We left Milan for Baveno on Monday, 28th May, at noon. It was a slow train to Arona, where passengers embark on board the steamer on Lago Maggiore. Unfortunately, just before arrival at Arona, the rain began to fall heavily, so that we not only had to walk on board in the rain, but we did not see the lake to advantage. For although the rain shortly ceased, the clouds remained and no sunshine succeeded, and a haze hung over the lake, which then assumed very much the appearance of one of our Highland lochs in similar condition, except for the Italian character and bright colouring of the houses on the margin. On a sunny day the lake would, no doubt, wear a different aspect. Fortunately it continued fair till we got housed in the large, comfortable Hotel Belle Vue at Baveno, which, lying at the point of a jutting promontory upon the border of the lake, looks out right upon it. Soon afterwards, however, the rain again began, and it fell in torrents, to our great disappointment, and continued almost without intermission till the Friday afternoon, when it cleared up, and in the evening of that day we had a beautiful sunset, with the sun shining brightly upon the Simplon, to see which effect all the people in the hotel turned out upon a balcony commanding it. In consequence of the clouds we hardly ever could see across the lake, so much so that I could only finish on the Friday evening a sketch of it which I began on the Monday afternoon upon arrival, the mountains being invisible or under a gloomy pall nearly the whole intervening time. When we could catch the view it was very beautiful. The lake is here just sufficiently broad to form a fine picture, the bold, well–marked, conical mountains on the other or east side,—one of the peaks, I believe, rising to about 6000 feet,—the neighbouring town of Pallanza on the north, and the mountains behind it composing the background to the lake, studded by the charming Borromean Islands, lying so picturesquely near, with their curious houses and their trees; Isola Bella, with its strange gardens, being an especial feature. These islands are the great attraction to Baveno; but unfortunately we had not the opportunity of seeing them, except from the steamboat in passing, as the days were never fair sufficiently long to permit of our venturing in a boat to land upon them. If there be anything else to see in the neighbourhood of Baveno, as doubtless there was, we had little means of becoming acquainted with it, for usually upon venturing out for a walk we were speedily driven back again by warning drops. The town itself is a mere village, although the houses are capacious—bulky, barrack–looking—and the church on the slope above is large, with a high, square, ugly campanile. Luckily, the windows of our rooms, as well as of the public rooms, all looked over the lake; and there was a library of books for visitors’ use, which, in this unpropitious condition of the atmosphere, received marked