Frequently there were two-story frame houses standing out in the open fields, without fences or trees, lone outposts of the approaching army of homes.

To the child, the genius with imagination, of the wholly untraveled, the approach to a great city for the first time is a wondering thing.  Particularly if it be evening that mystic period between the glare and gloom of the world when life is changing from one sphere or condition to another.  Ah, the promise of the night.  What does it not hold for the weary!  What old illusion of hope is not here forever repeated!  Says the soul of the toiler to itself, “I shall soon be free.  I shall be in the ways and the hosts of the merry.  The streets, the lamps, the lighted chamber set for dining, are for me.  The theatre, the halls, the parties, the ways of rest and the paths of song these are mine in the night.”  Though all humanity be still enclosed in the shops, the thrill runs abroad.  It is in the air.  The dullest feel something which they may not always express or describe.  It is the lifting of the burden of toil.

Sister Carrie gazed out of the window.  Her companion, affected by her wonder, so contagious are all things, felt a new some interest in the city and pointed out its marvels.

“This is Northwest Chicago,” said Drouet.  “This is the Chicago River,” and he pointed to a little muddy creek, crowded with the huge masted wanderers from far off waters nosing the black posted banks.  With a puff, a clang, and a clatter of rails it was gone.  “Chicago is getting to be a great town,” he went on.  “It’s a wonder.  You’ll find lots to see here.”

She did not hear this very well.  Her heart was troubled by a kind of terror.  The fact that she was alone, away from home, rushing into a great sea of life and endeavor began to tell.  She could not help but feel a little choked for breath a little sick as her heart beat so fast.  She half closed her eyes and tried to think it was nothing, that Columbia City was only a little way off.

“Chicago!  Chicago!” called the brakeman, shamming open the door.  They were rushing into a more crowded yard, alive with the clatter and clang of life.  She began to gather up her poor little grip and closed her hand firmly upon her purse.  Drouet arose, kicked his legs to straighten his trousers, and seized his clean yellow grip.  “I suppose your people will be here to meet you?” he said.  “Let me carry your grip.”

“Oh, no,” she said.  “I’d rather you wouldn’t.  I’d rather you wouldn’t be with me when I meet my sister.”  “All right,” he said n all kindness.  “I’ll be near though, in case she isn’t here, and take you out there safely.”

You’re so kind,” said Carrie, feeling the goodness of such attention in her strange situation.

“Chicago!” called the brakeman, drawing the word out long.  They were under a great shadowy train shed where the lamps were already beginning to shine out, with passenger cars all about and train moving at s snail’s pace.  The people in the car were all up and crowding about the door.