At this juncture, fearing to lose all help from me if they did not bestir themselves, one man gave a lot 100 × 200 feet, on condition that a building should be put up within a year; another who owned a quarry offered stone for the building; the town voted to give one thousand dollars, and the young people, thus encouraged, set to work earnestly, and by fairs and entertainments added considerably more. I cheered them on with the inspiriting assurance that every cent they earned meant two for the library. The enthusiasm and good spirit, when they got fairly at work, were marvelous, and the people were drawn together in a way to make them forget their differences in their zeal for the common good. I found a good deal of strong opposition to having the building open on Sunday. I had asked that the reading-room might be open on Sunday afternoons when there was no church service, knowing that this would prevent a good deal of lounging on street corners, and, moreover, subdue much disorder among a set of restless street youth who are fast becoming a terror to the town; but after a great deal of discussion and hot blood over the matter, the conservatives won the day. Yesterday the building was dedicated, and I was requested to give one of the eight addresses on the great occasion. The whole town turned out, and it was a gala day. The stores were closed, and after a grand procession, led by a German band hired from a neighboring town for the celebration, we proceeded to the library, which is really the most beautiful building in Buggsville. Every one felt a pride and personal interest in it, from the two solid men of the town who had given the land and the stone, and were consequently the heroes of the day, down to the small boys and girls who had all given their coppers. I felt that every one in town was my friend, and as I rode in state in the procession in a mud-bespattered buggy, the boys cheered, the bells rang, and I think every one felt that a new era had begun. The farmers’ boys and their “best girls” came in from all the country around, and I can’t describe to you all the droll and pathetic sights I saw. I gave them a little talk on “Books and how to use them,” as short and as sensible as I could make it. At its close a white-haired old man, whom I had never seen before, came and took me by the hand, and said in a simple, childlike way: “Miss Martyn, I want to ask you to tell that rich young lady who has made this thing possible for us here to-day that the blessing of an old man rests upon her.