oyage of discovery and
as an appetizer for dinner, and were so fortunate as to meet an old
friend, who was staying at the same hotel. Under his kind pilotage we
had a very pleasant walk on the sea-shore, listening to the waves
dashing and tumbling against the sea-wall.

At Cannes there is neither harbour nor roadstead, but only a small bay
or cove, appropriately called Gulfe de la Napoul; and it is indeed
worthy of its name, being a miniature Bay of Naples,--but without its
Vesuvius. It is, however, so shallow that the coasting vessels that use
it are obliged to anchor at some distance from the shore, exposed to the
full action of the swell. Yet in spite of this disadvantage, Cannes is
for its size a busy and populous little town.

Immediately opposite are the Isles de Lerins, St. Honorat and St.
Marguerite. On the latter is Fort Montuy, where the "man with the iron
mask" was confined from 1686 to 1698, and which has more recently been
the prison of Marshal Bazaine. St. Honorat has its name from a monastery
founded in the fifth century by St. Honoratius, Bishop of Arles. These
islands abound in rabbits and partridges.

Until modern scientists discovered it to be otherwise, the Mediterranean
was supposed to have no tide, and was called by poets "the tideless
sea." It has but a very slight ebb and flow, and this in most places is
scarcely perceptible. The greatest rise and fall of tide in any part of
this great inland sea does not exceed about six feet. Here it appears
always high water; the long stretches of sand, shingle, and rock that
provide such delightful strolls to those visiting the shores of our own
dear island home at low tide, are nowhere to be found in this part of
the world, and thus on coming to the Mediterranean we lose one of the
usual charms of a visit to the sea coast.

We found it necessary to walk briskly, as the fall in temperature is
very great in one short hour after sunset. Indeed, those who come here
essentially for health generally contrive to get housed about four p.m.

Our olfactory nerves had already told us that in this lovely little
seaside paradise there are such prosaic things as defective drains. This
is more detectable in the evening on the beach, than elsewhere, in the
daytime; but is being rectified as the town grows.

It was Christmas Day, and on returning to the Hotel Windsor we found the
large dining-room tastefully decorated with evergreens and flowers, and,
by the kind and t