You are arriving from the country by wagon to buy your provisions in a Chicago only two decades old. It's the early 1850s. Horses clop by pulling squeaky wagons. Carpenters' bang out the tune of a growing city. Kids are yelling at each other as they run down the wooden sidewalk. Dust swirls through the air. The smells of wood smoke, horse urine and sweat, newly cut wood, a passing woman's perfume, and a fresh pot of stew merge into a potpourri of odors. Your hand is gritty with the dirt you picked up from the wagon wheel you grabbed as you stepped into the muddy street....