|
|
Excerpts from Souvenir Submitted by David M. Waid |
||
|
1886
Sunday, May 22, 1886--Today at 11 A. M.
I attended the funeral of William Robins,
services being held at the Methodist Episcopal Church, Rev.
Henry Delamater, of Meadville, being the officiating minister.
In the afternoon, understanding that the funeral of Dr.
David Best, who died in Meadville on the 20th, at the age of
fifty-nine years, one month and five days, was to take place at 3 P. M.,
my wife and I drove to Meadville, where we learned that the burial would
be on the 23d instead of the 22d. Dr.
Best had been in continuous practice in Meadville for thirty-four years.
He was a prominent physician, well known and esteemed by his
fellowmen. I have frequently
thought that to know him was to love him--and I have known him for over
thirty years. I cherish his
memory as a true friend, one who often greeted me as a brother as we met
journeying the pathway of life. Mrs.
Waid and I were disappointed as to the funeral, but we took the
opportunity of the Sunday afternoon to visit Greendale
Cemetery, which lies at the head of Randolph Street, and occupies 100
acres. At the entrance is a handsome stone arch, with a driveway in
the center, and on either side of the main entrance are smaller gateways
for foot passengers. Over the
driveway is inscribed the legend, GREENDALE CEMETERY, 1866.
The superintendent's house is on the right hand as you enter, near
the arch, and the Huidekoper Vault, the only
one at present in the cemetery, excepting the receiving vault, stands a
short distance to the left. The
largest monument is the one on the burial lot of the Brawley Family, which
stands, I think, about thirty-five feet in height.
The number interred in this cemetery is, I have been informed,
about 4,000, Mrs. Balch having been the first
to be buried here (her husband, with whom I was well acquainted, was a
bookseller and traveling agent, a man who took a great interest in
Sabbath-schools; he was run over by the cars and killed, in Michigan, not
many years ago), and my uncle, Joseph Finney,
the second, date being December 6, 1853.
Many of my relatives and friends lie in this beautiful City of the
Dead, and as my wife and I sauntered through it and read so many familiar
names on the tombstones, I could not resist copying a few, which I here
give the reader: "How loved, how honor'd once
avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom forgot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee; 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud
shall be."
JOHN REYNOLDS, born at Colchester,
England, June 18, 1782; immigrated to the United States of America in
1795; died July 23, 1871. He
was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and faith.
JANE J., daughter of Andrew
Ellicott, wife of John Reynolds, born
at Baltimore, June 25, 1778; died November 27, 1845.
HON. GAYLORD CHURCH, born August 11,
1811; died Sept. 29, 1869.
JOHN DICK, born June 17, 1794; died
May 29, 1872.
JAMES R. DICK, born April 22, 1801;
died February 9, 1875.
Rev. E. B. LANE, died 1864, aged 48
years.
JOHN FREW, died September 22, 1883,
aged 71 years.
JAMES B. CHASE, born 1803; died 1877.
ALONSON LINDLEY,
born March 4, 1799; died May 21, 1881.
Father and mother, sweetly they journeyed the pathway of life;
together they entered the portals of Heaven.
LORENZO D. WILLIAMS, born March 7,
1813; died October 14, 1878: OLIVE
T., wife of L. D. Williams, born
January 16, 1815; died October 17, 1878 (*While attending college, one of
my recitations was in Prof. L. D. Williams'
class.--F. C. Waid.)
HUGH HAMILTON, died March 15, 1869,
aged 62 years, 10 months, 22 days: MARIA,
wife of Hugh Hamilton, died April 24,
1856, aged 55 years, 3 months, 2 days:
LOVINA, second wife of Hugh
Hamilton, died December 10, 1879, aged 69 years, 2 months, 6 days.
June 5, 1886--Robert E. Slocum
and wife (nee Lovantia Gray) paid us a visit,
and it was, indeed, quite a surprise to us, as we knew Mrs. Slocum to have
been an invalid many years, at times considered past recovery (Although
there were favorable hopes of her return to health, she continued to
linger until July 10, 1887, when her spirit took flight into the unknown
country. She died at
Mosiertown, and her remains are interred in Blooming Valley Cemetery, I
being present at the interment. Lovantia
Gray was a scholar at Blooming Valley school during 1851-2.--F.
C. Waid).
Mr. Simon Gray, her father,
lived in Blooming Valley when I taught the first school there, in the
winter of 1851-52; but anterior, even to this, I was acquainted with the
family, whom I always loved, and I am sure I can not recall anything that
has ever interrupted our friendship. Years ago Mr. Gray and his family removed to Van Buren
County, Iowa, where, after revisiting friends and relations here, he died,
I believe in 1872.
Robert E. Slocum is a son of Eleazer
Slocum, and a brother of C. R., of
whom special mention is made in my first SOUVENIR, and there is not a
single member of the family whom I do not love and respect, having a
lifelong acquaintance with them. Robert
lived a number of years in Blooming Valley, and at present resides at
Mosiertown, in the same county.
August 28 to 31--[My trip to Lake Chautauqua and other places,
accompanied by my wife, Eliza; for an account of which see page
50.]
September 21 to 28--[My trip to Cincinnati and Dayton (Ohio), along
with my youngest son, Fred F.; for an account of which see page
52.]
October 9, 1886--At 6:30 P. M. to-day I took train "No.
4" at Meadville for Jamestown, N. Y., arriving there at 8:35 P. M.
Went direct to my aunt, Mary Ann Simmons,
after having a social visit with aunt and Clara
Mosher, and Addie Whicher and her son Archie
(aged sixteen) from Mount Vernon, Jefferson Co., Ill., whom I had
not seen for many years, and whom on this occasion I had especially come
to see. I was truly glad to meet them.
In years gone by, some twenty or more, when my cousin Addie was at
home in Jamestown, she would answer my letters, and for quite a number of
years we kept up a correspondence, in which way we became more familiarly
acquainted than we otherwise would have been, or than I did with other
members of the family. Yet
during her long absence since her marriage, and after living in Jamestown,
and then going to Illinois some eight or ten years ago, we had not written
to each other. During this
time, however, she had made one visit home to her folks, though I had not
the pleasure of visiting her.
During that evening I was informed by Clara
that Lizzie, Henry's wife, was very sick, not
expected to live. Some three
weeks prior to the present date she had returned from Buffalo, where she
had been visiting relatives, and was not feeling very well, yet not
complaining; nor (as I understand) did her friends feel alarmed about her
condition, until a short time before her death, which occurred about 11 A.
M, October 10, 1886.
On Sunday Archie Whicher and I
attended the Methodist Episcopal Church, where we heard a sermon delivered
by Elder Peate, with whom I have been
acquainted many years. I
think he is doing a grand work for the Lord as well as for the people of
Jamestown. When I was there last March the society were still holding
their meetings in the old church. I
take this opportunity of saying that on March 28, 1886, I was in Jamestown
and enjoyed with my friends one of the best seasons of grace and favor in
the Lord in hearing Elder Peate's sermon and
the Sunday-school exercises. It
was not only a Bethel to me but to all present, and the Sunday-school
exercises, under the favor and blessing of the Lord, I fully admit I have
never found excelled. And now to be permitted to share a similar one in their new
church is certainly enough to pour happiness into a Christian's mind.
On returning from church, I was told the sad news of Lizzie
Simmons' death. I then
deferred my return home until after the funeral, which took place on
Tuesday following at 11 A. M., from their home.
I went from Jamestown to Ashville and attended the funeral with my
cousin, Leander Simmons, whose good wife
remained at home to care for her sick daughter. It is about a nine-miles' drive to Henry's,
and probably about thirteen to Levant, where the remains were interred.
I would here give pen utterance to a few more thoughts suggested by
this sad event. How true it
is "we all do fade as a leaf."
And at this season, "the melancholy days, the saddest of the
year," when countless leaves are fading and falling, are we not
reminded of the shortness of human life?
If we view it from this standpoint, and ask ourselves what the
period of life of a single leaf is, the answer is applicable to our own
case--one short summer. Our
days are as grass that groweth up in the morning; it is cut down and
withereth: or like a flower
of the field, the wind passeth over it and it is gone, the place thereof
knoweth it no more. And how
true also are the words of the poet Young, in his "Night
Thoughts:" "Earth's highest station ends in
' Here he lies,' And 'Dust to dust,' concludes her
noblest song."
The speaker at Lizzie's funeral said in his opening remarks: "We are here today to honor the dead and comfort the
living." I thought to
myself, who would not pay a tribute of respect in honoring the memory of
one who had so faithfully performed the duties of life, and left a record
more valuable than anything this earth can afford.
She was a member of the Baptist Church for many years, and if my
memory is correct, was in her forty-fourth year when she died.
She is interred beside her parents in Levant Cemetery, where stands
a fine Scotch granite monument, erected (so I am informed) at a cost of
about $1,000. But the
memorial left to the memory of every true man or woman will live when the
monument left to perpetuate that memory shall have passed away.
I do not wonder it is said in the Blessed Book:
Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like
his. The memory of the just
is blessed, but the name of the wicked shall rot.
On returning home from Jamestown, October 13, I
inquired after Mr. Jacob Cole, one of our
neighbors, who had been very ill for several weeks, and my wife's reply
was that he was failing, although there were still some hopes of his
recovery. This was on
Wednesday, and on the following Saturday, October 16, he died, in his
seventy-third year, I believe. The
funeral services, which were held at the Methodist Episcopal Church,
Blooming Valley, on the following Monday, were largely attended,
Rev. Mr. Sprague, of Meadville, officiating.
The remains were interred in the cemetery at Blooming Valley.
How often and yet how true is this saying:
"Friend after friend departs;" and in the language of
inspiration: "The
mourners go about the streets."
Then, again, on October 20, my wife and I attended the funeral of Lina
Masiker, second wife of Avery W. Masiker (my
brother-in-law), who lives in Oil Creek Township, Crawford County, Penn.,
near Bethel Methodist Episcopal Church, and where the funeral was held.
Rev. Thomas Berry preached the sermon,
the text being: Let me die
the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.
Then LIVE THE LIFE OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
The remains were interred in the beautiful rural Henderson
Cemetery, on a hill located within less than a mile from the church.
Mr. and Mrs. Masiker were married last
November. We had the pleasure
of but one visit or short interview with them, which took place last
March. There are some people
whom we are privileged to meet but once in a lifetime, and yet who leave
an impression on our minds for good, never to be effaced.
Such was the effect of our visit with Lina
Masiker.
I am inclined, before leaving this subject, to say a few words
about another departed friend and relative.
"Death loves a shining mark."
I refer to Hulda Chipman, a girl who
attended school in the Goodwill District, at that time a school district
of Woodcock Township. [The
district has long since been divided, and the people in the portion in
which we live, on the State road, send their children to Blooming Valley
school.] I taught two terms of winter school in this district, 1853-54 and
1854-55. One day, I remember,
our school was visited by our friend C. R. Slocum,
who delivered a short address to the school, after which he said to me
that he could select not only the best-looking scholar, but also the
smartest and most intelligent one. I
told him I thought he would require more than one visit to find the
"most intelligent," but he said not.
"Will you tell me if I should guess it?"
Thinking he would fail in his guess, I replied, "Yes." He immediately said "Hulda," and my reply was,
"You need not guess again, for a person who had visited our school
previously said there were some very intelligent-looking scholars, and as
the most intelligent chose the same one as you did."
Hulda Chipman, her
brother Edward, and many others I could name,
not only of the school I am speaking of, but also of the Moore and Hatch
schools in Mead Township, and of the Blooming Valley schools in Woodcock
Township, have long since passed to their rest and been numbered with the
dead. Many of them, as well
as some of my old teachers, are interred in Blooming Valley Cemetery. "Ere sin could blight, or sorrow
fade, Death came with friendly care, The opening bud to Heav'n conveyed, And bade it blossom there."
|
|
||
