and is thus prepared to enter the training of that society, which has no compassion for his weakness, nor forgiveness for his follies. Lastly, we would speak of a reaper whose name is death" who has been among us "gathering the bearded grain," and has taken in the person of Dr. James H. Coffin, Lafayette's famous philosopher and mathematician. As men disappear from this busy world, and others take their places, only a few are remembered and exert an influence, but the Doctor has so associated himself with the growth of the institution that the work he left behind him will be his memorial. For it is the things men do upon others and for others that render their names memorable. There was a quiet greatness about the Doctor which enforced respect. He regarded the years spent in college as time given to the development of mind and character, that the best way to foster manliness was to foster scholarship and a sense of dignity. His generosity in working was something remarkable. From the time he entered Lafayette as a professor until his death his earnest endeavors to instruct the youth were unparalleled. No work was too arduous, and no work was ever measured by any consideration of self. In this age when the division of labor is carried to an extreme, and each man seems reluctant to do anything else than that marked down in his daily routine, it is not common to find one who works for a higher motive than his daily bread. Now that our beloved instructor has gone from among us, we would recall the memory of one who has labored too well in the cause of philosophy and our alma mater. However our field of culture may bloom, whatever riper products may rise to shadow its present growths, the memory of Dr. Coffin is perenially rooted at its entrance. The multitude may pass by and forget him, but he will live fresh in our hearts and memories till each one of us shall be gathered to his fathers. V. Thoughtful, gaze I inwardly ;- The Summer near : Ere long the bloom of life will fade, While my sere leaves fall Spare me not life's Winter to see. A TRIP TO JOHNSTOWN. BY LEAL. The night, dark and chill, was fast setting upon the town as we took our seats in a westward bound train on the Lehigh Valley Railroad. We had an all night before us, and so quickly disposing ourselves in the most comfortable manner that we could, we sought the embraces of rest-giving sleep, but although the coy mistress was soon ensnared by my companions, yet was I doomed to endure her cruel repulses, for was it not my first trip westward? and what treasures in the way of scenery was the cruel night holding her mantle over? But patience. We reached Harrisburg a little after midnight, and having refreshed the inner man with a good substantial luncheon, we took the night express for Pittsburg, and once more composed ourselves to await the appearance of morning. Speeding swiftly along, the night wind rose fresh from the bosom of the Susquehanna to greet us, and although it forced us to seek our overcoats, yet as we felt its magic touch upon our brow, and turned in our mind from the present to those legendary days when the quiet sweep of the waters was disturbed by no midnight race of the iron horse, sleep stole across our eyelids and we slept. But we were not deprived of seeing the mist rise from the "blue waves of the Juniata," for we awoke with the day, and were eager to behold the grand panorama of mountain scenery which lay before us, and which we had looked forward to with so much pleasure. Hastening on we arrived in Altoona in time for breakfast, and having done ample justice to the choice viands furnished us there, we began the ascent of the Alleghanies. Ill does it become me to speak whilst amid the scenes of nature's mighty throes, and yet those scenes so grand touched hidden chords which vibrated sympathetically with the spirit of those regions of vastness. Turning from the labors of nature, to those of man, almost proportionally great, we learned a valuable lesson of patience and perseverance, for all this was done little by little. Having passed through the tunnel (seven-eighths of a mile long), at the summit of the mountains, we stopped a moment or two at Crescent, and then began our descent of the western slope, and arrived at our destination about 9 a. m., having greatly enjoyed that part of our journey which we made since daylight, and feeling amply repaid by the morning ride over the mountains for all the petty annoyances of the night before. Johnstown is built principally on the flats at the junction of the Conemaugh and Stony Creek rivers, and has a population numbering 18,000. The town is well laid out and neatly built, and although fenced in by high hills has a cheerful and business-like appearance. The principal industry of the place is furnished by the immense works of the Cambria Iron and Steel Company, which lie about half a mile north of the town, on the other side of the Conemaugh river. A night visit to these works was one of the most interesting incidents of our trip. Leaving the town about half-past nine o'clock, we crossed the river, and under the direction of a friend, who was perfectly acquainted with the works, we soon drew near to a scene which once beheld ever remains in the memory. On the right the moon came peering over the ridge, and shedding her rays along the brow of the hills on the left, marked out distinctly the contour of the valley, in which the town and iron works lie. Behind us lay the town sleeping, but before us gleaming in the darkness which rested in the bottom of the valley, glowed the bright fires, and red-hot rails, of the iron works. Hundreds, nay thousands, of men, for there are 5,000 men employed here daily, were moving quickly to and fro, and as the smoke labored heavily up from the darkness into the still moonlight, we thought of the forges of the Artist God. But thoughts of this kind were quickly dispelled upon arriving at the large building devoted to manufacturing the famous Bessemer steel. Stepping upon an immense elevator, we, in company with several wheelbarrows loaded with pig iron, limestone, coal and Spiegel, were raised about thirty feet to the mouths of the furnaces. These are kept filled with the materials for making steel, and as the metal melts, it is conveyed by means of troughs into large cupolas, in which the steel is blowed. These vessels hold as much as six tons of metal, and to see them blow the steel after night well repays any one for the loss of sleep he may undergo. Then to note the precision with which the powerful machinery of the establishment performs its work is pleasing to every lover of order. After the metal is sufficiently blowed it is poured from the cupola into moulds or ingots and left to cool. Following a car loaded with these ingots we come to the steel rolling department. Here is the immense hammer and the famous rolling apparatus. Leaving the steel department, we visit the vast space, taken up by the rollers of every description and shape, and wearied and amazed at the very magnitude of this department we enter the machine shops. Still the same untiring activity meets us here, and at last stunned at the greatness of all we have seen we turn our steps toward the town, just as the watch marks the first hour after midnight. The capacity of these works exceeds that of any other iron and steel works in the country, turning out 1,800 tons of iron and steel rails alone every week, yet the company is at present putting up immense buildings for the extension of their works, and projecting others still larger. Nature furnishes these works on the one hand with coal, and on the other with iron, while by the side of the buildings flows the Conemaugh river. Among the many other pleasing incidents which made our stay in Johnstown so pleasant, we will only mention the view from Indian Mound, for although Johnstown is so rich in the great works of man it is no less rich in natural scenery. Standing on the Mound, which crowns a high hill on the west side of the town, we gaze enraptured on the scene around us. Far to the west stretch the company's highly cultivated farms. To the north and east the mountains rear their lofty peaks to the sky, while to the south the face of the country, diversified by hill and valley, grows in the distance more and more indistinct, until it meets the stooping clouds. But we will not stop here to muse on the silent past. Though it was but yesterday the Indian gazed on the setting sun, whose rays, kissing the dark green of the distant forest, seemed to beckon him westward, yet to day Johnstown is as far in the advance |