The splendor of the general's Michigan Avenue mansion was new to me; never before had I seen such vast rooms and such wonderful furnishings. It was necessary to show me how the gas was turned on and off, and how the water flowed in the bathroom. I moved around the place in a daze until "Mike," taking pity on me, escorted me to a barroom, where I was more at home. As we were partaking of a cocktail, a number of reporters from the Chicago papers came in. They had been told of my visit and plied me with questions. In the papers the next morning I found that I had had adventures that up to that time I had never heard of. The next evening I had my first adventure in high society, and it proved more terrifying to me than any Indian fight I had ever taken part in. Finding I had no proper raiment for a big ball, which was to be given in my honor, "Mike" Sheridan took me to the clothing department of Marshall Field's, where I was fitted with an evening suit. The general's valet assisted me into these garments that evening. My long brown hair still flowed down over my shoulders and I was determined to go to the barber's and have it sheared before I made a public appearance, but General Sheridan would not hear of this. He insisted that I crown my long locks with a plug hat, but here I was adamant. I would go to the party in my Stetson or I would not go to the party at all. The ball was held at the Riverside Hotel, which was then one of the fashionable hostelries of Chicago. When I was escorted in, I was told to give the colored boy my hat and coat--to this I violently objected. I prized the coat beyond all my earthly possessions and intended to take no chances with it. I was finally persuaded that the boy was a responsible employee of the hotel and reluctantly gave him the garment. Then I suffered myself to be led into the ballroom. Here I met a bevy of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Fearing every minute that I would burst my new and tight evening clothes, I bowed to them all around--but very stiffly. To the general's request that I join in the next dance I entered a firm refusal. I knew no dances but square dances, so they got up an old-fashioned quadrille for me and I managed somehow to go through it. As soon as it was over, I hurriedly escorted my fair partner to her seat, then I quickly made my way to the barroom. The man behind the bar appreciated my plight. He stowed me away in a corner behind the icebox and in that corner I remained for the rest of the evening. Several times the general and his friends came down to "moisten up," and each time I heard them wondering aloud what had become of me. When the music stopped and the party broke up I emerged from my hiding-place. The next morning I reported to the general and explained to him that I was going back to the sagebrush. If New York were like Chicago, I wanted to be excused. But he insisted that I continue my trip.