L'Envoi
Retrospect.
In reviewing the excerpts of Lilburn's writings, which make up Hobby Horse Rider, it seems to me he exemplifies Walt Whitman's poem, "A Child Goes Forth."
...A child
went forth every day:
And the first object he looked upon and received
with wonder, pity, love or dread,
that object became a part of him for the day,
or a certain part of the day.
Or for many stretching cycles of years.
Lilburn truly absorbed the mores and became an important part of the community in which he lived for nearly 99 years. His remains now repose close by his parents in the Kingsbury plot at the Clark's Chapel Cemetery on the hilltop overlooking a beautiful expanse of Missouri River valley - the heart of the Boonslick community. Close by is the beloved Chapel where he played the organ for services. He shared the feeling he reported when a woman visiting the place for the first time and buying a cemetery lot, said: "This is such a beautiful view, I wish it to be the first thing I behold on Resurrection Day!"
This book presented much of what became a part of him in the hope it will help preserve the "precious little library" his writings through the years represent.
In his unpublished manuscript written in 1942 Lilburn closed with the following paragraphs. They seem to me to catch the essence of his love and feeling for the Boonslick Country and its interesting people of which he was such an important part.
Retrospect
And thus for more than a century and a quarter, the dramas have gone on with personnel and stage properties ever changing. Today it is a far cry from Becknell's wagon train outfitting at Franklin, which creaked its way over a Santa Fe Trail, to the automobile which speeds along the farm-to-market road whirling a cloud of white rock dust into the air. There is nothing in common between the crude plow drawn by oxen and that of the sleek tractor which now races across the fields, except the rich earth which both have turned. Race horses tied to crowded hitchracks in front of the church, and pews inside filled with grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins, are as far removed as play parties, the distillery, slaves and stock.
One senses tragedy in the dramas of today. In the church and in the school on Clark's Chapel Hill, in the homes of the valley, there is no longer a child who is descended from the pioneer men and women who settled on this land, "winnowed the chaff" from busy lives and built a community second to none.
But Mother Earth is fruitful in the valley and after more than 100 years of cultivation of its acres, one may still say, as did Robinson G. Smith in 1840:
"Henry, I want to tell you the truth about this country...the land is so rich you can plant crowbars at night and it will sprout ten penny nails by morning."
Warren Taylor Kingsbury, Editor
Professor Emeritus
Arizona State University
January 30, 1998
[June, 1998]
|
