The following day I took the train for Alexandria. The railroad follows the river Nile in its general course. The valley is densely populated, and wretched mud houses and villages appear in every direction. The cholera had now broken out in its most deadly form, and we saw many dead and dying at the stations. The steamer Tanjore lay ready to sail for Europe, and I was soon comfortably quartered in one of its spacious cabins. [Illustration: NILE BOAT.] On Sunday, June 3d, a beautiful Italian day, as we were rapidly steaming north through the Adriatic sea, we could see the coast of Greece to the right and that of Italy to the left. We arrived at Brindisi the same afternoon, and at Venice two days later. Surely the beauties of nature and of art that meet the eve in this lovely city seem to be the climax of everything beautiful on earth, and, quietly gliding forward during many hours through numerous canals in a half-dreamy, half-waking condition, with two silent gondoliers at the oars, I could scarcely realize whether this was a beautiful dream, an illusion, or reality. [Illustration: RIALTO BRIDGE IN VENICE.] The next morning, accompanied by an interpreter, I walked through St. Mark's square, carefully studying its many wonderful attractions, its splendid shops, the clock, the thousands of tame doves, the belfry of St. Mark's, the palace of the Doges, the marble pillars of the winged lions, and finally, the most remarkable of all, the wonderful church with its irregular, yet harmonious, unique and impressive architecture. In the church were seen ordinary visitors roaming about under the domes, humble worshipers counting their beads and rosaries, closely-shaved monks and royal officers with clanging sabres, and artists busy with their studies. With a shudder I crossed the Bridge of Sighs, with its horrid associations, and spent a quarter of an hour in the dark dungeons to which it leads, and in which so many poor mortals, prisoners often without accusers and guiltless of crime, had sighed and suffered through the cruelties of man to man, well knowing that when they crossed that bridge into the dungeon, they had left all earthly hope behind. In Venice I parted with my American companion, Mr. Robins, in whose company I had traveled all the way from Madras. Having promised to be in Holland at an early day, I was compelled to hurry, and left Venice on the evening of the second day. This time I took the route through the St. Gotthard tunnel, which is nine and a half miles long, and through which it takes nearly half an hour to pass. The beautiful lake Como and the grand Alpine scenery have been so often described, that I consider it superfluous to dwell on them in these pages. In Mayennes I left the railroad and took the steamer down the beautiful Rhine to Cologne, passing the vine-clad hills and the mediæval castles, in delightful conversation with some American and Swedish tourists just returning from the German watering places.