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Excerpts from Souvenir Submitted by David M. Waid |
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1886
The common articles of food and clothing are at all times in
demand, for are they not the necessaries of life?
Yet other things we need for our happiness' sake--friends and home;
and how much should we appreciate such blessings.
Yet have you ever thought, dear reader, that often the common
things of life are valued too highly by us, and not really cared for as
they should be? Why?
Because they are so common. The
rising of the sun is no less beautiful because we have seen it so often;
the friend on whom we may have looked so frequently we love the more; so I
call attention to some very common things I have met with or observed on
life's pathway; very common, I call them, yet not altogether
insignificant.
Having enjoyed labor on the farm, and taken an occasional trip
abroad on business as well as pleasure, I will resume the thread of my
narative by first relating that in May, this year, my wife and I received
a wedding invitation, of which following is a copy:
Mr. and Mrs. Leander Simmons request the pleasure of your company
at the marriage of their daughter, Florence, to Anson Skinner, Thursday,
May 13, 1886, at 8:30 P. M. Ashville, N. Y. In response to this we accordingly made preparations for
the journey, and at a late hour of the day (for business and home affairs
did not permit an earlier departure) we drove to Meadville depot in time,
as we thought, to catch the 3:35 P. M. train, but arrived just too late.
My wife not intending to accompany me to the wedding, returned home
with the rig. Was I now to
give up my intentions? No.
The blacksmith who has too many irons in the fire may let some of
them burn. My case was this: I
wished to be present at the wedding, and I had business in Jamestown (near
Ashville) which I could transact, even if I should fail to be at the
wedding in time. However, in
this instance I would place pleasure first, business afterward--reversing
the moral. My last chance to
reach Ashville that evening was, I thought, another train known as the
Bradford train, or "train No. 9," which would leave Meadville
about 6 P. M., and I yet hoped to be in time for the wedding feast.
As Goldsmith says: "Hope, like the glimm'ring
taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way,
And still as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray."
But do you know what often accompanies Hope, dear reader?
Disappointment. And,
alas! this was my experience
at that time. When
"train No. 9" came in I learned it did not stop at Ashville, but
at Jamestown, seven miles beyond; so I could not reach Ashville in the
time desired. Yet, though
defeated, I would not surrender, and faithfully came to my relief this old
maxim, which I had learned in my youth:
Never be discouraged. I
now decided not to proceed to Jamestown until I should have the pleasure
of seeing the happy newly-wedded couple; so I went to my friend Mr.
Derby, with whom I have spent many pleasant hours on the farm, and
there put up for the night. In
the morning I took the early train, arriving at Ashville about 9 A. M.,
just in time to see those of my relatives who had been at the wedding take
my train for Jamestown, and leave me at Ashville; a brief recognition,
for, as they were getting on the front platform of the car, I was stepping
off at the rear!
To Mr. Simmons' house I sped direct, and here I met Mrs. Simmons
and her two daughters, Florence and Jennie, with other members of the
family, who greeted me pleasantly, with much hand-shaking and many
affectionate enquiries--" Where is Eliza [my wife]?"
"Have you come to the wedding?" etc., etc. Being
introduced to the bride, Mrs. Simmons asked me if I had not met the
friends at the depot, to which I replied "Yes;" then saying,
"Come this way," she courteously led me to the dining-room,
where the contemplation of the good things yet remaining after the feast,
together with the numerous wedding presents, brought sufficient pleasure
and happiness to me as to more than reward me for the disappointment I had
experienced. I felt just like
a man stepping into the pay-office to draw his month's wages.
But duty called for an onward march, and I had to make preparations
to leave after spending a pleasant forenoon with my friends, and enjoying
a social after-dinner visit with my cousin, Leander Simmons, in the
beautiful grove which surrounded his home.
Here we talked of departed friends and relatives, among them our
grandfather, Ember Waid, and our uncles and
aunts, whose memories linger in our minds with a fondness my pen fails to
describe. This interview was
like pure gold; the essence of real friendship collected for a final
review, never in this life to be repeated. I do not hesitate to call it the best we ever had.
Bidding them adieu for the present, I took my departure from
Ashville, crossing the country to Henry Simmons'
farm, which is located in New York State, near the State line, between
Sugar Grove, Penn., and Bust, N. Y., these places being about five miles
apart, and his residence lying about midway between them.
Having a desire to see the country which I had never before
traveled over, I took my journey on foot, and the eight or nine miles walk
was fine, wholesome exercise for me, which I truly enjoyed.
After I had traveled about three or four miles, and ascended a long
hill, a beautiful view of Lake Chautauqua presented itself to my admiring
sight. In the previous
summer, when visiting Chautauqua with my wife and friends, we stood by
this lake, and were borne over its placid waters.
But that was not the view I now enjoyed.
I think that to the lonely traveler just emerging from the darkness
into the light--from the valley beneath to the hill-top above--as the
beautiful Lake Chautauqua bursts upon his sight, presenting an expanse of
crystal waters extending from Jamestown, at the foot, to Mayville, at the
head, together with the many other surrounding points of interest, the
scene is incomparable.
Then as I passed on, and shortly before arriving at Henry
Simmons' I ascended another eminence, whence the view of the
Stillwell Creek valley and surrounding country could be had at a glance.
And here again I was refreshed with another new thought. I thanked the Creator that He had permitted me to see this
day, and to be cheered by so many pleasing thoughts and beautiful sights,
the words of Luther unconsciously occurring to my mind:
"God writes the Gospel, not in the Bible alone, but on trees
and flowers, and clouds and stars."
It was now evening. Descending
the hill I came direct to Mr. Simmons' farm, where I found him just
leaving the barn for the house, and I surprised him by saluting him before
he noticed me, with "How do you do, Henry?"
This was my third visit since he was married, having been to see
him twice with my wife previous to this occasion.
If I mistake not Lizzie Mee and Henry Simmons
were married October 12, 1865, and they lived near Levant, seven or eight
miles from Jamestown, several years after marriage.
It was there we made our first visit; then afterward, during the
month of December, 1883, after attending the funeral of Mr. Simmons'
father (Uncle Philander Simmons), we visited
them where they now live. In Henry
Simmons' family there are six children--three girls and three
boys--all living. Thoroughly
well did we enjoy our visit there, as well as with his brother, Delbert
Simmons, the youngest son in Uncle Philander Simmons' family, and
who is a merchant in Busti. But,
"Time and tide wait for no man."
Some one is ever being borne across the River of Death to his long
home. "Death's but a path that must be
trod If man would ever pass to God." The unbroken family must lose its first member, and this
sets us thinking that it matters not how strong the tie is that binds us
here, there comes a time when it must be sundered, and we part.
I think I shall never forget my visit of May 14, 1886, to that
family who so kindly welcomed me, and with so much interest and friendship
conversed with me. But how
suddenly is the strongest tie broken, that bond "which unites two
hearts in one." How
wonderful is the wisdom displayed by the allwise Creator, in witholding
from our knowledge the time of our departure!
"We know what we are, but we know not what we will be;"
and we are admonished to be ready.
There we were talking and enjoying life so well, little thinking
that 'ere we should meet again one of our number would be taken.
Well do I remember shaking hands with the children, when leaving
that home, and bidding "good by," and then my last farewell to
their mother. It was our
final meeting on earth, for I shall see her no more until I shall have
crossed the river that divides "the beautiful land' from ours! "0 Paradise, 0 Paradise, Who doth not crave for rest, Who would not seek the happy land Where they that loved are
blest?"
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