Carrollton Patriot Newspaper
31 Dec 1901
This is the portal to the Reunion banquet hall. Pause a
moment at the threshold before you put yourself in the mental
attitude of a homecoming after years of absence. Ask yourself
Who are within what chairs are vacant? Call to mind the faces of
the family as you last saw them.
Adjust your mental eyesight to a reminiscent focus. Prepare
yourself for a torrent of conflicting emotions pleasant
surprises and sad disappointments; joyful greetings for those
who are here; eager questioning for the absent; tears for those
who will come no more.
Was ever reunion held in which joy was not tempered by a little
sadness? No, nor ever will be while man is mortal. It is better
so. Continued laughter is idiotic; to weep at all times is
morbid and hysterical. Drops of rain through sunshine make the
beautiful bow of promise, and the face that can smile through
it’s tears comes nearest being angelic–no, better a heart that
is both brave and tender.
If this reunion you are about to enter were of the ordinary
kind, it might be well to remind you that gray hairs would be
found as a crown of glory upon heads of remembered as curly and
auburn; that wrinkles and “crow’s feet” mar the faces that were
smooth and perhaps freckled when you last saw them. But here
these surprises are not in store for you. In this gathering you
meet no mere outward tenements of clay, but the people who
inhabit them. They, for the most part, are young and vigorous as
ever, and have grown older in wisdom and riper in experience.
This is the seventh annual reunion of The Patriot’s family, and
it has brought together a notable assembly. The Atlantic the
Pacific and Indian oceans have been traversed in the home
coming. Here you will meet a missionary from India, an actor
from London and an observant philosopher from Japan: they have
come trooping in from the sunny slopes of California, from the
high altitude of the Rockies, and from the fertile plains of
Kansas and Nebraska: they bring tidings of awakened industry in
the southland, and a responsive hum of business in the north.
Preachers, lawyers, doctors, editors–a hustling manufacturer
from Chicago, and a dignified legislator from Missouri–will
greet you.
It is well that you paused awhile at the portal. Now lift the
latch and enter.
THREE GUESTS OF HONOR AT THE FEAST
Frank Winfield kept a grocery store in Carrollton twenty-five
or thirty years ago.
He has be in Japan about ten or twelve years. The photograph was
taken in San Francisco before he left for that country. S. M.
Link left Carrollton over forty years ago, and has been
president of a national bank at Kirksville for some years. Elder
Berry’s face will be recognized more readily, as he became an
ex-resident within the past decade.
His picture represents him as he is remembered here.
SEVENTH POSTAL REUNION
FRANK WINFIELD
Yokohama, Japan
Your invitation to join the annual Postal Reunion and your
request for a short letter giving my own personal experiences in
Japan has been received. Say to my Carrollton friends who would
prefer that my letters to The Patriot were less impersonal that,
while there is a wide field for adventure in Japan, and no lack
of occasion to gain all kinds of experiences, I have sought no
such opportunity, and that during my long sojourn in this
country have been simply a quiet looker-on, and not a
participant in the “passing show”.
Anyone fond of gaiety, or with a taste for acquiring experiences
worth remembering could not complain of a lack of such
opportunity in this gay metropolis, for indeed Yokohama is a gay
place during the season. There are any number of wealthy
tourists about, and every effort is made to entertain them. The
Grand hotel (everybody goes to the Grand,) is always full of
these people from every part of the world, and in the height of
the season the air rings with their gaiety.
The dining room of the Grand hotel is a spacious and exceedingly
handsome one, and looks very attractive at night when lighted up
and filled with people in evening dress. Very often a band from
some man-of-war, or from one of the great mail steamers anchored
in the harbor, is engaged to play during the dinner hour for the
entertainment of the guests, and later, when the tables have
been cleared away, to furnish music for dancing.
There comes every year such a rush of “around-the-world”
tourists that no one can go about the streets without running
against some old acquaintance of friend from the other side of
the world, or somebody he has met before, goodness knows
where–not unlikely from Carrollton, for it is only a little
while ago that we had the great pleasure of greeting two of our
Carrollton boy friends [Mr. Winfield refers to Commander H.M.
Hodges, U.S.N. and Geo. L. Hassett.] (boys as we had known them away back in
the 70s) here in Yokohama. Yes, boys as we had remembered them,
but both men of affairs now; one of them here in command of an
American man-of-war, the other to join the gay throng of
tourists on a pleasure excursion
around the world. So you see if one wants to get away from his
friends he need not come to Yokohama.
I think there was something more that I wanted to tell about
Yokohama and her gay tourists, but just at the moment an
earthquake came along and quite put it out of my head. However,
it does not matter, so we will let it go at that. Earthquakes
come and go as they please in Japan.
Luckily they always leave off just as we are expecting the house
to topple over, with no other harm done than a few pieces of
pottery thrown down and a picture or two dropped to the floor
with a smash. Earthquakes are so frequent that everyone who has
spent any time in the country has had more or less experience
with them.
Having had no former experience of this kind myself elsewhere, I
was so vastly amazed by the first visit of this strange
phenomenon, which occurred very shortly after my arrival, that I
simply sat still in my chair as rigid as a statue while the
balance of the family (for I was visiting on the Bluff) fled to
a place of refuge. I had hardly recovered from the shock when
they all came trooping back to congratulate me on my iron nerve
and dauntless courage. Frequent as they are, no one ever gets to
feel quite comfortable during an earthquake; indeed, each
succeeding shock is more trying to the nerves than the last one.
Japan is hapy ever the prospect of a most abundant rice harvest;
the yield for 1901 promises now to be the largest produced for a
quarter of a century. Upon the success or failure of this crop
hinges everything in Japan. An abundant rice crop is the sure
precursor of good times, and brisk business, while failure is
quite as sure to bring with it privation, want and misery, such
as we have never experienced in our own land of plenty.
Oct. 23, 1901
Rev. Geo. C. Hewes
Buduan, India
I was quite pleased when the letter reached me asking for a
letter about Thanksgiving time.
I feel that I have not been forgotten although half ‘round the
world. Ten years have passed since I sailed out of New York
harbor on the 21st of October. They have been years of trial,
new experiences, disappointments and encouragements. I came with
very limited ideas of what I should expect. A strange language
had to be learned, a new people with manners and customs
different from those I had been used to all my life.
Though I came with fear and trembling, the Lord who called me
has not deserted me, but has led me through difficulties and
dangers and has permitted me to enjoy more than I had any idea
would fall to my lot. I found here a group of missionaries bound
together by ties of affection and brotherhood of which I had
hardly any previous idea. I soon found that I, too, was taken
into this family and made to feel that I was of them.
I had hoped that I would spend the greater part of the year 1902
in the United States and see home and friends again very soon.
When the finance committee met in June, and the most urgent
cases had been disposed of, it was found that no money would be
left for my going at that time, and therefore, as I and my
family were enjoying good health it was thought that we could
wait one more year. If it is the Lord’s will I hope to see my
native land in 1903. Our difficulties are greatly increased by
the lack of money for carrying on our work. New work in various
parts of India has so drawn on the funds that the older work has
had to suffer till it almost means retreat. Budaun is in the
midst of the special field selected by Dr. Butler over forty
years ago for the Methodist mission. A host of Christian workers
have been trained in Buduan and have gone out to new fields
across the Ganges. During this time the work has spread among
the poorest and not among the rich. Our church is therefore
poor, and can only pay toward the support of their paster about
three dollars a month. We have retrenched till we have only
fifty-five boys in our boarding school, which use to have double
that number.
Villages which once had small day schools now have none. Boys
have to live in mud-walled houses, although brick would be more
economical if we had the money to build. Our boarding house has
five mud-wall rooms which take a great deal of repairs every
year, while a few rooms with brick walls scarcely need any
repairs. These could be rebuilt for about fifty dollars each.
The past year has been a year of some successes and
encouragements. It was my privilege to attend workers meetings
in Bijnor, Moradabad and Lucknow. I spent a vacation in Almora,
in the Himalaya mountains, where a number of other missionaries
were gathered.
At present preparations for the winter campaign are in progress,
when villages will be visited, children and converts baptized,
camp meetings held and conferences attended. This is the busiest
time of the year for the missionary who always has more work in
sight than he can accomplished.
My heart is full of thanksgiving for all the blessings I enjoy
and for the privilege of working for the upbuilding of the
people of this land. I send a greeting to all my old friends.
Oct. 21, 1901
Rev. Geo. G. Hudson
Walla Walla, Washington
The editor’s request to join the Postal Reunion followed me from
Japan to this country, where it was received a few days ago. I
left Japan Oct. 10, and arrived with my family in this place
Nov. 2. My return was due to considerations of health, and is
probably permanent. We has a monotonous voyage, for which we
were thankful. While we sailed I often thought of Lieutenant
Hodges’ survey of those waters, and recalled how I used to see
the sons playing in their father’s yard, at the northwest corner
of the square.
I am at present stopping in this western town, and have attached
some attention from the real estate men. Almost everything,
except the courthouse and jail, is for sale, and if I am not
suited it will be due to peculiar taste. The day of family
reunion will be observed here. I see a good many turkeys in the
market, and an ad that reads: “1,000 turkeys wanted.” I hope the
birds will be found, and I am open to engagements.
May the poor have what Greene county benevolence will
contribute, and mayi we all deserve what Greene county abundance
affords.
Mrs. J. G. Rankin
1630 Broadway, Quincy, Illinois
Your invitation to take part in the seventh annual Postal
Reunion awakens many
pleasant memories of early days spent in Carrollton during
1851-1861 . My husband,
Rev. J. G. Rankin, was the Presbyterian church during that time.
There may be a few
remaining who remember him, for his work’s sake, though most of
the intimate friends of that time have passed with him to the
“better land”.
I hope to receive a copy of The Patriot, and to trace some
familiar names of past years.
Norma Willoughby
