also into the private rooms occupied by the officials and the permanent residents at the building. The walls of all the public rooms, up stairs and down, were covered with pictures representing notable New Hampshire scenes. This large central room was finished to the roof, and was lighted by immense windows from above, thoroughly adapting it to its use as a picture gallery. It was altogether a most cheerful and homelike room, and many a homesick heart lingered in its nooks and corners with a fascination it was reluctant to shake off.

At the rear of the main room the visitor passed into the Art annex,- in many respects the most interesting portion of the building, — 26 by 54 feet in area, two stories high. Both large rooms were entirely devoted to a pictorial and topographic representation of the scenic glories of New Hampshire. From the lower room all natural light was excluded, and its thirty magnificent transparencies, 25

large sunlight transparencies in the exact colors of nature, representing many of the most attractive of New Hampshire's mountain views. A tarry in this room was like a visit to the White Hills. The

by 30 inches in size, were shown under strong and numerous electric lights. These transparencies have been pronounced the finest and most artistic ever produced. Nothing of the kind in Jackson Park compared with them. In this lower room was also displayed a semi-cycloramic painting of Livermore Falls at Plymouth, a marvel of beauty and ingenuity, seen under the glamour of thirty electric lights, in red, white, blue, and green, so arranged that, by the pressing of successive buttons, it could be seen by daylight, sunset, moonlight, sunrise, and daylight again. The effect was magical.

Passing to the art room up-stairs, the visitor entered a veritable Aladdin's cave. It was a huge grotto, with great stalactites and stalagmites, some of them clasping gigantic hands, with dim recesses and damp niches lurking everywhere in its solid walls. All around the outside of this grotto were arranged

entranced visitor lingered long, whether he would or no, and many a one returned again and again, bringing his friends with him to go the rounds, and drink in anew the inspiration of those views. In the centre of this room, leaving just space enough around it for a comfortable passage between it and the pictures in the grotto walls, was a huge relief map of the state, said to be the largest and finest work of the kind ever attempted in this country. It was a revelation, even to those New Hampshire people most familiar with the face of their state. The massing of these great mountains can scarcely be equalled anywhere upon the globe. It is not a chain or range of mountains; it is as if the vast constructive agency of the world, when his work was nearly finished, had had on his hands, left over, a great basketful of magnificent mountains, and, in his impatience to finish his task, had impetuously and petulantly cast them down in

one great turbulent heap, thus making the mountain region of New Hampshire. This can be fully appreciated only as one looks down upon them as a whole, as he might do from a balloon high up in a cloudless sky. Unquestionably the same general effect was attained in looking down upon this great horizontal relief map. It was an instructive object lesson to thousands.

It was the very last of June before the building was ready for public inspection, although it was opened on the first of May.

On New Hampshire day-the 26th of June the doors of all its rooms were flung wide open; and from that day until the 30th of October its hospitality remained unbroken. Between New Hampshire day and the close of the Exposition there were one hundred and twelve public days. It is estimated that an average of five thousand visitors a day, most of them strangers to New Hampshire, passed in and out of its inviting doors within that time, more than half a million in all, a large proportion of whom visited its Art annex. Who shall measure the influences of this exhibit on the minds of these appreciative

among our people, shall it not soon be twice that sum n? And in return, will the visitors not receive abundant added health and strength, enlarged capacities for wholesome enjoyment, and nobler and sweeter views of nature and life?

A pleasing feature of the summer's experiences were the frequent reunions of the alumni of New Hampshire educational institutions. Dartmouth College, St. Paul's School, Exeter Academy, and Appleton Academy took advantage of the opportunity offered; and many of these different alumni will never forget the pleasures crowded into those few short hours. An especially charming feature of the Dartmouth reunion was the singing of college songs by a quartet of the "old boys." For an hour the rafters of the dear old building rang with the innocent merriment.

In July a delightful banquet was given by the New Hampshire Commissioners to the press of Chicago. About sixty representatives of the principal daily papers sat around their hospitable board, and wit and wisdom ruled the hour.

One hot day in July, a young, airy, newly arrived Frenchman came into the

house and, seeing a gentleman with bare head talking with a group of visitors, remarked to him, with a smile and a jaunty and comprehensive wave of the hand, as if taking in the whole Exposition, "This-isg-r-a-n-d-e; thisiss-u-p-e-r-b-e; this-is-toomooch-to-see!" A well-dressed husband and wife, quite along in years, evidently fairly wellto-do, came into the lower room of the Art annex one day, and began to look at the pictures, and especially at the painting of Livermore Falls. The effect was too much for the dear old lady. She exclaimed to a

thousands, or the reflex good upon the state of thus opening the eyes of those hitherto blind to her beauties? Instead of $8,000,000 annually left by visitors.

gentleman standing by, "And this is New Hampshire! It is twelve years since I have been there, and I am so hungry for home!" And then she broke completely down, and cried like a child; and her husband came very near crying too.

Among the sunlight pictures in the upper room was an exquisite fishing scene in Northern New Hampshire. A rough-looking man came in one morning in July, and pretty soon his eyes fastened upon that picture. He remained a full half-hour, but that was the only thing he saw. There was no other picture in that room for him. He was fascinated with the scene. It must have reminded him of some delightful personal experiences. He evidently wished he was the fisherman playing the magnificent trout at the end of that line. By and by he went out; but in the afternoon he reappeared with three others, fishermen like himself, and again that was the only picture they saw. They viewed and discussed it from every point. They then. left; and the incident passed out of mind. About the middle of August, this same man came marching in with nearly a dozen companions, who

greater part of the immense crowd had dispersed, leaving the route comparatively clear and safe, a splendid old drake followed by five ducks would come marching up in Indian file from the lagoon, headed straight for the New Hampshire lawn. They never tarried a moment at any intermediate station, nor turned to the right nor to the left, nor uttered a word, except an occasional terse and emphatic "Quack, quack!" from the captain of the squad, but marched contemptuously across the neighboring premises, until they reached just the right spot on

took their way straight to the old corner, and the former scene was re-enacted with fourfold fervor.

The lawn about the house was kept well trimmed and in perfect condition all summer. A pretty little pantomime was played there every evening for about four weeks, with never a break. It will be remembered by those familiar with Jackson Park that the lagoon in the rear of the Fine Arts Building was the playground of a colony of ducks. Every evening at about 6.30 o'clock, after the

the New Hampshire lawn, and there they revelled in some sort of delicious food that nature seemed abundantly to provide. After regaling themselves for fifteen or twenty minutes, they would march back in the same perfect order; and this was repeated night after night and week after week. Of course they were never molested.

It was the intent of the Commissioners to make the New Hampshire house cheerful, hospitable, and homelike. To that end they sought to "welcome the

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ELL, Martha, what do you make of it?" asked the Hope Village Congregational minister as his wife handed back to him the note he had given her to read.

Rev. Jacob Hoyt was a genial-faced man, with a winning manner. His blue eyes were eager with sympathetic interest in all matters which touched life closely; but if one might judge from a certain appealing hesitancy in his voice and a sensitive quiver about the delicately outlined mouth, this sympathy was oftener given than received.

Mrs. Hoyt did not answer until she had pinned on Jacob, Jr.'s, collar, brushed Mary's shabby school sack, cleaned two streaks of the breakfast molasses from James's dress sleeve, and put on little Edward's rubbers; for it was time the children were off for school. Then she said,

"I don't know, Jacob; it's very likely some idea of Edith Granger's, she's always taking notions. I should

have thought, though, that Mrs. Hill would have wanted you to write a paper, as well as that Edwin Miles they make so much of."

Mrs. Hoyt was calmly assured that no meeting could be complete without a contribution from her husband's brain. If the great world would only have believed as firmly in Jacob Hoyt's superior talents as his wife did, her voice would never have acquired its chronic minor of subdued complaint, induced by the struggle to make six persons comfortable on five hundred dollars a year and house

poor, and she wrestled bravely after that faith in the superiority of heavenly to earthly riches which Jacob Hoyt advocated.

Mr. Hoyt smiled as he said, "Perhaps Mrs. Hill thinks it will do the preacher good to be preached to."

"Well, Jacob, of course we shall go. But what under the canopy does Mrs. Hill mean by asking Deacon Goodnow and Deacon Brown to come together? She knows as well as anybody that they haven't spoken to each other for years, and that Deacon Goodnow wouldn't let his wife go to see Mrs. Brown when she was so sick. I told her myself that David Goodnow had to leave our church and go to the Baptist because the Deacon wouldn't speak to him after he married Deacon Brown's daughter; and he didn't feel free to talk in our evening meetings where his own brother wasn't on good terms with him enough to say 'good evening.'"

Oh, yes, Martha, Mrs. Hill knows the whole story. I told her only last Sunday

that when I went to Deacon Goodnow and tried to make him see his fault in treating his brother so, he only said he was 'glad David had gone over to Deacon Brown altogether; it made it very awkward about passing the emblems on communion Sundays to have him belong with us!' I decided after that that I couldn't do anything more for Deacon Goodnow except in prayer that he might receive a portion of Christ's spirit to soften his hard heart." Poor Mr. Hoyt sighed as if the quarrelsome senior deacon, whom almost every one feared, was a heavy load for his peaceloving minister to carry. He added, "But I suppose, Martha, Mrs. Hill feels that there's a possibility of healing the breach, if they can be induced to meet on neutral ground. I fear, however, she will be disappointed."

"Well," said Mrs. Hoyt, "if Mrs. Hill had asked me to make a speech, I should