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Excerpts from Souvenir Submitted by David M. Waid |
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THE
TOPEKA CHAUTAUQUA ASSEMBLY.
July 1, 1889--This morning I am to leave Mr.
Freeman Tyler's to go to Topeka, Kas., where I intend spending
several days, in order to attend the Chautauqua Assembly, and to view the
city, which is the capital of the State.
I have made my home at the house of Mr. Tyler since April 13, and
now, having an opportunity to visit the city mentioned, I feel that I
ought to take advantage of it. Mr.
Tyler, before buying the farm where he now resides, lived in Topeka, for
two or three months, at 369 Van Buren Street. When I reached Norwood on this bright July morning, I found
that I had missed the train by about five minutes, and I concluded to walk
to Baldwin, a distance of six miles, rather than wait until the afternoon;
and so out I set despite the hot sun that a winter suit rendered rather
uncomfortable. As I had about
seven hours in which to make the trip, I did not hurry, but, walking
leisurely along, I stopped in the shadow of the Valley Chapel, to make
some entries in my note book, and then started eastward.
I am at Baldwin at last, tired, faint, hungry and thirsty, after a
tramp of ten or twelve miles. I
must admit now that I was dressed altogether too warmly for a July day,
especially so considering the fact that my walk was prolonged far beyond
my anticipation. I turned in
the wrong direction at one time, and, finally, upon inquiry, I found
myself farther from my destination than when I started (How early to go
the wrong way, when we consult pleasure, and think we have plenty of time!
The benefit I derived from losing my way was a view of the country,
and an experience of kindness shown to by stranger.--F.
C. Waid). I turned
about and reached here as I have described.
At a farm-house, on my way, I stopped and asked for a cup of water.
It was given me readily by the ladies of the house, and I must say
that I have rarely tasted anything so thoroughly good. This little incident put me in mind of the passage of
Scripture, concerning a cup of cold water given in the Master's name, and
I have since studied the passage anew.
I am now writing in a restaurant, where I have eaten, drank and
been refreshed. I was not
sorry I took the walk, although I did lose my way and travel farther than
I intended, for there is a lesson in it, and one by which I shall profit.
I enjoyed looking at the fine farms as I walked along; the green
corn in fields of a hundred acres, and the large tracts of timothy grass
just ready for the scythe, were enough to delight the eye of any farmer
who held in his heart a love for his calling.
I left Baldwin between three and four o'clock, and am now, in the
early evening, at Lawrence, where I intended calling on
Rev. James Marvin, who left Meadville fourteen years ago, as I was
informed by his daughter with whom I conversed while waiting his return
home.
While there he was frequently called into the country to teach and
make addresses, and, meeting him often, I formed a strong attachment for
him. I had about two hours
and one-half at Lawrence, and the time proved to be composed of golden
moments for me. I walked from
the depot, which is a splendid structure, a short distance up the street,
until I found a boy, who was picking cherries.
He kindly went into the house, and, securing a directory, found
that Mr. Marvin resided at 1605 Vermont Street.
Thither I bent my steps, but was disappointed at not finding Mr.
Marvin at home. His house is a fine commodious dwelling, with large grounds
and ample shade. A short
distance up the walk leading to the house, and at the edge of a beautiful
terrace, sat a lady reading, who rose, as I neared her, and greeted me. When I introduced myself she gave me a chair, and we entered
into conversation about old times and a contemplated visit of Mr. Marvin
to Prof. A. B. Hyde, of Denver, Colo.
We spoke, also, of the beautiful home in which they resided, and
that appeared to me to be a combination of city and country.
I left shortly, not having much time before the departure of my
train, and on the way to the depot I met Mr. Marvin and his wife driving
homeward. I hailed them
without hesitancy, and, walking into the middle of the street, I said,
"Is not this Mr. James Marvin, of
Meadville, Penn.?" "Yes,"
was the response. I told him
briefly of my call upon him for the sake of old times, and that I
remembered his sermons with interest and him with affection.
I spoke of the SOUVENIR, saying that it was intended for my kindred
and friends, and as I surely counted him as one of the latter, I wished
him to accept one. He thanked
me very kindly for the offer, and I promised to send him a copy, and to
write to him upon my return home (My promise was really not filled till
December 11, 1889, when I wrote him a letter and sent him a copy of the
SOUVENIR.--F. C. Waid).
Our interview was not very prolonged, but was pleasantly
satisfactory, and when, as I left, he pronounced a benediction, by saying,
"The blessing of the Lord be with you," I felt amply repaid for
all my labor, and went rejoicing on my way.
I reached the depot in time for my train, and ere long was in
Topeka, the beautiful capital of Kansas.
The State house is a magnificent structure, but not yet completed.
There will be work to the extent of four years yet to come before
the building will be finished. Near
the capital is a handsome brick library, stone trimmed, for the use of the
city. Bethany College, also,
is not far distant, and is a handsome stone building, covered with a
beautiful climbing ivy, and surrounded by stately evergreens.
After visiting the college, and going partly through the capitol, I
called on Guild & Walworth, makers of monuments, etc., to ask prices
and look at their work, in the interest of a friend.
Their place of business is not far from the State house.
July 2--I am seated in the amphitheatre of the Topeka Chautauqua
Assembly grounds. The
building is circular, rises like a dome, and from the outside presents a
fine appearance. The audience is not large, and the rain has rather a
dampening effect upon the spirits as well as upon the clothes. The platform within the amphitheatre is well arranged and has
a drop curtain that gives a theatrical effect to the interior.
Greenland Park, where the Assembly is held, is about four miles
from the city. An electric
railway runs to the grounds upon a track that curves frequently and
sharply, I have met again the excursionist, Rev. L.
J. Dyke, of Coffeyville, Osage County, where he has been located
for four years. I met him at
the Ottawa Assembly, and in a number of other places since I first saw him
in the Santa Fe depot several weeks ago.
From him I have learned something of the method of arranging and
carrying through the plans of an excursion.
Prior to this year the Assembly has been held in North Topeka, at
Garfield Park, but now Greenfield Park is the chosen spot.
It is new and not yet beautified by art to any extent, while Nature
herself has done but little. The
cost of admission to the Assembly, including car fare, is but 20 cents.
July 3--I am a guest at the Ohio Hotel, where for moderate prices
one gets good accommodations, and I wish to remain here until the 5th.
I will make this my headquarters.
The hotel is on Fifth Street, near the Santa Fe depot, which itself
is opposite the State House. The depot is a fine brick structure, and in it are located
the offices of the road. The
postoffice is a stone edifice that is an ornament to the central part of
the city, where it is located. Washburn
College is situated at a distance of about three miles from my hotel, and
I am now taking a look at the stone building situated in a park amid
beautiful surroundings. It is
vacation time and the students are away, and I am sitting unmolested on
the portico writing in my diary, and enjoying the view that from here is
very beautiful. I would like to go to the top of the building whence even a
better sight may be obtained of the city and its environs.
The Library building near the college is handsome.
As I came to the college from my hotel I passed the Commercial
Business College, the Fifth Avenue Hotel, the State House, Bethany College
and the Santa Fe office buildings. The
college ground comprises, I should judge, about twenty acres, well kept
and beautified by art as well as by nature.
I have just heard some one within the building, and now the door
opens and a colored man admits me, and I am at liberty to climb to the
roof and take in the view that I have wished.
The scene is grand in the extreme, and, combining as it does the
solidity of the city with the beauty of the country, long stretches of
beautiful fields and rivers of water, might well appeal to the eye and
brush of an artist. The
Insane Asylum, away in the distance, presents a fine view.
It is high noon, and I am now at Garfield Park, six miles from the
place of writing the above--Washburn College.
This pleasure ground is not over twenty acres in extent, and at
this hour is undergoing a transformation into a gala day appearance, for
to-morrow will be the Fourth of July.
Stands are going up in all directions, row-boats are getting into
position to catch the morrow's trade, and all are animated by the spirit
of preparation. Standing near
me is a colored man mowing; I approach him and ask him to loan me the
scythe for a moment. He
complied willingly with my request, and shortly I was swinging the scythe
as though I was at home. I
told the man I loved the name of Garfield, and wished when I reached home
to say that I had cut grass in a park named for our second martyred
president. Leaving Garfield
Park I rode to the Insane Asylum, which consists of a group of stone
buildings situated within beautiful grounds.
There are between 700 and 800 inmates occupying nine wards, two of
which have been recently added, and are in a brick building, at some
distance from the main portion of the asylum.
The grounds are neatly kept, and at one time I saw ten lawn-mowers
in operation. I saw very
little of the inside of the buildings, much preferring to remain amid the
beautiful surroundings of the institution to going inside and looking on
the unfortunates, whose darkened minds have rendered necessary their
incarceration. I have at
length been accurately informed on the subject of street railways in
Topeka, and I find that there are eighteen miles of electric road and
twenty-four miles upon which horses form the motive power.
Late in the afternoon of this July day, I reached the Topeka fair
grounds. They are well
situated and have substantial buildings upon them.
It is difficult to tell just where Topeka ends and the country
begins; the city has a population of sixty thousand, but so spread out is
it that there is much room for growth yet remaining within the city
limits. I have seen a good
deal of the city to-day, having ridden twenty-five or thirty miles within
the last ten hours. To-morrow
will be the Fourth of July, a day to me of the saddest memories, for upon
it, one year ago, I lost my wife.
July 4--The boys began celebrating early last evening and kept up
the racket all night, much to the annoyance of staid and elderly citizens
who wished to sleep. It is
now early in the morning but the celebration is at its height.
The Chautauqua Assembly closes to-day at Greenfield Park, and at
Garfield Park there are to be sports of all kinds, including something
unique in its way, namely, an ostrich race.
The main business street., Kansas Avenue, is gay with bunting and
alive with people called from their homes by the spirit of the day; it
presents an animated and pleasing sight.
At noon I went to the Assembly and heard war-time readings that
were particularly interesting. The
crowd was much larger than on the occasion of my first visit.
At Garfield Park the crowd was dense, men, women and children, from
city and country being present in throngs.
The admission fee was but ten cents, and considering the program of
sports, this was almost ridiculously cheap.
There were boat, tub, bicycle and other races, and various
laughable contests. The park
is admirably situated for a celebration, easy of access and conveniently
arranged. I wish before
leaving the subject to speak of the broad streets and avenues of Topeka.
They are lined by double rows of trees, and upon many streets the
trees border a grass plat fifteen feet wide, between sidewalk and roadway.
July 5--I attended a meeting of the Salvation Army last evening.
The methods of these people are somewhat peculiar, but I believe
them to be sincere in the work that they are doing.
I left Topeka at 7 A. M. today, and having a short time to remain
at Lawrence I visited the University of Kansas, which stands on the most
prominent height in Lawrence, and is superbly situated.
I visited the institution in company with a gentleman whom I had
met on the train, and whom I found afterward to be Mr.
Warner M. Reateman, a lawyer from Cincinnati.
We were kindly shown through the different departments, in one of
which I recognized the portrait of my friend, Rev.
James Marvin, which I was pleased to see.
Then on reaching the top of the building we had a grand view, not
only of Lawrence but also of the surrounding country, including the Indian
School, one and a half miles distant.
I observed that there is beautiful farming country about Lawrence.
Taking it all in all, my trip to Topeka was thoroughly
satisfactory, and I arrived at Mr. Tyler's home with a mind stored with
additional facts about the great West.
I now find I am again becoming retrospective in my diary, which day
by day, often hour by hour, I have carefully kept for a long time back,
and I have no desire in these pages to change its nature.
As I have already said my eldest son, Franklin, and I left
Meadville for Kansas, April 10, 1889.
I was then in very indifferent health, and had been during all last
winter, feeling often that I was left alone to cope with the ills of life.
But of this I have already spoken more fully.
Words fail me in the expression of the debt of gratitude and love I
owe Miss Anna E. Tyler, for her help, love
and devotion during my illness, while at the residence of her father, and
for her unceasing energy and watchfulness in bringing about my recovery,
and now I humbly trust that Anna may be repaid with interest by a kind and
true-hearted husband, as I hope to prove myself.
And I am here disposed to quote a few lines from the sayings of Dr.
Samuel Johnson on the subject of second marriage.
Among other things he writes:
"A man, by taking a second wife pays the highest compliment to
the first, by showing that she made him so happy as a married man that he
wishes to be so a second time."
Several of my friends have died since I came to Kansas, and I find
old "landmarks" dropping off one by one.
I know not when I may be called away; perhaps death may supersede
marriage, and humbly I think of the Thirty-ninth Psalm, more especially,
in my present frame of mind, of the fourth Verse:
Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what
it is that I may know how frail I am. "Lord, let me know my term of
days, How soon my life will end; The numerous train of ills disclose, Which this frail slate attend."
As the day approaches when I shall be united with Anna
E. Tyler, "for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in
sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do
part," my mind naturally reverts to my first marriage which took
place upon a Sabbath day, much like unto this in the glory of its
sunshine. I feel that it can
not seem out of place upon this day for me to advert to that other and
olden time, when in the springtime of youth Eliza
and I were joined together. I
feel rather that it should add to our pleasure to honor her blessed
memory. We had prayed upon
the morning of our marriage that our life might resemble the day that had
opened before us, and that our spirits might sink to rest as beautifully
and as peacefully as the sun sank at even behind the western hills.
Our prayer as far as life went was answered, and Eliza's death was
surrounded by all that makes the close of life a time of peace.
But to resume my narrative.
The time has arrived for me to make ready for the ceremony, which
will shortly be performed by the Rev. Mr. Boaz.
In taking Anna E. Tyler as my beloved
wife, I know that I am doing that which will prove a blessing unto me, and
with perfect trust and confidence I place my future in her hands, praying
that with equal trust she may confide hers to me.
It is now four o'clock. Albert
Tyler and family, Mrs. Dewitt Tyler with
little Franklin, Mrs. Ringer and Vera, Mr. and Mrs.
Tyler, Sr., Albert Tyler and John Cavinee are
present. It is now evening;
Mr. Boaz arrived at six o'clock, and Anna and I were married in the
presence of sixteen persons, at her father's house.
Immediately after the ceremony a supper was given, and all enjoyed
themselves informally. I gave
the officiating clergyman several photographs, including the family group
of 1885, one of Eliza and myself, and another
that Anna and I had taken recently.
July 8--Our marriage seems to have made but little change in the
household; it is true that Anna E. Tyler is
now Anna E. Waid, but this morning she is
engaged as usual in household affairs, which, under her direction,
continue in the "even tenor of their way."
For myself, I took a scythe and mowed the door-yard, and afterward
helped Mr. Tyler put up a quantity of hay in the field.
It was harvest time, and what more natural than that I should help
my new relatives in a work which I loved for its own sake.
You will see from this short account of Monday's doings that our
marriage caused hardly a ripple in the quiet waters of the Tylers'
domestic life.
July 9--This day passed as quietly as its predecessor.
I drove in to Ottawa with Mr. Tyler, and, making some small
purchases, returned, and went to work in the hay-field.
I wish to say a few words at the close of this beautiful day, and
as twilight closes in upon me, about the happiness of my present
condition. You will realize
it, my dear reader, when you can thoroughly understand the truth that is
contained in the words of Solomon: He
that findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the Lord.
I was cast down in loneliness for many months, and I felt the need
of a wife, a companion and a loving helpmate, and now that my wish has
been gratified, I must thank the good Lord for this blessing, as well as
for the many blessings that throng my pathway.
July 10--I went into Ottawa this morning with nearly all the
members of the family, upon business of some importance, and returning, I
sought the field, and for a while stacked oats.
There are fifteen acres of oats upon the farm, and they are
gathered without binding and stacked upon the ground without a vail
platform, a method that is quite new to me.
July 11-15--These days passed off with no event occurring worthy of
particular notice. I worked
upon the farm, wrote a few letters, and transacted some business.
My wife and I intend starting for Meadville to-morrow, and upon our
way will stop at Chicago, where I have some business to transact, and will
then proceed if possible, to the home of Frank Tyler, in Monroe, Ill.,
where my father-in-law once lived. I
left Meadville in seedtime, I will reach it in harvest.
July 10--After a visit of over three months' duration in Kansas, I
will leave to-day, accompanied by my wife, for Meadville.
There have been a few trials since my leaving home, but they have
in their way been a blessing. In
this life we have day and night, sunshine and storm, good and ill, and yet
after all, we may believe that all the diversified phases of life are
intended for our good. "The good man suffers but to
gain, And every virtue springs from
pain."
GOLDSMITH.
Anna and I bade good-by to her father and mother at about eleven
o'clock in the morning, and drove to Ottawa, where, having a few hours to
spare before leaving, we called upon friends and relatives, to say a few
parting words. While in town
I purchased Anna a Waltham watch (My watch
(an "Elgin," price $18) is a gift from my youngest son since my
return from Kansas. The chain
was presented by my cousin, as mentioned elsewhere in the SOUVENIR.
I am glad it has come to me, a token from near kindred whom I will
never forget. If I had had
the choice of donor, I believe I would have selected
Eliza. We had talked
the matter over, but it was put off, and I accept it now in behalf of her
memory from my son.--F. C. Waid), price $35,
and in the afternoon we left Ottawa and its cherished associations far
behind us, and sped on our way to Kansas City and Chicago, via Chicago
& Alton Railroad, arriving at the latter city at 1 P. M., Wednesday,
the 17th inst. Anna enjoyed the trip exceedingly, especially when crossing
the great rivers, the Missouri and Mississippi.
She was so much pleased with the C. & A. road on account of the
evenness of its road-bed and the excellence of its coaches, etc., that she
expressed a wish to travel over the same route again. She says it is the best road she ever traveled on.
Entering Illinois, we came once more upon a country productive to
the highest degree, and one which I have before described, when I traveled
through it on the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad; through the
rich State we sped, until we reached the gates of the great city of the
lakes. We rested for a few
hours, dined, and then journeyed toward Monroe Center, Ill., seventy-five
miles west of Chicago, where I was to meet relatives and friends whom I
had never seen before. At the
depot in Monroe we were met with the warmest possible reception, and with
a kindness that put me at once at my ease.
As I have said before, Monroe Center was at one time the home of my
wife, prior to her father's removal to Kansas, and these relatives whom I
met and who were so kind, were hers.
Freeman Tyler's father, a
Revolutionary soldier, is buried here, and I, with my wife, paid a visit
to his grave, in Monroe Cemetery, and to the resting places of other
relatives. I neglected to
copy the inscription on the monument, but give it as best I can from
memory: "Ezra
Tyler, aged ninety-one years and eighteen days; and
Fannie, his wife, aged seventy-six years."
This aged couple had six children, three sons and three daughters; Freeman,
the eldest son, has four sons and two daughters; Silas
D. (From what I saw and learned, Silas Tyler,
I think, is one of the enterprising business men of the community, of
which there are not a few, as the thrift of' the town and farms indicates.
We were pleased with our visit, and, having an extra visit with Mr.
and Mrs. S. P. Tyler, at Mr. Sweet's,
I became quite well acquainted with uncle and aunt.--F.
C. Waid), the second son, has three sons and three daughters, while
Horace C., the youngest son, who died ten
years ago, left four daughters and two sons.
I can not refrain from writing a few words concerning the memory of
this visit to my wife's relatives. When meeting a person for the first time, an impression,
favorable or unfavorable, is at once made upon our minds; a good
impression may need cultivation, the bad one will grow like a weed,
untended. I am glad to say
that my newly found relatives made a loving impression upon my heart and
mind, and I only pray that I proved as acceptable to them as they have
proven dear to me. A remark
was made about me at Monroe, Ottawa and other places, that I regard as a
great compliment; it was to the effect that I resemble Abraham Lincoln.
Frank A. Tyler, my brother-in-law, met
us at the depot and drove us to his farm about four miles distant, and
there, during our stay, we made our headquarters.
L. J. Roger, a cousin, with his
wife and two children, were staying with Mr. Tyler, and I formed a strong
attachment for this family, the members of which reside in Beloit, Wis.
It was a source of enjoyment to me to look over Mr. Tyler's farm,
which I consider a model in all respects, and one of which he might justly
be proud. Hay, oats and rye
were in good condition, and fruit plentiful.
Corn, owing to the wet season, was slightly backward.
Our visit to Monroe will long dwell in my memory as one of the
pleasant episodes of my life. "We say it for an hour or for
years, We say it smiling, say it choked with
tears; We say it coldly, say it with a kiss, And yet we have no other word than
this,
'"Good-by.'"
We said the sad word good-by to our friends on the morning of July
22, and reaching Chicago in a short time, we spent the day in the city.
We first called upon my friends and publishers, J. H. Beers &
Co., at whose office we also saw my loved friend, Mr.
G. A. Baker, editor of the SOUVENIR.
After a brief visit Anna and I went to Lincoln Park, which was much
more beautiful than when my son and I saw it in the spring.
Save at the Centennial Exhibition, I have never seen so many
beautiful flowers at one time. The
beds were well kept and handsomely arranged, the colors blending
harmoniously and producing soft and pleasing effects, and I realized the
benefit of having my wife with me to point out the beauties of the various
plants and flowers; as when we two stood at the foot of Niagara Falls,
both viewing that one of Nature's grandest works, the sublimity of which
awed us into reverence, till by faith we could look from Nature up to
Nature's God with our hearts content with pleasure.
Surely, I thought, husband and wife can help each other.
The animals in Lincoln Park, the miniature lakes, the walks and the
trees were all a source of pleasure to us.
Before leaving the park we took a last look at the statue of
Abraham Lincoln. On our way
toward the city proper, we passed the residence of Potter Palmer, which I
consider one of the finest dwelling places in the country.
We visited the water works tower, the board of trade and other
buildings, and finally left Chicago in the evening for Meadville, via
Marion, Ohio.
July 24--We reached Meadville to-day, and thus my second Kansas
trip was brought to a successful close, after an absence of one hundred
and five days. I found that
many changes had occurred during my absence, not less than ten
acquaintances and friends having died, quite a number had married, and
others had moved away, while some strangers had come to reside in our
midst. George
Hamilton and Miss Amy Ellis were
married April 23, my birthday. The
State Road had been widened and improved, especially on the hill just west
of the Methodist Episcopal Church, where a number of boulders had been
removed, and a large one that for years had been a landmark was buried
from sight. We have received
and paid many visits since we reached home, and our welcome from old
friends and from my kindred has been marked by a warmth and affection that
could not fail to reach our hearts. I
have gotten into harness again, and am working as though my long absence
had been a dream instead of a reality. "Where burns the fireside
brightest, Cheering the social breast? Where beats the fond heart lightest, Its humblest hopes possessed? Where is the hour of sadness, With meek-eyed patience borne, Worth more than those of gladness, Which mirth's gay cheeks adorn? Pleasure is marked by fleetness. To those whoever roam; While grief itself has sweetness At home--sweet home."
Barton.
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