In 1894 one of the most important improvements was made when a modern heating plant was installed which eliminated the damage caused by excessive dampness within the house. The heating plant is now located at a safe distance from the building, for the purpose of reducing the fire hazard to a minimum. In fact, the most painstaking precautions have been employed to prevent fire. The house is not wired for electricity, and no artificial lighting of any kind is used. The place is closed to visitors when the light of the sun fades in the late afternoon. Danger from fire originating within the building seems to have been entirely eliminated; and as the caretaker’s home and outbuildings are at a safe distance from the house, the probability of fire being communicated from that source is remote. By the narrowest of margins the Hermitage escaped from the blighting hand of those who would have made of it a military academy, a reform school or a state institution, or in some other way prevented its being maintained as a place where admiring American citizens may go and admire the memory of the man who lived there during the history-making days of his dramatic career in public life. But today, thanks to the diligence of a little handful of far-seeing zealots of forty years ago whose patriotic devotion has been the inspiration of those who have so faithfully worked to bring their dream to fulfilment, the Hermitage is preserved in perpetuity as a shrine to which the footsteps of admiring thousands have beaten paths from all over the nation. Andrew Jackson was a meteoric figure in the life of the country; he was the first to give actuality and realization to the theory that the most humbly born individual might aspire to and reach the President’s chair. Well did President Roosevelt say: “His career will stand evermore as a source of inspiration for boy and man in this republic,” and it is a priceless privilege that patriotic fathers may bring their sons to the stately old home of the grand old man who wore his patriotism as a flaming badge and who knew no motive more impelling than his passionate love for his country. IV: DESCRIPTION OF THE HOUSE When the wrought-iron gates swing back on the cut-stone pillars at the entrance to the driveway leading up to the Hermitage front door they leave an opening that is a tight fit for an entering automobile, although it was amply wide for the carriages in vogue a hundred years ago when it was built. Anyhow, this front entrance is not open to automobiles now—the ladies concluded that the trees were being jeopardized by the visitors’ cars—but, nevertheless, the Hermitage makes its most impressive appearance when approached from the front.