July 20th, 1873. Fine.

We left the hotel at eight in the morning and boarded the mail-boat Ava, which sailed from Marseilles at ten o'clock. This port lies in a bay opening out to the south-west. To our right was a headland, on which stood a lighthouse. To the left of the tip of the headland was a short stretch of shore; to its right was a long sweep of coastline. Soon the Maritime Alps on the south coast of France came into view, curving away to the east. The hills along the coast were red in colour and almost bare, with little vegetation. The soil was uniformly reddish, and from a distance showed no evidence of being fertile. The town of Marseilles lies in the north-east of the bay. Spurs of hills extend into the sea to form promontories, and islands of brownish-red rock jut out of the water. Docks have been built along the shore, providing shelter from wind and high waves at all times. The valleys among the coastal hills are rocky and barren, but as the city prospered houses were built there, which then spread to the coast. On top of one hill stood a Roman Catholic church, crowned by a gilded statue of the Virgin Mary, which glittered in the sun. In the middle of the bay were two or three fortified islands guarding the city's southern approach.