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Address of welcome by the president, E. J. Angle; oration, "The Martyr Spirit," A. P. Reid; paper, Chips from our Workshop,'' S. G. Barnes; Spanish rehearsal, Chas. Bransby; poem, "Columbia, hail," S. L. Stiver; essay, "The Revised System of Society," E. N. Barrett; paper, "Chips from our Workshop," J. B. Heller, Jr.; oration, "Progress vs. Conservatism," A. R. Read. The exercises were a success and reflected honor on the society and the college. Coates' orchestra furnished music during the exercises. Rev. H. W. McKnight, the new pastor of St. Paul's Lutheran Church, was installed on Saturday evening, March 1st. Rev. G. F. Stelling of Harrisburg, delivered the charge to the pastor. The charge to the people was delivered by Rev. Dr. Brown of Gettysburg. The Liturgical exercises were conducted by Rev. S. Henry, of Phillipsburg. Mr. McKnight has been in Easton but a short time, yet he has made many warm friends, and met with more than ordinary success in his new field of labor.

Mr. Able's new Opera House, in Easton, was formally opened March 3d. It is said to be one of the handsomest and best arranged theatres in this State. The first week's performance was by a stock company of the Chestnut Street Theatre, Philadelphia, under the lead of E. L. Davenport. The inaugural week was a success— acting good, audience large.

Funeral of J. H. Coffin, LL. D.

The funeral services of Prof. J. H. Coffin were held on the afternoon of Monday, Feb. 10. At 2 o'clock, the friends and relatives of the Professor, and the Faculty of the college, met at the residence of the deceased. Passages from the Psalms were read, the blessing and presence of God were invoked, and addresses were made by Dr. Belville and Rev. St. John.

The students of the College assembled in East College, and at the tolling of the bell, formed a procession, and marched to the house. The last remains of the deceased were born from the home which he had occupied on earth, and the procession moved to the Brainerd church. First came the students arranged in the order of their classes, two hundred and fifty in number. The Faculty of the College, Alumni and friends followed. The pall bearers, Professors Youngman, Moore, King and McIntire, Edward J. Fox, Esq., and Mr. John Pollock, walked beside the hearse which con

tained the mortal remains of the old man whom all had loved so well. The family of the deceased, friends and relatives came after in carriages. Groups of people stood along Third street and Spring Garden street, watching, with mournful interest, the procession as it passed by. On reaching the Brainerd church, the students halted. The coffin was carried into the church, and the family and friends followed. The coffin was covered with black velvet, mounted with silver, and on the silver plate was engraved the simple legend:

JAMES H. COFFIN,

Born September 6th, 1806.
Died February 6th, 1873.

Seats had been reserved for the friends, alumni and students, and nearly the whole of the body of the church was occupied by them. Rev. Dr. Cattell, Dr. Coleman, Dr. Porter, Dr. Belville, Rev. Banks, Miller and Wood occupied seats in the pulpit.

Dr. Porter read the 15th chapter of First Corinthians and the 21st chapter of the Gospel of St. John. The venerable Dr. Coleman, for so many years the co-laborer with the departed professor in Lafayette College, himself ten years the senior of Dr. Coffin, then offered a touching and beautiful prayer. Rev. Frank Miller then read the 359th hymn, whose music, sung at his death-bed, was the last on earth to fall upon the ears of Prof. Coffin. It was:

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'Jesus, lover of my soul,

Let me to Thy bosom fly,

While the nearer billows roll,
While the tempest still is nigh."

After the singing of the hymn, Mr. Banks made some remarks, "How unsearchable are his ways and past finding out." Mr. Banks spoke of the fact that among every nation there was some sense of a Divine Being. These conceptions are greatly different. We are more happily situated than the heathen, and our conceptions of God are more elevated. But still this very revelation, in which we believe, teaches us that there is something beyond the understanding and comprehension of men. "How unsearchable are his ways and past finding out." There are times when the human mind rebels from the decrees of Providence, and when the heart is ready to say there is no just God. When we desire and expect prosperity, He sends us adversity; when we wish those to remain with us who are useful to the world, He sends us death..

Mysterious and afflicting as are the decrees of God's Providence, we are consoled with the thought that we have no control over them whatever. We may be comforted with the reflection that God is always just and kind. His dispensations are ordered in kindness, "All things work together for good to them that love the Lord." These general reflections had been suggusted by the sorrowful occasion, which had brought them together this afternoon. He would speak as one who knew Prof. Coffin in the three-fold relation of pupil, pastor and friend. As an instructor, he was kind and able in the class-room; as a friend, he was unselfish, and as a Christian, his piety was devout. To the sorrowing friends, he said that today they were bowed down in inexpressible grief. You are not alone in your sorrow. We are met to-day to mingle our tears with yours. Your loss is great. It is not strange that forms should be gathered here to-day, robed in mourning; that there should be hearts rent with sorrow. But let me point you to another scene in another world. He has escaped temptation and sorrow and has gone to be with Christ, which is far better.

At the close of Mr. Banks' address, Dr. Cattell arose amid the solemnity, which pervaded the room, and made a short address. Referring to the religious exercises which had been held upon College Hill, at the darkened home of his reverend and beloved friend, he said it was fitting they should be resumed in the church he loved so well, of which he was, since its organization, a member and for some time past a Ruling Elder. For it was not only his. family that mourned; though theirs was the sacred sorrow of those who knew him in the most endearing relationships of life, and therefore loved him most; nor was it alone the College that mourned with these bereaved ones, though to the Institution his loss was irreparable; but this whole church and all in the community who knew him felt deeply the loss of such a man. His daily life among them for twenty-seven years-so gentle and unobtrusive, yet so lovely and even grand from its simple child-like beauty, had won all hearts, and we come to-day, said he, into the House of God, all of us one company of mourners, that we may bow ourselves in earnest submission before the throne of Him who has sent us this sorrow, and unto Him alone we must look for grace and strength that we may bear it. The cry of many an anguished heart here to-day is. hat of the Psalmist : "Mine eyes are toward the Lord! Turn Thou

unto me and have mercy upon me, for I am desolate and afflicted. Oh, bring Thou me out of my distresses!"'

The Doctor confessed his inability to make, upon the present occasion, any extended remarks, intimating that at some other time he would speak more at length of the life and character of the departed. But his heart was too full then. For seventeen years he had been intimately associated with Professor Coffin, and he did so revere and love him that it seemed as if his place should not be in the pulpit, but with these children in their deep but silent sorrow, and he had yielded only to what appeared forced upon him by his position in the Faculty, to speak to them these few words.

He then referred briefly to Dr. Coffin's great and deserved reputation among men of science; his discoveries and researches that had placed him among the foremost of living philosophers, but his only object in that solemn hour in thus referring to what the world would call his greatness, was to make more impressive the simplicity and beauty of his pious Christian life.

"I do not know, said he, "what kind of a man Professor Coffin would have been without the grace of our Lord Jesus. He must have had by nature many amiable traits of character, but I never knew him except as a Christian, when his childlike faith in Divine things had moulded his character into such excellence that, did you not know him well, I should be thought extravagant in my expressions, and I cannot conceive how there could be formed such a character as his without the Divine power of Grace in the heart. He was so pure, so unselfish, so guileless, and in the discharge of every duty, even the most trivial, so conscientious, so faithful. We have not waited until his death to know and feel this. How often did we speak of him while living as an Israelite indeed, in whom there was no guile !' But a few days before his last sickness I said to one of my colleagues in the Faculty, for many years you have, both as a student and a professor, known Dr. Coffin. Did you ever know him to do one single thing to which even remotely you could apply the word selfish?' His answer was prompt, 'No, never. Not once!' And such I doubt not had been the response of all his colleagues. Though a man of decided opinions I never heard a harsh or bitter word from his lips. He seemed incapable of resentment or of malice. He was as open-handed with his limited means as he was open-hearted with his great love for all. His transparent good

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ness was such that he could not be a guest in the house of a stranger for a single day without its being recognized. I could tell of many families, at the meetings of Synod and elsewhere where he was a transient guest, but where his beautiful memory has never ceased to be cherished. For myself, I feel it to be a life-long blessing that I have known such a man; that I have seen how it was possible for great learning and devout faith to be so happily blended; in a word, how divine grace can make this poor human nature of ours so radiant with beauty. And as he lived, so he died. His last illness was brief, but for several months his strength was failing, and he himself felt that his life work was done. Overcoming his habitual reserve, he freely expressed himself to this effect to his children, and their solicitude was often expressed to the speaker. But the good man, in weakness and weariness, still toiled on, performing each duty with the same scrupulous fidelity that ever distinguished him and with the same gentle, loving and beautiful spirit. At last, smitten by the disease of which he died, he took to his bed. The absent daughter was summoned, and all his children' gathered around him with their loving ministries. His wife, prostrated upon a bed of sickness, rose by an effort almost too great for her strength, and came to his room. The presence of these loving ones, was now his greatest earthly joy. He did not seem to suffer much, but his mind. for the most part wandered. He seemed to have his class around him hearing in the old familiar class-room the recitations that for more than a quarter of a century he had so faithfully conducted. But there where lucid intervals, when his face, lit up with the heavenly glory toward which it was turned, as he listened to the words. of prayer from his son who knelt by his side, or the voice of his daughter who sang to him the sweet hymn that has just been sung by the crowded assemblage-the last he ever heard on earth! When she came to that line, 'Thou, O Christ, art all I want,' the dying saint clasped his hands and exclaimed, 'Yes! Christ is all I want.' This was his last coherent sentence. A few more hours and the silver cord was loosened, and he went up to be crowned amid the goodly company of patriarchs and prophets and apostles and glorified saints around the throne of his God. Upon that beatific vision

would we look through our tears this day.

The blessed Christ who

was his all upon the earth is his NOW and FOREVER! He has seen the King in his beauty; and though our hearts are so broken we

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