I. THE ASSEMBLY—Is the first point of approach to the true Chautauqua. It is the outer court open to the whole world. It has no restraints upon those who come, save those which are necessary to guarantee a financial support to the institution, and those rules of ordinary decorum which are essential to the quiet enjoyment and profit of those who pay their tribute and wait for the promised compensation. And this compensation comes in lectures on the widest range of topics, from the “Philosophy of Locke and Berkeley” to the light and cheery discussions about “Fools and their Folly.” Concerts by gifted artists, characterizations by rare impersonators, illustrations of life and manners in remote regions, by the aid of costumer and _tableaux vivants_, stories of travel, with photographic accompaniments colored, magnified, and illuminated; sermons by able ministers, lessons by competent teachers, attractions for lighthearted youth and wearied but rational age, in bonfires, processions, fireworks, illuminated fleets—these are the features of the outer court of Chautauqua for the entertainment, awakening, and broadening of people who come with no far-reaching or serious purpose, but who come to “hear” and “see” and have “a good time.” They are simply recipients. The will-power lies dormant, save as some stirring statement of lecture or sermon, or some unsyllabled passage in music opens the soul to the worlds all about it replete with marvel, beauty and power. So much for the outer Chautauqua. There are those who see this—only this and nothing more. They come and go. They wonder why they and others come, and yet they think they may come again—but are not sure. They do not forget Chautauqua, and they do not “go wild” over it. They smile at other people, whom they call “fanatics,” because they are full of it, and “bound to come again,” and to “come every year,” and always, and “would be willing to live there.” These have seen the Upper Chautauqua—for beyond the “Assembly” is II. THE CIRCLE.—It is another court—further in, and a little higher up—with a white-pillared hall among the trees—“The Hall in the Grove,” about which a book has been written, and in which songs are sung and weird services held, and where strange inspirations fall on people. For those who belong to the Circle—the “C. L. S. C.” as everybody calls it—are advanced Chautauquans. They know why they come to the place. And they know when to come. They keep a calendar, and they mark the feasts, and they know what to do when they are there. They seem at home. There are hosts of them—all knowing each other, and apparently bound together by some secret association which has a mystic power. They wear badges on certain days, badges of different styles and colors and legends. In all this there is something singular and beautiful.