Third Souvenir Main Page

Excerpts from Francis 

C. Waid's Third Souvenir

Submitted by David M. Waid 

April 2.--To-day was stormy, so I remained indoors and reviewed several old letters and some books. Among the former there were two that particularly attracted my attention--the one written by James H. Masiker not long before he was killed in battle, and the other written by George K. Masiker shortly before his death, both being addressed to their sister Mrs. Eliza C. Waid. During the Civil War we received many letters from very near relatives, as Eliza had four brothers in the Union Army, and I had one brother and several cousins, all of whom used to write us from time to time, and their letters have been affectionately preserved and read many and many a time. Two of Eliza's brothers, James and George, never returned; the other two, Avery and Moses, are yet living.

To-day, my son Franklin bought a part of the James Harris Farm, rather more than thirty acres, lying on the east side of the public road, the compensation being, I believe, one thousand dollars, and he appears to be well pleased with his new purchase. It is in full view of his house, sloping to the west, is well watered, all improved and has a large orchard, consisting of a variety of peach, cherry, plum, pear and apple trees. This orchard has been put out at different times, some of the trees being young and some old. The land is nearly all meadow now. The Smith Burying Ground lies in front of the central portion adjacent to the public road.

Sunday, April 5.--Winter still "lingering in the lap of Spring!" In the forenoon of to-day I attended the First M. E. Church at Meadville, and again had the pleasure of hearing Dr. T. L. Flood. On this occasion his text was 2 Corinthians i: 12: For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience. How attentively I listened, and how much was I benefited by hearing the word of the Lord poured into my thirsty soul this day! My desire is to give a yet more earnest heed to the reading of the Bible, and to the hearing of the Gospel. I am reminded of what Daniel Webster said when a friend asked him what was the greatest thought that had ever entered his mind or engaged his attention. After a pause, Webster said: "The greatest question to me is my personal accountability to God." Conscience will never fail to tell us what to do in the way of duty to God and to each other, and we should never turn a deaf ear to its promptings. Let us cultivate a good conscience, void of offence toward either God or man, that we may live Christian lives.

In the evening, along with my friend, Mr. John Davis, I attended the Second Presbyterian Church, where Rev. Edwards preached a very interesting sermon (the last one I ever heard this good man preach) from Acts xvi: 30: Sirs, what must I do to be saved? That was the question asked of Paul and Silas by the keeper of the prison wherein they had been confined, and the answer given him were these simple words: Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house. In this brief sentence is discovered the grand solution to the whole universal question of salvation; words for the interpretation of which the services are needed of no philosopher, nor learned theologian, nor pundit of any school of divinity; there is nothing abstruse or ambiguous, nothing mysterious or inscrutable, a child can understand them. Dear reader, could anything be more plainly or simply prescribed in any language? Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shall be saved. Take all the books of the Old Testament, from Genesis to Malachi, add to them, one under the other, the Books of the New Testament, the Gospels, the Epistles and all the other beautiful writings in that Book to the last word of the last verse of Revelations, draw a line, add up, and the sum you will find in Acts xvi: 31.

April 6.--Before coming home from Meadville I called at the office of the Pennsylvania Farmer, at the request of a friend, to leave notice, for publication, of the death of James Smith, who was born May 10, 1811, in Mead Township, Crawford Co., Penn., and died March 27, 1891, at the Soldiers' Home, Dayton, Ohio. Mr. Smith had visited his relatives here several times, his last visit having been made during the summer of 1890; and having been well acquainted with him many years, in fact, from my childhood, I called to see him at the Soldiers' Home in Dayton, when there some time ago. In his death I feel that I have lost a friend, one whom I respected and honored for his integrity. I will here also speak of the death, on March 3, 1891, of little Willie Williams, only son of my relatives, Mr. and Mrs. Williams, former residents of Meadville, but who moved to Findlay, Ohio, last spring. Their two children, Willie and Lotta, were bright and intelligent, beloved by all. Willie had written his uncle, William Fergerson, a very nice little-boy's letter on February 18th last, dated at, Findlay, of which I here give a copy.

Dear Uncle Billy:

I wish you would come in the spring, when business opens up, and see us. The "Grippe" is in Findlay; Lotta has it, and mamma and I have it. * * * Lotta sends her love to you and her friends.

Write soon.

Your nephew,

WILLIE WILLIAMS.

Over a year ago Willie and Lotta had their "photos" taken, and I distributed a number of them among friends, chiefly as Christmas (1889) gifts, everyone seeming to admire them very much.

April 7.--To-day a letter from my wife informed me of the death of Mrs. Coombs, which occurred on the eighteenth of last month; she and her daughter, Mrs. Ella Jackson, of Titusville, Penn., visited Uncle Avery Jackson, of Beloit, Wis., last October, at the time I did.

April 8.--Fine weather again, and I hope it has come to stay. Indeed, it is much too pleasant for a farmer of my age to remain indoors while outside attractions are so great and numerous. So out I go, and soon find plenty of work for a pair of willing hands. One branch of farm improvement that I am particularly fond of at this season of the year is caring for the fruit trees, especially cleaning and trimming the trunks and branches of old trees, which I think not only improves their appearance but helps to increase their productiveness, and I believe also tends to prolong their life. My boys are all very busy; Frank building a barn and, with Guinnip, baling hay near Meadville, in which Fred occasionally helps, all three attending, as well, to the other innumerable regular duties on their respective farms. While I worked among the fruit trees to-day many good thoughts came to me, several of them retrospective. I thought of my earlier manhood, when in the spring of 1858 I was hauling timber from the farm of my father-in-law, Jacob Masiker, in Randolph Township, with which to build the cider mill my father was putting up at that time. I remembered the bringing over some fruit trees from the same farm (Mr. Masiker having quite a nursery), as I was then planting a young orchard of about forty trees east of the old orchard on our old home--my grandfather's farm, afterward my father's, now mine; and here I am to-day, thirty-three years later, trying to better the condition of these very trees! I seemed to be living over the past again, and as I worked I thanked God for it, and for the blessings of the present, as well as for the hope of a future inheritance with the righteous in Heaven. I am a great advocate of that practical, every-day religion that is not ashamed to manifest itself in all business affairs, in whatever occupation we may be engaged. If it is good on Sunday, it is good on Monday or Saturday, or any other day in the week; if it is salutary at home, it is none the less so abroad. I have found it good company at all times, and I know that it has lightened my life's burdens and cheered me on my way.

But to return to what I was saying about the orchard. That one which my grandfather, Pember Waid, put out before I was born has now twenty-five apple trees and three pear trees, the latter of which have been all along good bearers and noted for their longevity, being still in good condition. At the home of Guinnip P., my second son, where my father lived, is an orchard of about seventy apple trees and fifteen pear trees, most of which were put out before my recollection; but I remember when my father had it grafted, although I was quite a small boy at the time. Three men from Ohio went through the country doing that business, and I believe it was considered very expensive, but I think the outlay was well repaid in after years. These trees are still yielding some fruit, but when an orchard gets to be forty or fifty years old, it has seen its best days. As regards the eighteen pear trees I have just spoken on--the three on my grandfather's old place and the fifteen on my father's--I do not know of any other fruit trees that have been so profitable. The pears which we call "Common Sweet" or "Standard Bearers," are good for a variety of purposes, and generally find a ready market with fair prices; some seasons they brought a high figure, but that was when the apple crop was short. My observation and experience have led me to believe that the pear trees are better bearers, taking a number of years together, than the apple trees; and people have been surprised to see the large quantity of fruit they bear some years. Of late our market for the orchard yield has been at home or at Meadville; but years ago, when pears were dear in Oil City and Titusville, it paid us to take them there, as we could command from $1.50 to $2.00 per bushel. Our eighteen pear trees have been profitable friends to us, and are still in good condition; in 1889 they bore a good crop, and are holding out favorable promises for many years to come. The apple orchard on the Goodrich Farm, where my eldest son now lives, is perhaps the best producing of them all. Many of the trees are younger then those in either of the old orchards, but there are no pear trees among them, though there is a fine group of damson plums, which are profitable when they bear well.

There are still on my parents' old home a single peach tree and one quince, but neither of late years has born any fruit to speak of; they are simply mementos of the past, to remind us of the days when peaches and plums were abundant with us. On this old homestead we have grapes, as also on Fred's place, and at Frank's the plum trees are full of fruit; one peach tree yet bears on the Goodrich Farm, and there is still a quince tree there.

Now I have placed in writing a few thoughts about our orchards and their fruit, thoughts that came to me as I was caressing, so to speak, the older trees, not, perhaps, so much for what they are now doing for us, or for what I expect them to do in the future, but rather in gratitude for the good they have done. As a certain lady once remarked: "Old trees and aged people ought to be taken care of for the good they have done;" yes, especially if they have not outlived their day of usefulness.

Sunday, April 12.--I went this forenoon to the Baptist Church at Meadville; sermon by the pastor; text, Psalm xxvi: 8: Lord I have loved the habitation of Thy house, and the place where Thine honor dwelleth; an excellent discourse. In the evening I attended the M. E. Church, and heard a good sermon by Dr. Wheeler, president of Allegheny College; and thus drifted into Eternity's ocean another blessed Sabbath day.

April 13.--This is the anniversary of the birth of my dear departed Eliza, who, were she living, would now be fifty-nine years old. Precious to us are the fond memories of our loved ones departed, and as we advance in life we become more and more conscious that we are nearing, every day and every hour, their home, our future resting place. It is a blessed thought that, while those who have gone before can not return to us, we can go to them when our work is done; and my heart was glad, this beautiful spring morning, as I walked homeward from Meadville with my mind filled with such precious reflections.

"I would not live alway, I ask not to stay

Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way;

The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here

Are enough for life's joys, full enough for its cheer.

"I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb;

Since Jesus hath lain there I dread not its gloom,

There sweet be my rest till He bid me arise,

To hail Him in triumph descending the skies.

"Who, who would live alway, away from his God,

Away from yon bright Heaven, that blissful abode,

Where rivers of pleasure flow bright o'er the plains,

And the noontide of glory eternally reigns?

"Where saints of all ages in harmony meet,

Their Savior and brethren transported to greet,

While anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,

And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul."

When I reached home I found two gifts awaiting me, reminding me in tangible form that when we do right, good things will be found constantly coming to us. My daughter-in-law handed me two packages, one of which contained a book entitled "Se-qua-yah, the American Cadmus and Modern Moses," by George E. Foster [On the 10th of this month I sent Mr. Foster a copy of my SECOND SOUVENIR, also one to Mr. Theron D. Davis, of Ithaca, N. Y., the former of whom speaks highly of it, and also states that Mr. Davis complimented me by saying: "I have read many works, but have not seen any that seemed so full of genuine religious sympathy as this"], editor of the Milford (N. H.) Enterprise, illustrated by Mrs. C. S. Robbins; on the flyleaf of this book is written: "To Francis C. Waid, by the author, Geo. E. Foster, April 7, 1891." This work was written to show the capabilities of the Red man, and to keep before the American people the fact that there is something good and great in the character of the Indian when rightly used. The other gift awaiting me was a "Memorial Card," bearing these words:

"There is no death; what seems so is transition;

This life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life Elysian,

Whose portal we call death."

IN LOVING REMEMBRANCE OF

JOHN R. DONNELLY.

DIED, FEBRUARY 27, 1891,

AGED 84 YEARS.

A PRECIOUS ONE FROM US HAS GONE,

A VOICE WE LOVED IS STILLED;

A PLACE IS VACANT IN OUR HOME,

WHICH NEVER CAN BE FILLED.

GOD IN HIS WISDOM HAS RECALLED

THE BOON HIS LOVE HAD GIVEN:

AND THOUGH THE BODY MOULDERS HERE

THE SOUL IS SAFE IN HEAVEN.

[My beloved old school-teacher and friend, of whom I have elsewhere fully spoken].

As a pleasant termination to this birthday anniversary, I enjoyed a visit from Mr. and Mrs. George Cutshall, with whom Eliza and I spent many happy hours, days, yes, even years.

April 16.--Yesterday I learned through the Meadville Tribune of the death of an old friend and acquaintance, Mrs. Margaret C. Irvin, in her seventieth year, and to-day I attended her funeral, which took place from the Central Hotel, Meadville, to Greendale Cemetery, Rev. R. Craighead (Presbyterian) officiating. There was a large attendance, as the deceased was widely known and much respected; moreover, the whole family have a very extensive acquaintance, having (as stated in one of the local papers), been in the hotel business some forty-three years. Her husband, James Irvin, had died April 6, 1882, and their son, John C., November 8, 1880. I was much impressed by the solemnity of the funeral service throughout--from the house of mourning to the grave--the reading of the Scriptures, the singing, prayers and the remarks made by the aged minister who had known the deceased many years. And then at the last scene of all, when the casket had been lowered into the grave, "earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," I realized yet more that death was the most solemn of all earthly solemnities.

Horace Cullum died at his home in St. Helena, Cal., April 2, last, at the age of eighty years. I knew Mr. Cullum well when he was one of the best business men and most active of Meadville, where he had resided many years before going to California. My uncle, Joseph Finney, who was a carpenter and joiner by trade, did a great deal of building work for Mr. Cullum in bygone years, and I may add that my cousin, Robert A. Fergerson, worked for Mr. Cullum many years, having done work for him when in the employment of Uncle Joseph Finney, with whom he learned his trade, and also did much labor for Mr. Cullum afterward.

April 17--Yesterday I called on my friends, C. R. Slocum and Smith Leonard, at the court-house in Meadville, the former being prothonotary and the latter janitor. To-day I learn of the death, on the 15th instant, of a young relative, William Sutton, aged tell years, ten months, one day, youngest son of Mr. and Mrs. George Sutton, but I was unable to attend the funeral, not knowing what time had been set for it.

April 18.--"Fine growing weather!" Yes indeed, and so I went down to Fred's (my son) place, to help him out a bit with the many things he has to do about his farm--choring, ditching, repairing water-course, etc. The boys helped me on the farm before they were of age, and now I take pleasure in reciprocating, giving each in turn "a lift." While I was toiling there by the roadside this forenoon, I received a good many greetings from passing friends, some saying, "This looks natural to see you working on the farm, Mr. Waid;" and I will not disguise the fact that I rather enjoyed their remarks than otherwise; and why not? I have been a farmer all my life, and am proud of my vocation, the most honorable of all that the sons of Adam can apply themselves to. I have not yet retired from labor, even though I may have an independent competence, for I do not forget that "the true nature of riches consists in the contented use and enjoyment of the things we have, rather than in the possession of them."

In the afternoon I attended quarterly meeting at the M. E. Church, Blooming Valley, where I heard a good sermon delivered by Elder Kummer, and I also remained to Quarterly Conference. One item was reported as required for the proper keeping of church records, a register for the circuit--Guy's Mills, Blooming Valley, Mount Hope and Pine Grove--which would cost three dollars. The Elder wanted each society to pay proportionately for the book, and I gave one dollar, the amount expected from Blooming Valley Society, for which, after Conference, I was personally thanked by a kind friend, and the Elder added these words: "There is blessing not only here but also in Heaven for them that do His will." Afterward I paid a brief visit to the family of Mr. George Sutton, who lives about two and one-half miles from Blooming Valley, and who, as I have just recorded, lost a young son, William, a few days ago. From there I returned to Meadville and to church, then later on, in the evening, went to see and comfort a sick friend, and thence proceeded homeward.

Sunday, April 19.--I am truly glad to have this day at home, and to attend church at Blooming Valley--9:30 A. M., Love Feast; 11 A. M., preaching--text, 1 Corinthians i: 23: But we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumbling block, and unto the Greeks foolishness. In the evening I attended Advent Church along with my brother-in-law, Moses Masiker; text Proverbs xxiii: 23: Buy the truth and sell it not: also wisdom, and instruction, and understanding. There is enough in this text to last a lifetime, even if that lifetime were a million years! TRUTH is the most valuable commodity ever put on the market, and no one who cares for righteousness can get along without it. Our success here on earth, and our welfare hereafter, in the world to come, depend on how we may deal with this article truth, which is for everyday use--to buy it, to keep it or to sell it again. Veritas vincit, truth conquers, truth will stand; no substitute can fill its place. God's word is truth: let us all examine it closely, so as we may have a larger portion of this Heavenly treasure so needful to our salvation; let us accept it for our life study, and never be without it. Truth will make us free, for it is written: Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

April 20.---This day spent at home. At last we have Spring, beautiful Spring, "sweet daughter of a rough-and-ready sire." How all nature seems to have awakened into life, and the fields are decked out in their garb of living green! how the feathered songsters most melodiously do sing, and the farmer goes forth to his work, more noble than a king; happy in the thought and hope of what the earth will bring, knowing full well, also, that the Lord himself is King. The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof; the sea is His, and He made it, also the round world and they that dwell therein.

"Spring does to flow'ry meadows bring

What the rude winter from them tore."

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