A pleasant day between Paris and Lyons, followed by a hot and weary night, brought us to Marseilles, our port of embarkation. Marseilles is now a great city, with six hundred thousand inhabitants; and its new streets, in solidity, breadth, and grandeur, compare favourably with those of Paris. The trade passing through the city is enormous. Its new quay and harbour are crowded with steamers, which connect it by commercial ties with all the ports of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, and which in recent years have extended their lines to India, China, and Japan; while, conspicuous to all eyes, on its rocky hill, stands the church of Notre Dame de la Garde, the shrine at which the sailors of Marseilles have registered their vows and paid their thanks, from the day when, two thousand five hundred years ago, the Greek colonists of Phocæa founded the city of Massilia, and erected their first temple. Perhaps no shrine in Europe can boast of such a long and unbroken line of worshippers. Our steamer was the _Amazone_, of the fleet of the Messageries Maritimes, a noble vessel of 2000 tons, bound for Shanghai and carrying the Eastern mails. We found her accommodations excellent; large cabins, a good table, attentive servants, an obliging captain, efficient officers, and a most muscular crew. What a mixture of nations we found among our fellow-passengers! There were Spaniards, French, Portuguese, English, Italians, and Japanese. Our Japanese companions were members of the Commission which had been visiting the Vienna Exhibition. We started from the jetty punctually at ten, on the morning of the 6th of July. With a smooth sea and clear sky we passed rapidly through the Straits of Bonifacio, and were unexpectedly gratified by a brief visit to the city and bay of Naples. What painter can do full justice to the delicate hues of sea and sky at that fair spot? The harbour of Hong Kong and the bay of New York are, in their finest aspects and under the purest skies, truly beautiful; but there is a perfection of loveliness in the sheen of the air, the play of the colours, and the transparent clearness of the Bay of Naples that nothing can surpass. Leaving Naples at nine in the morning, at sunset we were close to Stromboli, with its cindery cone; and at midnight, with six men at the wheel, the _Amazone_ passed steadily through the swirling currents of the Straits of Messina, under a magnificent moon. The long line of lights in the town of Messina, the dark rocks of the Italian coast, with Reggio at their feet; the firing of the gun, the burning of the blue lights, and the brilliant night made up a charming scene. We saw Candia in its entire length, with Mount Ida and its line of rugged hills; passed close to Gozo, the little island of Clauda, where the apostle Paul and his companions fell into the hurricane; and at sunrise on Saturday, six days from Marseilles, anchored at Port Said, the entrance to the Suez Canal.