The main buildin’ in this is a hundred feet long, with a square tower in the centre.

Above the main entrance is a large paintin’ representin’ a scene in Lapland.  Inside the inclosure are the huts of a Lapland Village, with the Laps all there to work at their own work.

What a marvellous change for them!  Transported from a country where there is eight months of total darkness, and four months of twilight or midnight sun, and so cold that no instrument has ever been invented to tell how cold it is.

When the frozen seas and ice and snow is all they can see from birth till death.

I wonder what they think of the change to this dazzlin’ daylight, and the grandeur and bloom of 1893!

But still they seem to weather it out a considerable time in their own icy home.

King Bull, who is in Chicago, is one hundred and twelve years old, and is a five great-grandpa.

And most of the five generations of children is with him here.  But marryin’ as they do at ten or twelve, they can be grandpa a good many times in a hundred years, as well as not.

In this village is their housen, their earth huts, their tepees, orniments, reindeers, dogs, sledges, fur clothin’, boats, fishin’ tackle, etc., etc.

As queer a sight as I ever see, and here it wuz agin, my Josiah and me a-journeyin’ way off in Lapland—­the idee!

[Illustration:  My Josiah and me a-journeyin’ way off in Lapland—­the idee!]

The Dahomey Village come next.  This shows the homes and customs of that country where the wimmen do all the fightin’.

I sez to Josiah, “What a curiosity that wuz!”

And he sez, “I d’no about the curiosity on’t.  It don’t seem so to me; some wimmen fight with their fists,” sez he, “and some with their tongues.”

That wuz his mean, onderhanded way of talkin’.

But these wimmen are about as humbly as they make wimmen anywhere.

And as for clothes, they are about as poor on’t for ’em as anybody I see to the Fair.  They had on jest as few as they could.

They say their war dances is a sight to see.  But I didn’t let Josiah look on any dancin’ or anything of the kind that I could help.  I did not forget what I mistrusted he sometimes lost sight on, when he’s on towers—­that he wuz a deacon and a grandpa.

He acted kinder longin’ to the last.  He said “he spozed it wuz a sight to see ’em dance and beat their tom-toms.”

And I sez, “I don’t want to see no children beat; and,” sez I, “what did Tom do to deserve beatin’?”

Sez he, “I meant their drums, and the stuns they roll round in their husky skin bags, and cymbals,” sez he.

“Then,” sez I, “why didn’t you say so?”

Sez he, “I spoze to see them humbly creeters with rings in their noses, a-dancin’ and contortin’ their bodies, and twistin’ ’em round, is a sight.  And I spoze the noises is as deafenin’ as it would be for all the Jonesville meetin’-house to knock all the tin pans and bilers they could git holt of together, and yell.