|
|
Excerpts from Souvenir Submitted by David M. Waid |
||
|
TRIP
TO NEW YORK, LONG BRANCH AND ESSEX, CONN., SEPTEMBER, 1887. (continued)
Returning from the sad scene, we had dinner, her brother being
present, and after the repast he took us in his rowboat across the river
to see his island farm. [Several
years ago, as already related in this volume, in company with my eldest
son, then living in Tennessee, we visited "Island Home," near
Knoxville, with Col. Dickinson, our conveyance being a two-horse rig.
That was to me a pleasure, and this was a continuation of it, with
a change in our mode of traveling.]
A short distance from the shore stood a large new barn painted red,
110 feet long by 35 feet wide, with shed in connection, a good well,
barnyard, etc., ten acres or more of good corn, dikes, and many other
improvements. After passing
where the men were haying, and going over the island farm, we returned to
find Mrs. Tiffany waiting with drag to take us to her sister-in-law,
Louisa Tiffany, who lived some fourteen miles up the river.
On our way we passed several towns, among them Deep River, where I
and my parents took passage twenty-three years ago for Halford.
I understand Louisa Tiffany is in her seventy-ninth year.
She lives with Mr. Clark, a relative.
After shaking hands with me and my son she complimented me by
saying: "You have not
changed as much as I thought you would in twenty-three years."
Our stay was limited but very pleasant, rendered more so by the
beautitful view of the river and towns, and the sloping hillsides, nearly
all covered with forest trees, draped in their fall foliage of green,
tinged with gold and varied hues. One
of the noted points of interest on this drive was the view of what is
called "Joshua's Rocks," on the east side of the river.
Certainly the sight of rocks along Connecticut River is not rare,
but a view of "Joshua's Rocks," is not common.
If Mark Twain has written a description of them I would like to
read it, my pen being inadequate to give but a faint idea of the grandeur,
Rocks by the acre piled up, heaped up and running over until they
apparently cannot rest, and yet do rest on each other as secure as
the Rock of Ages--truly wonderful! This
visit to our cousin Mrs. F. J. Tiffany will long be remembered by us as
one of the pleasant days of our lives, and our wish is that she may in the
near future visit us, that we may have the pleasure of returning her
kindness.
On our way from Deep River to Essex we came by the River Road in
order to see some of the cottages and summer resorts of the city people
from New York. On arriving at the home of our cousin in Essex, we found
friends and supper awaiting our return, and that our welcome visit in
Connecticut was nearly over. I will ever remember with unalloyed pleasure
this happy day.
After our repast, and an exchange of social thought such as can
exist only in true friendship, imagine my surprise, happiness and
gratitude on being presented by my cousin, Mrs. F. J. Tiffany, with a gold
watch-chain on behalf of her deceased husband, once its owner.
With much reluctance on my part I accepted the valued gift.
I exclaimed: "Why is it possible?
Am I worthy? What can
I do?" To this she
replied: "I want you to
have it, and when you are done with it, give it to whomsever you please;
take it." But not until
she had re-assured me by saying "I want you to have it, and no one
else," would I accept of it; so taking it from her I replied:
"In his name I accept it, and will keep it as long as I live
as a token of pure friendship coming from a beloved wife in behalf of her
husband." After a few
words more we had bade each other adieu and so parted.
Guinnip had already gone down to the boat landing, and thither
Sylvester Comstock accompanied me. The
boat being late we enjoyed another hour's interesting talk; and as we cast
a last look from the boat to the shore I had time to reflect on the
pleasant and instructive day we had passed.
Our friends from whom we had just parted have indeed our sincere
thanks for the kind reception extended to us.
We returned to New York on the "City of Richmond,"
arriving there on the morning of the seventh.
After our return from Essex, we spent the forenoon in the city, and
about one o'clock P. M. we took passage on the steamer "Crystal
Wave," for Sandy Hook, nineteen miles distant.
The objects of interest viewed on this trip were numerous and very
interesting, and I will name some of them:
Statue of Liberty; Coney Island; the shipping at both New York and
Brooklyn; the cities of New York, Brooklyn and Jersey City; Governor's
Island; Suspension Bridge, etc. As
I sat looking at these sights, and noting them down in my diary, I thought
my cup of pleasure was full to overflowing.
Arriving at Sandy Hook, we took the steam cars for Long Branch, a
journey of about eleven miles, where Guinnip, being desirous of returning
home, took train via New Jersey, surfeited with sight-seeing for the
present.
But I was not yet satisfied. I
had an object in coming to Long Branch, and that was to visit Elberon and
the Franklin Cottage, where James A. Garfield died, September 19, 1881, as
well as the Grant Cottage. Elberon
is only two and one-half miles from Long Branch, a short ride.
Here I found the two noted cottages, and the beautiful Ocean Avenue
whereon they are located. I
observed also several other commodious and neat cottages on either side of
this Avenue. When I arrived
at the Franklin Cottage (which is no longer public, but rented, I am
informed), I was told by a lady that the northeast room in the cottage was
where Garfield died. I
remembered what in his History is said of him, and the picture of the
death-bed scene, "The last look on the sea"--the end of life.
Sad indeed is the thought that we too will take our last look on
earth ere we cross the River of Death!
May our hope for a "better land" be as bright, and I
trust all will be well. "Death
and the sun are not to be looked at steadily."
But I must pass on to the Grant Cottage.
The lives of great and good men have always interested me.
Memory finds refreshment here like thirst slaked by pure water.
Arriving at the grove in front of the cottage I met a young man
whom I addressed, saying: "I am a stranger and a farmer from Crawford County,
Penn., living near Meadville, and I have come to see the Grant
Cottage." "All
right," he replied "you will find some one there who will show
you." So passing on to the Cottage, at the corner of the porch I
found a small boy busily engaged in painting a board. "Why my little fellow," I said to him, "you
are quite industrious, painting."
"Yes" he replied, "I am going to learn to paint, so
I can help the men paint the house when they come." While we were talking an elderly lady approached us on the
verandah; seemingly pleased with our chat, and after salutations I
remarked that I had come to see the cottage and its surroundings.
"Yes you can," she graciously said, "and that little
boy you are talking to is U. S. Grant, a son of Col. Fred Grant, and
grandson of Gen. U. S. Grant." My
little friend then picked up his paint pail and brush, and taking his hand
I assisted him up the steps onto the verandah, where I found the porch
extended halfway round the cottage.
The lady informed me that "things are on a tumble here, as
they are getting ready to repair some of the rooms, and the goods are on
the verandah, but I guess we can get around."
I then told her (not yet knowing whom I was addressing) that on the
previous Saturday I had paid a visit to Gen. Grant's tomb, adding:
"He was a man whom my father loved. I have read and heard much of Grant and, like my father, I
loved him, and I am glad I had an opportunity of visiting his tomb."
She then said: "As you pass round the corner to the other side of the
cottage, if anyone speaks to you, say you have a permit."
Then coming to the corner I turned and saw another lady sitting at
the other end of the verandah, I think reading.
Looking up she asked me where I was going, and who gave me leave to
come. "The lady," I
replied, "I met at the other corner of the cottage."
"Well then it is all right," she said, "you can take
that path and go out to the summer house; and if you wish you may proceed
to the end of the lot and down those steps to the bath-house at the margin
of the sea." I thanked
her and walked on to the summer house, where I had a grand view of not
only Elbeton itself, which is, probably, the central point of attraction
at Long Branch, but of the deep blue Atlantic: "Illimitable ocean!
without bound, Without dimension; where length,
breadth and height, And time and place are lost."
I had learned something of the Atlantic Ocean when a boy, and since
then have seen some small portions of its waters; but here, now, in its
mighty expanse it lay at my very feet.
Who would not be happy in such a contemplation?
To the restless margin of it I bent my steps with feelings of awe,
mingled with pleasure, as I thought of the majesty and omnipotence of the
great Creator, who carries all the waters of the earth in the palm of His
hand. "Praise Him, wild and restless ocean, Praise him, monsters of the deep; Praise Him in your rude commotion, Storms that at His mandate sweep."
Dipping my hand in the water I lifted some to my lips, while I
gazed over the broad expanse of ocean to my heart's content.
Returning to the cottage, where I was again received as a friend,
the lady whom I first met showed me the interior, and while in the dining
room she told me that the other lady standing by the opposite side of the
table was Col. Fred Grant's wife. Entering
an adjoining room she informed me that "that was where Gen. Grant
wrote two-thirds of his History."
Good reader, you may imagine my thoughts when being so informed!
Pleasure, truth and friendship combined! Can I be listening to the words of Mrs. U. S. Grant herself?
Believe me when I say I felt and knew, that if my impression were
correct, I was being highly honored.
And now the question arose in my mind, how can I manifest my
appreciation of all this kindness? It is not always the intrinsic value of a gift which makes it
acceptable, but the friendly manner in offering it, thought I; so before
leaving my distinguished friend I remarked:
"In the History of Crawford County, Pa., there is a sketch of
my life, also steel engravings of my parents, my wife and myself, which
have been placed in book form for distribution among my friends, with
additions thereto of sevral views of our farm homes and two churches,
together with more reading matter; I desire the pleasure, madam, of
sending this little boy, U. S. Grant, a copy."
To this she replied: "He
is quite fond of books and pictures, as well as painting."
Then requesting her to write the address in my memorandum book, I
told her I would send a copy of the book on my return home.
Accordingly on September 10, I forwarded a SOUVENIR, and on the
27th of same month I received the following reply:
September 27, 1887. MR. F. C. WAID,
My Dear Sir:
You were very good to send me the book, which I and my sister will
enjoy. I am glad you thought
me industrious. I painted the
whole board, it is pretty. My
grandmamma was the lady who talked with you.
I am glad that you enjoyed seeing the cottage at Elberon, and
grandma is always willing to have anyone see where grandpapa Grant lived.
I am very much obliged to you for the book about your family, which
we will all enjoy. Sincerely your little friend U. S. GRANT, (Grandson of Gen. U. S. Grant).
I need not say I felt highly honored on receiving this letter from
the Grant family, written over my little friend's signature, and in reply
I wrote the following:
MEADVILLE, CRAWFORD CO., PA.,
October 28, 1887. To U. S. GRANT,
Dear Sir:
My little friend, I received your most welcome letter of September
27th, and read it with the greatest pleasure imaginable.
Words fail me to express all the pleasure my visit at the Grant
Cottage, and your kind favor brought me.
I had visited New York City with some of its most interesting
points of interest, including Riverside, where I paid a visit to the Tomb
of U. S. Grant. I had also
been at Essex, Conn., where, with my son, I had the pleasure of seeing
kindred and friends whom I had not seen for twenty-three years.
My cup of happiness was full.
But that scriptural measure in abundance came to me at Long Branch,
and especially at Elberom where I looked at the Franklin cottage and was
made a welcome visitor at Gen. Grant's cottage, and honored with a brief
interview with the Grant family. I
shall ever feel indebted to your kind grandma, your mother and you for my
reception at your cottage, and only wish some day I might have the honor,
or even my children, to return the favor to you or some member of the
Grant family. I am glad the
book pleases you all so well. Let
me send you this gem (This was a miniature picture taken with my hat on.
On Monday, September 5, "Labor Day" in New York my son
and I being on our way to Central Park, chose to walk among the immense
crowds gathering in the streets, and our way being blocked for a short
time we were compelled to wait; so, "boy like," to make use of
our Time, finding in a photograph gallery pictures only eighteen cents per
dozen, we stepped in and had twelve gem pictures taken.
They were very natural, and I distributed them) to remind you how
the farmer appeared when at the cottage. Very truly yours, F. C. WAID.
To return now to my narrative.
I can not look on life as a romance or an empty dream.
Life is real; life is what we, by the help of the Lord, choose to
make it. Had anyone told me
there was so much pleasure awaiting me at Long Branch after enjoying so
much before reaching that point, I believe I would have considered it a
mere idealism. Yet now when I
think over the many pleasant places and friends we saw on our trip, the
last was certainly not the least. Through
toil we reach pleasure; after labor comes our sweetest rest.
Those with whom I conversed at the Grant cottage made the visit a
most remarkable one in my life, and I can not but reflect that a kind
Providence had reserved it for me as a worthy ending of a pleasant
journey.
|
|
||
