pretty view if trains of cars had not continually steamed between it and
the hotel, staining the sky and blurring the prospect with their smokes.
Katy wondered how it happened that the early settlers who laid out Chicago
had not bethought themselves to secure this fine water frontage as an
ornament to the future city; but Mr. Dayton explained that in the rapid
growth of Western towns, things arranged themselves rather than were
arranged for, and that the first pioneers had other things to think about
than what a New Englander would call "sightliness,"--and Katy could easily
believe this to be true.

Car Forty-seven was on the track when they drove to the station at noon
next day. It was the end car of a long express train, which, Mr. Dayton
told them, is considered the place of honor, and generally assigned to
private cars. It was of an old-fashioned pattern, and did not compare, as
they were informed, with the palaces on wheels built nowadays for the use
of railroad presidents and directors. But though Katy heard of cars with
French beds, plunge baths, open fireplaces, and other incredible luxuries,
Car Forty-seven still seemed to her inexperienced eyes and Clover's a
marvel of comfort and convenience.

A small kitchen, a store closet, and a sort of baggage-room, fitted with
berths for two servants, occupied the end of the car nearest the engine.
Then came a dressing-closet, with ample marble basins where hot water as
well as cold was always on tap; then a wide state-room, with a bed on
either side, and then a large compartment occupying the middle of the car,
where by day four nice little dining-tables could be set, with a seat on
either side, and by night six sleeping sections made up. The rest of the
car was arranged as a sitting-room, glassed all around, and furnished with
comfortable seats of various kinds, a writing-desk, two or three tables of
different sizes, and various small lockers and receptacles, fitted into