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Excerpts from Souvenir Submitted by David M. Waid |
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BIOGRAPHICAL
SKETCHES. ROBERT L. WAID.
This, the eldest son of Ira C. and Elizabeth
P. (Morehead) Waid, was born May 1, 1826, in Riceville, Crawford
Co., Penn. He received a
common-school education, was brought up on a farm, and during life was
engaged as a tiller of the soil. He
died June 17, 1880, deeply regretted by many friends and neighbors, and
now sleeps his last sleep in Blooming Valley Cemetery. "Weep not for him who dieth, For he sleeps and is at rest; And the couch whereon he lieth Is the green earth's quiet
breast."
He was a model farmer, and neatness and perfect order in all things
were prominent features upon all parts of his farm.
He was a member of the K. of H.; in politics a Republican.
His widow now resides on the farm, in Mead Township, Crawford
County, which was improved by him.
On October 16, 1852, Mr. Waid married Almeda
A. Wheeler, who was born January 5, 1836, daughter of Abram
and Amanda (Taylor) Wheeler, who were parents of ten children:
Lorenda, Lorenzo, Elisha T., Roxanna,
Elvira, Phoebe M., Samantha, Elijah M., Almeda A. and William V.
To Mr. and Mrs. Robert L. Waid were
born the following named children:
Orlando, born August 27, 1853; Nick
P., born June 11, 1856, and Ira C.,
born July 31, 1860, died December 24, 1860.
Mr. Waid bought of his father, in 1858, thirteen and a half acres
of land, known as the Goodwill Lot, and was
willed by the latter fifty-five acres of land in Woodcock Township, being
a part of the property bought of John Reynolds,
Esq., by Ira C. Waid, in 1855.
The thirteen and a half acres, Goodwill Lot, with the homestead, in
Mead Township, on which Mrs. R. L. Waid lives, were
willed to Nick P. Waid, and the fifty-five
acres in Woodcock Township were willed to Orlando
Waid, by his father, R. L. Waid. Orlando
and Nick P. Waid traded with each other their
interests in their father's real estate December 14, 1886.
In childhood and youth the subject of this memoir was possessed of
remarkably retentive memory, seeming thereby to master his school lessons
with greater facility than did any of his brothers.
He was accustomed to talk in his sleep, and his brother, Francis
C., has heard his mother say that his uncle, William
Morehead, would take the spelling book or mental arithmetic to Robert
L.'s bedside, while he was talking in his sleep, and the latter
would go through his lessons as correctly as when awake!
Yet, as years crept on apace, his mind drifted instinctively, as it
were, from books to farm life, particularly the training of stock, such as
horses and cattle, in which branch of agriculture he in after life enjoyed
considerable notoriety. He
"broke in" and trained a chestnut-colored mare, known afterward
as "Old Doll" (his cousin, Ralph Roudebush,
distinguished her by calling her "Ira Waid's
Old Doll"), allowed to be the best-trained farm horse in the
community at that time. This
animal, which was always kept on the farm, died at the age of thirty-two
years.
During his life, both before and after his marriage, Mr. Waid
followed droving to some extent, and his brother, Francis C., remembers in
his youth accompanying him with a drove of cattle to Orange County, N. Y.
He has on several occasions driven cattle from Crawford County to the
Philadelphia market for Mr. Lyman Perkins,
after whom he was named.
Mr. Francis C. Waid says of his
brother, Robert L., "He, like the rest
of my father's sons, inherited the noble traits of his father, and managed
his business affairs on a sound basis.
He was at no time much inclined to run in debt or speculate, but
always paid promptly when he did buy on credit.
I wish it not to be thought strange if I give this brother the
preference in my father's family. His
memory deserves it now, though I fear I failed to properly appreciate in
my childhood many of his good traits of character.
"Lyman (for so he used to be
called) was a very industrious man, and, to illustrate by way of contrast
between him and myself, I will say that in all the teaming of wood or
produce done by me between the farm and Meadville, I do not remember of
ever exceeding two loads per day, whereas Lyman has hauled three.
He was noted as an early riser, observing the old maxim:
'Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and
wise!' He is also remembered as being quite a loud talker, whose voice
could be heard a considerable distance; I think he was the most talkative
member of my father's family. I
remember his being asked by a neighbor or friend how he managed to do so
much work and talk too. Lyman
replied that he did both at the same time--which was true.
'Talk and industry combined' was one of his mottoes.
He was a man whose kindness and real worth not only endeared him to
his friends but to all his acquaintances.
It was noted of him that whatever he undertook to do, he did well,
and I do not think it is saying too much when I express my opinion that he
was one of the best farmers in this community; and it is no wonder the
removal of such a man from his circle of relatives, friends and neighbors,
should be deeply felt.
"I think he accomplished in his life (a period of fifty-four
years, one month and sixteen days) more work than many who live to old
age. Many things he did on
the farm and elsewhere remain as lasting evidences of the thoroughness of
work and excellency of completeness so characteristic of him.
While in my 'teens' Lyman and I ran a threshing machine for father
for some years, and in those days we thought we were doing well if we
threshed 300 bushels of grain in a day, and then it was left in the chaff
to be cleaned afterward in the fanning-mill.
No sulky plow on our farm then, nor much other rnachinery to aid
our busy hands in our farm work. Everything
had to be done in the 'old way,' as we termed it.
"I remember the first mower father bought.
It was known as the 'Danford Mower,' manufactured at Erie, Penn.,
in the summer, I think, of 1852 or 1853.
This was the first mower used in our neighborhood, and my brother,
Lyman, used to drive the team. Cutting
grass by machinery was such a wondrous novelty in those days that old and
young, alike, would come quite a distance, as if to see a circus, the
driver being regarded with as much fascination as would be a daring
acrobat in the ring, or with as much sensation as the first appearance of
the early-day stage driver created.
"To conclude, I will briefly say, in honor of the memory of
both my father and my brother, Robert L.,
that, as practical men, Ira C. Waid was one of the leading farmers of this
community, and Robert L. Waid was the first
copy--proof enough that he was the best farmer among the sons of Ira
C. Waid.
His aim was to excel, and in this he was successful.
He labored for a good reputation, and he left a fair and honored
name to posterity."
[Since the above was in type, Mr. F. C. Waid has written the
following pleasant retrospective thoughts:]
"Sitting in the old farm home to-day, May 15, 1890, where we
four children of Ira C. Waid grew to manhood,
and in this community where we so long lived, and where my only brother.
G. N., and myself, with my children,
still live, I was perusing the sketch of R. L. Waid as
it appears in my first SOUVENIR, and concluded that a few more items in
that connection might not be uninteresting to the reader; so, 'with pen in
hand,' I chronicle some additional reminiscences.
"Many changes take place in life, even in a day, a week, a
month, a year--and oh! how
very many in fifty years; for the reader must bear in mind that my
thoughts are thrown back half a century.
To me it does not seem nearly so long.
If you want time to appear long, look ahead; in a retrospective
view, it certainly seems short to me when my twin brother, Franklin, and
I, at the age of seven years, played about this old familiar home with our
other brothers. I remember R.
L. Waid used to 'hitch up' myself and twin brother to 'drive,' as
he called it, calling us his ' match team,' because of our being twins.
When we were seven, he was fourteen, and could easily handle both
of us in the way of play, and do twice as much work.
But we gained on him as we grew older, and he found that in our
play it was not so easy to handle both of us at once as it used to be;
neither could he, in hoeing corn, do as much as both of us.
"Yes, indeed, the remembrance of our happy days on the farm,
fifty years ago, brings this day good cheer to my heart.
I love a joy that is lasting.
Youthful days are happy days when spent in Wisdom's ways; that kind
of day is beautiful, and in the words of the poet:
'A thing of beauty is a joy forever.' As my brother, R.
L., always lived near by, I knew him from my first, recollections
to the close of his life--a period of over forty years.
I had been with him many a day on the old farm here, on his farm
and on my own, working as my boys are doing, from time to time changing
work or helping each other. I
have been with him at home and abroad, and to-day, while in Blooming
Valley, along with my brother, G. N., we met
an aged man, Mr. Carpenter, in the
post-office [his son, M. L., is postmaster],
who said: 'Francis Waid, when
a boy, was with Lyman when we thrashed at our place years ago.' Mr.
Carpenter lives near Guy's Mills, in this county.
I was glad to meet my aged friend, and hear him speak of 'Lyman,'
as he called my brother, R. L.
Many are the friends here and elsewhere, whom I frequently hear
speak of my departed brother in words of lasting benediction to his
memory. As the leaves of a
rose breathe a sweet perfume long after being plucked from the stem, so a
good name will live. The
righteous are held in everlasting remembrance.
"I come now to the close of his eventful and useful life; and
here let me say that during his last sickness, which took place at his own
home in May and June, 1880, not only his wife, but also our mother, as
well as our elder brother, G. N., and myself,
all the members of my father's family then living, besides his own two
sons, together with relatives and friends, were present to do what we
could in administering to his wants, and by our presence and words of
cheer to comfort him as he neared the end of life.
Among the innumerable blessings that throng life's pathway, are
those given at its close--at the last setting of our sun. In this familiar home, where I am writing to-day, my twin
brother, Franklin, died, nearly thirty-six years ago; it is over nineteen
years since my father died, and on January 7, 1882, my mother departed.
After the death of R. L. half of the family died in this dear home.
"And now, in concluding my retrospective thoughts about the
subject proper of this sketch, I will add that one day, as mother and a
Christian friend, as well as myself, were at his bedside in silent
devotion, in compliance with his request in regard to his welfare and
recovery, mother asked him if he expected to get well.
'That, mother, is just as the Lord wills,' he replied, 'I am in His
hands, and if He sees fit to bless the means used for my recovery, I may
get better.' Then after a few days, when I was there, he again called my
attention, saying he had had a dream, and on relating it to me at a
subsequent interview, he said: 'Francis, I do not think I will ever get well.' I did all I
could to encourage him, and so did mother, but to no avail, for nothing we
could say or do had any impression on his mind.
He expressed himself willing to do the Lord's will--to live or die,
as would best please Him. Our
hearts were glad to know that he trusted in the Lord, and had found peace.
"Our Aunt Eliza Phillips, on
visiting at our home, after having spent a short time with Lyman during
this his last illness, expressed her great satisfaction, in words of
kindness and sympathy, that he had found peace, and that he had in his
dying words declared his willingness to do the Lord's will, and
submissively bow to His decree.
"The Good Master had said to him:
Come unto me, and ye shall find rest to your soul.
And so the spirit of R. L. Waid
drifted down the River of Peace to the boundless Sea of Eternity." F. C. WAID.
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