Then we drove away in the moonlight, and I found presently that the girl had put the satchel into the carriage. I learned the next morning that it contained some of my clothes, and my combs and brushes.
We travelled in the carriage for several hours, and then got on board a railroad train, which took us to Chicago.
Chapter the Eighth
WE hadn’t been many days in Chicago when one morning about daybreak my father waked me and said that Campbell was after me, so that we must hurry. My father had bought me a lot of things in Chicago—clothes of many kinds, and a few books. I reckon he didn’t know much about clothes or books—poor papa—for all the clothes were red, and the books, as I now know, were intended for much older people than I was. But he said that red was the prettiest colour, and as for the books, the man that sold them had told him that they were “standard works.” I remember that one of them was called Burke’s Works, and another Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. I simply couldn’t like Burke’s Works, but I reckon that was only because I didn’t know what Mr. Burke was talking about. I reckon I didn’t understand Gibbon very well, but I liked him, because he told some good stories, and because his sentences were musical. I liked Macaulay’s Miscellanies for the same reason, and I liked Macaulay’s History because it was so simple that I could understand it. Best of all, I liked Rasselas, The Vicar of Wakefield, Robinson Crusoe, and The British Drama, and Shakespeare—at least, in parts. I liked to read about Parolles, and the way he was tricked and his cowardice exposed. I identified him with Campbell, and rejoiced when he got into trouble. I suppose that was wicked, but I’m telling you all my thoughts, Dorothy, so that you may know the whole truth about me and not be deceived. I liked Falstaff, too.
I liked Rasselas, because in his happy valley there was no man like Campbell. And I liked Robinson Crusoe for the same reason. Somehow I liked to live with him on his island, because I knew that if Campbell should land there, Robinson Crusoe would shoot him.
But above all, I liked the British Drama, because it opened a new and larger life to me than any that I had ever known.
When my father waked me up on that morning, I hurriedly packed my books and clothes into a trunk. There were very few underclothes, for my father knew nothing about such things, but there were many red dresses and red cloaks and red hats. And there were two fur coats—big enough for a grown woman to wear.
We got on board a train and travelled all day. Then we took another train and travelled all night, till we came to the end of the railroad. Then we got into a cart and travelled three or four days into the woods.