It was my good fortune to fall early into the hands of Mr. Robinson, General Foreman of the mines. Eight years ago the 3d of last May he and one companion stuck the first pick into what is now the Great St. Bernard, with its capital stock of one million dollars, with a fee simple to mineral privileges in thirteen thousand acres of land, and has driven thirteen and a half miles of entries, and has five miles of iron railroad underground and a mining capacity of 25,000 bushels, or 1,000 tons per day. Its total output to date is 22,500,000 bushels or 900,000 tons. Output for the year ending April 1, 1878, 4,407,500 bushels, or 173,304 tons. Even while the guests of that festive occasion were enjoying the good things so lavishly set before them, there would reach their ears the distant rumble of blasts fired off far away in the depths of the hill. There is no end to the coal there and there is no limit to the St. Bernard’s facilities for getting it out. Many interesting facts and statistics were furnished me but the loss of a memorandum book will save them for another visit and another letter. Mr. Robinson was born on the Isle of Man, and is now about forty-five years old. He has lived in mines since he was ten and is better satisfied in the earth than on it. He has three brothers, foremen in the mines, and one of his sons is a member of the mine band that furnished music for the occasion. No one in that party will ever forget the day spent at St. Bernard and Hecla, or the many courtesies or goodly cheer received at their hands. Col. Sebree, Mr. Atkinson and others were especially attentive to the wants and wishes of the party. Mrs. Atkinson, Mrs. Davis, Mrs. Williams and Miss Lina Judson, who presided over the subterranean feast, were embalmed in a resolution of thanks, as well as in the memories of the press. Mrs. Nannie Houston Banks, who is since known as an accomplished author and a brilliant newspaper correspondent, was of the party with her husband, Mr. James N. Banks, representing the Henderson Reporter. Mrs. Banks was, it will be remembered, shut up in one of the besieged South African cities—probably Kimberly—during the Boer war, while acting in the capacity of special correspondent to a leading daily of New York or London. The following from the Reporter sounds like the writing of a woman and we attribute it to Mrs. Banks: