The following article was published in the Daily Star Journal [originally on March 8, 1878, then again on April 20, 1979]. It was written by Mariah's grandson, Madora J. Longacre, Hicks City, Missouri, March 20, 1878.

"You solicit correspondence from old settlers. I am not an old settler, but my grandmother is and, as she is too old to write, I will write for her.

She was 74 years old last January and has lived where she now lives in the northwestern portion of Johnson County for over 40 years. Her maiden name was Maria Stovall. She was born in Kentucky in 1804. In 1811 her father emigrated to Rutherford Co., Tennessee, where she grew to womanhood and at the age of 17, in 1822, was united in marriage to Joseph Doke, a soldier of the War of 1812.

In 1829 her husband died and with her two small children, one of whom still lives, she went to live with ther parents, and came with them to this state in 1836 when only a few log cabins could be seen to break the monotony of the rolling prairies.

In March, 1837 she was married to James Cockrell, Uncle of Senator Cockrell and a brother to Morgan Cockrell spoken of by Mr. Anderson. He was born in Virginia, in what year we do not know, but to his dying day he could well remember when George Washington was buried. He was near the James River at the time, and distinctly heard the mournful sound of the cannon.

He left Virginia when a young man, spent several years in the mountains of Kentucky hunting bear and other wild animals, and came to this country in 1809 when it was a vast winderness; where the buffalo, in great heards, roamed undisturbed, save by the hunters gun, and the deer laved by side in the majestic Missouri or hid in the dense forests which the sunlight scarcely penetrated.

Time in his silent march has wrought many changes since them. The Red Man has been driven westward by the advance of civilization and his hunting grounds transformed into fields of wheat and corn. The deer no longer goes bounding over the hills and, instead of the wigwam, is the comfortable residence of the thrifty farmer, but the handiworks of God remain the same. The same sun shines by day and at night the moon sheds her softer light that shone for the uncivilized and barbarian Indians. And the same Great Spirit watches over the Pale Faces that hear and answered the prayers of the simple Indain.

James Cockrell was a very large, powerfully built man - a stalwart pioneer, during his first wife's lifetime he resided in what is now Lafayette County. He had explored all parts of Missouri long before she was admitted to the Union as a state. In 1831 he entered and improved the land on which his descendants now live. He was a splendid marksman and spent most of his time in hunting. Often over the very ground on which our house now stands he has chased the panting deer.

The people in those early days were much annoyed by Yankee peddlers and Grandpa would make them dance when they came to sell him "table linens." He would whip them severly, and more than once has he thrown bees in their faces.

He died in 1843, leaving a wife and three children - two girls and one boy. The boy, Henry Clay Cockrell died when he was only eight years old. Of his children by his first wife, only one survives him. She is Mrs. Elizabeth Crisp, mother of Colonel John T. Chrisp.

In October 1847 James Cockrell's widow married Mr. P. A. Hall, her present husband. He is a Virginian, and like his wife, can relate many amusing incidents that occurred "back where I came from."

Grandma looks much younger than she is. Her hair is gray, not white. She is not bent with age, but stands firm and erect. She is very stout for a woman of her age, and does a great deal of work, mostly piecing quilts. She has a wonderful memory and when she relates an incident that happened in Tennessee, she tells the year, the month, and very often, the day. She was well-acquainted with General Sam Houston and Colonel David Crockett and can tell why Houston left Tennessee for Texas. Long before it appeared in the newspapers she heard David Crockett repeat: 'Be this your motto when I am dead, first know you are right, then go ahead.'" Signed Madora J. Lonacre, Hicks City, Missouri, March 20, 1878.