3-2-1883

TERRITORIAL ENTERPRISE

Saturday....March 3, 1883

FUNERAL OF HANK MONK.

The Last Rites — A Large Attendance — The Funeral Sermon.

The funeral of Hank Monk, the veteran stage-driver, took place at Carson yesterday afternoon from the Episcopal Church. The remains were placed in a handsome casket, which was decked with flowers.

The following gentlemen acted as pallbearers: Stephen T. Gage, Judge W. M. Cary (these two gentlemen were the committee to meet Horace Greeley in 1859, when the celebrated stage-driver carried him to Placerville), ex-Governor John H. Kinkead, A. D. Treadway, J. H. Martin and Thomas Condon.

The singing at the church was unusually fine.

THE FUNERAL SERMON

Was preached by Rev. George R. Davis, and was as follows:

During many years of my ministry in this city few sadder tasks have been allotted me than the one placed in my hands to-day.

Death brings to our minds many truths not realized before. How often do we lay away the body of some one highly honored in his life-time: we perform the last rites with due pomp and circumstance of detail, yet before we reach our homes we become aware of the fact that after all the man really deserved but little of the world, and despite his high station he was easily spared, and but little missed. Men cringed and fawned before him, and he is gone. Again, some simple-minded man, with but little of the world's goods, and hardly any of the blessing of life, disappears from our daily walks, and we are startled at realizing how much we feel his absence, and how much we lacked in a true appreciation of his merits while he lived.

The man who knows his own natural capacities and strives to occupy the position in life best suited to the gifts, however humble, which will result in the fullest measure of usefulness to his fellow man, is a man of brains and honest purpose. A man who strives to fill positions beyond his powers, is either a knave or a fool. How few of us have the good sense or modesty to know our place in life.

It is often through senseless ambition that ships are wrecked, that strong organizations are failures, that dynasties are wiped out. I hold that our friend lying before us filled his mission well. While with sure eye and steady hand he guided his human charges over the dangerous grades of the mountains, he was more serving his fellow men than some vain Prince overrating his capacities and leading an army into the jaws of useless destruction. Too much credit cannot be given one who follows an humble calling and takes an honest pride in doing his work well. I had the pleasure of an acquaintance with the deceased, and now, as we lay him away in Mother Earth, my mind recalls the pleasant journeys I had with him through the canyons and the solemn old pine forests of the Sierra. Beneath his rough exterior I found a sage and philosopher. He was a man of simple tastes and genial heart, and many of the throng who gather here to-day to pay the last tribute of respect and friendship pass from this sacred house realizing for the first time how much Hank Monk can be missed. His long exposures in the service of the public brought on bodily infirmities during the past few months of his life, which, perhaps, made death not unwelcome, and which calls to my mind the words of the poet Omar:

What, if the soul can fling the dust aside,

And naked on the air of Heaven ride,

Wer't not a shame—wer't not a shame for him

In this clay carcass crippled to abide?

And fear not least existence closing your

Account and mine, should know the like no more,

The Eternal Saki from the bowl has poured,

Millions of bubbles like us, and will pour

AMEN.