"Gee, but that Chicago is a bum town, and yet in Emporia they look upon it as a Mecca of pleasure. The only pleasure I ever got there was trying to analyze the smells from the stock yards. They don't eat anything in Chicago but chop suey. Did you ever shoot any of that junk into your system? Them can have it that likes it; but never again for muh. You get it in a little dish, and the blooming stuff smells as if it was some relation to a poultice; you eat it and then go home and chew all the enamel off the bed. No, I don't know what it is made of; if I did I wouldn't eat it. That's the only thing Chicago is good for, chop suey and smells. When they get through talking about the World's Fair perhaps they will think up some new form of amusement. I met a wop in Chicago, one of these real romantic kind that only grow there. I was seated in a secluded corner of the ladies' waiting room of the Annex, and he came up and asked me if I didn't want to step in the Pompeian room and hear the waters of the fountain lapping up against the marble. I told him I much preferred to be up against a bottle of wine and do the lapping myself. He, with that true Chicago gallantry, said, 'Excuse me first, I want to 'phone a friend.' "I'm glad I didn't hold my breath while he was gone. I think he must have taken a surface car for Oak Park. Those Chicago rum-dums are the true sports, all right, all right. If necessity compels them to buy anything stronger than beer they commence to look sassy at the waiter and talk loud. Chicago is sure rightly named when they call it the Windy City. You just ought to have heard the line of jolly some of those boys tried to hand out to me. To me, mind you, to me! They must have thought that I was some unsophisticated young ingenue that never had been further away from State street than an occasional excursion across the lake to St. Joe. "I sloshed around town for a couple of days just to give those people a change from the usual run of Randolph street romps, then I hit the hummer for bleeding Kansas and Emporia. "Say, I had a great first entrance into that burg and nothing else; but a crate of lemons got off to crab the act. When I climb down off the hurdle, behold, the village choir right there on the job to see the train come in. The arrival of the train--notice the train--is what you might call the main event of the day. As soon as the village yokels saw my trunks being unloaded they all did the grand duck for the theatre to strike the house manager, thinking it was a show. I hadn't tipped my mitt to the folks, so they were not at the tank to give me the parental embrace, but after giving the necessary instructions to the baggage man I climbed into the Palace Hotel bus and romped up to my ancestors' abode.