Third Souvenir Main Page

Excerpts from Francis 

C. Waid's Third Souvenir

Submitted by David M. Waid 

On Saturday, November 29, I took a trip to the town of Lawrence, which I had visited last spring, and again saw my friends Mr. and Mrs. Emery Hobbs, whom I found still well and doing well, as was also their little son Wilber. On Sunday I went to the M. E. Church, Sunday-school and class-meeting. Dr. James Marvin, the incumbent, preached an excellent sermon from Matthew xi: 5: And the poor have the Gospel preached to them. These words are Christ's own, uttered just before giving testimony concerning John the Baptist; and to properly understand the whole subject the chapter should be read from its commencement. In the afternoon, in company with Mr. Gibson, I attended the Y. M. C. A. meeting, the subject for the day being "The problem of life, and how to solve it." Then in the evening Mr. Hobbs and I went to the Congregational Church, where we were much edified by listening to a dissertation on the text John xx: 27: And be not faithless, but believing. Before leaving Lawrence I called at Dr. Marvin's home to pay my respects to him and his family, and say "good-bye;"' and with the same parting salute to my excellent host and hostess, Mr. and Mrs. Emery Hobbs, I started for my Norwood home.

"'Tis ever common

That men are merriest when they are

From home." SHAKESPEARE.

I am now come to the commencement of my fifth return journey from Kansas to my Meadville home. On December 2, having bade farewell to friends and relatives, including my wife, who, it was deemed prudent, should, on account of her health, remain for the time at her Norwood home, I took my departure from Mr. Freeman Tyler's happy home. On the following morning I took train at Ottawa for the East, by way of the several cities and towns of which I will, as I proceed in my narrative, make some brief mention. On arriving at Kansas City I stopped over in order to visit Wyandotte, where l saw the bridge the train recently broke through, the engine and five cars plunging into the river below. I also visited the cemetery, stand-pipe, &c. While in the old Indian burying-ground I noted down the following, which I found inscribed on one of the tombstones:

H. L. Long.

THROUGH SUNSHINE AND SHADOW

HE WAS ALWAYS THE SAME;

OF THE TRIALS OF THIS LIFE

HE NE'ER WOULD COMPLAIN.

ON EARTH HE WAS HUMBLE,

HE SOUGHT NOT RENOWN,

HE BORE HIS CROSS NOBLY,

HIS REWARD IS A CROWN.

I find in these two verses something so good, something that satisfies me and fills a vacant place in my longing soul for good. I know there is much dross in our lives, but here is gold, nobility of a true manhood; may it shine forth in our lives as described on the tombstone of H. L. Long.

DAVENPORT (IOWA), ETC.

At Davenport, Iowa, I had a chat with my old friend, Michael Pitcher [My visit with Mr. Pitcher was a very desirable one, for I had long been wanting to see him, and enjoy a look over his well-cultivated farm, on which he has some magnificent cotton-wood (I think) trees which he planted twenty-six years ago], a farmer, who has lived here many years, and whom I had not seen since his coming West, in 1857, from Crawford County, Penn. His farm lies five miles west of Davenport, and he appears to be in very comfortable circumstances. Mr. Pitcher and I came to Davenport in the morning, and during the day I visited Rock Island, just across the river, then returned to Davenport, where I again saw Mr. Pitcher, and, wishing him good bye, revisited Rock Island, which place I left in the afternoon for Lansing, Iowa. I enjoyed this ride very much, as part of it, from Rock Island to Savanna (In.), I had never been over. The broad Mississippi Valley and the bluffs were nicely covered with a thin coat of snow, and in its purity the scenery was simply beautiful. I noticed that the hills or bluffs are much lower here than I have seen them elsewhere, and that they gradually rise in height as we go north; at Lansing, and perhaps a little farther north, they seem to be highest--said to be from 400 to 500 feet in height.

At Savanna I was agreeably surprised to find on the train a conductor, W. A. Wolcott, whom I at once recognized as having met first in 1880, when my brother, George N., and brother-in-law, G. W. Cutshall, and myself were coming West; and afterward in the fall of 1881, when I traveled over this road in company with my wife, Eliza, and Mr. and Mrs. Cutshall, both going and returning. I intend to send him, at Christmas, a copy of my SECOND SOUVENIR, for he is one of the kindest of conductors I ever met, and I wish him to have something to remind him at times of his wayworn, traveling friend, Francis C. Waid. At Lansing I had a cordial meeting with my brother-in-law, Willis Masiker, and family. On the Sunday I spent there we went to the M. E. Church, and heard Rev. Wyath preach from Luke x: 40, 41, 42. Then followed the Sunday-school, and here I found myself so interested in the lesson that I omitted to contribute toward the collection; but I afterward said to the good brother who sat next to me: "I wish to double your Sunday-school collection, which your secretary reported as sixty-five cents," and handed him a dollar. Soon afterward this brother rose to his feet and said: "A friend and brother from Meadville, Penn., has just doubled our collection." I was then hastily thanked, and requested by the superintendent to address a few words to the meeting, which I did.

At Lansing there is a very steep bluff, almost perpendicular, from 400 to 500 feet high, to the top of which we ascended and had a fine view of the town, river and surrounding country. Now, in the Sunday-school I had seen a young lady, Miss Nellie Van Amberg, teaching a class, and I was told that not long since her fifteen-year-old brother Charlie, while trying along with some playmates to reach a cave in this bluff, known as the "Indian cave," expecting to find some relics there, fell to the bottom of the bluff and was instantly killed. In the evening we first went to the young people's meeting at the M. E. Church, when by invitation I again addressed a few remarks to the audience, and then we proceeded to the Presbyterian Church, where we heard an excellent sermon by Rev. Hotchkiss, his text being from the 23d and 24th verses of the first chapter of St. Mark.

The weather had lately been getting very wintry, the thermometer coquetting with the figures below zero, and as a consequence the Mississippi was frozen over, which enabled us (Mr. Masiker and myself) to cross it on foot into Wisconsin [This was the first and only time I ever crossed the Mississippi River on ice, and in our walk over I was possessed with both fear and pleasure; but my friend assured me of our safety, for he was used to it]. From Lansing my brother-in-law and I went to New Albin, about twelve miles distant, in order to pay our regards to Mr. W. H. Botsford [Mrs. Botsford, who died in the fall of 1881, shortly after my visit there with Jane, Eliza and George, was my niece] and family.

Then Mr. Masiker returned home to Lansing, while I continued my journey to Winona and St. Charles, Minn. While waiting for my train at Winona (for I had to change cars there as well as at La Crosse, Wis.), I went to see the celebrated water-works tower, 210 feet high, the courthouse and many other places of interest. At St. Charles I visited my old schoolmate, Simeon B. Dickson, and his wife [Mr. and Mrs. Dickson seem to be well situated, having a good home in St. Charles and a fine farm five miles out, besides some property in St. Paul, Minn.]. They have five children--two sons and three daughters--Vernon L., the elder son, being in California, Elgin R., the younger son, at home, and one daughter married. In the afternoon we all dined with Mr. G. H. Miller, Mr. Dickson's son-in-law, and after dinner Mr. Dickson and I drove out to his farm of 120 acres, situated about five miles from St. Charles.

The next place I journeyed to was Chester, in the adjoining county, and here I visited Thomas W. Phelps and some of his family. Much change had taken place among them since I saw them last in September, 1881. However I was more than pleased to find still at home the son T. L. Phelps (a school teacher), who is of the same age as my youngest boy, lacking one day. From Chester I went to Rochester, a lively town about six miles from Chester, and from there I went to Pine Island, sixteen miles distant, where I found my friend Mr. Warren Cutshall at work in his mill. He showed me over his property consisting of a snug little farm of seven acres well tilled, and his mill where he does various kinds of work--grinding, sawing, planing etc. He and his wife are now alone, their children, a son, L. A., being in Sioux Falls, Dak., and a daughter, Mrs. F. A. Howard, being married and living in Sibley, Iowa. Mrs. Warren Cutshall was, while I was there, getting ready to set out one visit to them [A thought comes to me which the aged will appreciate, if the young do not. In my later years I have visited many homes where the parents, if living, have been left alone--children gone off (like young birds from their nests) to fight the battle of life for themselves, located, perhaps, near the old home or, mayhap, far away from it; yet the parents continue to toil on just about as they first commenced. Such is life!]. This is my third visit here, and although I am unaccompanied by any one I enjoy it very well; yet I cannot help thinking of my last more happy visit in 1881, when my first wife, Eliza, was with me to share the enjoyments of the trip. Much of the pleasure I have now, at my time of life, is indulging in the prospect of some day again meeting those I love who have gone before to the "better land." This is a hope that springs eternal in every human breast, and, in the words of Coleridge,

"Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve,

And hope without an object cannot live."

O Lord give me pure thoughts, a clean heart and a contented mind, and let me pursue my journey onward like a true Christian till I finally arrive at my long home, in the "house not made with hands, eternal and secure." O Lord, who lends me life lend me a heart replete with thankfulness for all mercies vouchsafed me. I have often spoken of a "contented mind," and for all the mental troubles that poor humanity is heir to I know of no better panacea than to BE HUMBLE AND GOOD:

"Tis better to be lowly born,

And range with humble livers in content,

Than to be perched up in a glistering grief,

And wear a golden sorrow."

On December 13, I find myself at Kasson, Dodge Co., Minn., whither I had come to visit Mr. Robert Taylor [My acquaintance with Robert Taylor, the Christian influence of his pious example, and the kindness of his family to me, will continue in cherished memory while I live. True friendship never dies. The Scripture teaches us that a friend loveth at all times], and his wife Amelia, the former of whom I do not think I ever met before, but the latter I have known from her childhood, as she was one of my scholars when I taught school in the Cowen district, near Blooming Valley, Penn., in 1853-54. They have three sons, George, Robert and William--the youngest being eighteen years of age; one of the boys is at home, and the other two at school, I think in Erie, Penn. There is also living with them Samuel Lord, Jr., a young man, whose father I knew well; he is in partnership with Mr. Taylor in the law business at Mantorville, the county seat of Dodge County, two miles from Kasson, whither Mr. Lord drove me to see the town and surrounding country. Among other points of interest we visited was the cemetery, where sleep many who had come to this part of the West from Crawford County, Penn., among whom I may name the Bancrofts, Russells and Lords; but I was most interested in the grave of Samuel Lord, Sr., his wife and child, and that of James Russell and his wife. Samuel Lord, Sr., died in the spring of 1880, James Russell following him within three weeks: Mrs. Russell died in 1868. I alighted from the conveyance, and for a few moments stood silently looking on the dear spot of earth where rest the mortal remains of those whom I once knew and loved so well, and whose memory I yet cherish. The following couplet covers all I could add:

"All that live must die,

Passing through nature to eternity."

On Sunday, December 14, I attended the M. E. Church at Marion, whither I was driven by brother T. W. Phelps and his wife, and I must say I found blessings and favors specially poured out to me this day. I had met Thomas and Eleazer Phelps since their going West, and Thomas had visited me in Pennsylvania, but their brother Nathan I had not seen since the spring of 1854 (before I was first married), as he left for the West with his father's family on April 12, that year. And now here, on this Sabbath morning, after a separation of nearly thirty-seven years, as we were driving to the church, who should overtake us in their conveyance but Nathan Phelps and his family! Without waiting to get out of the carriage I grasped and heartily shook the hand of my good old friend, and, on alighting, together we entered the Sabbath-school. Thirty-six years and nine months had passed since I last saw him, but he was still Nathan Phelps, with some sprinkling of the salt of time on his honest head. He has a family of three daughters, one being in Florida. I understand he is living on the same farm his father settled on in 1854, but has added to it. Nathan is a helper, and I remember how he helped me in my start on my Christian life.

The subject of the sermon in the forenoon was: Behold I stand at the door and knock, and the afternoon subject was: Whosoever will be my disciple, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. While in the Marion cemetery I copied from the Phelps monument the following inscription:

Father, Levi Phelps,

DIED MARCH 31, 1857,

AGED 53 YEARS, 7 MONTHS, 28 DAYS.

Mother, Phebe M. Phelps,

DIED JULY 30, 1875,

AGED 67 YEARS, 2 DAYS.

On the following day (Monday) Nathan Phelps took me over to his brother's, where I bade him good-bye, this time perhaps forever on earth; who can tell? Then what will our meeting be in eternity?

"Lord, our times are in Thy hand;

All our sanguine hopes have plann'd

To Thy wisdom we resign,

And would mould our wills to Thine."

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