I have already, in mentioning our first visit to the Riviera, taken note of Marseilles. We were glad to meet some old Scotch friends unexpectedly at the Hotel Noailles. The weather was cold, which of itself would have rendered it advisable to push on; so, after a drive through the town next day, we left for Hyères, about fifty miles distant, by the 1.20 train, but found by another of those changes made just a few days previously, we could only book to Toulon, the train in connection from Toulon to Hyères by a branch line having been discontinued, although the Hyères season was just commencing—a rather odd way of accommodating the coming visitors. On arrival at Toulon, we had accordingly upwards of three hours before a train would start for Hyères, and we availed ourselves of the time to explore a little about this noted naval station. The town of Toulon itself is uninteresting; its streets are dirty and narrow, the houses high. Near the railway station the ground is more open and the houses more modern. Passing them, we soon came upon the fortifications which surround the town, but retracing our steps, walked down to the docks and along the public quay. There are two large docks communicating with each other—the Port Marchand and the Port Militaire. The latter is one of the great arsenals of France; but we could not see it, an order of admission being required, only procurable in the morning. It extends to 35 acres and is said to be capable of receiving 200 ships of the line. The other dock is probably of about the same extent. Both docks are highly fortified. On looking from the quay, we saw many of the old men–of–war laid up like invalids, dismasted and dismantled and put under cover, apparently as hospital ships. At one time convicts were kept in some of them. A little beyond, some serviceable men–of–war lay, and the quays were crowded with boats which, with men and officers, were passing to and fro, making it a lively, gay scene. Some civilians were evidently going out in the boats to see the ships or their friends on board. A bronze statue has been erected upon the public quay, to the memory of the many eminent men who have been connected by birth or otherwise with Toulon and its history, and whose names are engraved on the sides. After our stroll, we were glad to return and have, in the railway station refreshment room, dinner (supplied at 3½ francs a head, the usual station tariff), and at 6.50 left in the dark for Hyères, arriving at eight o’clock. Nine omnibuses in a semicircle were waiting the arrival of the train, but we were the only passengers requiring conveyance. We took that of the Hotel d’Orient, recommended in Bradshaw and also by Murray for its beautiful situation. It is a comfortable hotel, the hotelkeeper is attentive, and the situation is more sheltered from the mistral than others; but it seems a mistake to speak of it as ‘beautiful,’ as any view it may have commanded at one time is shut out by the trees of the