Mr. Cone remembers many amusing incidents of the mining life; one of which was the shooting of Weimer's pig by his partner--the animal being a nuisance around camp, yet of great value. One morning the partner of Cone said: "Load the gun and I'll shoot the ---- sow." To run the bluff, Cone did so, and not to be backed off, the partner shot and killed. Then to hide their trespass the carcass was hidden in the brush; but upon returning at evening from their rockers the young men found that the ravens had taken care of the pork. In 1850 Mr. Cone, having recovered his health, located a claim on French Prairie. His father arrived in Oregon in 1851. His brothers, Oscar and G. A., Jr., came in 1847. Three other brothers also became Oregonians, Oliver, Francis Marian, and Philander Johnson. All found claims near each other on French Prairie, or just across the river. Anson and Oscar are the only ones now living. Of the old father, G. A. Cone, there are eighteen grandchildren and thirty-seven great-grandchildren. Anson Cone was married in 1866 to Sarah A., the widow of his brother Oliver, whose maiden name was Wade, and who is herself a pioneer of '53. MRS. REBEKA HOPKINS. Mrs. Hopkins, the daughter of Mr. Peter D. Hall, who perished near Fort Walla Walla--Wallula--after escaping from the Whitman massacre, is now living on the farm held by her first husband, Philander J. Cone. Although past the age of fifty she is in good health, of prepossessing appearance, and of very active habits. Her cosy farm home, which is on the prairie, but at the edge of the grove, and shaded by some oak trees in the dooryard, is ornamented also with choice varieties of flowers, especially of roses, of which she has many rare kinds. She was but five years of age when the massacre occurred; and by the terror of that event all previous recollections seem to have been completely obliterated. She does not remember anything of her father; but of the massacre itself, so far as her own observation went, she still has a vivid picture in her mind. She recalls the upstairs room where the women and children were huddled together after Whitman was struck down, and where Mrs. Whitman came after she was shot in the breast. Mrs. Whitman, she says, was standing, when wounded, at a window, and was washing the blood from her hands, as she had been dressing the wounds of her husband. Mrs. Hall was with her. It could not have been apprehended that further murders would be committed, and Mrs. Whitman must have been the equal object of the Indians superstitious rage, as she was the only woman killed.