Thursday, May 24, 1900
Missouri’s Grand Old Man
Mr. Vest gloriously said: “I do not belong to this modern school which is teaching the young man of the United States that our country has outgrown the Constitution, and that “the young giant can no longer be amused by the nursery songs of his childhood.”
I believe that the men who are teaching this doctrine are worse enemies to the Republic than its armed foes.”
“This is the doctrine for all patriots to teach at all times. The Constitution is an embodiment of those elementary principles which are absolutely necessary for men to observe and respect if they would hope to live together in a society where all stand upon an equal footing and every man has an opportunity to better himself according to the powers and abilities which nature has given him, and the blackest hearted traitor which our country can know is the man who would attempt to corrupt the public mind and morals by persuading men to believe that the Constitution is the work of old fogies, unsuited to the new order of things.
The Constitution is the embodiment of the theory that every man shall be treated with perfect, impartiality and justice, and there can never be any order of things, old or new, when that theory is unsuited to the actual condition of affairs. – Richmond Dispatch
A LEAF FROM MY NOTEBOOK
Do bear with us, dear readers of the Times. We were not so long in making the trip from Slaty Fork to Edray, but the delay was in getting our notices in the paper.
Well, there is an old steam engine. It has a history, of course, but we do not know much about it save one thing. It bursted some years ago and fatally scalded a young man named Jack, whose father now lives on yonder height of land on the opposite side of the pike. Mr. Jack, we are told, has a good farm on the top of that mountain.
The next thing that attracts our attention is Mrs. McLaughlin’s neat and quiet little home. She, though a widow lady and living almost alone, seems to enjoy life.
As an eminent divine said to us once, she has a good Presbyterian name – and so have many of the good people on this creek.
Yonder is Boud Hannah. He speaks kindly, politely and treats us, as he always does, with the greatest respect. Boud has a good farm here and another good one farther down this creek. The greater part of both these farms is nestled down in the bottom lands of this quiet valley.
Hurrying on, for our company rides faster than we generally do when travelling alone, we are nearing Jacob Moore’s residence where peace and quietude seem to reign supreme. Here lives a good man. He is a member of the School Board and well thought of by the people generally. We must not pass here without noticing yonder mound on a high knob where the mortal remains of Mrs. Moore await the resurrection of the just. Mrs. Moore died last summer and left quite a large family behind her…
Now we reach the schoolhouse near the foot of the mountain, where John S. Moore taught school last winter. Mr. Moore is one of the lucky teachers this year – he got two schools. He is teaching at Huntersville now. Across the creek to the right of us is a little cabin where Wesley Brown lives. Wesley is an octogenarian. He was a slave and is now supported in his old age by some of the family he served so faithfully.
Here the creek forks. You could jump across the great Elk River at this point. Out of sight up a ravine is where Hamilton Gay lives. We are not very well acquainted with Mr. Gay but think well of him and feel well toward him as we always aim to have a good place in our affections for all.
We now make mention of Mrs. Jordan, another respectable widow lady, who lives among the spurs of the Elk Mountain, which crowds itself upon us and becomes a stern reality at this stage of things. We right here recall the death and burial of Newton Jordan, which occurred in the latter part of last summer. Newton tried hard to live, and this is right. None should die until they have to, but Newton finally died in peace.
By this time, we have gotten quite a start up the big mountain. Joseph Gay joins us here. He comes riding out from his beautiful stock farm on these splendid heights. We think well also of Mr. Gay. So far as we know him, we like him.
But way down yonder on the opposite side of the road lives a poor man in Giles Sharp’s house, whom we saw by the roadside yesterday making shingles for Luther Sharp’s addition to his store house.
We do not remember his name, but we would like to say something or do something if we could to help him up the steep and rugged hillside of life and make him ride into the glory world, though he may not own a foot of land in this world.
We top the mountain and would like to pause a little if time would permit and survey the grandeur, beauty and pristine loveliness of the scene which the God of Nature spreads out before us. But we go on winding down the other side of the mountain over this well graded road, getting an occasional glimpse of the old road nearly straight up and down the heights. What an improvement in roads as well as other things. Sometimes we think of this world as but in its infancy and the perfection it will finally reach a long way off.
But trusting God, all will be well. Truly, A.M.
