WHEN the Chautauquans gathered for the twentieth Assembly on July 1, 1893, they found some changes had taken place. The old Amphitheater, which had faithfully served its generation, but had fallen into decrepitude, no longer lifted its forest of wooden pillars over the ravine. In its place stood a new Amphitheater, more roomy and far more suitable to the needs of the new day. It was covered by a trussed roof supported by steel columns standing around the building, so that from every seat was an unobstructed view of the platform. The choir-gallery was enlarged to provide seats for five hundred. The platform was brought further into the hall, making room for an orchestra. The seats were more comfortable, and could now hold without crowding fifty-six hundred people. A few years later, the old organ gave place to a greater and better one, the gift of the Massey family of Toronto, a memorial of their father, the late Hart A. Massey, one of the early Trustees of the Assembly. Under the choir-loft and on either side of the organ, rooms were arranged for offices and classes in the Department of Music. During the previous season, 1892, a Men's Club had been organized and had found temporary quarters. It now possessed a home on the shore of the Lake, beside Palestine Park. In its rooms were games of various sorts, cards, however, being still under the ban at Chautauqua.[2] Newspapers and periodicals, shower-baths, and an out-of-door parlor on the roof, very pleasant except on the days when the lake flies invaded it. The Men's Club building had formerly been the power house of the electrical plant, but one who had known it of old would scarcely recognize it as reconstructed, enlarged, and decorated. To make a place for the dynamo of the electric system, an encroachment had been made upon Palestine Park; a cave had been dug under Mount Lebanon, and the dynamo installed within its walls. The age of King Hiram of Tyre, who cut the cedars of Lebanon for Solomon's Temple, and the age of Edison, inventor of the electric light, were thus brought into incongruous juxtaposition. A chimney funnel on the summit of Mount Lebanon, it must be confessed, seemed out of place, and the Valley of Coele-Syria, between Lebanon and Hermon, was entirely obliterated. Bible students might shake their heads disapprovingly, but even sacred archæology must give way to the demands of civilization.