The daily morning journal and courier., 1903-07-17

our honest forefathers, who believed | that haste made waste"
 It was joke among our old time folks, as they heard the wagons rat ting down just after dark into the woods of the cove:
 There goes some teams to salt, and sure enough, after midnight, they would be heard squeaking back to the hill towns well sa1ted with West India goods. But times have changed"
 Adulterations make most goods too cheap to smuggle nowadays.
 Going west from the Pirates Vale by a path cut in the side of the bluff, you come to old time "Cuniculus," now called Sunset" glorious when the sun bids goodnight This was once a bold bluff of tree shaded rock that stood out much further into he sea han at pres l ent. -.s. | The aforesaid Copper company's Huns having blasted the bluff tway to build a break-water that has since sunk out of sight. This bluff was called .Cuni- culus" from the fact that old Rog, tie dominic of the Prospect hill boarding school, had rabbits. At times he would take the whole school to this bluff, seat them in a circle with the rabbits inside, and while the rabbits ate the prickly pears growing there the boys would study. Then when time to go home came, close in the circle and catch the rabbits. This pedagogical fiend was a veritable Squeers, with also ais poor Smike and Nickolas. except that he out Squeered Squeers in his malignant ma lignancy. Had Dickens known him he. could not have painted him more truth fully. He delighted to torure any poor defenseless orphan or timid siekly bay. His delight was to choke, scratch, span gazzle, pull little boys by the nose and ears around the room, much to the elongation of those members, and if he had remained in this part of the coun- try until some of those boys grew older he would have had as "holey" skin as 4 some of his little victims, who carried torn ears and scared faces for life. Un- der such stimulating treatment one of the boys was inspired to paradise the epitaph to Aaron Burr upon the door of Dogberry Hall, Jr., as follows:
 Born as a curse to helpless boy, kind LII sUIOduGSLE Cdll oLONBsoV mean mind. Nights sable vail thy. meanness ne'er can hide each act so ] mean; 'twould blot historic tide. Let me once catch you when Tin big as you I and I'll tan your hide till you won't know 'tis you.
 Old Rog Squeers read this epitaph, and as not boy in school knew how it l came there, he as usual expended his rage upon all the weak and helpless small boys. The benches of the school were very, very hard to many of us for l week afterwards. I speak feelingly I upon the matter, for know how they felt myself; feeling is the naked I truth" His true position in life should have been head torrnentor to Philip T., or Bloody Mary. "old Rog' kept a brown jug in his closet. Every time he took drink from it (which was often1 he grew more ugly. It puzzled our boy ;l brains how nlolasses. made him So cross. j Of course it was rnolasses, for when the q jug came from the grocer 1t was always marked "St. Croix Molasses." We are old boys now and know more
 This bluff was also the scene of the most narrowing shipwreck. In one of I the small inlets on the Long Island coast was negro preacher known as .tClam Bob." who with fellow feeling for the lean pockets of his parish. eked out his existence as a clam merchant
 In one of his trips to the Continent of Connecticut his Sloop Salvation was wrecked. The next Sunday to his audi ence he preached upon the "Uncertain- ty of Life" narrating his thrilling ex- perience in his shipwreck, ending with the remark, broken with sobs. And l. your humble brother, was through the Providence of God, the only survivor, the rest having found a watery grave" ]" One of the brothers, not missing any of the familiar wool-heads in the audi ence, inquired: '.Who was de others?"
 As soon as his feeling allowed him to speak he replied, "A coop full of as pert chickens as ever crowed and my blessed SIoop Salvation. De brudder meant right proper, but was too curious. He spoiled de power ob de sermon by such
 questions.
 This same preacher remarked once to 1 "a purchaser that his supply of clans was not as large as usual as his parish was behind in his salary; the yestry
 having agreed in payment for his
 preaching to deliver to his sloop one and quarter bushels of clans every week, which they had failed to do that
 week, Upon the remark that 1t seemed
 darn poor pay for religious nourish- ment he replied, "Well, to be honest
 and cast no reflections upon de telli- gence' ob de parish, I will admit that some ob de parish allow it's darn poor nourishment."
 This parson Bob was a Free Grace Baptist of the hard shell type. He was
 so radical that he would not receive
 soft shell clans in payment for his free
 grace preaching.
 He was we'll known upon Long Island Sound seventy and eighty years ago. The coasters packets, market boats,
 smacks, etc, that passed through to New York all knew the sloop Salvation
 as they met her upon her weekly trips to the Connecticut shore. They would salute her with their fog horns, but Bob who claimed that his throat could make
 noise enough to answer all purposes, : never carried a horn, but would answer } their salute with a song. His voice was something wonderful; fog horn was a whisper beside it; even the wild geese were so confused they could not hear