is the Angling exhibit and in the other the Aquaria. The exterior of the building is SpanishRomanesque, which contrasts agreeably in appearance with that of the other buildings.

the

To the close observer exterior of the building cannot fail to be exceedingly interesting, for the architect, Henry Ives Cobb, exerted all his ingenuity in arranging innumerable forms of capitals, modillins, brackets, cornices and other ornamental details, using only fish and other sea forms for his motif of design. The roof of the building is of old Spanish tile, and the side walls. of pleasing coior. The cost is about $200,000.

In the center of the polygonal building is a rotunda 60 feet in diameter, in the middle of which is a basin or pool 26 feet wide, from which rises a towering mass of rocks, covered with moss and lichens. From clefts and crevices in the rocks crystal streams of water gush and drop to the masses of reeds, rushes, and ornamental semi-aquatic plants in the basin below. In this pool gorgeous gold fishes, golden ides, golden tench, and other fishes. disport. From the rotunda one side of the larger series of Aquaria may be viewed. These are ten in number, and have a capacity of 7,000 to 27,000 gallons of water each.

Passing out of the rotunda, a great corridor or arcade is reached, where on one hand can be viewed the opposite side of

the series of great tanks, and on the other a line of tanks somewhat smaller, ranging from 750 to 1500 gallons each in capacity. The corridor or arcade is about

WORDS OF WELCOME. Welcome all ye aged veterans! For the day to you belongs, Hear the happy strains of music,

Listen to the joyful songs. Noble fathers honored mothers,

For your happiness we pray;
Eagerly we strive to serve you,
Make your spirits light and gay.

These, your fair and noble daughters,
Guided by the Lord on high,

Long have labored much have gathered,
That the aged might have joy.
We love to see the dear old eyes
With pleasure brightly shine,
Your faces filled with radiance,
The light of love divine.
We cannot ask that flowers

Always bloom beneath your feet,
For we know the awful poison,

And the sting of things too sweet.
We only ask that Father

Will lead us all aright,
And guide the weary, trembling feet,
Through darkness into light.

Time has gathered all the roses
From your faces long ago;

Their precious bloom and odor
Has been washed by winter's snow;

Yet, we will not speak of age

In a sad and mournful strain, For winter does not come

To bring us tears and pain.

There the eyes now dim shall brighten,
And the weary ones be free,
And the light of love will waken

Songs of peace and unity.
There the feast will be eternal,

Loved ones meet to part no more;
No hot tears nor aching bosoms
On that bright and happy shore.
There all hearts will be united,
There the weary be at rest,
And with Christ will dwell forever
In the mansions of the blest,

Written and read by Mrs. Sarah Rust, at the Old Folks dinner, which was given them by the Y. L. M. I. A. Richfield, Dec. 28th, 1892.

THORBORG.

ON the sunny side of F—— Street, in Frederiksborg, stood a tall, grey stone building, taller by one or two stories than its neighbors, which of course made

it quite conspicuous, and in its third story dwelt the right honorable Mr. Landsho, royal government officer, post-master of Frederiksborg.

The postmaster was the proud and happy father of seven children, five of which had already started life for themselves, with husbands and wives after their own hearts. Two remained, Emil and Thorborg. Emil was a clerk in the post-office, and Thorborg was her father's pet and her mother's right hand. She was a pretty girl, rather of the buxom sort, with glowing cheeks and a saucy mouth and deep grey eyes.

On one particular morning in lovely June Thorborg had taken. her crotchet-basket, after the room had been put in order after breakfast, which was taken at ten o'clock, being the second meal of the day, and had gone down to en joy an hour's fresh air in he back garden, which, narrow as it was, ran out in a point in the Slots sea, a beautiful strip of lake, all wreathed in with mournfully drooping willows and sturdy old oaks. Out on the very point stood the most inviting little greenhouse you could imagine, and this was young Thorborg's favorite nook. There she had dreamed away many a summer evening, while listening to the soft murmuring of the wavelets. as they gently rolled landwards, sometimes playfully leaping right up into the greenhouse.

When a child she had heard the mermaid's songs, as she saw

them in the moonlight glide softly over the sea far away in the distance, and melt away in the foam like those in Andersen's tale. And when the strange fan cies of tender girlhood had first begun to stir her young soul she had seen the plumed knight in his lonely boat and heard the melancholy strains float over the waves as his white fingers played with the guitar strings. And how wistfully she had looked over toward Frederiksborg palace as it lay a grand and gloomy pile in the moonlight, wishing she had lived in the days when laughter and gayety had sounded from within, and that she had been one of the courted ladies, whose knight pined away in hopeless love of her. Now that she had outgrown most of these fancies, she still sat dreaming in the greenhouse of an evening wondering what shape her knight would ultimately assume; whether that of a very ordinary young man, in swallow-tail coat, red hair, ditto moustache and great big clumsy hands, or that of a slender. young man, in priestly garb, who drawled out the prayers in such a beautiful, pious fashion each Sunday in the Slots church, both of whom she knew secretly sighed for her.

But this morning she had not come to dream, but merely snatched away a few short moments from her practical busy day-work to finish a bit of fine network, intended for her mother's birthday. As she was