e was the house of Mr. A., or rather Mr.
A. B. C, every American having three names. He came to the city twenty
years ago without a dollar. Five years later he had five millions. He
speculated and lost all, went to Chicago and made millions, which he
afterward lost. Now again he has several millions, and so on. This is
common enough in America. By and by, we passed the most beautiful of all
the villas of Burnet Wood--the house of the Oil King, Mr. Alexander
Macdonald, one of those wonderfully successful men, such as Scotland
alone can boast all the world over. America has been a great field for
the display of Scotch intelligence and industry.

After visiting the pretty museum at Eden Park, a museum organized in
1880 in consequence of Mr. Charles W. West's offer to give $150,000 for
that purpose, and already in possession of very good works of art and
many valuable treasures, we returned to the city and stopped at the
Public Library. Over 200,000 volumes, representing all the branches of
science and literature, are there, as well as a collection of all the
newspapers of the world, placed in chronological order on the shelves
and neatly bound. I believe that this collection of newspapers and that
of Washington are the two best known. In the public reading-room,
hundreds of people are running over the newspapers from Europe and all
the principal cities of the United States. My best thanks are due to Mr.
Whelpley, the librarian, for his kindness in conducting me all over this
interesting place. Upstairs I was shown the room where the members of
the Council of Education hold their sittings. The room was all
topsy-turvey. Twenty-six desks and twenty-six chairs was about all the
furniture of the room. In a corner, piled up together, were the
cuspidores. I counted. Twenty-six. Right.

After thanking my kind pilot, I returned to the Burnet House to read the
evening papers. I read that the next day I was to breakfast with Mr. A.,
lunch with Mr. B., and dine with Mr. C. The _menu_ was not published. I
take it for granted that this piece of intelligence is quite interesting
to the readers of Cincinnati.

My evening being free, I looked at the column of amusements. The first
did not tempt me, it was this:

THE KING OF THE SWAMPS.

_The Only and the Original._

ENGLISH JACK.
THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE FROG MAN.

He makes a frog pond of his stomach by eating living frogs. An
appetite created by life in the