Thomas Matthew Stell
Meet Thomas Matthew Stell, Part IDear Cousins,
This is the final and probably the most historically significant manuscript written by Nancy Rebecka Stell about her brother, Tom Stell. We hope you will enjoy reading about this legendary Stell ancestor!
Kindest regards,
Alberta Lois King and daughter, Mary Deborah McBurnett Bynum
Part I Character Sketch of Thomas Matthew Stell by His Sister, Nan Stell, 1940
In the year 1858 a steamer cast anchor at the Port Of old Indianola, and down the gang plank in the arms of his father, was borne a little boy, who only a few years before, had opened his eyes in Marianna, Florida. On reaching the shore his feet were placed on the soil of his adopted state, Texas, which in after years was to claim him as one among her foremost citizens; but little recked he of such events, as his little hands were busy waving farewell to captain and crew, with whom he had become quite a favorite during the voyage across the Gulf of Mexico. At the landing they were met by a relative, who conducted them to a wagon train, at that period the only mode of conveyance across the lowlands, which in rainy seasons became a veritable morass, and through which none but strong teams and skillful drivers could go. However, the weather being favorable, in due time they reached their destination, a farm dwelling, the site of which still remains in 1940, near where the railroad town of Edgar, DeWitt County, Texas, now stands. Here relatives and friends who had preceded them to Texas, welcomed among the others, little Thomas Matthew Stell, the fifth-generation of the original John Stell, who came to America from England previous to the Revolutionary War, in which he engaged as a private, and among his descendants were men whose services to their country and fellow man are recorded in the annals of America's history. Owing to cold weather his first few months were spent basking in the warmth thrown out from blazing logs, heaped high in the mammoth fireplace. But winter passed, and spring with her rejuvenating touch o'er-spread the Texas landscape. Sturdy moss festooned liveoaks that never shed their dress of green, but took on a brighter sheen. Tall post-oaks and rough spreading black jacks leafed out anew, and fringed blossoms swinging from all, would later be replaced by their fruitage of acorns. On the adjoining ridge hickory trees were busily folding covers of green around brown nuts, whose meaty kernels would later furnish winter feasts. Soft young grass, dotted with multi-colored wild flowers, bordered cow trails, and on the air was borne the tinkle of live stock bells, blending with the notes of birds that flitted about, building nests for the embryo stage of their coming offspring. Wildlife shyly peeped from coverts to which it had scurried at the sound of approaching footsteps; awakening within the breast of the little boy that spirit which lies dormant in the breast of all born to adventure, so the quest was on, and there, amid that splendid setting, he learned his first lesson from Nature, the foundation of all knowledge. Later he moved with his parents to his permanent home, a farm situated near the flourishing pioneer town of Concrete, DeWitt County. The old freight and stage route from Indianola to Gonzales, and Austin passed by the dwelling, where the stage coach, also freight wagons at times stopped to water their teams or have one of the blacks repair a damaged vehicle, as every slave holder owned a first class blacksmith. Frequently, some of the passengers, if cold weather, would come in to warm and drink coffee; if summertime, a class of cold buttermilk was substituted. Occasionally among them would be an experienced traveler, whose tales were eagerly listened to and tucked away in the memory of little Tom. To the right of his home ran the beautiful little stream known as Cuero Creek, which from its source a few miles above, wound in and out over a pebbly bottom between white sandy shore lines on its way a short distance below where it emptied into the Guadalupe River. The creek was called Cuero (Mexican for "hide") from the fact that here Mexican and Indians skinned cattle, which on coming down to drink, had perished in the quicksands and clay bogs. Their hides were sold in Gonzales and San Antonio long before the town of Cuero, which also became a shipping point for hides, was founded and given the same name. On this creek, only a few paces from the farm home, little Tom, instructed by the darkies learned to dig worms, catch frogs and grasshoppers for fish bait, his tackle consisting of a siene weed shoot for a pole, to which was attached a length of thread snipped from hanks piled high in a basket near black Lindy's spinning wheel, a necessary equipment in every southern home, bent pin for a hook, then away for the fascinating sport of minnow fishing. Also on this creek beneath the grape vine entwined branches of a spreading live oak tree, was the "Ole Swimmin Hole," where he was initiated into what the darkies termed, "going in washin." To the left, about a mile from the farm, flowed the Guadalupe River. Near this spot, between the sandstone banks, was the historical Indian ford, crossed by them when on their way to Irish Creek Hills, which over the ridge called Devil's Backbone, abounded in wild game. Not a great distance below the ford, a natural formation of rock extended about two-thirds across the stream, where the swiftly flowing current would surge around to the comparatively narrow opening at the end, called Hell's Gate. A few miles below where the county seat, Clinton, was afterward located, was Burnham's Ferry, the crossing on the Gonzales and Labahie Road, traveled by the heroes of the Texas Revolution 1835-36. O'er shadowing the river banks were cottonwoods, sycamore, elm and burr oak, also heavily bearing pecan trees and numbers of other fruit bearing trees and shrubs. Likewise, vines, clustered with grapes and berries were here, and guided by Uncle Abe, a trusted slave, whose devotion to his master and family, bordered on idolatry, in the swirling waters of the Guadalupe, little Tom mastered the art of river fishing, triumphantly bering home his catch of blue and channel cat and other fish. Accompanied by one or more of the young darkies, preferably Anty, he learned to trap birds, catch coon, 'possums, squirrels and any other wild game that could be found in all of which, his faithful dog, Watch, was his most valued aid. Cats, too, were great pets of his. the first cat to which he became attached was, because of its color, called Fox. When he was but a tiny tot, one time his mother, on missing him, anxiously searched surrounding grounds, but failing to find him, thought of a trail leading to a nearby stream which was crossed on a foot bridge when going to his grandfather's home. So with hastened footsteps she soon caught sight of his towhead just above the weeds, and on overtaking him, she discovered Fox in the lead just setting foot on the bridge; but, she never knew whether the cat accompanied the little boy or vice versa. His games and toys, shared alike with white children and plantation piccaninnies, were those common to all pioneer children, not a few being their own handicraft, manufactured principally with a jack-knife or barlow, the greatest treasure among a small boy's collection. One Christmas he was given a new knife, also a quarter; Bill, a small darkey, had likewise been given a shiny metal handled knife attached to a chain for fastening to his trousers pocket. The unique combination tempted little Tom to offer his knife in exchange for Bill's, to which Bill agreed if the quarter came with it. On proudly exhibiting his bargain, his father remarked, "Well, son, you don't show much wisdom in trading; you gave a quarter, probably the price of the knife, and threw in a valuable knife to boot." His was the privilege of being the son of a wise and industrious father, who oft times allowed him to come to the fields where the slaves, under the direction of one of their elders, old Uncle George, would be working in the crops. Here, while watching and at times assisting, he was inducted into the fundamentals of farming, with all of its attendant chores, by these faithful blacks, who were never forgotten by him, and in his mature manhood when they one by one passed on, he stood beside their coffins, as they closed from his view the last earthly sight of those kind faces, then at their graves to lift his voice in heart stirring eulogies on their virtues while living. On entering Sabbath School his aptitude for learning enabled him to soon memorize the catechism. The Bible, with its contents of Jewish chronology, was his text book, and the means of his grasping his first compass point of history, and no voyager, bent on continental discovery, ever followed the needle point more closely than he in his mental pursuit throughout the world's highways and byways, resulting in mentally registering historical date and data second to none. His first term of study was under an aunt, Mrs. Randolph Stell, who taught the neighborhood school. Then he was placed under instructors at the famous Covey College, established by Professor John Covey at Concrete, DeWitt County, Texas. Soon out-distancing primary classes, he entered those of advanced students. A born orator, ere reaching his teens, he was selected as one among the speakers for what is now termed Commencement. The chief topic of the day was the brilliant rise and disastrous fall of Napoleon Bonaparte. Ross's Southern Speaker, a volume highly prized for its suitable declamations from gifted pens, contained among others, "The Character of Napoleon Bonaparte." In delivering this assignment with the poise and diction befitting an experienced speaker, he held the undivided attention of the audience, thereby, earning the ever afterwards retained place in the ranks of public speakers. An inveterate reader, with a peference for first class authors, he in time accumulated a library of Fiction, Legends and Facts. History, both secular and sacred, was never for very long omitted from his daily reading, the whole of which his remarkably keen mind absorbed and retained, and thereby fitting him for impromptu addresses on any and every occasion. When but a lad he often entertained the family at night time by reading aloud some interesting articles, a pleasure which he practiced throughout his life. Ere he was old enough to fully grasp the significance of war, steadily increasing Northern Thunders burst in devastating fury over the Sunny Southland. His father's physical condition barred him from action, but the boy's heart swelled with pride as he watched his relatives and others march away to offer their lives as a sacrifice on their country's altar in defense of what they considered their birthright. But by the time the carnage ceased, he in his own estimation, had become a seasoned soldier, having commanded numerous mimic battles, his staff composed of little negroes from the quarters. A few years after the Civil War his father died, leaving him sole guardian of a widowed mother, four sisters and a brother, all younger than himself. Emancipation had practically disorganized farming, therefore it took stout hearts to carry on, but courageously shouldering the responsibility of a man, he never swerved from the pathway marked out by duty. Cradled in the legendary lap of the Old South naturally developed in him a lasting patriotic love for his native land, and no one's sympathy struck deeper than his for the defenders of the lost cause while the Stars and Bars entwined with the folds of the Lone Star were ever venerated by him as the insignia of heroes. And, with the true comprehension of a patriot, he also gave allegiance to the Stars and Stripes. Later on, in adult years, taking a broader prospectus of the situation, he found much to admire in some of the Northern statesmen. On one occasion, when thus expressing himself, he was reprimanded by an elderly Virginia gentleman, to whom he replied, "Sir, I can still be a rebel without holding animosity toward an individual." Living so near, gave him the chance, while helping on the farm, to also complete the academic course at "Covey." He was offered a professorship, but decided to work cattle instead. To quote from him, "I almost grew up on a horse helping my father with cattle. When I was ten years old, a herd of five hundred Long Horns was made up on our range, driven by Denison, Texas, through Arkansas into Missouri. All of my life I had been accustomed to seeing such steers, but that solid herd of "Mossyhorns" was one of the most impressive sights of my life." Those early years in the saddle accounted for his preference for that mode of transportation whenever possible, and in later years one of his most exhilarating pleasures was to mount a high stepper (scorning Old Dobbin) and join the line of Old Trail Drivers when on parade. In his day he had owned some noted cowponies, usually bearing outstanding names. St. Elmo, Montezuma and Rocky Mountain, were among his best, especially Rocky Mountain, who when cashing a wild beef, would unhesitatingly plunge into a surging stream, swim or jump, if narrow enough, but always landed sure-footed on the opposite side of the bank, the almost perpendicular sides of which he scaled with never a mishap. No one but old time cow hands can know the dangerous feats and thrilliing excitement in rounding up Texas Longhorns, one of the State's historical assets. This animal, when crowded, would turn with furious horn thrusts, often times goring both horse and rider to the vitals. Several times, while thus engaged, he happened to accidents, which fortunately, proved minor at the time. However, with advanci age, a knee ailment set up, which was traced back to one of those accidents. In time he became an expert in using the lasso, branding irons, breaking wild horses, and all that goes to make a seasoned cow hand, and no subject could awaken in him greater enthusiasm than indulging in conversation reminiscent of the range, a pasttime he enjoyed to the fullest in his later years when attending the Old Trail Drivers' Conventions at San Antonio, where he was a member. And, there, mixing and mingling with grizzled veterans of the range, old tales were told, old songs were sung, and old days recalled to memory. In territory covered by him in cattle driving extended from the coast of the Gulf of Mexico to northern markets, wherein he passed through the customary exciting experiences common to frontier ranching and cattle trailing, and notwithstanding the trails led through thickly infested Indian country where skirmishes between cowboys and Indians were not uncomon, he fortunately escaped hand-to-hand combats.
Meet Thomas Matthew Stell, Part II
Dear Cousins,
But to quote from him, "I had on one occasion two hair-raising scares in the same day." Frontier rivers with few fords, and bridges yet undreamed of, left no choice to cattlemen on the drive but to swim the herd across, necessitating a rider swimming on the lower side to point the cattle. This was his job on crossing the Canadian River, but when about midway, the current here gaining in force, was rapidly sweeping both horse and rider down stream. So quickly jerking his feet from the stirrups, he plunged into the surging waters, where after a terrific battle and well nigh exhausted, he succeeded in reaching the bank. In the meantime the horse had lodged in an uprooted cottonwood tree, lying out in the river, so climbing on the tree to his horse, he removed the saddle and bridle and the horse struggled loose and swam to shore. By this time the herd had safely crossed and was quietly grazing. Leading his horse aside, he undressed, spreading his clothes for drying, when the sound of hoof beats reached him. Soon a small band of Arapahoe Indians dashed into view, but to his great relief the expected whoop was not one of war, but unrestrained laughter, caused by his nude condition. However, Chief Spotted Wolf didn't laugh, but imperiously demanded beef - adding, "White man kill Indian's cow (buffalo), now Indian kill white man's cow." Cowmen were familiar with this request, which the Boss, if wise, readily granted, in preference to having the beef taken by stealth. So Stell, pointed across "heap big water" to the boss. After dispatching his braves on this errand, the Chief, in a friendlier manner, produced pencil and paper, whereon he had credibly sketched a buffalo. Stell wrote under the sketch, by "Spotted Wolf", which the chief accurately copied, then seeming very much pleased with his new accomplishment, went his way. In 1878 the outfit with which Stell was working met the United States Cavalry taking five hundred sullen Sioux Indians to the Indian Reservation, to whom they gave the right of way. The following autumn, three hundred, under the leadership of Red Dog and Dull Knife, broke away. Wyoming ranchmen were warned, and he, in company of fifty or sixty men headed for the Ogallala Trail, thinking the Indians would there cross the Platte River, but instead, they cut the trail of the U. S. Cavalry, who were guided by Buffalo Bill, so the cowboys left the Sioux to them, and history records the bloody conflict in which General Custer lost his life. Also, during the year 1878, Stell's 19th year, he was recommended by John Sparks of Bell County, Texas, for a tallying job under Snodgrass, foreman of the Creighton Ranch, established by the Creightons of Omaha, Nebraska, and stocked with Texas longhorns. Snodgrass, a fine man, had at the age of sixteen, joined the Gorilla Band of the widely known leader, Quantrell. Jessie James, who was later to become famed for the daring of his outlawry, also sixteen, joined at the same time. He and Snodgrass were known as the Kids, but at the close of the Civil War, when the Gorillas disbanded, Snodgrass gave up deeds of daring to become a law abiding citizen--never allowed drinking or gambling on his ranch. His experience with Texas cowboys, owing to their obsterperousness, had not proved very satisfactory, but Stell's four months job placed him among the exceptions, and when Stell decided to return to Texas, Snodgrass offered him quite a raise in salary if he would continue to stay on with him. Among cattlemen is a commonly accepted statement that singing is a decided help in managing cattle, hence the many stirring cowboy ballads, which all old cowpunchers, likewise their admirers, delight in, not only in listening to, but also in singing. Stell's voice in pitch and power, likewise melody, carried far. One night, while riding herd and bedding the cattle down for the night, he was singing at that time a popular ballad, "I'll remember you love, in my prayers." Suddenly, he was startled by a summons from the boss, and fearing that something might have gone wrong, he hastily obeyed. But on reaching the boss, anxiety was dispelled, when the boss, complimenting him on his voice, requested him "to sing that song again," that he might better hear it. After that, he thanked him and sent him back to his spot. So passing through four years of Wyoming's wintry blizzards and summer zephyrs, where he followed the usual cowhand's routine, with the exception of celebrating pay day in carousing (accepted as cowboy fun), he saved his money, sending part of it home to his widowed mother, buying for himself only the necessities, occasionally a book, for books ever remained his closest companions. His sojourn on the ranch cemented a lasting friendship, extending from the boss and family, the boys on the ranch, down to the camp cook--each one stood out individually, and the photographs of all were among his prized possessions. In after years his was the pleasure of communicating by letter with a few of the boys who were still living, also Mrs. Snodgrass, (Mr. Snodgrass having passed on) and their daughter Ollie, who had never forgotten that when she was a wee lassie, Mr. Stell was the cowboy who lifted her before him in the saddle for rides across the range. His line of work carried him into surrounding territory and mid-western cities, where he ran across many notorious characters. He was familiar with the Black Hills, famed as a rendezvous for men who kept their finger on their gun trigger. All readers of pioneer Western life are familiar with the names of the characters herein referred to. Stell's first sight of BATT MASTERSON was in DODGE CITY after he was coolly reloading his gun after just having shot to death a bad man. He attributed Masterson's long years of service as a Peace Officer to that quality of coolness. He was also on the CUSTER BATTLE GROUND while the massacre was yet news. He visited the lone railroad station where the agent, an eye witness, gave him an accurate account of the then recent Union Pacific holdup and robbery by SAM BASS and his partners. Joel Collins, one of the Bass gang was a former school mate of Stell's at Covey College. He knew COLE YOUNGER, and talked with FRANK JAMES, brother to Jessie. WYATT EARP and BILL TILLINGHAM, one-time buffalo skinners, afterwards noted Peace Officers, were acquaintances of his. He knew and admired 'SHANGHI' PIERCE and many other so called bad men, in whom he could almost always detect some good. One among his most congenial Wyoming friends was a young man whose moral conduct Stell said would never lead one to connect him with the confidential statement he made when Stell, referring to what looked like rope burns on his anklel, was told that his was an assumed name and he had killed a United States soldier in a Texas Military Post and the authorities "ironed" him, and before he escaped the irons had left the marks he would carry to his grave. In after years Stell met the young man's brother, who told him the charges against his brother had been withdrawn--that he was then married and living under his lawful name in his adopted State. But not all of his Wyoming acquaintances could be classed as "shady"--on the contrary, a fair group of them represented upstanding morals. Among those from Texas was C. Dahlman who followed a Texas herd to Nebraska and afterwards became mayor of Omaha. John B. Kendricks, also following the trail, landed in Wyoming to make a name and become a power in the state. His acquaintance with ROOSEVELT began in Wyoming. At that time Col. Roosevelt spent some time on an uncle's ranch there. Later, at the beginning of the Spanish American War, they resumed their acquaintance in San Antonio, Texas, where Roosevelt was drilling his ROUGH RIDERS. In 1882 at the age of twenty-four, Stell returned to Texas. The following year he married "the girl he left behind him", Miss Sudie Kennedy of Concrete, Texas. To this union was born three daughters and one son. His wife and son preceeded him in death. Later, he married Miss Irene Galle of Yorktown, Texas. To this union was born one son. Born and reared on the farm no doubt germinated in Stell a lasting sentiment for "green things growing," and his chief ambition was to become a successful farmer. To that end he prudently handled his bank account that he might have the means to invest in agricultural implements. Therefore, for a number of years, after coming back to Texas, he engaged in farming, but repeated crop failures, with the accompanying financial drain, led him in 1890 to follow the advice of friends, who urged him to enter the race for County Tax Collector, a race he lost by only a small margin to a veteran official who was re-elected. But two years later, in '92, on the death of Fielding Breeden, he was appointed to fill the unexpired term of DeWitt County's Sheriff, and the following election won the race for that office, which he held for sixteen years. In announcing for re-election, the local press gave him the following recommendation: "Aside from being a fine officer, there was never a more clever man, or one more universally esteemed for his many good qualities of head and heart, than Tom Stell. He knows the people of the county like a book and they know and trust him to a remarkable degree; a man of great enery, he never stops at any personal inconvenience or hardship - has always declined to allow his important office to be used as a means to persecute people, which at times is a fault of some Peace Officers. But he never stands back or seeks to avoid responsibility when official duty calls upon him to act. He is a man of fine judgement and plenty of pluck, duly tempered with a kind heart and magnanimous nature. Tact was the keynote of his service as Sheriff, thereby avoiding violence with but few exceptions when dealing with subordinants. One of these exceptions occurred on being forced to take a drastic stand caused by a powerful black, who for sometime had terrorized the other jail inmates. Following the usual custom of punishing the offender by flogging, Stell strapped him and proceeded to lay on the lash. Not a word did it bring from the prisoner, until, upon being released, he said, "I alers lowed I'd kill the man what whupped me, and I didn't evah think I'd be called on to do that to you, Mr. Stell, but when the time comes - I's awarnin' you." Soon afterwards he was sent to the Penitentiery at Huntsville, Texas. Years passed--Stell was no longer Sheriff, when one day on the streets of Waco, Texas, whom should he see but the burly form of JIm coming toward him. Instantly, there flashed into his mind Jim's parting words, with the added thought--" My time is up, for I have nothing but my bare fists to pit against Jim's giant strength." Imagine his relief and surprise when they met, for instead of a scowl, Jim's ebony face was split in a grin with every white tooth in view, with outstretched hand, he boomed, "Howdy Mr. Stell--I doan spec you is forgot, and I knows I ain't forgot the threat I made in the Cuero jail, but Lawsy, Mr. Stell, I'se done got ligeon, and I wants you to forgive me fuh all the trouble I caused you." Needless to say, he was forgiven. Stell considered himself fortunate in having only one hanging during his term of Sheriff. Another was scheduled, but believing the condemned man innocent, he signed a pardon petition to the Governor. Time being up with no reply, he mounted the scaffold with the prisoner, adjusted the black cap, placed his hand on the lever to spring the trap door, when "Halt" rang out from the crowd, as a man dashed forward waving the pardon document. He said he believed his overwhelming relief equaled that of the condemned man. But his attitude was not one of fear, for on more than one occasion he had proved his fearlessness, to which the following incident bears record; while Sheriff, he alone one night, accompanied a condemned murderer from his jail cell, miles out in the country that he might say goodbye to his aged, bedridden mother, before leaving to serve his penitentiary term. All at great risk, as the prisoner could have had allies stationed somewhere on the way who would have murdered Stell that the prisoner might escape. But he took the man's word-- and therein lay his remarkable influence with humanity--always willing to trust and rarely ever was he deceived. Another time when he was no longer Sheriff, word was brought to him to come at once to the jail where he found that a dangerous prisoner had disarmed the keeper, locked him out, and was in the "run-around" brandishing his gun and defying any man to take him. Forcing the lock, Stell entered unarmed. The man called out, "Go back, Mr. Stell, I don't want to kill you, but I will if you come nearer." Using kind persuasive words, Stell walked up to the prisoner who surrendered his gun and peaceably re-entered the cell. During his sixteen years as a Peace Officer his work extended throughout his own and other states, familiarizing him with all classes of crime. Retiring from the Sheriff's office in 1906, he was elected by an overwhelming majority of votes ot that of County Tax Collector, in which he, with "impressive ability and integrity" served for eighteen years, losing to his opponent by a small percentage of votes. But his friends, feeling keenly the lack of his conscientious public service, prevailed on him in 1926 to accept an appointment to the office of DeWitt County's Treasurer, which was left vacant by the death of Mr. William Wagner. The following election resulted in his retaining this office where he remained until 1939, when an accident indirectly caused his death, shortly after his eighty-third birthday. Yet, notwithstanding the fact that he was an octogenarian, it could be to a certain extent, said of him, as Holy Writ says of Moses--" His eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated." He was a member in good standing of the Baptist Church of Cuero, Rev. Soileau of that denomination, assisted by Dr. McLeod, Presbyterian minister, conducted his funeral services. A life long Democrat, as such he was recognized in county and state, and was offered by that party (but declined) the nomination to enter the race for Representative. He belonged to a number of Fraternal organizations, including the Knights of Pythias and Masons, in which he ranked high, having served in their Schools of Instruction, and on his demise, when fellow Masons from his own and surrounding counties gathered for his last rites, Dr. Ross of Lockhart, in a heart stirring tribute, unfolded the record whereby he attained that rank. On this eighty-second birthday, one of his closest personal friends, Dr. W. A. McLeod, of Cuero, Texas, paid him through the local press a tribute, whose outstanding depth of sincerity cast a roseate after-glow over the landscape of his declining years. A tribute in which after summarizing his many assets both public and private, and also referring to the capacity and worth of his official predecessors, he ends with "And Tom Stell measures up with any of them. A man sought out by young people in great numbers when they need recommendation embarking on Life's voyage. Sought out by the old, both white and colored, in endless numbers, when they seek aid of the Old Age Assistance, and sought out by families whose sacred dead must be borne away to the tomb; what man in DeWitt County has gladly rendered more of such service than has Tom Stell?" On this man's eighty-second birthday I would hand him fadeless flowers, saying from my heart, "many, many happy returns, thou friend of man," and let the young, the old, and the sad reply- "Amen." The inseparable companionship of his father, whose counsel he readily imbibed, led him early in life to begin working out its problems, and truly may it be said "His was a clear stream of reason that never lost its way, but flowed on in deeper thought and ever widening action," which proved the plummet wherewith he sounded man's brotherhood. This attribute, coupled with an unbiased attitude, constituted a veritable Mecca to all who came to him for information or advice in affairs classed as vital issues down to seemingly trivial personal situations. Equal consideration was given, regardless of race, creed, or color. And herein lay the virtue which irrevocably enshrined him in the hearts of his fellowman. Nor did he, while delving into the whys and wherefores of mortal life, neglect to take into consideration life immortal-wherein searching the scriptures, the marvelous plan of man's redemption was revealed to him, and in that spritual white light,the miraculous blending of God and man, enabling him to comprehend the sublimity contained in the following beautiful lines: Speak to Him thou, He heareth, For Spirit with Spirit can meet- For closer is He than breathing, And nearer than hands and feet." But this did not set him in a niche with saints, for he bore in his mortal body all the characteristics of mortal man. But he did strive to the utmost of his ability to meet the requirements set forth in the words of Prophet Micah, 6-8, "He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God?" A passage he loved to quote. So when the summons came to join the pale caravan, he went not like a quarry slave, scorged to his dungeon at night, "But soothed and sustained by an unfaltering trust, approached his grave. Like one who wraps the draperies of his couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams." Leaving to posterity that which a King's ransom cannot equal in value, that which will shine in pristine purity after Time's lichens have obscured the marble that marks his last resting place and which the wise man of the Bible tells us, "is more precious than ointment, and more to be chosen than riches." THAT INDESTRUCTIBLE LEGACY--A GOOD NAME.
Nan Stell, 1940