CHAPTER IV.
A SHORT CHAPTER .-- CHICAGO AGAIN .-- MORRIS BIRKBECK.
Chicago had become interesting to me now, that I knew it as the portal to so fair a scene.

I had become interested in the land, in the people, and looked sorrowfully on the lake on which I must soon embark, to leave behind what I had just begun to enjoy.
Now was the time to see the lake.

The July moon was near its full, and night after night it rose in a cloudless sky above this majestic sea.
The heat was excessive, so that there was no enjoyment of life, except in the night; but then the air was of that delicious temperature worthy of orange-groves.

However, they were not wanted;--nothing was, as that full light fell on the faintly rippling waters, which then seemed, boundless.
The most picturesque objects to be seen from Chicago on the inland side were the lines of Hoosier wagons.

These rude farmers, the large first product of the soil, travel leisurely along, sleeping in their wagons by night, eating only what they bring with them.