Mexico weekly ledger. (Mexico, Mo.) 1855-1956, 1899-10-19

ttubb luruibneu COmpenbation, Anu
among which was the rare good
neighborship that prevailed, and re-
gret 1t is only sweet memory TO us
now. Their hospitality OF that day
was as broad as the great prairie that
stretched ont before the cabin door
and their charity 90 free and sweet as
the perfume of its flowers. The latch
string was ever on the outside; no
distance was too great or night too
dark TO prevent good deeds and kind
offers. II sickness or misfortune over
took one, his neighbors planted and
garnered his crop. II ne waa home
less these same good neighbors came
for many miles and built his cabin.
These interchanges Of neighborly
kindnesses did much to soften the
hard lot and It is a great pity that
that lovable spirit of the old pioneer,
so beautiful and good, could not have
survived the encroachment of what
We allhigher civilization. Largely, we
are their descendants; but have we
not grown little more selfishF Does
the latch string always hang on the
outsider Haven't we whetted the
blade OF commerce very much?
We are a mighty good people, but
somehow l love to let memory daily
around the old days; love to think
OF their magnanimity and their hero
lem. Then their word was their bond;
then there was no gilt-edged notes
dovetailed into a chattel mortgage.
Then it was honor; now it is business.
Then IL was let others live; now it Is
live yourself.
My old friends, we have lived In a
wonderful age and seen wonderful
things. The change has been so mar
velous that we stand amazed and stu
piled. Then the whistle Of the en-
gine would have been to ne as the
trumpet of the angel Gabriel. Then
we had "coarse diet and rough hab-
its' indeed; now every luxury from
the frozen North to the cline OF the
palm and the date, is laid down fresh
OF your doors every morning. Then
the result Of q presidential election
reached you late the next year. Now
the dolngs OF the worlds remotest
points is delivered to you ahead of
the sunlight. We have snatched the
lightning from the clouds In heaven
and harnessed 1t to mechanism, to be
the slave OF our bidding. When l
look into these old faces before me,
wheniI listen to their trembling greet
ings, am carried back TO other days,
but I look in vain for other faces and
listen in vain for other voices, once 60
familiar and so kind. Where are those
old friends 7
On this spot stood the old court
house, and I carry you back and ask,
whore is John B. Morris, Joel Haines,
John P. CLARK, W. d. H. Hunter, John
A. Pearson and William Hendrix
Where is Abe TInsIey, Jack willing
ham and James Fentem ? AL gone.
Where is Ben Richie, Buckner,
Hardin and HuttonH All gone over to
rest beneath the shade on the other
side.
A very few Of the old settlers re-
main; sort OF link to unite the pres
ent and the past. Time, however, is
writing his mysterious characters in
deep and indellible lines on their
faces. Every year he comes and clips
his coupons from his bonded debt on
humanity, and the number Of our old
friends grows smaller and smaller.
Since I came to Mexico they have
gone, one by one, and now l can tell
upon the fingers of one hand, every
man, then grown, who is left.
When the roll is called next Octo-
Der, who knows but the silence of the
tomb Will alone answer for many Of
us here to-dayH May God bless you,
my old friends, and when that su-
preme summons comes, may you be
able to answer, as you ever have to
every call OF duty and honor, ready !