits. Having secured our tickets, we
put up at the Charing Cross Hotel for the night, so as to be ready to
start the first thing in the morning.

Whatever vague feelings of regret we might secretly have nourished in
leaving dear old England and our time-honoured, old-fashioned Christmas,
were quickly dispelled the next morning, for as we sped away by the 7.40
train for Dover the weather assumed its most dismal aspect--cold, raw,
damp, and foggy. So we started with easy consciences, resolved to obtain
all possible benefit and enjoyment from the change.

Before reaching Dover, a little sunshine struggled forth to gladden us;
but it was blowing rather hard when we arrived at our destination, and
there was something of a sea to frighten the timorous. Being pretty fair
sailors, however, and by the exercise of a little thoughtful physical
preparation, we did not suffer from the voyage, and were able to render
some assistance to others less fortunate.

After being at sea even for a few hours, there is much in the sound of
"land ahead" to raise one's spirits, perhaps more espec