The day was, as I have just said, a bright one, even for the month of June, and both Adele and Nellie, in anticipation of a pleasant time, were not long in putting on their things and repairing to the parlor.
It was well they hurried. There was papa, valise in hand, ready to start; mamma, too; and nothing seemed to be wanting but the presence of Deacon Fitney, who had gone off to secure the railway tickets, and who promised to return at once with a carriage and accompany the whole party to the train. The Deacon was not long in coming back. He was a good man in his way, was the Deacon. He had only one fault—he was unreasonably fond of Buttons! He adorned his apparel with more buttons than even the law requires, and he wore a nice gold-headed button on his neatly-tied satin scarf. Nobody could ever find out what prompted this peculiarity, but then nobody seemed to care very much. However, as I said before, the Deacon came back very quickly and helped get things in the carriage.
"By the way, Deacon," said Mr. Trevellyan, "what time do we start and which way do we go? You know I have left everything of that kind to you."
"Four-fifteen," said the Deacon, in a cheerful sort of way, "and by the Michigan Central Railroad. It is the only way to go. But never mind about the advantages to be gained by going over this remarkable route. I will tell you all about it when we get on the train."
And so they bundled into the carriage, and within a few minutes the entire party was seated in one of the magnificent palace cars which are attached to the Michigan Central Limited Express.
"All aboard!" shouted the conductor. "We're off," smiled the Deacon. The big clock in the depot struck the quarter after four, and the magnificent train, composed of five sleepers, three coaches, a palace dining car and a couple of baggage cars, slowly pulled out of the station.
Adele and Nellie glued their noses to the window, and their delight as they whizzed through the beautiful suburbs of South Chicago seemed unbounded. With Lake Michigan, tranquil and glittering with the rays of a summer sun, on one side, and a succession of lovely suburban residences on the other, the sight was a most lovely one. A few minutes later the train was flying through green fields and beautiful woods.
"Here, children," suddenly cried the Deacon from the other side of the car, "come quick and see the magic city of Pullman." In a minute Adele was on one of the Deacon's knees and Nellie on the other, and the train passed rapidly by the most wonderful evidence of modern enterprise.
"Three years ago," said the Deacon, in answer to an enquiring look of admiration in the children's eyes, "the ground on which stands this most beautiful city, which is without doubt the model city of the world, was nothing but a swamp. See what it is now. Some day, when we get back home, I will bring you here and let you learn more closely what the creator of the beautiful place which bears the name of Pullman has done for his country."
A minute later the train flew past Kensington, and then fairly started on its iron way for its first stopping place, Michigan City, better known as the City of Sand. Then came Niles, with it wonderful bridge and its fairy valley. Then Kalamazoo, the biggest village in the world and the flower bed of creation. Then Marshall, Battle Creek and, Jackson, the latter place the centre of railway industry of the beautiful State of Michigan. Then Ann Arbor, where is situated the University of the State of Michigan, and then, last but not least, Detroit.