“Yes, I came from the East; and how might a man from the East best see Chicago?”
“Take an elevator—don’t you know the dining-room here is up top, and the roof sweeps the city, the Lake, the Fair and everything!”
“Take an elevator?” said our sedate friend. “I never take any; I favor temperance principles.”
“Oh, then take the elevator. There, it is running now!”
“How many inhabitants do you claim, my lad?”
The answer was as extraordinary as the first:—
“South Division, half a million and more; West Division, half a million and more; North Division, quarter of a million and more. I reckon we are about two million in all. Can’t keep the run of the census here.”
“My boy, if I should conclude to go to Lincoln’s tomb at Springfield, what road would I take?”
The answer was more amazing still:—
“Oh, take the C. A. or the A. T. S. F. and change, or the C. A. and change, or the C. I. If you take the C. A. or the A. T. S. F. or the C. I., you will have to change in this way”—Here the boy began such a distortion of the alphabet as could only be heard in a primary school.