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Excerpts from Francis C. Waid's Third Souvenir Submitted by David M. Waid |
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MAY 28.
"There is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there; There is no fireside, howso'er defended, But has one vacant chair." LONGFELLOW. This is another never-to-be-forgotten day on the calendar of my life, being the anniversary of the death of my twin brother, Franklin P., which occurred May 28, 1854--thirty-six years ago. As the "whirligig of time" brings around each anniversary I think of my departed brother on that day as much as I do on the anniversary of our birthday. To me it is a day for thought, a day for what I might call a sentimental journey, in which I have time to reflect that "the furnace of affliction refines us from earthly drowsiness, and softens us for the impression of God's own stamp." It was also a day of practical journey for me, as well as sentimental, for I returned home to Blooming Valley from my trip to East Branch, Warren County, Penn., a distance of probably over thirty miles. May 30, Memorial Day, finds me in Cleveland, Ohio, whither I had come yesterday to be present at the dedication of the Garfield Monument. I am making my home during my stay with my niece, Mrs. Eugene Russell, and her husband was kind enough to show me around the city, which was handsomely and appropriately decorated, and thronged with visitors. The monument stands in the beautiful Lake View Cemetery, and there were congregated many thousands of loyal people to witness the imposing and impressive ceremony. There were present the President, the Vice-President, members of the cabinet and other government officials. There were for sale among the people copies of the last letter written by President James A. Garfield to his mother, and I bought several for distribution among friends. The letter reads as follows: WASHINGTON, D. C., AUGUST 11, 1881. DEAR MOTHER: Don't be disturbed by conflicting reports about my condition. It is true I am still weak and on my back, but I am gaining every day, and need only time and patience to bring me through. Give my love to all my relatives and friends, and especially to sisters Hetty and Mary. Your loving son, (Signed.) JAMES A. GARFIELD. On my return home I stopped at our church to attend meeting, and after the sermon I remained to the quarterly conference, as I knew not how much our society had to pay our pastor, nor had I heard how we were to raise the money. It was referred to by our pastor, Mr. Clyde, and in the report he said in that conference he would take me or his chances for $25, his claim being $125 for the year. This responsibility he took without my knowledge. I was pleased to hear of his confidence in me in regard to my supporting our pastor, so when the opportunity came I arose, having in my hand a hymn book which belonged to the church, and said: "I thank Brother Clyde for his confidence in me in this financial matter. If I owned this book I hold in my hand, I would want it to praise the Lord, as I need nothing in this world but what will do good and praise the name of the Lord. Everything I have belongs to Him; I myself am His property; it was in this house we made the contract, when I, a miserable sinner, gave myself to Him. He gave me life and salvation, set me free, and in the joy of my heart I began to praise His name and work for Him, because He has made me a free man, and I love to do His will. I subscribe $50, this day, for the support of the Gospel among us." Our pastor's $25 investment was thus doubled in a very short time. There is real pleasure in doing good and serving the Lord; God loveth a cheerful giver! Sunday, June 1.--This is "Basket Meeting" day at our church, and services will be held three times a day for a week. This morning there is Love Feast, and preaching by Elder Kummer, which I attended, as well as the evening service. In the afternoon I went to the funeral of Mrs. Cook (mother of John Cook, of Richmond Township, Crawford County), who died at the age of eighty-six years. The funeral services were held at Advent Church, Blooming Valley. While in the cemetery I visited Eliza's grave, and was cheered in my heart by finding it had been decorated on Memorial Day with flowers, indicating that her blessed memory lives in other hearts besides my own. Verily, from the peaceful bosom of her grave spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. June 2.--I can truthfully say I love traveling, and I can with equal truth confess I love home, that rallying place of all the affections. Yesterday, in church, when speaking, I said, "If I could sing just now my words would be, 'My heavenly home is bright and fair.'" I thank the Lord at all times for the hope He has given me of a future life; and is it not true that those who place their hopes in another world have, in a great measure, conquered dread of death and unreasonable love of life? But this morning I am thankful to Him for the home here. If we would be truly happy--happy every day, every hour of our lives--we must be thankful for everything we receive, spiritual or temporal, God to be paramount in all things--in thought, word or deed. Thompson, the poet, in his ode to Spring, says that happiness consists in "An elegant sufficiency, content, Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, Ease and alternate labor, useful life, Progressive virtue, and approving heaven." I would like to say something of my dear old home. After breakfast this morning I took a scythe and mowed the yards, both back and front; and while at work I thought of how my father was wont to do the very same thing, and of how he taught us boys, his sons, the method. In those days the lawn mower was little known in our part of the State, and to be able to mow well with a scythe was considered quite an accomplishment. In my school days I was often encouraged and sometimes flattered by my school teacher saying to me: "Francis, you love your book;" yes, and I can say now that I love my occupation, farming. Mowing by hand in my early-day experience was no small item in our harvest work, as we usually had a large hay crop to take in; and perhaps I loved it because father loved it, and I learned it of him. Last year, at this time I was in Kansas, and my father-in-law's people gave me credit for mowing their door-yard so well that they declared they "had never seen it done better;" and this morning I was encouraged in my work by my neighbors who in passing commented on the lawn looking "natural, old style," etc., "you can mow as well as any of your boys, or better," said some, and so forth; and as I heard them I confess I felt a proper pride glowing within me. June 5.--To-day I went on foot to the primary election which was held in the town-house about five miles from here, and at the same time made several calls--on D. H. Miller, then to the Alms House to see my cousin Julia Ann Morehead, who is older than I, and whom I have known for years. After this visit I went to Saegertown, thence to the mineral springs, where I drank of the waters; then to the home of George Floyd, whom I found very busy; also saw John Barr, a relative of Mr. Floyd, and whose wife attended school at Cowen's school-house, where I did many years ago. At the Republican primary Mr. Floyd was nominated judge of election. I voted soon after the polls opened, and then left for Meadville. I had what I call a special privilege to-day, the pleasure of calling on my aged school teacher, Mr. John R. Donnelly, who lives near Meadville, not very far north from Allegheny College, on the old pike road. He was as glad to see me as I was to meet him, especially when I told him that I had called to thank him for the good he had done me in my boyhood. I am not mistaken when I say that this visit was both interesting and profitable to me; I had but little to impart, but I received much. Mr. Donnelly I have always esteemed and loved for his general benevolence and humanity, regarding him as a man such as Epicurus had in his thoughts when he said that "a beneficent person is like a fountain watering the earth and spreading fertility." Sunday, June 8--This is "Children's Day" at the State Road M. E. Church, and I will here give in part what I wrote at the time for the Pennsylvania Farmer, as I believe it expresses about all I could say were I to sit down and attempt to rewrite an account of the interesting event: CHILDREN'S DAY. Children's Day comes but once a year, and on this occasion some came from a distance. I was truly glad my friends, C. R. Slocum and wife, had remained to spend the Sabbath at State Road. It was a rare opportunity. He and I took our first lessons in Sunday-school here, he nearly fifty years ago, while I, with my brothers, was brought here by my parents over fifty years ago, and my heart swells with thankfulness when I reflect that I have been permitted to attend church and Sabbath-school here ever since. It is written, Delight thysef in the Lord, but I am unable to express all the joy and peace I have found in His service since first my young heart was turned toward Him and my feet toward His courts. Boyhood days are not easily forgotten, and how eagerly my anxious soul waited to enjoy this happy event. I was so glad that my friend had come on a visit at this time, so that we could enjoy Children's Day together at State Road. I only regretted that my absent wife was not here, otherwise my cup of joy would have run over. I called early at Lewis Slocum's in order to accompany him and Charles to Sunday-school and church, as in the olden time, and we took sweet counsel together as we walked by the way. Then our country church was so pleasingly decorated with ferns and flowers and cages of singing birds, indicating that peace and happiness dwelt here. The mottoes on the wall were precious reminders, "You are welcome" made us feel so, and "Jesus loves the children" found a responsive "amen" in our hearts. Much credit is due the school for the manner in which the program was carried out. The address by C. R. Slocum, in which he related some of his early experiences at State Road, was most interesting. Among those present who attended with him forty-seven years ago, he named Francis Waid, G. N. Waid and Orlando Reed, who were present; all the rest were gone. Brother Slocum was listened to with marked attention during his entire address. So also was Brother G. H. St. John, superintendent of the Meadville State Street Sunday-school, who spoke words of encouragement from his experience in the Sabbath-school as a scholar in youth and as a worker in the good work. I was full of the spirit when my turn came to face the large gathering of familiar faces, and speak my piece with the rest. I was happy in the thought that the Lord is good to all; who would not praise His name? And yet how much am I personally indebted to Him for the blessings I enjoy? "I see here G. N. Waid, my only brother now living. Here are my children and grandchildren with neighbors' children," I said, and I felt especially blest in making a few remarks to them and casting in my mite to swell their contribution to the Lord's work by doubling it, making my love and attachment to the church and Sunday-school stronger than ever. Brother Slocum, my brother G. N., and myself attended Sunday-school in the old church which stood on the corner in 1847, soon after Mr. Slocum's family moved on the George Smith farm on State Road, near Ira C. Waid's, in 1840. About this date, or a little later, Cyrus Goodwill, my uncle, was superintendent., and at one time, Charles Breed was our teacher. The children of that time that are now living are among the older persons in the community, while most of them have passed away. I am so glad to have lived to see the advantages of the present day. My school privileges were the common school, two terms in Allegheny College, one term in the Waterford Academy in Erie County, and one term in Meadville Academy. These were all enjoyed in company with my friend, C. R. Slocum. No wonder I have enjoyed this Children's Day in his company. I recently had the pleasure of meeting Charles Breed, our Sunday-school teacher of near fifty years ago, and he remembered each boy of his class, comprising George Goodwill, A. S. Goodrich, C. R. Slocum, Franklin Waid, myself and one other whose name neither of us could recall. I also have here the pleasure of adding what I contributed about that time to the same paper, the Pennsylvania Farmer, under the heading, NOTES FROM A VISITOR AT OUR SABBATH-SCHOOL ON CHILDREN'S DAY, Having the opportunity of attending morning services at the Second M. E. Church, in Meadville, with my friend, I improved it with pleasure. The program and decorations pleased me much, and though the latter were plain yet they were appropriate and beautiful, and the eye was satisfied with seeing, the ear was pleased with hearing, and my heart was instructed in the good way of life, and made glad by the sweet songs and recitations of the children. The dialogue by the infant class--in which many little ones took part by repeating a passage of scripture, and then contributing a bouquet to decorate a cross till it was hid from view with the beautiful gifts touched my heart with the sacred thought which it inspired. Then the quotations from the Bible were so appropriate to the occasion that I wanted to join them in this exercise, which I did in heart, and longed to join them in the work of decorating that cross; and I thought of two roses a friend had given me, which were in my pocket, and which, though faded, were all I had to give. Had I offered them I should have said: "Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty." Again: "The Lord knoweth them that are His." I was prevented for the moment from intruding out of respect for the occasion, but my desire was granted through the superintendent, Brother St. John. In shaking hands with him I informed him of my desires, and the two faded roses were placed with the children's gifts on the cross. I said to my friend, "Put them on as a token of my love for the Sunday-school. I am glad my parents taught me to attend when a boy, and I have loved the Sabbath-school ever since; both it and church are very dear to me. I am glad to enjoy this favor and means of grace, where one can do good and receive blessing from the hand of the Lord. Now permit me to double the children's collection to-day, and let the faded roses teach us to do good as we have opportunity." My Children's Day opportunities in Meadville were improved and appreciated. They included the evening services at the First M. E. Church, where I listened to a most helpful sermon from Dr. C. E. Hall. I, also with a friend, had a view of the fine decorations at the Baptist Church in the afternoon, where banks of flowers and appropriate mottoes, with a sparkling fountain, made the scene most beautiful. What I saw in Meadville on Children's Day suggested Psalm cxlvii: 12, 13: Both young men and maidens, old men and children, let them praise the name of the Lord, for His name alone is excellent, His glory is above the earth and Heaven. The tiny blade of grass and flower speak His praise, how good is His name. Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord, and all nature join in the song! |
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