They had intended next to see the Massachusetts house; but that also was not open, and they went by it on their way to New York’s mansion. Entering the great door, they noted first a pavement of tessellated blocks in which were set the signs of the zodiac in brass, finely modeled. Just before them they saw a long line of people crowding toward an enormous book that looked at least half a foot thick. A sign told them that they should register and have their names published in the “Daily Columbian,” the Fair paper, as a means of finding old acquaintances.
“Here she goes!” cried Harry, as he took his place at the end of the queue, with Philip next. They could see the book from where they stood, and were much amused, though a little impatient, to see the painstaking efforts of country folks to write a creditable signature. One nice old lady dotted an “i” at least three times, and each time with due deliberation.
As each visitor wrote name, temporary address, and home address, Harry had to wait several minutes for his turn. The result was that he scrawled his own name in a great hurry rather than keep others waiting. Then he went half-way up the stairs, and took two short-time exposures toward the registering crowd. He doubted whether he could get anything worth preserving, but thought he would risk it.
THE OHIO STATE BUILDING.
Then Philip and he went up-stairs to the banqueting-room—a stately apartment of which the boys were patriotically proud. Other rooms—one a colonial drawing-room with an old spinning-wheel, and an old cannon that was “fired at the births and deaths of members of the Rensselaer family,” and the other a more modern apartment—fittingly flanked the central apartment.
“Well, we’ve got a splendid building,” remarked Philip, with a sense of satisfaction.
“Yes, sir,” said Harry; “the old ‘Empire State’ always comes up smiling and takes a front seat right next to the band-wagon”; but he, too, was glad that his State was so creditably housed.
Pennsylvania, with a great “Keystone” on the front, was next in their pilgrimage; and here they found the genuine old Philadelphia Liberty Bell occupying the post of honor in the vestibule. Though “marred and bruised by many a thump,” the boys gazed upon it with genuine reverence. No American boy could see it without something of the thrill in his veins that is the old bell’s due.
