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Excerpts from Souvenir Submitted by David M. Waid |
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1888.
January 4--To-day I attended the funeral of Redding
Burns to Greendale Cemetery, Meadville, the services being
performed by Rev. T. D. Logan.
Mr. Burns was aged seventy-seven years, four months and a few days.
In the evening I called on John S. Bell,
a farmer on the Turnpike Road, about four miles from Meadville and two
from Saegerstown, who has been in poor health a long time.
A year ago he was not expected to live any length of time, his
friends thinking him so near dying. I
have learned since I came home that he died January 4, 1888, at the age of
sixty-two years, and was interred on the 7th in Long's Cemetery, near his
late residence and farm. This burying ground is situated on a prominent height of over
100 feet in the north side of Woodcock Valley, two miles east of
Saegerstown. From this quiet
spot can be had a rather picturesque view of the valley below and the
surrounding country. While on
this subject I may mention that Mr. Dunn, a well-known undertaker in this
community, observed to a friend: "F.
C. Waid attends nearly as many of the funerals as I do, as I
generally see him present." Overhearing
the remark, and having placed him on the list of my friends for his
kindness shown at my mother's funeral, I could not refrain from thanking
him for the compliment, and I have ever after felt kindly toward him.
January 10, 1888.--The evening of this day finds me at the
thirty-seventh milestone of my Christian life.
I desire to thank the Lord, who has so mercifully spared my life
until now. How wonderful have His dealings in love and mercy been toward
me and my family who are all living!
If David desired to praise the name of the Lord, wily should not I?
The Lord has done great things for me, whereof I am glad.
He has not only put a new song into my mouth, even praise to the
Lord, but established my goings. And
the vows that I made unto the Lord when starting out on this new journey I
still wish to keep; for we read it is better to not vow than to vow and
not pay. This question of pay embraces a wonderful meaning.
The Lord's title on us holds good forever--it never outlaws.
But His promise is just as good as the claim which reads: He that endureth to the end shall be saved; and herein lies
the encouragement the Christian never relaxes his hold on.
Heaven awaits the finally faithful.
When I am traveling on a road on the side of which the milestones
are set, I generally take note of the figures on them in order to keep
myself advised as to my journey's progress.
Should I think less of my Heavenly journey? The Master has not only commanded us to pray but to watch.
Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation.
Not alone prayer but constant watching are what save us from
danger. This question of pay involves much thought and deep study.
January 12, 1888--My wife and I went to Blooming Valley, to call on
some friends who were sick, also to pay a long talked of visit to an aged
couple, Mr. and Mrs. Richardson, and the
night being stormy we tarried there till morning.
On our way to visit my brother-in-law, Moses
Masiker, we called to see "Aunt Polly,"
as she is called (Mrs. John Dickson), who is
very sick. Her life-companion
had departed this life April 16, 1882, in his eighty-fourth year.
Many a call and visit in days gone by have I made at Mr. Dickson's.
It was one of the homes my twin brother and I used to spend
evenings at in our school days. Mrs.
Dickson is a daughter of Simeon and Phebe Brown,
latter of whom lived to enter her one-hundredth year before her death,
being the oldest person in this community at that time.
I know of several who have reached from ninety to ninety-seven:
Mr. Wise was ninety-nine, but even that was younger than Phebe
Brown.
January 18--My aged, good friend, Adam Morris,
died at his home in Woodcock Township, and has since been interred in the
Long Cemetery. He was in his seventy-seventh year, a shoemaker by trade
(years ago doing our shoemaking), and a kind, neighborly friend.
I taught two terms of school in the Goodwill District in the years
1853-54:, and during that time had as scholars six children of Mr.
Morris', five daughters and one son. They have lived within two miles of us for many years, and I
know the family intimately. My
wife and I to-day, in company with L. M. Slocum,
had the pleasure of visiting his sister and three brothers at Mosiertown.
We first visited Mr. C. R. Slocum
where we partook of supper and stopped for the night, on the morrow going
with the members of the family to dine with Caroline
Cochran, the only sister. While
there I thought of similar occasions in my youth when, with my parents, I
was a frequent visitor at the home of Mr. Eleazer
Slocum. After thus enjoying the
hospitality of Mrs. Cochran we drove to the home of Hon.
S. Slocum (Ranker now lives in
Saegerstown; I had the pleasure of calling on the family January 4, 1890;
also on my aged friend, Lorenzo Wheeler, on
my return from Jamestown, N. Y.--F. C. Waid),
where we remained until January 21. Our
visit at his home was a most enjoyable one, and, just as we were about to
leave, Robert E. Slocum, who had been
prevented by business from 'dining at Mrs. Cochran's, came in and invited
us to prolong our stay until the afternoon, and in the meantime to dine at
his home. This invitation we
accepted and in the early evening we left for our own home, thus
completing the third of our visits to these friends whom we all love so
well.
January 27, 1888--The State Road between Blooming Valley and the
Goodrich Farm, where my son lives, is at this writing blockaded with snow,
something that has not occurred before within my recollection.
I have known of blockades that extended short distances, but never
anything to the present one in extent.
The storm has lasted several days and during that time but little
travel has been possible, although the public held possession alt day
yesterday. This morning all
attempts to travel over the road were abandoned.
On the south side of the road by going into the fields it is
possible for teams to make their way between the points mentioned.
When going they pass through the door-yard of the old homestead of Ira
C. Waid, thence around the buildings and through the orchard and
fields to the top of the hill where they are enabled to take the road once
again. It is an unusual sight
to us, such vast quantities of snow, and not by any means an uninteresting
one. A gentleman called upon
me this morning on business, who said that had he known the night before
where I lived he would have stopped, as he was caught in the storm with
many others. I sincerely wish
that he had known it for there were forty people in two sleighs, bound for
a leap-year party, caught in the height of the storm, and one horse, a
valuable animal, perished. Teams,
before arriving at the Borough limits on the State Road in Blooming
Valley, are compelled to turn to the south, pass around Felty Hill and to
cross the public road into Woodcock Township, and thence continue through James
and Gaylord Smith's fields to the State Road once more, near the
old homestead, from which they proceed as once above described.
February 4, 1888--He who seeks to do good to others finds his
reward every hour of his life. To-day
I was privileged, after attending to some business in Blooming Valley, to
attend the Teacher's Institute now in session, and I listened with more
than ordinary pleasure to the practical instruction and the discussions as
to how best instruct the young. Now
my memory travels back thirty-eight years to the time when I taught
school! My love for and attachment to my scholars (I would like every
scholar, now living, who came to school to me in Blooming Valley or
elsewhere, to receive a copy of my SOUVENIR.
Some have; I hope the rest may now or in the future.--F.
C. Waid), and the many friends with whom I became acquainted in
Blooming Valley and other places in my school-teaching experiences, is one
reason why I desire to have this work published as a gift book for friends
and kindred. We are taught the great truth that our record will live after
we are dead; so let us make a good one, of which none need be ashamed.
February 6, 1888--The road is now open for travel after a ten days'
blockade. The people of the
Borough opened the public roads to the town limits, and we, of Woodcock
Township, opened the way to Mead Township, and to-day, with three
neighbors, I completed the task of making a passage as far the Goodrich
Farm. At the dairymen's
convention in Meadville the other day, a gentleman asked me if he had not
seen me shoveling snow the Tuesday previous, near F. C. Waid's.
I laughingly told him that I thought he did, for I handled a
scoop-shovel on that day, and as I worked all alone I had a wide berth,
and not a wide one only, but a cool one as well.
March 6--Rhoda Chase died, on the 2d
inst., at her home in Meadville, Penn., in her seventy-eighth year, and is
interred in Greendale Cemetery by the side of her husband, who departed
this life in September, 1877, when in his sixty-ninth year.
They were both members of the Methodist Episcopal Church at State
Road. He was a farmer by
occupation, and once owned the farm where his son, Newton
S. Chase, now lives. This
farm is in Mead Township, only a mile south of our home. Many years prior to their moving to Meadville I had known
them, even from my childhood, and, like my parents, I loved them and their
children. My wife and I went
to the residence of Newton S. Chase for an
evening visit, February 11, 1888, and we then learned of his mother having
had a paralytic stroke on the 8th, three days before.
During her illness her son, Newton, and her only daughter living,
were present to cheer and comfort her.
She was also visited twice by her son Warren,
who lives at Corry, Erie County, Penn., and whose health at present is
quite poor. On my first visit
to see Mrs. Chase she said, as we shook hands:
"I am glad to see you;" and ill the course of our
conversation I asked her if she thought she would get well, to which she
replied: "I think
not." My wife and I were
present at her funeral. Blessed
are the dead who die in the Lord; they rest from their labors and their
works do follow them.
March 8, 1888--To-day my wife and I decided to visit my aunt,
Clarinda Morehead, who resides with her son Charles, near Townville, this
county. She had been
seriously ill for several weeks, but was now convalescent, although still
feeble. My aunt has seen
seventy years of a hardworking life; her eight children--three sons and
five daughters--are living and married.
Mrs. Morehead seldom leaves home to pay visits to her relatives,
but we hope she will so far regain her strength as to be able to come to
us and other kindred at Blooming Valley, where she spent many years of her
life. Aunt Clarinda spoke to
my wife of a time when she and her sister Jane worked for the Moreheads,
many years before. This
brought to my mind the fact that I had worked at one time for Uncle
William Morehead, and I spoke of it, saying at the same time, that the
fact that I worked for him as a boy always made ii seem pleasurable to
work by his side, as I had often done, in manhood.
Thus the conversation drifted along, pleasantly, until finally it
turned upon aged persons. I
remarked that I felt that I loved and respected the aged more than ever
before, and my Aunt Clarinda said that was because I was getting older
myself and wished to set an example for others.
"That is true, aunt," I replied, "and I feel that
when I get really old I will want something still due me."
We bade my aunt good-by, and pressed her if she could possibly to
come and visit us when the weather was less inclement.
April 3, 1888--Joseph Dickson, the
oldest citizen of Meadville, died to-day aged ninety-eight years, one
month and twenty-one days. I
am told that Meadville had been his home for upward of ninety years.
I have known Mr. Dickson personally from my youth, and I called to
see him shortly after he entered on his ninety-ninth year.
In this connection I wish to speak of Balthazar
Gehr, who resided in Sadsbury Township.
Mr. Gehr died in 1885 at the remarkable age of nearly one hundred
and three years.
April 8--To-day my wife, Eliza, and I attended the funeral of John
Johnson, of Woodcock Township, who resided two miles north of us,
in Woodcock Valley. At his
death he was in his sixty-fifth year.
His funeral was largely attended, the Rev.
Hamilton McClintock, of Meadville, officiating.
His text was from Psalm lxxiii, 26:
My flesh and my heart faileth; but God is the strength of my
heart, and my portion forever. I wish to say a few words, taking the book of books as my
theme, and I do not know where I can say them more appropriately than in
connection with the text quoted above.
I have said that I love labor, but with all my love for work I have
not been prevented from loving the Scriptures.
I delight in them; they are ever new to me; they come freighted
with glad tidings of great joy bringing light and life with the promise of
eternal happiness hereafter.
The study of the Bible and the hearing of the Gospel as it is
preached by those sent forth to proclaim its truths, by the Divine Master,
are to me of inestimable value, as they bring the greater and lasting
blessings. There are some facts about the actual make-up of the Bible
that may not generally be known, and I will give them for the future
reference of my readers:
There are 66 books: Old
Testament, 39; New Testament, 27. Chapters,
1,189: Old Testament, 929;
New Testament, 260. Verses,
31,143: Old Testament, 23,214; New Testament, 7,929.
Words, 773,692: Old Testament, 592,439; New Testament, 181,253.
Letters, 3,566,480: Old
Testament, 2,728,100; New Testament, 838,380.
Ezra vii, 21, contains all the letters of the alphabet. The
nineteenth chapter of Second Kings and the thirty-seventh chapter of
Isaiah are alike.
The Bible abounds in beautiful passages.
What is more lovely than this description of the lily in the sixth
chapter of St. Matthew: Consider
the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they
spin: and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like one of these. The
lily is mentioned fourteen times in the Bible, the rose but twice:
both are beautiful, but what flower can eclipse the modest beauty
of the lily of the valley. How many lessons we might learn from the flowers.
At the Centennial I saw the greatest variety as well as the largest
quantity of flowers I had ever beheld, as a friend of mine remarked, there
seemed to be acres of them. I thought as I turned from them how my dear mother would have
enjoyed the sight, for she was so fond of flowers, planting and tending
those about the homestead with the greatest care.
Even until this day springing from the garden are blossoming plants
placed there by her hands. I
agree with Dr. Talmage that "flowers teach."
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