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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

Together with some Old Times Reminiscences of

C. R. SLOCUM. 

Addressed to his Sincere Friend, and Boyhood's Companion and Schoolmate, Francis C. Waid. 

        I was born in the town of Tolland, Hampden Co., Mass., December 10, 1834.  My father, Eleazer Slocum, also a native of Tolland, born in 1812, and Lois C. Merriam, in age a year younger than the former, moved from Connecticut to the Western Reservation, Ohio, in 1837.  After remaining there two years they came to Crawford County, Penn., and in the following year (1840, I think) they moved to what was then known as the George Smith place, on the State road, near Ira C. Waid's place, and here we became intimately acquainted with you and your father's family.

        How vividly come back to my memory many incidents of those happy boyhood days; our going to school at John Donnelly's, and your brother Nick helping me out of my troubles when I was afraid to go to my class; our spelling schools, sliding on the ice, our teetering on a plank, riding down hill, etc.

        One of the greatest tasks in those days, I remember, was hunting the cows; your father's, Smith's and ours used to run in the road and woods together.  The cows carried large bells, but even then it was sometimes difficult to find them in the thick, big woods.  Now all, or nearly all, are cleared away.  Do you remember our old '" Spot," your old "Lady," etc.?

        Your father used to make sugar every year, and what jolly times we had "sugaring off!"  (didn't we sugar off oftener than necessary, eh?).  And then such playing of "Hie spy!"  I shall never forget the blazing torches we used to carry as we dodged from tree to tree in the darkness.  I have never seen any "Hie spy" equal to that since, and, in all probability, never will.  I think you probably watched the fire under the big iron kettles, then used to boil the sap in, more closely than any of the rest of us, in order to keep everything "all right," as you were more careful to see that the several ingredients were put in correctly--so many eggs, etc.  And, when the clearing was being done, we'd throw stones into the log heaps, etc.; and didn't we laugh with glee when we heard them "pop" on that old hollow beach log'?

        Well do I remember the first Sunday-school held in connection with the Old State Road Church, when you and I were young boys.  Old and young attended, in those days, and we used to have to "commit" verses--no easy task even for the adults.  Cyrus Goodwill was one of our first superintendents, and a good one, too, he was.  Your father was then clearing up the place on which your son, Guinnip, now lives, your grandfather living at that time where you now do.  Your folks lived in the old house, which, with the garden, seems very much the same now as then.  But what a change in some respects!

        Then on the west side there was a row of plum trees (blue plums) that were wont to be loaded with fruit year after year; and the plums, so plentiful were they, would fall upon the ground, there to lie and rot.  Besides, on the same side of the garden were large currant bushes full-laden with sparkling clusters.  There was no trouble to raise fruit in abundance in those palmy days.

        Then your parents kept bees enough in their luxuriant orchard and garden, in hives (not patented), to furnish the family and the many drovers (who used to make your father's house their "home" or stopping place) and other visitors with all the honey needed.

        At the time my parents first moved to the place adjoining yours I was, I think, in my seventh year, and we went to what was then known as the "Cowen School," the schoolhouse being about half a mile north of Blooming Valley, at the foot of what then appeared to me "a big hill."  What jolly times we had sliding down that hill in winter, or rambling over to Woodcock Creek, and going in swimming in summer.  John Donnelly was the teacher.  What a big school of large and small scholars (among the former there being about twenty men and women grown).  Where are many of them now?  Your brother Nicholas did me a favor on my first day at that school that I have never forgotten.  He had learned that I intended to read in the old English reader, but when the class was called I was afraid to go to it, so he came forward, took me by the hand and led me forward.  In those days reading and spelling classes stood up when reciting.  There must have been from fifteen to twenty young men and women in that class--Gilmores, Densmores.  McCulloughs, Dixons, Cowens, Browns, Grays, Van Marters, Smiths, Roudebushes, Waids, etc.  Can't you see them there now in your mind's eye?  What a crowd!  If John Donnelly could call together those he has taught, and their offspring with them, what a host!  and what an influence he must have had!  Would that all teachers appreciated, as they ought, the power for good that is given them.

        Well, you and I began an intimate acquaintance the summer before that winter, that has run on unmarred until the present time--over forty years--and, so far, your treatment of me has been one of unbroken kindness.

        In your later schoolboy days your success was due to earnest work.  While some of the rest of us students were playing and squandering our time in many foolish ways, you were studying.  Yell made it a rule to have your lessons.  The same spirit of determination to achieve what you undertake has doubtless enabled you to make your life so successful as to be worthy of imitation in many particulars.

        When you began life for yourself you were self-reliant, with a determination to "hoe your own row;" and what an ingathering there has been!  You have given the "blow after blow" and taken the "step after step" that secures what all desire--success and competency.

        What is to be noted and most to be admired in all this is that you have faithfully guarded and preserved your integrity.  I honor you for many things, Francis, but most of all for your life of rectitude, which sweetens and gives relish to the whole.  There are so many who, in getting so much of this world's goods, would have forgotten the great Giver of all.  That one who holds fast his allegiance or loyalty to God and the Church is rather the exception than the rule.  Your real treasure is in Heaven, thank God!

        [In connection with the above, Mr. Waid desires, in the following open letter, to publicly express his gratitude for the life-long, unbroken friendship of C. R. Slocum]

        MEADVILLE, PENN., MAY 14, 1890.

        C. R. SLOCUM, ESQ.,

        Mosiertown, Crawford Co., Penn.

My dear Friend and Christian Brother:

        About fifty years of friendship (from 1840 to 1890) such as ours can neither be overlooked nor forgotten, nor should it be.  As I reflect on this sympathetic friendship, I am reminded of the bonds of harmony of the same nature that existed between David and Jonathan, as related in the Bible.

        Ours began in our childhood, was cultivated in our youth, and, ripening in our manhood, culminated at the present day, after an uninterrupted growth of half a century, in what it now is--a solid bond of TRUE FRIENDSHIP, cemented by all the early associations of childhood and youth, and later on by the Christian fellowship and brotherly kindness manifested by us toward each other.  And, Charles, the remembrance of

these many years deserves more than a passing notice from your friend, who has shared so largely in the sunshine of your life.  I desire to thank you, and express my gratitude for the benefits resulting to me and my family from this friendship.  Your parents were very kind to me, and I am glad that cherished friendship has ever been manifested toward me by their children.  I well remember the last visit your mother with her husband made at my parents' home--this same dear old home where I now sit penning these thoughts.  Eliza and I had come in to visit with them, not having seen them for a long time, as they were then residing in Indiana County, Penn.  And this was the last visit.  All the incidents and friendships of over a score of years of our lives were here clustered, many being rehearsed.  Pleasures such as my pen can not fully describe were ours to enjoy as we reviewed our past lives, unconscious of the fact that it was our last visit on earth.  Yet such it proved to be.

        What a noted visit that was for all of us!  How we were greeted by those we loved!  That kiss from your mother, which Eliza and I received as she met us, and her last visit to me are ever worthy of remembrance.  Of the six persons who formed that happy group of friends on that occasion, only the present recorder of that incident remains.  The old place here is occupied now by only my son and his family, with whom I am at present making my home.  Such is life!  But the friendship lives on, and my heart is cheered from day to day as I think of the past, and look forward with a hope of a reunion in the future.

        Much of our time before we came of age was spent in each other's company.  Those schoolboy days and farm life, referred to in your autobiography, open out a large field of thought, in which I mentally roam with delight.  And I think, too, that of the teachers who taught in the old Cowen school house, when I was one of the scholars there, only two are now living, John Donnelly and G. B. Delamater, whom I had the pleasure of remembering in the distribution of my first SOUVENIR.  There are, in fact, but few of our old teachers living now.

        The multitude of blessings which throng life's pathway are not all confined, as some suppose, to childhood's days and youth--the years of our minority.  I know that many are there; but friendship--social, domestic and religious--has proven to me, and teaches me in my own experience, that the greater number and the larger blessings are reserved for maturer years.

        Charles, my honored friend, of whom so many speak well (and I may say hosts who have grown up in this community and other places where you and your good wife have taught school for so many years), you are truly held in high esteem, not only by those whom you have taught, but also by the people generally.  Seldom do I go to any place where the name of C. R. Slocum is known and mentioned but what I hear some one speak well of my friend.  And, as you have said of Mr. Donnelly's influence as an instructor of youth, so your teaching and Christian life is already bearing the fruit of a golden harvest.  Permit me, in metaphor, to make a few comparisons:  Without the nursery, where would be the fruit trees?  Without the buds where would be the foliage or blossom?  Without the blossom where would be the fruit?  All are essential in their natural order of succession.  Youth spent in doing good produces gratification, but advanced age brings satisfaction in full, and of this I gather some from nearly every day's experience.

        Fifty years of true friendship are none too common in this life, and, Charles, may our friendship and love continue until we meet where the real treasure is--in Heaven.  Our home visits and Sunday-school and church privileges, so often enjoyed, have endeared us to each other in the bonds of a Christian fellowship never to be forgotten, I trust, on earth while we live.

        In conclusion, my faith is that we shall know each other in Paradise, in the manner that we shall be known in those realms of bliss. Your sincere friend,

                F. C. WAID.