I found myself in a comfortable low-ceiled room, warmed by an air-tight stove, and furnished with a cot-bed, half a dozen chairs, a large wooden spittoon filled with saw-dust, a looking-glass, and a table. The floor was covered with strips of rag carpet, very neat and of a pretty, quiet color, loosely laid down. Against the wall, near the stove, hung a dust-pan, shovel, dusting-brush, and small broom. A door opened into an inner room, which contained another bed and conveniences for washing. A closet in the wall held matches, soap, and other articles. Every thing was scrupulously neat and clean. On the table were laid a number of Shaker books and newspapers. In one corner of the room was a bell, used, as I afterward discovered, to summon the visitor to his meals. As I looked out of a window, I perceived that the sash was fitted with screws, by means of which the windows could be so secured as not to rattle in stormy weather; while the lower sash of one window was raised three or four inches, and a strip of neatly fitting plank was inserted in the opening--this allowed ventilation between the upper and lower sashes, thus preventing a direct draught, while securing fresh air. I was still admiring these ingenious little contrivances, when, with a preliminary knock, entered to me a tall, slender young man, who, hanging his broad-brimmed hat on a peg, announced himself to me as the brother who was to care for me during my stay. He was a Swede, a student of the university in his own country, and a person of intelligence, some literary culture, and I should think of good family. His attention had been attracted to the Shakers by Mr. Dixon's book, "The New America;" he had come over to examine the organization, and had found it so much to his liking that, coming as a visitor, he had remained as a member. He had been here six or seven years. He had a fresh, fine complexion, as most of the Shaker men and women have--particularly the latter; his hair was cut in the Shaker fashion, straight across the forehead, and suffered to grow long behind, and he wore the long, blue-gray coat, a collar without a neck-tie, and the broad-brimmed whitish-gray felt hat of the order. His voice was soft and low, his motions noiseless, his conversation in a subdued tone, his smile ready; but his expression was that of one who guarded himself against the world, with which he was determined to have nothing to do. Frank and communicative he was, too, though I do not doubt that my tireless questioning sometimes bored him. Such as I have described him I have found all or nearly all the Shaker people--polite, patient, noiseless in their motions except during their "meetings" or worship, when they are sometimes quite noisy; scrupulously neat, and much given to attend to their own business. [Illustration: ELDER FREDERICK W EVANS]