All the freight offered in that time was a bear and a keg of honey.
Both were placed in the same car. The bear ate the honey, and the
company was compelled to pay for the damage.

I have heard a story concerning the origin of the name of Rolla, which
is interesting, though I cannot vouch for its truth. In selecting a
name for the county seat of Phelps County, a North Carolinian residing
there, suggested that it should do honor to the capital of his native
State. The person who reduced the request to writing, used the best
orthography that occurred to him, so that what should have been
"Raleigh," became "Rolla." The request thus written was sent to the
Legislature, and the name of the town became fixed. The inhabitants
generally pronounce it as if the intended spelling had been adopted.

The journey from Rolla to Springfield was accomplished by stage,
and required two days of travel. For fifty miles the road led over
mountains, to the banks of the Gasconade, one of the prettiest rivers
I have ever seen. The mountain streams of Southwest Missouri, having
their springs in the limestone rock, possess a peculiarity unknown
in the Eastern States. In a depth of two feet or less, the water
is apparently as clear as that of the purest mountain brook in New
England. But when the depth reaches, or exceeds, three feet, the water
assumes a deep-blue tinge, like that of the sky in a clear day.
Viewed from an elevation, the picture is one that cannot be speedily
forgotten. The blue water makes a marked contrast with surrounding
objects, as the streams wind through the forests and fields on their
banks. Though meandering through mountains, these rivers have few
sharp falls or roaring rapids. Their current is usually gentle, broken
here and there into a ripple over a slightly descending shallow, but
observing uniformity in all its windings.