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.


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.


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

Templates in Time