|
|
Excerpts from Souvenir Submitted by David M. Waid |
||
|
THIRD
TRIP TO KANSAS. OCTOBER, 1889. "To me there is no place or
time; I am at home in any clime; I can be calm and free from care In any land, for God is there."
Before starting on this, my third trip to Kansas, my first one,
however, in company with my dear wife, Anna, I found much on my hands to
complete in the way of financial interests, farm business as well as home
affairs. Indeed it seemed
almost impossible to get ready by the day we intended to start, namely
Tuesday, October 8. We had
two special reasons for being at Anna's old home on October 10--first, it
was her birthday, and second, it was the anniversary of our engagement
(October 10, 1888) as partners for life.
Then add to these reasons the love of relatives and friends, and of
Kansas itself, for I think the more I become acquainted with the country
and climate, the better I like it. While on our way thither we saw large fields of corn, but in
no other State did they look better than in Kansas. How large and fine the corn looked there in July!
And then to see, as Anna and I did, in October, the immense
quantity ready to harvest, it looked as though the farmer would be well
compensated for his labor, even be given a reasonable profit; but alas!
the present price of only seventeen cents per bushel is enough to
blight all his prospects in agricultural pursuits.
But I am digressing, and must return to my starting point. This would be Anna's first visit from her new home to her old
one, after an absence of nearly three months.
And here let me place a thought on record, that to me, at least, is
of interest. If the dark side
of life is gloomy, the bright side brings happiness.
"Every cloud has a silver lining." Happiness we ought all to pursue, and I am pleased to say I
am not one of those who are slow in the chase; but lasting
happiness, in my experience, has only been found in the sunlight of Heaven
by faith in Christ, and in doing something for the Master.
Before Anna and I left her father's roof, on our wedding tour and
home trip, we promised her parents that, if health were spared us, we
would pay them a visit in the fall. So
they had good reason to expect us. I
do not wish to be misunderstood, in writing thus, as complaining of
married life. They who do not
enter upon its duties know not its joys, sorrows or trials.
It is easier to get ready than to start on a journey; but ready we
did get at last to leave (I shall never forget the little season of prayer
my wife and I had in our room, before starting.
Reference is made to it farther on in my Diary.--F.
C. Waid), as desired, on October 8, from Meadville, by the 3.45 P.
M. train, via the New York, Pennsylvania & Ohio, for Cincinnati;
thence we went to St. Louis by the Ohio & Mississippi; from there to
Kansas City, via the Missouri Pacific, and thence to Ottawa, Kas., via the
Santa Fe road, a journey of about one thousand miles in all.
By coming with an excursion we saved one-half our fare, the return
tickets being only $51.50; and where could I save $51.50 easier than in
this way when I had the opportunity?
I may say that I chose this route because it was new to Anna, and I
knew that it would please her to find that I studied her happiness before
all else. Happiness comes not
only from the heart, but to the heart. To me the route was not new, as I had passed over it twice
with Mr. Cutshall; so the real pleasure on this occasion to me was the
enjoyment of the trip in company with my wife.
We arrived at 12:30 P. M., October 10, at Ottawa, where we took
dinner at the hotel with Joseph March, my
friend, with whom I stopped when last in that town, and a few hours landed
us at the door of the home of Anna's maidenhood.
I need not speak of the happy greetings all round, of the sunny
charms that ever surround a reunion of kindred dear to one another, and of
friends true to each other. No
one need ever tell me there are no new pleasures in life's pathway; my
experience teaches me differently. There
are, and some very prominent ones, too, pleasures so remarkable that we
always remember them. One I
think I will never forget I experienced on the evening of our arrival.
As we sat down to supper, Anna exclaimed, to the surprise of all
present: "Wait a
moment!" Then turning to
me she said: "Husband,
give thanks." I
never in my life felt more gratification in responding to a request of
such a nature than at that moment. It
brought satisfaction to my soul, for I had been entertaining a desire to
do something to please the Lord, and now an opportunity had presented
itself, and we were blessed. The
desire of my heart was granted, although it came as a surprise.
I love the Lord's way of answering our prayers.
He knows just when and where to do so, and this is what brings His
children peace. O, may such
harmony ever prevail!
It was pleasant to spend Anna's
birthday in Kansas, and part of the day on the homestead with her parents;
it brought a lasting pleasure, not easily effaced.
But one day does not last always; the journey of life is onward,
and should tend upward to lead us to heaven.
Then the social chat during and after supper, and the endless
things Anna had to tell of our trip East and our visit with so many
relatives, as well as the seeing of Chautauqua and Niagara.
Indeed it was well we had a month's visit, for there was so much to
talk about, and it was quite late this evening when we retired to rest.
On the following morning I went with Mr.
Tyler and John Cavinee to the orchard to help gather apples, and I
found they had several fine winter varieties:
Snow, Ben Davis, Lady's Blush (pippin) and others.
We gathered a load in the forenoon, and one wagon-load in the
afternoon. It afforded me
gratification to help gather the fruit.
Business and pleasure travel in the same car.
Peace and harmony never quarrel.
Our friends may outlive us, or we may outlive them; but we expect
to meet them again, whether it should be our lot or theirs to go first.
Summer lasts much longer in Kansas than in Pennsylvania, and the
winters are shorter and milder; my overcoat, when we arrived here, was not
needed. On October 12 the
thermometer stood at 60° in the morning, and at noon at 88°.
This day Mr. Tyler and I went to Ottawa in a two-horse conveyance
on business, and while there I made a deposit in the National Bank.
Next day being Sunday, Rouelle Tyler and
I went to the Christian Church, at Norwood, where we heard Rev. Mr.
Johnston, quite an aged man, preach from the text:
Fight the good fight of faith, interpreted "Fight the
good fight of Christianity;" a good sermon which I much appreciated.
On Monday, and on many days thereafter, I helped husk corn, and I
am almost ready to say I would rather do that work in Kansas than in
Pennsylvania, for here the corn is better and ears larger.
On Tuesday morning, the cider apples having been gathered Monday,
Mr. Tyler and I took them to the cider mill, about two miles north of
here. Mr.
Wayne Lecner made the cider with our help.
Mr. Tyler had thirty baskets of apples and 107 gallons of cider,
besides some left, as he had no more storage.
It took us, to make the cider, about two hours and a half, probably
rather less. Mr. Tyler hitched his team (as it was a "sweep
power") and drove, Mr. Lecner scooped the apples into the hopper from
the wagon, whilst I "hied" away the pomace.
When the box was full, Mr. Lecner and I changed places, put up
cheese, and so on; so when through grinding, there was only the pressing
and putting up the cider, which was soon done, and we were ready to return
home. I am, in this little
account of cider-making here, somewhat explicit, because it taught me how
they make cider in Kansas (I afterward saw cider made on a larger scale at
Media, Douglass County, Kas. For
making cider their prices are higher than in Pennsylvania), and a brief
description of it may not be disinteresting to the reader.
On that day we were indeed busy; we made the cider and husked four
and a half loads of corn. We
finished husking the corn grown on the piece of land in front of Mr.
Samuel Patterson's place (about seven acres), which corn was
planted by my son Franklin.
And while I was at work husking I could not help wishing he was
there to see the fine corn they grow in Kansas.
This thought seemed to please me; my son planted the corn.
I was here then, and remained long enough to see it grow; one day I
went out to help weed it. I was but of little account, however, as compared with two
good hands who could do so much more; yet, boy-like, I did what I
could--it was a hot day, and I was an invalid, but it did me good to do a
little work.
I did not return East till July 15; then to think I should be here
again on the 10th of October, in time to help husk it!
I will here briefly describe how they husk corn on Mr. Tyler's
farm. He has two teams and
two wagons, each with a double box and extra side boards, called
"bang boards," each one being movable from one side of the box
to the other. They drive "straddle" or over one row, and husk two
or three rows in crossing the lot. Even
if one hand is husking, he usually husks two rows at a time, and when
there are only Rouelle and John to pick corn they take both teams
(thinking it pays better), and they get along faster with their work, to
have two wagons. I would
"pick corn" (as they call it) with one awhile, and then with the
other, but most of the time I worked with John, and I will give the reason
for John and myself working together.
Mr. R. P. Tyler is a quick, active
man, and I think can husk as many bushels of corn in a day as "the
next man." I admit John
wore gloves part of the time while picking corn, and I am no extra hand to
husk, yet, when a single man husks as much corn along side of us as R. P.
Tyler did, I think him a fast husker.
Mr. Tyler made the statement at the supper table to-night that we
had husked 150 bushels of corn (If one bushel of shelled corn takes one
and a half bushels of ears, so 150 bushels of shelled are the yield from
225 bushels of ears); then dividing that by three, fifty bushels each is
the result. He said he had worked as far as the Rule of Three in
arithmetic, and he liked proportion, and to see things equal. John and I were pleased, yet I remember, when in
Pennsylvania, his sister wrote of his husking seventy-five bushels of corn
in one day, which seemed difficult to credit at the time, yet in present
case of the 225 bushels he husked 100.
But to-day's experience in husking corn removes the difficulty; the
half of 150 is 75, and that is where I would draw the line.
On the fifteenth, in the afternoon, Mr. and
Mrs. Langdon, neighbors of the Tylers, paid us a short visit.
Mrs. Langdon, I understand, has a cousin, Fayette Temple, living at
Edinboro, Erie Co., Penn., who is a distant relative of ours.
I once knew Wilson Temple (The Temples used to live in Meadville,
and I remember Wilson Temple visiting at my father's, and of us boys
playing with him.--F. C. Waid), and when my
brother, George N., and I visited Fayette Allen,
at Athens, Penn., he spoke of Mrs. Temple,
who, he thought, lived at Conneautville, Penn.
Mr. Langden's folks are going to move
to Lake Charles, La., in the near future.
From this time forward there was little variation in the routine of
life on the farm--corn-husking, apple gathering, haymaking, etc. On Sunday, October 20, Rouelle Tyler,
John Slaven (who worked for Mr. Tyler when Mr. Cutshall and myself
were here) and myself went to Sabbath-school at Mineola, a place about
three miles northeast of here, direct west from Albert's;
schoolhouse and church combined, has bells, and is pleasantly located;
attendance of scholars averages over fifty, and altogether it is a very
interesting Sunday-school. This
is my first visit to Mineola, and I shall want to come again, for I found
my afternoon well spent. The
weather, which has been remarkably fine hitherto, is now beginning to show
symptoms of change, like man, when he feels as if the period of "the
sere and yellow leaf" were coming into his life. "The melancholy days are come, The saddest of the year, Of wailing winds and naked woods, And meadows brown and sere."
On October 22, I and Mr. Tyler went to Media to mill.
They grind by steam power, one engine running the grist-mill,
sorghum-mill and cider mill; they have also a corn-sheller, which was in
operation, loading a car with corn. All
were running in full blast except the sorghum-mill. We came home by way of Norwood, where I found some mail
matter awaiting me.
On Saturday, October 26, Anna and I went to Ottawa, where my wife
introduced me to several new acquaintances, among whom were George
B. Renwick, a merchant formerly from the East; Mrs.
Shears, dry goods, with whom we traded; at another store I was
introduced to Harry Dunn, formerly from Oil
City, Penn., and at still another store I was given the acquaintance of
Thomas Howell. While in Ottawa we also had the pleasure of meeting Rev.
E. C. Boaz, already mentioned as being the minister who married us.
It seemed to me that to-day Ottawa was having a large trade, as
there was scarcely room on Main Street to hitch a team.
On our return, after crossing the river at Main Street, we stopped
at Mr. Cowdery's, whose wife has been in poor
health for a long time, and there were but little hopes of recovery.
By the time we reached home it was quite cool, and the night before
there was quite a frost. On Sunday following the thermometer stood, in the morning, at
28°, but the sun shone beautifully through the day, smiling on all nature
and inviting to be happy. This
day R. P. Tyler, John Cavinee and myself went to Valley Chapel (the
Methodist Episcopal Church), and heard a young student, a Mr. Slauter,
from Baldwin University, preach. After
the sermon he came to me, being a stranger, and shook me by the hand with
a very brotherly greeting; I appreciated his kindness, for I loved the
young man. I said to him: "You
have helped me; I am glad I came to church; your sermon has done me
good." Mr.
Slauter said he was drawn toward me.
Now the reader may wish to know why I love the house of the Lord so
well, and am so frequently blest. First,
and chiefly, I love and fear the Lord, and delight to do His will.
On entering Valley Chapel and seeing the young man who was to
address us, my heart was uplifted in prayer on his behalf. I do not know but what he did the same for me.
One thing we do know, we each received a blessing.
In the afternoon Anna, Hattie, Mr. Tyler and
myself called to see Mr. James F. Langdon and
family, who, as said before, are going to move to Lake Charles, La.,
probably in a few days. I
have had the pleasure of meeting them several times since I came to
Kansas, and hope I may even some time visit them at their new home in
Louisiana. After returning home in the evening, John
Cavinee and I went to the Christian Church at Norwood.
Rev. Johnson conducted services and
preached a sermon, to me both profitable and interesting, and I felt
composed and happy with the thought that I was another Sabbath day's
journey nearer home. Mr.
Johnson, on coming down the aisle after service, shook hands with
me, and I said to him: "I
thank the Lord for the Gospel, and do not forget the men who bring it to
us; I love them." I am
not unlike the man who said that if a husband should love his wife, there
is no harm in telling her so occasionally.
I love to go to church because I am always so well paid for going.
I thank my friend for taking, or going with, me to church.
There are very pleasant hours of real enjoyment along the pathway
of life, many of them at home; some among relatives and friends; others in
traveling and sightseeing, and in the enjoyment of life abroad.
But I give the church, the house of the Lord, the preference; and
here I raise the question, where in my life have I had more pleasing favor
and blessing than at church? Where,
anywhere else, have I been taught such great lessons of life as I have
been in the Sunday-school and at church?
I believe in attending the different branches of Christ's church,
as it broadens our views and makes better men of us.
We love Christ more, and serve him better.
We can not be like Him until we do as he did.
He loved all mankind. He
has told us what to do, and it is all written out most plainly in His
word.
On Monday, October 28, Mr. Tyler was busy finishing his
haying--taking in his second crop of clover.
While he was out in the timber the two dogs treed a large coon,
which was captured and brought in. It
was quite a show for little Vera and the rests of the family.
While gathering the clover hay in piles, and getting it ready to
stack, I was reminded of haying in former years in Pennsylvania.
In the West they hay later in the season. I used to think September was a late month to finish haying
in, but here, to-day, in Kansas, Mr. Tyler is stacking his second crop of
clover hay! It was cut with a
reaper and then allowed to lie till dry or cured, and pitched in heaps
ready to be drawn. Some
places in the West they cut prairie grass for hay, as late as November.
On the 29th Mr. Tyler finished stacking his clover hay, building
two stacks, and we now consider the haying completed on the Tyler Farm. A letter from my son, Guinnip, to-day, brought me the news
that my sons have completed their threshing, the total amount of wheat,
buckwheat, and oats for current year being, I understand, as follows:
Wheat, 120 bushels; buckwheat, 124; oats, 1,700; altogether rather
less than 2,000 bushels raised by my three boys for the year 1889.
The corn crop is not yet husked; fruit crop in our vicinity not
very good, though we had quite an abundance of pears and some apples.
Our hay crop, which is the most essential with us, was very good,
and, in my opinion, will reach, if not exceed, the average. This year several improvements have been made about the farm
buildings, especially on the old homestead, where Ira C. Waid dwelt, and
where Guinnip P. now lives. The
house and barns have all had repairs this year, and I am very grateful to
my son for the interest He has taken in keeping the old farm and buildings
in respectable condition. It
is not only a credit to him, but to me, as well as others, and it reminds
me pleasantly of my parents and the old farm; how well it was cared for by
them, and how often we shared the blessings of a bountiful harvest, and
the goodness of the Lord in that dear old home.
While at labor in the cornfield, we have time to think, and to-day,
October 29, while busy husking, many of my friends came into my
thoughts--friends whom I shall never forget, prominent among them being
Col. C. W. Charlton, of Knoxville, Tenn., who died July 13, 1889,
at his home. The letter
written by himself to me (This letter will be found in the Appendix to
this book), acknowledging receipt of the SOUVENIR, is treasured by me
among my most precious keepsakes. I
have not said or written as much about my honored friend as I would wish,
but while I live I shall ever cherish his memory with unqualified
gratitude. I am glad I came
to know Col. Charlton, whom I first visited in Knoxville, Tenn., after an
introduction at the hands of my eldest son, Franklin I., whom He had
befriended. That agreeable interview and visit will ever remain in my
recollection. As the leaves of the evergreen,
bright all the year, So my heart, all my days, his sweet
mem’ry will cheer.
F. C. Waid
October 8, 1889, before leaving Meadville on
the 9th, I bent a last look on the remains of James
Harris, who died the previous day, and whose funeral was held the
day after his death. I was
sorry we could not attend, for Mr. Harris was a neighbor of ours, and I
had known him many years, his farm lying south of ours.
He is interred in Greendale Cemetery, Meadville, while his parents
sleep their last sleep on the farm he owned.
In this connection I am reminded of a trip I made to Grand Island
and St. Paul, Neb., in November, 1880, in company with my brother and
brother-in-law. We started
from Meadville on the 9th, and while waiting for the train I was informed
by a friend that John Irvin was dead.
I remember my taking the last look of the young man, whom I had
loved so dearly, for I had known him many years, from boyhood; indeed for
one to simply know him was to love him.
Trees blossom before they bear fruit.
I use these words to introduce a compliment paid me by his father, James
Irvin, who was a school director in Mead Township in 1856 (I
think). When the directors
visited the Moore School, where I was teaching at the time, Mr. Irvin, in
his address, after visiting all the schools in Mead Township, said:
"We find nowhere so good order and attention to study is
observed as here." Of
course I blushingly appreciated the remark, the more so as my father was
present at the time, having come there to see me on business that day.
Little things are helps, and it may not now be wondered at that for
many years, when visiting Meadville, I stopped at the "Irvin
House," just because James Irvin was proprietor, and I felt that I
honored him for his kindness to me. But
this is another digression from my subject proper, for which I must crave
the reader's indulgence.
Mr. Warren Eley and wife are
here on a visit (Thursday, October 31), one much appreciated by Mr.
Tyler's family, of which, of course, Anna and I form a part.
They came to this neighborhood from Washington County, N. Y.,
twelve years ago. I had the
pleasure of presenting them with our photographs before they left for
their home. On November 2
Albert Tyler and his son, coming along with their fine team, kindly drove
me to Ottawa, and, as the weather had cleared off and become once more
fine (for it had been very stormy and wet), I enjoyed my ride very much.
In Ottawa I was pleased to meet so many of my old friends and
new-made acquaintances. Among
those with whom I conversed were Dr. Black,
Prothonotor Sherman, Harry Brown (formerly of Meadville), also Maurice
Mullen, secretary of the Y. M. C. A., of Ottawa, on whose aged
mother I had called before leaving Meadville for Kansas, and whom I have
called on since my last return home from Kansas.
I also met Mr. Minton, cashier of the First National Bank, whom I
was pleased to see, and with whom I afterward did some business in the
bank. I said to him:
"Mr. Minton, 'as face answereth to face in water, so the heart
of man to man.' Your banking seems free.
I ought to pay you a compliment; when I return to Ottawa again I
will remember you." Also
met Mr. Chambers and Mr. T. Howell, both very
friendly, excellent gentlemen and true friends.
Sunday, November 2, was a beautiful day.
The mail brought me by Mr. Tyler, from the Norwood office, conveyed
the news of the death, on October 31, 1889, of Nial
Peas, one of the oldest men of Crawford County, born in Hampshire
County, Mass., July 26, 1798. Being
a resident of near Meadville, and a farmer, I knew him pretty well.
Also I learned of the taking away of Reuben
Van Marter, who died October 26, 1889.
He is interred in Blooming Valley Cemetery.
Reuben, when a boy, came to school to
me, and he attended the Cowen School, I think, two winters.
William Roderic, of Meadville, died
recently. He was street
commissioner there for many years, and I was well acquainted with him.
To-day I attended Sunday-school at Norwood,
and I and Anna dined with Albert W. Tyler and
family, in company with her father and mother.
After dinner I went with my nephew and niece to Mineola Methodist
Episcopal Sunday-school, the evening being spent in social chat at home
with Mr. and Mrs. Tyler and Rouelle.
As I was to leave for my own home in Pennsylvania the following
day, our conversation had an essence of deeper interest, more especially
as we expected Anna would have to remain behind on account of her somewhat
impaired health, and at the earnest request of her aged parents to have
her remain here with them during the winter.
Monday, November 4--I wished good-by with a hearty "God bless
you," to my dear wife and all the Tyler family who had been so good,
kind and hospitable to me during my most pleasant, interesting and
health-invigorating visit, and set off, in company with my father-in-law,
for Ottawa, there to take the cars for the East.
I remembered, before leaving the home, my love to Hattie and Vera,
who were absent at Olpe, Lyon Co., Kas.
In giving, at Ottawa, a farewell shake of the hand to Mr. Tyler
(for he had to return home on account of his horse "Mary" being
afraid of the cars), I felt that, for a time at least, I was parting with
the last link that united me with what was most dear to me on earth--wife,
kindred and friends, old and new, and I confess a sense of desolation came
over me. I had an hour to
wait for the train, in lonely commune with myself; and during that time
many thoughts and reminiscences presented themselves to me, some of which
I jotted down in my Diary, and that portion of this work, commencing at
page 165, now takes up the thread of my narrative. "Linger not long.
Home is not home without thee; Its dearest tokens do but make me
mourn. O, let its memory, like a chain about
thee, Gently compel and hasten thy return."
|
|
||
