Third Souvenir Main Page

Excerpts from Francis 

C. Waid's Third Souvenir

Submitted by David M. Waid 

From Lake City Mr. Dickson and I proceeded to the "rival cities of the West"--St. Paul and Minneapolis--and at the latter place made a short stay over night with Mr. Eleazer Phelps and family. We visited Minnehaha Falls, St. Anthony's Falls and numerous other places of interest in and about both cities, which space here forbids me particularizing. We then returned to Lake City, and thence journeyed to Winona, where I was pleased to meet, on this my second visit to the town, my old schoolmate Mr. William Franklin, now proprietor of the American Hotel at Winona. On Sunday, December 21, Mr. Dickson and I attended, in the forenoon, the Congregational Church (I think); in the afternoon we went to the Y. M. C. A. meeting, and in the evening to the Baptist Church, where we heard an excellent sermon, of which the subject was: Little children, love not in word and trying, but in deed and truth. Here, at the American Hotel in Winona, are met we three old schoolmates--William Franklin, Simeon B. Dickson and Francis C. Waid (myself the youngest by two or more years)--a never-to-be-forgotten reunion; and as I shake hands with and bid adieu to these my kind old friends, I can think of no better words than those of the hymn: "God be with you till we meet again." On December 22, I find myself once more at Lansing, Iowa, under the hospitable roof of my brother-in-law, Willis Masiker, for a few hours. Thence he and I proceed to Chickasaw (Ionia postoffice), Iowa, in order to visit our cousin, Mr. J. F. Cunningham, who is postmaster and proprietor of a general store. Twenty-one years ago, last fall, Mrs. Cunningham (at that time Miss Lottie Walker) visited at our home, and she and I have never met since till this occasion. After dinner came in Uncle A. G. Walker, who lives on a farm near town. On Christmas Eve we went to an entertainment given at the Congregational Church in connection with the Sunday-school, where a large audience was assembled. There a beautiful Christmas tree was set up, and an excellent program presented, all the numbers being admirably rendered. Mr. Cunningham, as the Sunday-school superintendent, managed the proceedings, which were opened by the chanting of the Lord's prayer, after which came recitations, declamations, singing, etc., followed by the distribution of the many presents that bedecked the tree. On the evening of Christmas Day Mr. Cunningham enquired of me if I would like to accompany him to the prayer meeting at the church. "Yes," I replied, "I would like to go, and I am glad you asked me to accompany you to church." I felt that there could be no better or more Christian-like way of closing Christmas, 1890, than by giving my humble services to the good God who gave us that day.

Willis Masiker and I, after having for several days traveled and visited together, with mutual pleasure and profit, reluctantly parted company at Prairie du Chien, Wis., my train being about starting for Milwaukee, and my last words to him, as I grasped his hand, were: "Willis, God bless you."

December 27th finds me at the home of my relatives, Mr. and Mrs. Ally Washburn, in Milwaukee, whom I have not met for several years. He is night assistant trainmaster at the Northwestern depot. I first became acquainted with them in 1869, before the death of my father. On the following day (Sunday) I went to the Grand Avenue M. E. Church, and heard an excellent sermon delivered by Rev. S. Halsey, D. D., his text being Luke ii: 11: For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. In the afternoon I visited Forest Home Cemetery, then, on my return, the Sunday-school at the M. E. Church, after which the Y. M. C. A. meeting. In the evening I took a quiet, meditative stroll under the moonlit canopy of Heaven, and enjoyed, with my friend, a grand view of Lake Michigan, whose waves dashing against a sea-wall, and the splashing of sparkling spray, presented a beautiful sight.

On Tuesday, December 30, I arrive in Chicago, and am the guest of Mr. and Mrs. William Cromwell, of No. 7000 Sherman Street, in that part of the city known as Englewood, some seven or eight miles south of Chicago postoffice. Mrs. Cromwell (who was Miss Mary Williams before marriage) was once my pupil when I taught school in the Cowen district, near Blooming Valley, Penn.; she has two sisters, Mrs. Brooks and Mrs. DeShon (also old pupils of mine), living on Evanston Avenue, near to Lincoln Park, and I believe it is twenty years since I last saw them. Their mother, Mrs. Christina Williams, is living with Mrs. Cromwell. Mr. Cromwell was kind enough to present me with a complimentary ticket of admission to the Board of Trade, which enabled me to see through all the different departments intelligibly, such as the buying and selling of the various descriptions of produce, the market quotations, etc. Afterward I went to No. 162 Evanston Avenue, where I found Mrs. Cromwell and her two sisters, already mentioned, and their husbands, at their home, and we passed a very pleasant visit.

Having been taken suddenly unwell while in Chicago, I did not spend much more time in that "Enchanted City," but concluded to hurry on homeward; accordingly at 11:30 on New Year's Eve, within half an hour of the demise of 1890 and the birth of 1891, I resumed my eastern journey. By the time I reached Crestline, Ohio, where I got a cup of coffee and a sandwich, I was feeling better. On the cars I bought a couple of books, "Sermons by Rev. Sam Jones," and a work containing selections or "gems" from the sermons and addresses delivered by Talmage, Beecher, Moody, Spurgeon, Guthrie, Parker, etc.--which proved the best of companions to me during the remainder of my trip, and the reading of them gave me great comfort and consolation.

At 8:10 P. M. January 1, 1891, I arrived at Meadville, Crawford Co., Penn., where I put up for the night (which by the way was a very rainy one) at S. C. Derby's. On my return to Meadville I looked for the first time on the Soldiers' Monument, not then dedicated. Next day I proceeded to the home of my son, Franklin, where I remained till Saturday; then made a call at my son Fred's after which I came to my son Guinnip's home, and wishing to rest and recruit my health I here remained in peace and quietude.

It is a little over three months since I left Meadville on this my fifth trip to Kansas and the West; and to me it has been a remarkable one, including, as it did, labor, business and pleasure, and many good visits to old friends and new. I think now as I sit in my old home, surrounded by its many sweet associations, of the dear ones whom I met; of the pleasant incidents that ofttimes lent to my journey the spice of adventure; of the various places I visited, and, above all, what I hold in undying remembrance, of the favors and blessings our all-wise Heavenly Father has at all times bounteously poured out to me--favors and blessings that seem to me to have been multiplied since I gave Him my heart forty years ago.

Time flies and our days soon pass away. Some one may look in after years on the spot where our remains are then reposing, and think of us as we do of those dear ones "not lost but gone before." May we have treasure in Heaven, and be ready, when called, to join the angelic throng in that land of pure delight where God shall wipe away all tears from our eyes; where there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor pain, for all former things shall have passed away.

"Two worlds are ours; 'tis only sin

Forbids us to descry

The mystic heaven and earth within

Plain as the sea and sky!

Thou, who hast given me eyes to see

And love this sight so fair,

Give me a heart to find out Thee

And read Thee everywhere."

GOD IS GOOD.

DIARY.

"Stand like an anvil! when the stroke

Of stalwart men falls fierce and fast:

Storms but more deeply root the oak

Whose brawny arms embrace the blast.

"Stand like an anvil! when the sparks

Fly far and wide, a fiery shower;

Virtue anal truth must still be marks

Where malice proves its want of power.

"Stand like an anvil! when the bar

Lies red and glowing on its breast;

Duty shall be life's leading star,

And conscious innocence its rest,

"Stand like an anvil! Noise and heat

Are born of Earth and die with Time;

The soul, like God, its source and seat,

Is solemn, still, serene, sublime."

                                              DOANE.

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