The Pig in a Poke 



and jetsam always cast up around 

 such places by a farming community. 

 Ramshackle buggies, old wagon wheels 

 and parts of plows or harvesters rusting 

 in the weeds; just a "shack" or two — 

 all that was left to tell the tale of 

 anticipated greatness unfulfilled. It 

 seems that Atlas is, or was, one of the 

 oldest towns in central western Illinois, 

 and its story is so similar to that of a 

 thousand others in the Middle West 

 that a little anecdote of its founding 

 will perhaps appeal to those who may 

 know of like instances of buried hopes. 

 I know that the town in Iowa near 

 which I happened to be born shared 

 the same fate as Atlas. Indeed its 

 name was long since dropped out of 

 the official Postoffice Directory. But 

 we speak now of Atlas. Its location 

 had been decided upon by the pioneer 

 land investors of the early days when 

 emigration was streaming over the 

 flowery prairies of Illinois, with the 

 Mississippi or beyond as the objec- 



[151] 



