The Sabbath-school periodicals now anounced an assembly to be held at Lake Chautauqua, the newest and, best methods of Sabbath-school work to be discussed by specialists in the different depatments for various localities of the United States. Normal classes were to be held each day, and a thorough drill in Bible study. A special attraction promised was the Palestine Park, a model of the Holy Land, laid out with great care and minuteness.

We took the train for Chautauqua, New York State, which we found to be a Methodist camp-ground, pleasantly situated on the shores of Lake Chautauqua. A short trip on a little steamer brought us to our place of destination. The Assembly, as it was called, had not yet opened, so that we had time to reconnoitre and locate ourselves. Comfortable lodgings in a private house were secured, and very much to my husband's delight, quite convenient to the Palestine Park, which to him became a daily resort.

It is not my intetion, neither would it be adisable to go into everything like a minute detail of this feast of tabernacles. Each successive day brought a bill of mental and moral fare, fresh, rich and rare. Music was of the highest order; singing by the whole congregation, led by P.P. Bliss, while the tones of a silver cornet revererated thrugh the grounds. Bible reading and prayer commenced and closed the exercises each day. Normal Bible-classes met for drill each forenoon. The afternoons were set apart for the most eminent of the Uited States. Among others, there were several bishops of the Methodist Episcopal Church, Dr. Eddy and Bishop Simpson of the number; John B. Gough, T. DeWitt Talmage, and others whose names I do not recall. It was indeed a "feast of reason and flow of soul.".

A children's day found the juveniles flocking in every direction. Steamboats crowded to their utmost capacity, with banners flying and enspiriting music, landed their occupats on the wharf. While I stood gazing on the Stars and Stripes which floated at the masthead and fluttered all through the grove, I longed for one more look at the old Union Jack. Never was there a more elivenig scene that that presented by these happy juveniles as they gamboled through the grove, or sat down to their lunch, for which they had an evident relish, after which they formed a line of march to the great Auditorium for a mental repast. Short, pithy addresses were given, and Frank Beard, the celebrated cartoonist, afforded them no little merriment by his remarkable sketches.