Being of a generous disposition, I have thrown out these hints in the hopes some needy American author may make his fortune, and immortalize his country, by writing “The Life and Adventures of the Forest Monarch;” or, as the public like mystery, he might make a good hit by entitling it “The Child of the Woods that danced on the Wave.”  Swift has immortalized a tub; other authors have endeavoured to immortalize a shilling, and a halfpenny.  Let that great country which professes to be able to “whip creation” take a noble subject worthy of such high pretensions.

Here we are at Cleveland; and, “by the powers of Mercury”—­this expletive originated, I believe, with a proud barometer,—­it is raining cats and dogs and a host of inferior animals.  Everybody seems very impatient, for all are getting out, and yet we have not reached the station,—­no; and they don’t mean to get there at present.  Possession is nine points of the law, and another train is ensconced there.  Wood, of course, is so dear in this country, and railroads give such low interest—­varying from six to forty per cent.—­that they can’t afford to have sufficient shedding.  Well, out we get.  Touters from the hotels cry out lustily.  We hear the name of the house to which we are bound, and prepare to follow.  The touter carries a lantern of that ingenious size which helps to make the darkness more visible; two steps, and you are over the ankles in mud.  “Show a light, boy.”  He turns round, and, placing his lantern close to the ground, you see at a glance the horrid truth revealed—­you are in a perfect mud swamp; so, tuck up your trowsers, and wade away to the omnibuses, about a quarter of a mile off.  Gracious me! there are two ladies, with their dresses hitched up like kilts, sliding and floundering through the slushy road.  How miserable they must be, poor things!  Not the least; they are both tittering and giggling merrily; they are accustomed to it, and habit is second nature.  A man from the Old World of advanced civilization—­in these matters of minor comforts, at least—­will soon learn to conduct himself upon the principle, that where ignorance is bliss, wisdom becomes folly.  Laughing, like love, is catching; so these two jolly ladies put me in a good humour, and I laughed my way to the ’bus half up to my knees in mud.  After all, it made it lighter work than growling, and go I must; so thank you, ladies, for the cheering example.

Hot tea soon washes away from a thirsty and wearied soul the remembrance of muddy boots, and a good Havana soothes the wounded spirit.  After enjoying both, I retired to rest, as I hoped, for we had to make an early start in the morning.  Scarce was I in bed, ere the house rang again with laughing and romping just outside my door; black and white, old and young, male and female, all seemed chorusing together—­feet clattered, passages echoed—­it was a very Babel of noise and confusion.  What strange beings we are!  Not two hours before, I had said and felt