ALES OF OLD SCOTLAND.]

If you travel in Canada, either by the Grand Trunk or the Canadian
Pacific, you will meet in the last parlor car, near the stove, a man
whose duty consists in seeing that, all along the line, the workmen are
at their posts, digging, repairing, etc. These workmen are all day
exposed to the Canadian temperature, and often have to work knee-deep in
the snow. Well, you will find that the man with small, keen eyes, who
is able to do his work in the railroad car, warming himself comfortably
by the stove, is invariably a Scotchman. There is only one berth with a
stove in the whole business; it is he who has got it. Many times I have
had a chat with that Scotchman on the subject of old Scotland. Many
times I have sat with him in the little smoking-room of the parlor car,
listening to the history of his life, or, maybe, a few good Scotch
anecdotes.

* * * * *

_In the train from Chicago to Cleveland_, _February 26_.

I arrived in Chicago at five o'clock in the afternoon yesterday, dined,
dressed, and lectured at the Music Hall under the auspices of the Drexel
free Kindergarten. There was a large audience, and all passed off very
well. After the lecture, I went to the Grand Pacific Hotel, changed
clothes, and went on board the sleeping car bound for Cleveland, O.

* * * * *

The criticisms of my lecture in this morning's Chicago papers are
lively.

The _Herald_ calls me:

A dapper little Frenchman. Five feet eleven in height, and two hundred
pounds in weight!

The _Times_ says:

That splendid trinity of the American peerage, the colonel, the judge,
and the professor, turned out in full force at Central Music Hall last
night. The lecturer is a magician who serves up your many little
defects, peculiar to the auditors' own country, on a silver salver, so
artistically garnished that one forgets the sarcasm in admiration of
the sauce.

[Illustration: A CELEBRATED EXECUTIONER.]

The _Tribune_ is quite as complimentary and quite as lively:

His satire is as keen as the blade of the celebrated executioner who
could cut a man's head off, and the unlucky person not know it until a
pinch of snuff would cause a sneeze, and the decapitated head would,
much to its surprise, find itself rolling over in the dust.

And after a good breakfast at Toledo station, I enjoyed an hour poring
over the Chicago papers.

I l