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 something of the town. I like Pittsburg very much. From the top of the hill, which you reach in a couple of minutes by the cable car, there is a most beautiful sight to contemplate: one never to be forgotten. On our way to the hotel, my kind friend took me to a fire station, and asked the man in command of the place to go through the performance of a fire-call for my own edification. Now, in two words, here is the thing.