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Excerpts from Souvenir Submitted by David M. Waid |
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TRIP
TO CINCINNATI AND DAYTON, OHIO, SEPTEMBER, 1886.
"The use of traveling is to
regulate the imagination by reality, and, instead of thinking how things
may be, to see them as they are."
Dr. Samuel Johnson.
I will now narrate the pleasant and interesting trip made September
21, 1886, by my youngest son, Fred F., and
myself to Cincinnati and Dayton. Two
excursions left Meadville that day, one for the Far West--Iowa, Minnesota
and Dakota--and the other to Dayton and Cincinnati.
At Warren, Ohio, and other points, we Cincinnati pleasure seekers
would overtake the extra train, and some of each party would have
"lots of fun." All our family except Fred had already seen Cincinnati, and
it was real rest and pleasure for me to accompany my youngest born with
many others to the exhibition. One
attraction worthy of note in the Music Hall was the Japanese Village,
where nearly a hundred natives of Japan--men, women and children--were
assembled, the men plying their several vocations with the industry and
carefulness peculiar to the race. The
Zoological Gardens also had considerable attraction, and much amusement
was afforded the visitors at feeding time (4 P. M.), especially when the
turn of the sea lions came. These
animals exhibited an amount of intelligence certainly truly wonderful, and
I wish that space admitted of my giving a fuller account of them.
I had been there twice before this visit, once with my wife, and
the other time, in 1883, with my son Guinnip,
and on each occasion I saw the animals fed.
From the sea lions we went to see other animals enjoy their meals. There we found three large bear pits built on the side of a
hill, and the animals can be viewed from either the front of the pits or
from the top. During our
visit there we were told by the keepers that about two weeks previous the
former keeper of the bears, by name Matthew Hoffman,
while on duty in front of the cage, had one of his arms literally
torn into fine shreds, and pulled from the shoulder socket, by one of the
large grizzly bears striking his jaw through the bars of the cage.
The man died soon after from the effects.
There were two polar bears, the largest and most beautiful I had
ever seen. The gray or grizzly bears were very large, one of them said
to weigh 1,500 pounds. Another
new sight for me was the four lion cubs, only a few months old, and the
baby leopard, but a few weeks old. If
you admire the beautiful in nature, kind reader, do not fail when you
visit this "Zoo," to look at the birds and fowls, especially the
silver pheasants and golden pheasants of China.
In these feathered beauties you will behold all the colors of the
rainbow, delicately laid on by the hand Divine.
Yet another of the sights of Cincinnati is the suspension bridge
across the Ohio River to Covington, Ky. We had visited Newport, Ky., on
the 22d (the day of our arrival), by walking over the Cincinnati Southern
Railroad bridge, from which we had a good view not only of the river but
also of part of the city. Some
statistics connected with the suspension bridge I here copy from my
memorandum-book, as found in a guide-book of Cincinnati, as follows:
Bridge built in 1865; is 2,052 feet in length; cost $1,800,000;
towers 230 feet high, each containing more stone than Bunker Hill
monument; cables 12 1/3 inches in diameter, containing 10,400 wires and
weighing 2,000,000 pounds. Fountain
Square is to Cincinnati what Broadway is to New York, and it and the
custom house and post-office we visited several times.
At the latter stands, near the foot of the stairway, a statue of James
A. Garfield.
History informs us that the first settlement where Cincinnati now
stands was made in 1788, and the place was named by St. Clair in 1790. The present (1886) population is 300,000.
When a young lad, I remember, I used to listen with deep interest
to the stories my father, some of my uncles and others used to tell about
Pittsburgh, Cincinnati and Louisville (Ky.) (In those days it was quite
common with some farmers to do a little lumbering in connection with
agricultural pursuits, making trips down the river either in the spring or
fall. I remember the
last flat-boat or scow my father (and I think) Mr.
Breed built and loaded with hemlock bark for Pittsburg.
She was either stove in or ran against a rock and badly damaged,
together with her cargo, and the owners after this trip abandoned boating
entirely). They used to fall
on my ear like oriental tales of enchanted eries, little dreaming I should
some day see with my own eyes those wonderful places, and I think of the
Queen of Sheba, who, on hearing the wisdom of Solomon, exclaimed:
"The half was not told me!"
Cincinnati is noted for its trade in pork and tobacco, of which
latter we saw immense quantities as we passed along the warehouses. One or two mornings we attended the markets; the farmer is
always anxious to know how the produce of the farm is selling, being
interested in the price as well as the production.
At the Union Depot here we met a friend, Mr. Field, from Knoxville,
Tenn., who was acquainted with Col. C. W. Charlton
of same city. This Col. Charlton befriended my eldest son in February,
1883, by securing for him his situation as superintendent of Col.
Easiley's farm in Tennessee, since which kindness our entire family
have had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with him, although some of us
met him in Knoxville before my son's return home.
September 19, 1885, we were favored with a visit at home from the
colonel, his mission to Crawford County being, as I understand, in the
interest of East Tennessee--to see how we farm in our county as compared
with Tennessee. During his
stay several fairs were held here--Cochranton, Titusville, Woodcockboro
and Conneautville. The
weather was fine, the roads excellent and the fairs well attended, so the
colonel had a favorable opportunity not only of seeing our farms and their
products, but also of addressing our people at these fairs, which he did
in an excellent manner. He extended a strong invitation, especially to young men, to
move to East Tennessee, to a better climate, the garden of the world,
where, with little means, one could make a favorable start in life, and
live with much less hard work than in these parts.
He gave our agriculturists credit for their good farming, and that
was one solid reason why he wanted such men as we could spare to emigrate
to his State. The pleasure
and agreeable surprise in hearing, through Mr. Field, of my friend Col.
Charlton, was an event worthy of remembrance.
When two strangers meet and cheer each other on their way, we do
well to remember that "Words of truth in kindness
given, Make for us a little heaven."
After a sojourn of three days in Cincinnati we left at 4 P. M.,
September 24, for Dayton, and on our way enjoyed a beautiful view of part
of Southern Ohio, with its pleasant towns and good farms.
Remaining at a hotel over night we took first train in the morning
for the Soldiers' Home. From
my diary I quote as follows: "September
25, 1886, 8:25 A. M.--Fred and I have just
had the pleasure of shaking hands with James Smith,
my old friend and neighbor (Barracks No. 15, brick front, on Kentucky
Avenue). Here we met Mr.
and Mrs. Nichols, latter a daughter of Martin
Smith; they live in Meadville, Penn.
We are now going to look at this very beautiful ' Home.' The
springs first. Mound with
inscription 'OUR HOME,' spelled out with flowers.
How grand! Have just
examined the large cannon, and the three lakes below the springs, with the
swans, geese, etc. On the
larger lake is the 'Garfield Boat' of historic fame, and at the foot of
the lakes are the ice-houses, the greenhouse and a large number of flower
beds, also the New York engine house.
"My attention is attracted by a large round building where a
panoramic view of the Battle of Gettysburg is exhibited every day except;
Sunday. 'Roll call' now going
on. Have bought a map, book
and guide to the Soldiers' Home--price thirty-five cents---to which, to
save asking questions, I refer myself.
Two beautiful things present themselves to us--a beautiful day and
a beautiful Soldiers' Home. It
brings gladness to the heart of every true American citizen to see and
know what our Government is doing for the soldiers, their widows and
orphans. If a man has any
pride of his country it will come to the front at least long enough to
sanction this. If the men who
saved our country are not worthy of a good home, then, I ask, who are?
Nature and Art have combined to make this Soldiers' Home one of the
most picturesque in America. There
is no charge for admission to the grounds, and visitors have many
privileges here gratis that would have to be paid for at other
resorts. There are 150
buildings occupied by about 5,000 soldiers.
The home includes about 700 acres; incorporated March 3, 1865;
stand-pipe 150 feet high, twenty feet in diameter, and has a capacity of
300,000 gallons of water; hospital erected in 1868; height of building, 90
feet; to top of central tower 150 feet; front 276 feet long by 33 wide.
"The shaft of the monument was formerly one of the columns of
the famous old building in Philadelphia, known as the United States Bank;
height of monument, including statue, 58 feet; number of graves, 2,700. On the base of the monument are four small statues.
The number of persons said to have visited this Central Branch
National Home, in 1885, was 200,000.
On the monument are following inscriptions:
'Erected by officers and men of the Nation's Home for Disabled
Volunteer Soldiers.' Also: 'These
were honorable men in their generations,' and 'To our fallen comrades.'"
Before leaving my friend and this attractive Home, I visited the
panorama of "Battle of Gettysburg."
This scene is painted on canvas, the figures being life-size, and
it seemed more natural than anything I had ever seen.
It really surpassed my expectations.
My brother "Nick" was
wounded at that battle, in the first day's fight, and lay on the field
twenty-four hours, during which time he fell into the hands of the enemy,
but was thought to be so near death's door that they preferred paroling to
removing him. After many
months' suffering he returned home. How
we waited and watched for the train that was to return him to his
expectant friends! At last it
appeared in sight, and ere the wheels had come to a stand I was climbing
the steps of the coach. Entering
the front end of the car I immediately caught sight of my brother, sitting
at the rear end--pale, emaciated, lost; once given up for dead, yet found
still alive, and home at last. The
pen that can fully describe our joy on meeting has never written it. One day afterward, while out on the farm (and we spent many
days there), in the course of conversation with him about the battle, I
asked him what he had done with the parole, and his reply was:
"I cared no more for it than for a leaf of the forest; I had
something else to think of; it was a question of life or death with me,
and at that time the latter seemed inevitable."
I have often heard him tell his experience on that battle-field,
how little, in the excitement, he saw or knew of what was going on, which
seemed to be the experience of very many in the hour of battle.
I have read the history of that engagement with probably more
interest than that of any other of the rebellion, not only because my
brother was wounded in it, but because many brave men of the One Hundred
and Fiftieth and other regiments from Crawford, Erie, Warren, Venango and
Mercer Counties, were either killed or wounded in the same fight.
If my memory serves me right there was held at Blooming Valley, in
Advent Church, in the month of July, 1862, a public gathering of almost
the entire portion of the able-bodied men of the community, which meeting
was ably addressed by patriotic men appealing for volunteers to come
forward and save the Union. Nineteen
true-hearted citizens nobly responded to the call by enlisting that
evening. Many of these and of those who had previously or subsequently
enlisted, took part in the battle of Gettysburg, and there is scarcely a
cemetery in our part of the country where some of them are not sleeping
their last sleep. Some, on
the other hand, are still living and enjoying the liberty bought with so
much sacrifice.
When for the first time I looked on the Falls of Niagara, I gazed
in wondering silence at the sublime scene, thinking of the great God who
created them. There was no
death in that thought, no loss of life or property.
It was a scene of grandeur stamped on the tablet of memory, never
to be erased. On entering the
panorama of the Battle of Gettysburg, one takes in at a single glance no
small part of the scene. Above
is the blue canopy of Heaven, beneath the meadows ripe with grain, all
blood-stained and trampled. To
the right, to the left, in frout, in rear, are the two great armies
engaged in deadly strife. In
less than a stone's throw from the spot whereon you stand are the living,
wounded, dead and dying. Then,
as you cast your eye over the country around Gettysburg, as far as you can
see, there is but one scene of carnage.
Wheatfields, stacks of grain, farm buildings, town of Gettysburg,
Cemetery Hill, Round Top Mountain, all in view.
The Miami River makes a considerable bend in passing through
Dayton. At the south side of
the city are located the Fair grounds.
The land is high, but not so much elevated as Oakland Cemetery,
which lies toward the east, or the Henry Cemetery, to the southwest. Montgomery monument, which stands by the river's edge, on Main Street, is eighty-five feet high, and on the top is the effigy of a Union soldier standing with rifle in hand. The inscriptions on the monument, copied as I stood by it, September 27, 1886, are: (South Side.) THE MEMORIAL OF MONTGOMERY COUNTY TO HER SOLDIERS. Dedicated July 3, 1884. (East Side.) THE REPUBLIC RESTS ON THE VIRTUE, INTELLIGENCE AND PATRIOTISM OF ITS CITIZENS. (North Side.) THE FEDERAL UNI0N MUST AND SHALL BE PRESERVED. (West Side.) LIBERTY AND UNION, NOW AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE.
My son, who was getting somewhat anxious to return home, left on
the evening train, September 25, for Meadville.
On the following day I attended the First Regular Baptist Church of
Dayton, and heard Rev. Henry F. Colby preach
from Psalm xcv.: 6:
Oh come, let us worship and bow down; and truly I was
instructed in the way of righteousness.
How I love the Gospel and the men who proclaim it!
for do not the Scriptures teach us the best way of living, the
noblest way of suffering, and the most comfortable way of dying?
Sometimes it takes us a good while to make up our minds whether we
love our minister or not; but I accepted the message I heard through
Brother Colby, and was glad to number him among my friends.
(Following day I had the pleasure of seeing him on the street, the
only man in Dayton whom I knew, and it was like meeting a friend).
In the afternoon I went to Oakland Cemetery. After seeing the living of Dayton, with its population of
55,500, why not visit the silent city of its dead, where, it is said,
already rest nearly 14,000, and there learn a lesson?
On coming to the cemetery, which I understand covers 100 acres, I
introduced myself to the superintendent, Mr. Du Bois, who courteously
accompanied me in my rounds. As
we passed on from the entrance up the beautiful driveway, and I saw the
neatness and care in which everything is kept, I could not refrain from
remarking that, in the excellent order in which they are kept, the
roadways, walks, trees, lawns and lots, reminded me of the Soldiers' Home;
and I thought to myself that there was more than one place beautiful in
Ohio. I was informed that the average number buried in the cemetery
annually is about 600.
After spending an hour or two here, in solemn contemplation, and
thinking of an eternal home in the future, "A house not made with hands, Eternal and secure." Mr. Du Bois kindly invited me
(although much against the rules) into the observatory, which is located
in the cemetery, and from which can be had a fine view of Dayton, the
Soldiers' Home and the surrounding country.
The Home, though about five miles west, is in plain sight, the
ground sloping to the east, and the cemetery gently descending to the
west; while the Miami River and the town of Dayton lie between, affording
a beautiful panoramic display.
On my return from the cemetery I attended, 2 P. M., Sunday-school
at the Protestant Episcopal Church, on the southeast corner of Monroe and
Warren Streets, Rev. J. H. Logic, pastor.
In the evening I had the pleasure of hearing Rev.
B. F. Dimmick, of Grace Methodist Episcopal Church, of Dayton;
text, Psalm iv: 6:
And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove!
for then would I fly away and be at rest.
Brother Dimmick said, in the course of his address:
"This is the fourth time some of us have assembled to-day for
worship; can we not find, in recalling our past lives, some monment when
we might have said with David: "Oh
that I had wings like a dove! for
then would I fly away and be at rest."
I was so much interested in and pleased with the discourse that I
resolved to present Mr. Dimmick with the only copy of the SOUVENIR I had
with me; so on Monday afternoon I wrote at the hotel on the fly-leaf these
words: "Presented to Rev.
B. F. Dimmick, of Grace Methodist Episcopal Church of Dayton, Ohio,
by Francis C. Waid, of Meadville, Crawford
Co., Penn., September 27, 1886."
Then taking the book I started on my mission, confident that a
clergyman who could appreciate little things would accept my gift,
remembering at same time a remark he made during his discourse that we
"should never get weary in well doing."
On arriving at Mr. Dimmick's residence, 124 Thirty-first Street, to
my disappointment I found he had gone to Cleveland, but found his good
lady at home. To her I said I
had heard her husband's sermon the previous evening and was so well
pleased that I wished to see him and pay my respects to him before
leaving; also to present him with a copy of my SOUVENIR, which I described
to her. This she accepted for
him, thanking me very kindly on his behalf, saying he would probably write
to me (On May 6 1888, I again heard Rev. B. F.
Dimmick, this time, to my surprise, in Meadville, at the Methodist
Episcnpal Stone, or First Church. He
preached an able sermon from Mark xi:
22: Have faith in God. Such was the impression made by the man, sermon and text, and
the study of sermon and text afterward, that I headed the Scripture
inscription on the Waid "Twin
Monument" with his text.--F. C. Waid).
Other two parties to whom I wished to send copies of the book were
the Baptist minister and the superintendent of Oakland Cemetery.
My interview with Mr. Du Bois was one
long to be remembered by me. Friendship
will live wherever true happiness is found.
On parting with him I said, "I will remember you when I get
home on the farm; you will find a place in my thoughts, for we carry the
memory of our friends with us."
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