resort; here is Mount Aloysius Academy and the State Tuberculosis Sanatorium No. 2. EBENSBURG, county seat, laid out in 1805; population 2179, is also a summer resort; through the woods and around the lakes of this region the rhododendrons grow as tall as trees and are gorgeous in their bloom. Descending along the upper waters of the Conemaugh, numerous vestiges are seen of the old Portage Railroad, a series of inclined planes, connecting the State Canal at Hollidaysburg east and Johnstown on the west. Dickens wrote of the scenery along the canal, “Sometimes the way wound through some lonely gorge like a mountain pass in Scotland.” Many dams, which are really lakes, have been built by manufacturers, the largest is three and one-half miles long, surrounded by wooded hills with here and there a waterfall. JOHNSTOWN, population 67,327, at confluence of the Conemaugh River and Stony Creek, was founded in 1800 by a Swiss Mennonite, Joseph Schantz (Johns). A glance at the deep, narrow valleys, with their high inclosing walls, goes far to explain the possibility of so tremendous a catastrophe as that which overwhelmed Johnstown on May 31, 1889. Conemaugh Lake, two and one-half miles long, one and one-half miles wide, was reserved as a fishing ground by a club of Pittsburgh engineers, its waters were restrained by a dam 1000 feet long, built by the state as a reservoir to store water for the state canal during the dry seasons; a continuance of violent rains filled the lake to overflowing; the break occurred at three o’clock in the afternoon, a gap of 300 feet being formed at once. The water that burst through swept down the valley in a mass one-half mile wide, forty feet high, carrying everything in its way, completely destroying Johnstown and other towns and villages in its track, going 18 miles in seven minutes, the distance between Johnstown and the lake. The mass of houses, trees, machinery, railway iron and human bodies was checked by the railway bridge below Johnstown, which soon caught fire, probably burning to death hundreds of persons imprisoned in the wreckage. About 2205 lives were lost; in the Grandview Cemetery a large space is dedicated to the “Unidentified Dead,” with a Westerly granite monument, having heroic size statues of Faith, Hope, and Charity; sculptor, F. Barnicoat, Quincy, Massachusetts; there are 778 individual markers for the bodies, largely unidentified, laid out geometrically, so that from whatever angle the plot is seen, they are in curved rows.