ecture in Cleveland to-night, and am still in "the neighborhood of
Chicago."

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTE:

[3] Very strange, that church with its stalls, galleries, and
boxes--a perfect theater. From the platform it was interesting to
watch the immense throng, packing the place from floor to ceiling, in
front, on the sides, behind, everywhere.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE MONOTONY OF TRAVELING IN THE STATES--"MANON LESCAUT" IN AMERICA.

_In the train from Cleveland to Albany, February 27._

Am getting tired and ill. I am not bed-ridden, but am fairly well rid of
a bed. I have lately spent as many nights in railway cars as in hotel
beds.

Am on my way to Albany, just outside "the neighborhood of Chicago." I
lecture in that place to-night, and shall get to New York to-morrow.

I am suffering from the monotony of life. My greatest objection to
America (indeed I do not believe I have any other) is the sameness of
everything. I understand the Americans who run away to Europe every year
to see an old church, a wall covered with moss and ivy, some good
old-fashioned peasantry not dressed like the rest of the world.

What strikes a European most, in his rambles through America, is the
absence of the picturesque. The country is monotonous, and eternally the
same. Burned-up fields, stumps of trees, forests, wooden houses all
built on the same pattern. All the stations you pass are alike. All the
towns are alike. To say that an American town is ten times larger than
another simply means that it has ten times more blocks of houses. All
the streets are alike, with the same telegraph poles, the same "Indian"
as a sign for tobacconists, the same red, white, and blue pole as a sign
for barbers. All the hotels are the same, all the _menus_ are the same,
all the plates and dishes the same--why, all the ink-stands are the
same. All the people are dressed in the same way. When you meet an
American with all his beard, you want to shake his hands and thank him
for not shaving it, as ninety-nine out of every hundred Americans do. Of
course I have not seen California, the Rocky Mountains, and many other
parts of America where the scenery is very beautiful; but I think my
remarks can apply to those States most likely to be visited by a
lecturer, that is, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin,
Minnesota, and others, during the winter months, after the Indian
summer, and before the renewal of verdure in May.