ar as
the language went, severe comments were passed on my pronunciation. In
England, where the English language is spoken with a decent
pronunciation, I never once read a condemnation of my pronunciation of
the English language.

I will not appear again in Buffalo until I feel much improved.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "GOING TO PITTSBURG, I GUESS."]

_En route to Pittsburg, January 16._

The American railway stations have special waiting rooms for
ladies--not, as in England, places furnished with looking-glasses, where
they can go and arrange their bonnets, etc. No, no. Places where they
can wait for the trains, protected against the contamination of man, and
where they are spared the sight of that eternal little round piece of
furniture with which the floors of the whole of the United States are
dotted.

At Cleveland Station, this morning, I met Jonathan, such as he is
represented in the comic papers of the world. A man of sixty, with long
straight white hair falling over his shoulders; no mustache, long
imperial beard, a razor-blade-shaped nose, small keen eyes, and high
prominent cheek-bones, the whole smoking the traditional cigar; the
Anglo-Saxon indianized--Jonathan. If he had had a long swallow-tail coat
on, a waistcoat ornamented with stars, and trowsers with stripes, he
might have sat for the cartoons of _Puck_ or _Judge_.

In the car, Jonathan came and sat opposite me. A few minutes after the
train had started, he said:

"Going to Pittsburg, I guess."

"Yes," I replied.

"To lecture?"

"Oh, you know I lecture?"

"Why, certainly; I heard you in Boston ten days ago."

He offered me a cigar, told me his name--I mean his three names--what he
did, how much he earned, where he lived, how many children he had; he
read me a poem of his own composition, invited me to go and see him, and
entertained me for three hours and a half, telling me the history of his
life, etc. Indeed, it was Jonathan.

* * * * *

All the Americans I have met have written a poem (pronounced _pome_).
Now I am not generalizing. I do not say that all the Americans have
written a poem, I say _all the Americans I have met_.

* * * * *

_Pittsburg (same day later)._

I lecture here to-night under the auspices of the Press Club of the
town. The president of the club came to meet me at the station, in order
to show me somethi