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Excerpts from Souvenir

Submitted by David M. Waid

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 

G. N. WAID. 

        This gentleman, the only surviving brother of Francis C. Waid, and one of the leading farmers of Woodcock Township, Crawford Co., Penn., was born in the township just named October 27, 1829.  He was married, April 30, 1855, at Woodcock, Crawford County, by James A. Heard, Esq., to Mary J., born August 15, 1835, daughter of Cyrus and Priscilla (Gilbert) Bean, early settlers of Woodcock Township, formerly of Bucks County, Penn.  To this union were born ten children:  Iowa (born January I8, 1856, in Lee County, Iowa, wife of Walter Joslin, and living in Woodcock Township, Crawford Co., Penn.); Elizabeth P. (born May 22, 1857, in Lee County, Iowa, wife of William Riddle, and living in Bolivar, Allegany Co., N. Y.); Blanche E. (also a native of Lee County, Iowa, born December 22, 1855, wife of Augustus Anderhalt, and living in Union City, Erie Co., Penn.); Greely (born May 13, l861, died March 27, 1864); Grant N. (born November 30, 1864); Ira C. (born December 2, 1867); Jennie L. (born July 25, 1870); Sumner B. (born May 30, 1873); Lloyd G. (born October 13, 1877); and Charlie F. (born October 21, 1881).

        Mr. Waid moved to Iowa in 1855, taking a span of good horses with him, and bringing them back to Crawford County on his return home in 1860.  While in Iowa he was visited in the spring of 1857 by his parents, and in the fall of 1860 by his brother, Francis C., who then for the first time saw "the West," and he accompanied his brother and family on their journey fifteen days after leaving West Point, Iowa, as far as Indianapolis, Ind., where he left them, thence returned to Erie, Penn., by rail, and from there to Meadville by stage.  Mr. Waid's father assisted him in buying a piece of land in Iowa, on which he built a house, and which he farmed until his return home, but several years afterward sold, as renting property so far away was not profitable.

        Mr. Waid has resided, since 1865, on his present farm, located on the Dickson road, four miles northeast of Meadville, and one mile north of the Methodist Episcopal Church on the State road.  He has a saw-mill for custom work, which he operates during four months in each year.  He enlisted during the war of the Rebellion, in July, 1862; received a bullet through the lungs at the battle of Gettysburg, July 1, 1863, and was honorably discharged on account of disability February 18, 1864.

        Francis C. Waid, George N. Waid and George W. Cutshall (brother-in-law of Francis C.) have traveled many thousands of miles together.

        In 1876 they visited the Centennial; in the fall of 1880 they had the pleasure of visiting friends and relatives in Minnesota, Iowa and Nebraska; and in December, 1883, they made a trip to Knoxville, East Tenn., on which occasion Francis C. Waid's mission was one of business, and to see his eldest son.  George N. Waid, in politics, is independent.

        [Above appeared in my first Souvenir, and the following was added by myself in April, 1890.  F. C. WAID.]

        After my brother and family returned from the West they lived with father until the following year, when a home was built on the farm that is located by an excellent never-failing spring.  This home they occupied till 1865 when my brother sold his interest in the crops then on the farm, as well as his entire interest in father's estate, both personal and real, I purchasing the same.  Up to the time of my brother's enlistment father and he did the farming, also managing same till July, 1862; and while he was in the army I assisted father in doing his farm work.  When my brother returned home, he and I worked the farm together (till he moved to where he now lives), assisted in same by father, who also directed us as to what was best to do in the way of planning on the farm.

        I am glad, to-day, that I always had my father's advice as long as he lived.  No one but myself ever knew how much I missed his counsel when he was gone; but his memory is blessed forever.  During my lifetime I have been highly favored as I think of my father's family, our lives having all been spared till we were of the age of twenty-one.  What a golden opportunity was this for us to become acquainted with each other here!  Unceasingly do I think of the many days, weeks, months and years we were permitted to spend in that ever-to-be-remembered pleasant farm-house where a MOTHER'S LOVE and a FATHER'S CARE never grew weary or ceased in the interest of both the present and future welfare of their children.  But to again speak of my brother, G. N. Waid.  I have traveled more miles with him than with any other member of our family; and I have traveled at different times with my parents and each of my three brothers, thoughts of which events bring to me pleasant recollections.  But one may ask--are there no ills in life?  Was life to us always smooth in the family, on the farm, at home, or abroad?  There is a cure for all the ills of life, and it is found in the BIBLE.  When we go astray, confession is good for the soul.  Faith and repentance bring us to Christ, with whom we find forgiveness; and if we are like Him, as we are required to be, we also will forgive one another, and so fulfill the law of Christ.  Did you ever notice, after a storm, how beautifully the sun shines?  So in the Christian life we are so much nearer home if we abide in Him.

        My brother made a trip to Oklahoma on April 22, 1889 (the day of the opening of that territory), in order to see the country, and with a view of buying land or locating there; but, not being suited, he returned home.  Had I not been sick at the time, at Freeman Tyler's place, in Franklin County, Kas., I would have been glad to have accompanied my brother on that trip.  By reference to page 90 in this book, the reader will find an account of our delightful trip to Athens, Penn., and other places, the many thoughts of which tour ofttimes bring to us pleasant recollections in our hours of labor, like rays of sunshine smiling through a summer cloud.

        On September 11 and 12, 1889, my brother was present at the meeting of the G. A. R., which was then being held at Gettysburg, and on that occasion also I would gladly have accompanied him, but my health at that time was not of the best; moreover my wife and I had been invited to be present at the celebration of the sixtieth birthday of my sister-in-law, Mrs. M. J. Cutshall, which we had the pleasure of attending.  My brother has now also passed his sixtieth year, having reached it on October 27, 1889.

        In writing this sketch it occurs to me to say a few words on the labor question--I mean early labor, or being taught how to work when a boy.  I have recollections of my twin brother and myself working with a cross-cut saw, father or one of my elder brothers holding one end of the saw and we the other.  Many a log was cut off in this way till we were large enough to make full hands ourselves.  Labor is something I do not despise.  What have we that is not produced by labor?  If I were asked how to solve the labor question, I would reply:  "Could it not be solved by doing right?  Everybody doing the same amount of labor they should or ought to do, and follow it for a life-business?"

        The saw-mill on my brother's farm was burnt April 13, 1888, and has not been rebuilt.  My wife Eliza and I visited him on that day--her birthday.  Often since I have visited her grave, and while I write I think of her blessed memory.  Having been absent from home several months, I found that the return of her birthday reminded me of so much in our lives; and I was glad it was my privilege and pleasant duty to visit her grave Sunday, April 13, 1890, in company with my cousin, Ralph Roudebush, with whom I was stopping in Blooming Valley.  Eliza, if living, would have been fifty-eight years of age.

        The life of my brother, in regard to the various vocations of life, has been as changeable as that of any other of our family.  Before he came of age he began work in the lumber country, since when he followed that business to a considerable extent till the burning down of his mill.  At one time he also followed peddling, selling wooden bowls, in company with Hosea Smith, our nearest neighbor; and I think that he and Eleazar Slocum were in partnership at one time.  Before his marriage he spent nearly a year in Michigan, lumbering and working on the farm of his uncle, Gilbert Waid.  My brother, as is well known, was a soldier in the Civil war, fighting valiantly for his country.  Hosea Smith, of whom I have just made mention, was in the same regiment, the One Hundred and Fiftieth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, and was instantly killed at Gettysburg (his remains being brought home and interred in the Smith burying ground, which is half a mile south of State Road, and in view of our home), while my brother was so severely wounded in the same action that he had to lie on the field of battle, expecting death every moment.  It might be asked by some:  "Why speak of this?"  And my answer would be:  "Would you ask me to pass over the greatest sacrifice in my brother's life without making some mention of it?"  I honor the soldiers of our country, my brother certainly not excepted; and I would like to add that I believe there were true, loyal and brave men, not only in the army, but also at home, who did the best they could for the preservation of our Union.  While I live let me honor the memory of the departed, and respect the name of the living.

        As I have recorded only a few items of my brother's life, gleaned from the many which might be collected (did time and space permit), I will add in conclusion, in copying from my diary of April 16, 1890, that on the previous day I visited him, and that on my way to his residence I called on the oldest person in our community--Aunt Maria Long, so called by nearly everyone, who is now living with her youngest son, John Long, near my brother's place.  Her home where she lived for many years up to last fall, on State road, is near my own.  She has been in failing health many years, and I was glad, indeed, to see my old neighbor yet alive.  When I informed her of the death of my Aunt Mary Ann Simmons, of Jamestown, N. Y. (who died April 4, 1890, and whose funeral was held on Sunday, April 6, 1890), she said:  "Pretty girl, I always liked her when I used to play with her; how old was your aunt?"  I replied that she was in her eighty-eighth year.  "Well, I was older," Mrs. Long said, though not intimating how much her senior in age.  I think Mrs. Long has been a pattern of industry, even down to her present sickness.  When my wife and I came home in July, 1889, we saw her, over ninety years of age, laboring with her hoe in the garden where I had so many years seen her working.  We stopped, and I introduced my wife, and we were mutually pleased.  This morning., while at the breakfast table at my brother's, I remarked (as I observed the five boys all present):  "Your boys are all at home, but your four girls, who are all married, are absent."  It was a real pleasure to me to sit at table with them, a happy and contented family.

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