Third Souvenir Main Page

Excerpts from Francis 

C. Waid's Third Souvenir

Submitted by David M. Waid 

September 29.--My brother and I went to Saegertown on business, and I availed myself of the opportunity to distribute a few more copies of my SOUVENIR; then on my return home was very busy with many things in preparation for my setting out West. I hope to see all my three sons before starting, but at present Guinnip and Fred are from home threshing in the country; however, I may see them to-morrow. Life is not an empty dream--it is full of hope and good cheer; yet we often tread it with caution and between the hedge-rows of doubt and fear as to the future. We know not what may be near, what dangers, rocks and shoals, so we had best trust in Him as long as we are here, and Heavenward our frail bark He will assuredly steer in such safety and peace as to His children He imparts when

"The sun has gone down in a golden glow,

And the Heavenly city lies just below."

[From September 30, 1890, to January 1, 1891, comes my fifth trip to Kansas and the West, an account of which commences at page 42.]

1891.

Sunday, January 4.--To-day I went to State Road Church Sunday-school, and to each of the scholars present under twenty years of age I offered a copy of my SECOND SOUVENIR, requesting the superintendent to send me the names of all those who would like to have one. I feel as if I want to do something for our Sunday-school where I have shared the blessings of the Lord in some manner or another for the past fifty years since I first commenced to attend both it and the church with my parents.

January 5.--My eldest son, Franklin, is thirty-six years old to-day. In company with G. W. Cutshall I went to Meadville on business, and we then came to see my brother, G. N., my first call on him since my return from the West, and following this I made, at different dates, a good many visits among friends and relatives, all of whom cheered me with kindly greetings of welcome. On the 8th I learned of the death of Mrs. Maria Long (the oldest person in our community), at the patriarchal age of a few years under one hundred. "Aunt Maria," as she was called, always lived near us, and was ever noted for her industry and honesty; she was a woman who I always thought did the best she could, and was universally beloved and respected. Her funeral, which took place on Sunday, 11th instant, was largely attended, although the day was very wet and uninviting; and so desirous was I to be present that, after listening to Dr. T. C. Beach's sermon at the M. E. Church at Meadville, I walked from there to Blooming Valley, and thence proceeded to the cemetery.

January 10.--This I always regard as a most notable day in my life, for it dates the commencement of my Christian life; my return to God; my seeking after better things; my starting on the Heavenly journey; my confirmed hope of Heaven. Why, therefore, should I not thank and praise my Heavenly Father this day for having mercifully spared me to reach the end of the fortieth year of my Christian life? The Lord is so good to me that I will ever praise His name, thank Him for His manifold mercies, and worship Him in the beauty of holiness.

"Grander than ocean's story,

Or songs of forest trees--

Purer than breath of morning

Or evening's gentle breeze--

Clearer than mountain echoes

Ring out from peaks above--

Rolls on the glorious anthem

Of God's eternal love.

"Dearer than any lovings

The truest friends bestow;

Stronger than all the yearnings

A mother's heart can know;

Deeper than earth's foundations,

And far above all thought;

Broader than Heaven's high arches--

The love of Christ has brought."

Sunday, January 11.---I have already stated that in the forenoon of to-day I attended the M. E. Church in Meadville and Mrs. Long's funeral. The text was 2 Timothy iii: 16: All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness. It was the first time I had heard Dr. Beach, and I was in no small degree edified and helped by his able discourse on the above subject. This was indeed a glorious day for me in all respects, and well worthy of being preserved on record as the "New Year's Day" of the forty-first year of my Christian life. I want to begin the year aright; yet; I know I must be careful, though not too careful in doing good. I take for my own use, and that of others in my present home, five county newspapers besides the Chautauquan, all published in Meadville, and I have now ordered over twenty copies, that is a year's subscription for each of some friends from January 1, 1891, to January 1, 1892, many of which are renewals, others being new subscriptions.

January 16.--To-day I set out for Jamestown, N. Y., and on arrival there immediately proceeded to the home of Mr. F. Colt. On Sunday following, Gertie and Mertie Colt accompanied me to the Methodist Episcopal Church and Sabbath-school, where we listened to an eloquent sermon delivered by Rev. A. C. Ellis, from John iii: 4: How can a man be born when he is old? In the evening, along with Mr. Frank Simmons, I went to the Opera House, where the Baptists are at present holding their meetings while their new church is being built, and here I had the pleasure of listening to Miss Kate Bushnell's address on "Social Purity" [This address was listened to by a large and evidently appreciative audience. I, myself, think it was simply grand, and would like to hear it again; it is worth repeating several times, even to the same audience; and I believe it would prove a universal blessing if the whole world could have an opportunity of listening to it, for then, I feel confident, truth and righteousness would prevail]. On Monday I made a call on Mr. and Mrs. Fred Davis, with whom is living Mrs. Davis' father, Mr. Washburn, now in his eighty-seventh year [Mr. Washburn had been in failing health for some time when I visited him last summer. I can not give the exact date of his death, but think, from what I have been informed, that he died in May, 1891]; also called on Mr. S. Phillips to see blind Hattie Howard, who used to visit at our home with her sister years ago. Among other calls I made was one on Mr. and Mrs. Grant M. Babcock, at whose wedding I was present September 25, 1890. On the evening of the 19th I attended Russell Conwell's lecture, the subject of which was "The Jolly Earthquake in India in 1605--A Legend." From Jamestown I proceeded to Ashville, in order to visit other friends, especially Mr. Burns and family, but I found they had moved away, intending to go to Ohio; so thinking I might find Mr. Burns in Jamestown I returned thither, but was disappointed, as he had gone, so I learned, to Olean to see his daughter. On Tuesday I went to Lakewood, where I again saw my friend, Mr. Fleek, as also his brother Fayette, at Harmony, and enjoyed, taken all in all, a most pleasant visit. Then on Wednesday I journeyed to Corry, where I visited an old school acquaintance, Mrs. Henry Thurston (formerly Delia Dickson), whom at one time I used to see frequently, but of late years have seldom met. From there coming to Union City, I here called on my niece, Blanche Underholt, and family; also the Housenick boys, with whom I am well acquainted and glad to meet again. In the evening of the same day I came on to Saegertown, from which place a walk of a mile and a half brought me to the County Alms House and Farm, in Woodcock Township, of which my brother-in-law, G. W. Cutshall, is superintendent, and Mrs. Cutshall matron. As I tarried over night with them, I had an opportunity of visiting them in their recently appointed positions, and, for aught I could see, everything seemed to be going on harmoniously and satisfactorily. I registered as a visitor, and learned that the present number of inmates in this excellent charitable institute is 106. Blessed is he that considereth the poor; the Lord will deliver him in the time of trouble. Thus ended my six days' trip to Jamestown.

January 23.--On my return home this morning I dropped in to see my sick neighbor, D. H. Miller, and while there learned of the death, yesterday afternoon, of George Dewey, in his sixty-fourth year, after an illness of several weeks, I might even say years, from a stroke of paralysis. On the following day I attended his funeral, Rev. Barber conducted the services, and the interment took place in Blooming Valley Cemetery.

On this same day also died Lorenzo Williams, an old acquaintance of mine, who was born in Massachusetts in July, 1816, and came to Crawford County many years ago, and I regret that I had not heard in time to attend his funeral. In the evening I took train for Cochranton, a few miles southeast of here, in company with a friend, William Adams, for the purpose of attending the dedication of the M. E. Church at that place. It being late when we arrived there, I stayed for the night at a hotel, but next morning, after breakfast, my friend, Mr. A. T. Brown, called for me, having heard I was in town. Accompanying him to his pleasant home, I there met his wife, whom I formerly knew as Miss Emma Hunter, and the rest of the family, and most happy indeed were our mutual salutations. I was also glad to meet Dr. T. C. Beach, pastor of the First Methodist Episcopal Church at Meadville, who preached in the new church building at 10:30 A. M.; from the text, 1 Corinthians, iii: 11: For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ. A very large audience, probably 800, listened attentively to the eloquent Doctor, and at the close of the discourse the sum of twenty-one hundred dollars was collected toward paying off the church debt, which was in reality less than that amount. St. James declares that in doing we are blessed, and my own experience bears witness to the truth of his doctrine. I was blessed in hearing the sermon, the more so as these beautiful words fell on my ear: They shall prosper that love thee. Who would not love Zion? Who would not wish to help on the Master's cause and kingdom? Here, then, on the occasion of which I am writing, was an opportunity for all to do something, and, while the contributions were pouring in, Elder Kummer, who had the management of that portion of the exercises, announced that a little boy [I afterward met, at the home of his parents, this bright little boy, Floyd Fleming, son of James G. Fleming, one of the Church Dedication Committee, and have recently learned, with regret, of the death of the boy's father] had come forward and given a penny, and that the opportunity had now arrived for some one to contribute one hundred dollars. "How many," asked the elder, "will give one hundred dollars?" I realized, just then, that my time had come to subscribe, and so I expressed a desire to stand beside that little boy who had just given his mite; my request was granted, and they accordingly put my name down for one hundred dollars. Again was I made happy by simply doing good; and I was glad that I had followed the example set by that fine little boy, Floyd Fleming. In the evening the presiding elder preached a highly appropriate sermon to another very large gathering of people. The M. E . Society in Cochranton have now to be congratulated on their having a fine brick church, for which they have labored faithfully. Success has crowned their efforts, and my earnest prayer is that the Lord may bless them more and more, both spiritually and temporally, for this new church building has cost them eight thousand dollars in money, besides much time, labor and patience. In the course of his remarks in the forenoon the presiding elder said: "Mr. Waid has written a book, I have read it; he is a self-made man." Hours of toil, days of thought, and years of opportunity to DO GOOD have been allotted to me, and yet I wish to do more, to open the book, so to speak, and write some kind word that might help a friend to a better life, and cheer him onward on the path of Christian rectitude.

In the evening of this same day I went down to my brother's, and on my way thither heard of the death, in her fifty-eighth year, of Martha Smith, wife of Ira Smith, who lives on Hatch Hill; I had known them both many years, even before they were married. On the following day, on returning from my brother's place, I called on my aged friends, Mr. and Mrs. J. F. Breed, who were married in 1833, the year of my birth, and I was informed by Mr. Breed that he would be four score years old on February 5, this year. How good the Lord is to us! "Yes," says some one, "but He takes our friends away." "True, but we are left, with this comforting hope, that if we do right, and lead Christian lives, we can go to them." These thoughts come to me as I sit writing in my diary in the old home of my childhood, where the spirits of my twin brother, my father and my mother all took their flight to the better land, that Heavenly "Home eternal, beautiful and bright, where sweet joys, supernal, never are dimmed by night." I doubt not but some may think these reflections of mine are strange; to me, however, they do not appear so. It is just twenty years ago, to-day (January 27, 1891), since my father died in this old home. Why should I not ponder it, and try to be ready when I am called ?

"Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act that each to-morrow

Finds us further than to-day.

"Let us then be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait."

I remember the prayer of my parents that we--they and their children--should also live that finally we might make an unbroken family above, and to-day I offer a similar prayer: May the Lord grant to each of us the same spirit, that all the families on earth may be saved! In the evening I went a mile south of Blooming Valley to visit my aged friend Mrs. Dickson, according to my promise made to her son and daughter when I met them in Minnesota. I was glad to find Mrs. Dickson well, and still able in her advanced years to attend to her household duties; she was even able to be present last Saturday at the funeral of George Dewey! She had two lady visitors while I called--Mrs. George Bush and Mrs. Hellyer--who added to the mutual pleasantness of the visit. I left Mrs. Dickson's about 10 o'clock for my own home, a walk of about two miles, and as I plodded on my moonlit way I fell athinking about life's duties. What a startling array of responsibilities does even a single day carry! Probably no one studies his duty toward God and his fellowman better or more profitably than he who realizes the fact that a day, gone, never returns, and that we will be individually accountable for what we have done and what we have left undone--for our sins of commission and sins of omission.

On Wednesday, January 28, I attended the funeral of Mrs. Ira Smith, of whose death I have just made mention. She was interred in the Smith Cemetery, and the services at the church and at the grave were conducted by Rev. Hamilton McClintock.

Sunday, February 1.--Having, according to my usual custom, walked to Meadville yesterday on business, I decided to remain over Sunday, so went to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Hires, whom I can call "old friends," for I have known them both since long before their marriage. I met some of their relatives in Jamestown, N. Y., who requested me to call on them when I could, as I had photographs of some of their friends to show them. Together we went this forenoon to the First Presbyterian Church, and there listened to an excellent sermon from the lips of Rev. Hays, the regular pastor, whom I had heard once before--text, Matthew xiv: 31: Wherefore didst thou doubt? After the service I bade my kind friends adieu, and betook myself to Mr. Derby's, my regular stopping place in Meadville. Then in the evening I attended the Baptist Church, where I heard a very able discourse and appeal to the unconverted, the text being Joel iii: 14: Multitudes, multitudes, in the valley of decision; for the day of the Lord is near in the valley of decision. I love to hear the Rev. W. H. Marshall preach the Gospel, and I am never tired of standing on the housetops, figuratively speaking, and proclaiming to the four quarters of the globe God's immeasurable love toward mankind, and that the more we partake of His love (and God is love) the more friendship and kindness will we exhibit in ours. I often think of this; and yet the charity of the world is cold. With the prophet Joel, I wish that multitudes, multitudes would come to Christ, and be sheltered from the storms of life in a haven of rest. Christ wants us all to preach His Gospel by leading lives of devotion to Him. Come let us work in his vineyard now, to-day, ere we find it too late; when to-morrow has come we may not be here.

"Work for the night is coming;

Work, through the morning hours;

Work, while the dew is sparkling;

Work, mid springing flowers;

Work, when the day grows brighter,

Work in the glowing sun;

Work, for the night is coming,

When man's work is done."

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