road man from his youth up, and under whom Ocean Grove and Asbury Park have been freer from accident than any other similar resorts.

The conditions of residence once established, the residence itself became a matter of largest importance. The place was isolated—six miles from the nearest village—and the conveniences obtainable there were of the most meager description. There was one store in the country, about four miles away, and the places of merchandise in Manasquan and Long Branch were only stocked for village consumption. Even when purchases were made, it was a matter of no small amount of negotiation to get them to their destination. Families at the first found it much more convenient to bring a hamper of provisions with them and stay until it was eaten up, and then go home for another—contracting beforehand with stage proprietors to carry it for them when it came. There were blueberries in the bushes which could be picked for dessert, and which were so picked by ladies who would have hidden in despair to have been surprised by acquaintances in such dishabille as was perfectly in character here, sunbonnetted among these bushes. The residences were tents, or, a little later on were rough, cheap, one story cottages twelve by fourteen feet, roofed anyhow, on lots twenty by forty on the map line, or not, as it might happen. The writer was considered aristocratical because he put a second story on his little cottage, with a terra cotta chimney running out of the roof. Stoves for cooking or warmth were improvised out of old material culled from the garrets and cellars, or sometimes there were only the gypsy accommodations of two sticks and a cross pole, on which the food was prepared. The first boarding house was a tent kept by John Martin, an early member of the association, in which the cooking was mostly done in this way, and where in fair weather the boarders sat outside, where a table of boards held the viands, with an improvised sheeting of muslin over head as protection from the sun. The sleeping was principally upon straw, with a quilt which had been retired on account of long and faithful service, spread over it for a bed, and such parts of outer garments as could be made useful to assist in covering. The first attempt to procure "Store Goods" was made by clubbing and engaging a team to go once each week to the "Store," to which had been previously sent the "order." At this time a fresh order would be left for the coming week, which would give the merchant time to procure what was wanted, if he did not have it in stock, which usually he had not. As the numbers increased, the express (a one4iorse wagon) went twice. After a little more time a store was started at the grove itself. The patronage was not extensive, but it would eke out a living for the present, and gave prospects of profit for the future. Sometimes one proprietor got weary of his lonely condition for ten months out

of the twelve, but there were always others ready to take it, until in a short time goods could be purchased at an Ocean Grove store as cheaply and of as good quality as in any surrounding towns. With the advent of the railway, and the consequent cheapness of transportation, supplies were enlarged and the prices reduced so that living became as cheap at Ocean Grove as almost anywhere else.

In connection with these improved conditions, the people for some miles back, where there were lands available for the lighter fruits and vegetables, began to turn their attention in that direction, and soon market wagons of the most modest description were seen in plenty, wending their way to the cottages, content if a few dimes could be realized daily from such produce as they could raise, and affording luxuries, the loss of which began to be felt as the novelty wore away. Then followed improvement in the "homes." The vice-president's example found imitation, and two stories a room below and a room above--began to appear; some added a kitchen in the rear, then these were shoved back, and a front built to them with chimneys, and windows all round. Some went so far as to have a lantern or lamp hung out before their homes, but these were exceptions.

People began to wish to pass the summer here, but were financially unable without some addition to their resources. They needed the benefit of sea air, and were willing to work to obtain it. The only employment to be found was in taking care of other people, and many began to try it. Two could be accommodated in the spare room, and, in case of pressure, two more could occupy cots in the hall. It was wonderful how many people could sleep in a house with one spare room. There were many persons who desired to be boarded, as well as many others who wished to do so. In these cases there was no danger of bankruptcy, because the families did their own work without employing outside help. But, with the prosperity of the business, a larger development projected itself in the shape of a boarding house, which materialized in the Howland House, situated then and now fronting the block of lots encircling the auditorium. Mr. Coryell Howland, the proprietor, was a farmer living near, who believed that the products of his farm could be turned into good account in this way, but who did not realize that a successful farmer might not be a success as a hotel keeper, and in a few years came to grief and passed his property over to Dr. Adam Wallace, who improved it greatly and who still holds possession.

The Lawrence House, corner of Main and Central, came in succession, then a number more, too many for profit. Then Mr. Charles Howland, in the belief that a first-class hotel would be successful, built "The Arlington," which has maintained under different landlords its position ever since, along

with the Sheldon, Queen, The Alaska, The Sea Side, The Majestic, and a number of others rapidly reaching up to this level. The residences have kept pace with these improvements, from a cost of fifty dollars upwards, some reaching into sextuples of thousands. From a summer population of two or three hundred it now numbers as many thousands; from the inconveniences of a wilderness it has reached the comforts of a city, and the problem has been solved of the luxuries of living combined with the largest recuperative forces of sanitation.

Previous to the conception of "Ocean Grove," there had arisen a general feeling of dissatisfaction with the "camp meeting" system in New Jersey. Outside of the Methodist church there were but few, and these were simply for hunting or social pleasure, which now challenged the criticism of public sentiment. Those of the church were religious only, and in earlier days, when churches were few and preachers were scarce, they were among the chief instrumentalities of revivals. The multiplication of churches and ministers had lessened their usefulness, and they were more of a Sunday gala day than forces in religion, and the presiding elders began to object to their continuance. They were a recuperative fcrce as a "summer outing" which began with the improved circumstances of the people to be a national custom. Many religious people fell in with the habit and went to the summer resorts already established, whose customs were usually unfavorable to religious development. The religious "camp meeting" outing was good in itself if it could be freed from the evils which had grown up around it. If the ground on which it was held could be owned by those in authority, in order to permanence; if a charter could secure exclusiveness, and confer police authority; an experiment on these lines would be worth the trial, and success would add another to the great forces of religion. A restless feeling had been growing in the membership of the Evangelical churches, especially among the Methodist people, on the question of a personal realization of holiness, or completeness of religion in the heart and life. This involved the Gospel idea of perfection—wholly sanctified——and, in some form or other, demanded a conscious personal experience of God in the soul, and a life in accordance with the "Sermon on the Mount." The mass of the churches did not possess any heart belief in the doctrine, and only a few professed an experience, yet the demands of the Gospel were plain, and could not be ignored because there was a general unbelief in their practicability. These few people who professed it began to agitate the question to the great disturbance of church conscience, which mostly became hostile to what they deemed fanaticism. But the numbers increased, and, in their increase, began to hold meetings of their own with "Holiness" as the distinctive battle cry of their assemblages, and at

last a great "Holiness Camp Meeting" was held under the presiding eldership of Rev. Dr. Ballard, who afterward became the vice-president of the Ocean Grove Camp Meeting Association. The encampment was greatly, successful in the spirituality of its experiences and inducement to others to begin a religious life. The men who were at the head of this movement inked in their minds its success with their own previous conception of what a camp meeting might be under the best circumstances, and concluded to make the attempt if a suitable location and charter could be obtained. The men most deeply interested proposed to ascertain the possibility of a suitable place. The conception of holiness took in the body as thoroughly as the soul, and made the holiness of the body as essential as that of the soul. A resort devoted to these principles demanded the healthiest surroundings, in which vacation visiting might recuperate from the depressing weight of the heated town, and place the physical system in better trim for the life work to which they were consecrated when they returned to their homes.

The shore of the New Jersey coast, or such a part of it as was free from malaria or mosquitos, was looked upon favorably, and Rev. Wm. B. Osborn, one of their number whose pastorate was near the coast line, and who was an enthusiastic believer in the agency of camps as a promoter of spiritual religion, was commissioned by the others to explore the coast line and see first if such a suitable place existed, and next if it could be purchased. The first location reported by him was "Pecks" (Five Mile) Beach, near Cape May. Negotiations for the purchase were almost com pleted when it was ascertained that "mosquetoes" possessing original rights declined to vacate them, and the project failed. Later on the same indefatigable explorer discovered Ocean Grove, near which there were no swamps or sounds, and consequently no mosquitoes—the only place along the coast, so far as known, free from that foe to all human happiness and comfort. Even religion would find it difficult to develop any other virtue than "endurance" if located where these insects hold possession. The location was accepted, and the purchase of the property made from the "New Jersey Proprietors," whose grant dated from an English King in the early settlement of New Jersey, and who still owned a few spots along the coast whose natural unattractiveness prevented people from selecting it as a place of settlement. The land was a deep sand—incapable of cultivation as the sand itself. Salted either by the overflow of the sea or the salinity of the atmosphere, it was so utterly worthless that its taxation was merely nominal. The only wood upon it was the smaller varieties of oak and pine, worth little for firewood, and next to nothing for lumber. Even if it could have been valuable for the lumber, the roads, in the depth of