ou are to take us down to Pullman, the town founded by George Pullman.
We have read a book about the town, and all about the philanthropist who
laid it out, and made a little Utopia--I think that's the word--for the
laboring men in his employ, where they have little brick houses made to
fit a family, with gas and water. The book says he was a regular
father to them, and we want to see a place where everybody is happy and
contented. Will you take us there some time, Uncle Ike? Isn't Pullman
the greatest and happiest man in the world?"

"Look a here," said Uncle Ike, as he got up and tried his lame leg, and
found the pain was gone, and walked down on the lawn where the boys were
rolling in the grass, and sat down on a lawn chair; "when you read
a book of fairy stories, you want to look at the date. That book was
written a dozen years ago to advertise Pullman cars. It is out of date."

"Well, isn't the town there, and are not the laboring people happy,
and singing praises to the great and good Mr. Pullman, and showering
blessings on his family, and helping to make a heaven upon earth of the
town he built for them?"

"I thought you boys were up to the times," said the old man, as he
lighted up his pipe, and crossed his legs so the lame one was on top,
"but you are back numbers. You read too much algebra, English history
and fables. Why, Pullman has been dead for years, both the man and the
town. I guess I'll have to educate you a little in American history,
that you don't get in the ward school. Pullman was a carpenter who
worked with a jack plane, and a saw, and things. It is said he took
advantage of some ideas another man forgot to patent, got the ideas
patented, and the result was the sleeping car. He made money by the
barrel, and when the callouses and blood blisters were off his hands,
and they became soft, he began to blow in money, and made people
acquainted with the fact that he was too rich for words. He still looked
like a carpenter, but smelled like a rose garden, for he learned to
take a bath every few minutes and perfume himself, so the old-fashioned
perspiration that had been so healthy for him would not be noticed. He
hunted dollars as a pointer dog hunts chickens, and finally he got so
much money he could not count it, and he hired men who were good at
figures to count it for him. Then his brain took a day off and studied
out Pullman, and he built it on the prairie. His idea was all right,
only that he co