THE CEDARS OF LEBANON.
I STARTED from Walnut Hills. You may not find the name in your geographies, so I will just hint to you that it is one of the parlors of Cincinnati; that you can find.
Down Gilbert Avenue in a car which made good progress, notwithstanding its frequent stops to take on more people. "Who makes it go?" asked a wee girlie who was evidently taking her first ride of the kind. Sure enough! Who did? No horse or mule; no engine to be seen; no visible means of making that car slip over the road as it did.
The child repeated her eager question: "Mamma, who makes it go? There isn't any horsie."
"It is a cable car, my child," the mother answered, with a look of profound wisdom in her eyes.
"What is a cable car, mamma?"
"It is a car that goes without horses."
"But what makes it go?" was the third time repeated query. Then the small questioner, and I, listened for words of wisdom from the mother's lips. "I told you, Alice, it was a cable car; now be quiet; you ask too many questions." I think Alice and I came to the same conclusion; that the mother did not understand how to explain a cable car, and did not want to own it.