A FRONTIER OX-CART.—As a sort of annex to the North Dakota Building, there stood outside, upon the greensward, what was called a Red River Ox-Cart. It stood there as representing the only means of conveyance known up to within a little more than twenty years ago throughout the vast territory now composing the two Dakotas. It was simply a stuffed ox, hitched to a cart. It was an amiable-looking ox, one so amiable that it might have been mistaken for a cow, and the cart was quite as commonplace as the animal. But the thing as a whole, standing beside the building of the prosperous grain state now threaded by good highways, along which good horses travel, now having railroad accommodations, now a modern state with modern ways, made a most interesting contrast. So absurd and apparently out of place amid its surroundings was this exponent of past frontier life that, in fact, it attracted more attention than did the building of today; that is, it attracted more attention from the passers-by. This representation was a very clever idea of the North Dakotans. It drew constant attention to the marvelous progress of the state of which they are so justly proud. It is not surprising, though, that such an idea occurred to them. The great Northwest taught the East many clever things during the Fair. Feeling their own strength, those states so lately territories did not hesitate to call attention to themselves. They did it adroitly and dramatically, but behind all was the dignity of real possession of everything that was claimed.