and "blended in a common
element" of smoke. The extensive and swarming German quarter is
precisely like the German quarter of Philadelphia, (though the
Cincinnati lager-bier is better,) and the wide, square, spacious old
mansions are exactly such as the older houses of Philadelphia would be
if Philadelphia burned bituminous coal.

Every New-Yorker supposes, of course, that there must be in a large and
wealthy city one pre-eminent and illustrious street like his own Fifth
Avenue, where he is wont either to survey mankind from a club window,
or, _as_ mankind, be surveyed. There is no such street in Cincinnati,
and for a reason which becomes apparent during the first long walk. When
the stranger has panted up the slope on which the city is built, to a
point one mile from the river, he sees looming up before him an almost
precipitous hill, four hundred and sixty-two feet high, which has been
dug into, and pared down, until it has about as much beauty as an
immense heap of gravel. Around the base of this unsightly mountain are
slaughter-houses and breweries, incensing it with black smoke, and
extensive pens filled with the living material of barrelled pork. The
traveller, who has already, as he thinks, done a fair share of climbing
for one day, naturally regards this hill as the end of all things in
Cincinnati; but upon coming up to it he discovers the zigzag road to
which allusion has before been made, and which leads by an easy ascent
to the summit.

Behold the Fifth Avenue of Cincinnati! It is not merely the pleasant
street of villas and gardens along the brow of the hill, though that is
part of it. Mount to the cupola of the Mount Auburn Young Ladies'
School, which stands near the highest point, and look out over a sea of
beautifully formed, umbrageous hills, steep enough to be picturesque,
but not too steep to be convenient, and observe that upon each summit,
as far as the eye can reach, is an elegant cottage or mansion, or
cluster of tasteful villas, surrounded by groves, gardens, and lawns.
_This_ is Cincinnati's Fifth Avenue. Here reside the families enriched
by the industry of the low, smoky town. Here, upon these enchanting
hills, and in these inviting valleys, will finally gather the greater
part of the population, leaving the city to its smoke and heat when the
labors of the day are done. As far as we have seen or read, no inland
city in the world surpasses Cincinnati in the beauty of its environs.
They present