Sunday, July 27.--I am
very thankful to be at home again to spend the Sabbath amid my old
familiar associations, and attend my customary places of worship. Our
church, State Road and Blooming Valley, "Pilgrim's Home," is
at present undergoing some repairs and remodeling, so meeting was held
in the grove, in the churchyard, under the shade of those beautiful
trees which some members present and myself had helped plant years ago.
The day was pleasant, the sermon good, and the meeting profitable, I
trust, to all.
I am very busy now on week-days preparing for delivery, and also
delivering some of my SECOND SOUVENIRS, taking as many as thirty in one
day to my neighbors, on foot. May the Lord bless them, and help me in
the work, for I do not want to eat the bread of idleness. I wish to do
something to help make the world better, and I think the most delicate,
the most sensible of all pleasures consists in promoting the pleasures
and happiness of others.
August 1.--I avail myself of the "Grangers'
Excursion" to-day to Chautauqua, to take twenty copies of my
SOUVENIR for distribution among friends in Jamestown, Chautauqua and
other places. He who goes on a mission of good can not but be rewarded,
for His promises, which never fail, are sure to be fulfilled. We are
privileged to partake of as good fruit as the seed we sow can produce,
and often better, for the seed literally is improved by cultivation. The
personal effort of taking those twenty books seems so closely allied to
me by nature that I can not exempt myself from it, and I do not wish the
good I desire accomplished to be done in some indirect way, but rather
to prove beyond a doubt my willingness personally to DO GOOD with my own
hands, money, talent, and whatever else I may possess.
My intention was to return home from Jamestown on Saturday, August
2d, but while on my way, with valise in hand, to Mr. Colt's in the
evening, whom should I overtake but Mr. Devenpeck,
also carrying a valise, and Clara! "Well!" exclaimed I,
as we cordially shook hands, "I'll not go home to-night, as I
intended; I am so glad to have overtaken you, it is worth all my
trip!" Our joy at meeting here in Jamestown was pure and unalloyed,
like our friendship which is love refined and purged of all its dross.
So it was truly a feast of good things to me to spend the Sabbath day,
August 3, with such an aggregation of friends in Jamestown. In the
forenoon Frank Simmons and I attended the M. E. Church and
Sunday-school, hearing a good sermon from the lips of
Prof. J. T. Edwards, of Randolph, N. Y., his subject being Naaman,
who washed in the river Jordan seven times and was cleansed of the
leprosy. I heard Prof. Edwards preach in June, last year, at Ottawa, Kas.,
and I was very glad of another opportunity of listening to his eloquent
exposition of the Gospel. The afternoon was passed in social chat among
relatives and friends, some ten or twelve in number, in the grateful
shady grove adjoining the residence of Mr. Colt. I did not feel very
well myself, so joined but little in the conversation, which afforded me
a better chance to listen and opportunity to think; and on that
refreshingly bright, balmy afternoon there naturally came to me such
thoughts as were suggested to Rev. George Herbert when
he penned his elegant Sabbath-Day reflections:
"O
day, most calm, most bright!
The fruit
of this, the next world's bud,
Th'
endorsement of supreme delight,
Writ by a
Friend, and with His blood;
The couch
of time, care's balm and bay;
The week
were dark but for thy light,
Thy torch
doth show the way."
My time is still much occupied with my SECOND SOUVENIR distribution,
and on Friday, August 8, George Cutshall
drove me to Guy's Mills, where I left several books with friends and for
the Sunday-schools; and on the home trip I stopped to see Hiram
Baldwin,
a very old acquaintance of mine, whom I had not met for years. His
parents lived south of the State Road Church for many years before they
moved away, and Hiram and I used to attend Sunday-school together; the
parents both died in Erie County, Penn., the father,
Aaron Baldwin, on April 19, 1881, aged 81 years, 2 months, 19
days, and the mother, Permelia Baldwin, on
July 1, 1873, aged 63 years, 3 months, 18 days. On
Saturday, August 9, I heard, incidentally, through a friend, in
Meadville, of the death of Mrs. Morehead
("Aunt Polly"), but the date I
could not find out; so I immediately set out for Kerrtown, where, on
arrival, I learned that the funeral was to take place within an hour. I
was thankful to have heard of it, even at the eleventh hour, but much
regretted the absence of my brother, sons and other relatives. The
interment took place in Denny's Cemetery, four miles northwest of
Meadville, and the service was conducted by Rev.
Hamilton McClintock, of Meadville, the text for his homily being
Revelations xxi: 4: And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes;
and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither
shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away. Robert
Morehead was born March 12, 1802, and was twice married, first
time March 19, 1835, to Sarah Dunn, by whom
there was one son, James S., born August 28, 1836, died --; his second
marriage was May 14, 1840, with Mary McKelvey, born
October 6, 1807, died August 7, 1890 (fifty years married life with a
second wife seldom occurs), and the record of the children is as
follows: John C., born February 11, 1841; Robert
W., born November 10, 1842; Lydia Ann,
born November 17, 1844; Harriet E., born
March 29, 1848, died --; of all these, Mrs. Sarah
Morehead, James S. Morehead and Harriet E. Morehead were all
interred in the old graveyard at Meadville, but years ago their remains
were removed to the Denny Cemetery, where Mr. Morehead had purchased a
lot. After the funeral I repaired to the home of my cousin, Robert
A. Fergerson, where I remained till Monday, in the course of
which time Uncle Robert Morehead came to
dinner, and after the repast he and I walked a short distance about his
place, talking and musing by the way; then we proceeded to his own house
where we sat down to comfort each other. I was glad to find my aged
uncle so well and cheerful under the circumstances, and had found grace
in the Lord to help in this time of his great need. Later on, Mrs.
Mary Fergerson, my cousin, came along, and we then went over to
see her father, Mr. John Curry, who is unwell, and here I may mention
that John Curry, a son of William
Curry, died July 15, 1890, at the age of 16 years, 4 months. In
the evening Mr. and Mrs. Fergerson and I called on Mr. and Mrs. Davis,
where we spent the evening in a pleasant, profitable manner.
On Monday, August 11, I returned to Meadville, and after attending to
some correspondence I recommenced on my SOUVENIR distribution, in which
connection I am pleased to say I received not only much encouragement
and profuse thanks, but also blessings which more than reward me in
these, my efforts in seeking to benefit mankind. In delivering the books
with my own hand I see and learn much of real life; and I love to visit
homes of all sorts and conditions--homes of the high and low; homes of
the rich and poor; homes of the learned and unlearned; in all of which I
receive a warm and spontaneous welcome, for they know my sole object is
to DO GOOD; and may the Lord and their prayers so keep me that I may be
faithful in the work. A certain gentleman, a most worthy Christian, said
to me to-day: "My son is so interested in your book that he is
going to read it through from beginning to end," and another noble
Christian, a lady, to whom I had presented a copy for her husband, and
left one for her son with a message to that effect, replied: "Yes,
I will hand it to him, many, many thanks." Others also say God
bless you," while some enquire "How can you afford it?"
"Well," I reply, "the good Lord has been blessing me all
my life; my friends have always been kind, and now I feel I ought to do
something." I rejoice to think there is a book of remembrance, and
that kind acts will outlive our natural lives. May we never sow any bad
seed [The several letters of acknowledgment and thanks, which I
received, will be found in the Appendix to this SOUVENIR.].
August, 13.--To-day I set out across the fields in the
direction of Saegertown, to deliver twenty copies of my SOUVENIR,
carrying twelve in a valise and six in a hand-grip. I walked as far as
the home of my nephew, Nick P. Waid, who
drove me to Saegertown, by which time I had delivered ten copies. Here I
received a hearty welcome from old friends; and I will confess I had
another object in coming to Saegertown, and that was to attend the
picnic held there by the State Road M. E. Church Sunday-school, and
present to the pastor, scholars and others copies of my SOUVENIR. The
picnic was well patronized and all went as merry as wedding bells.
August 16.--On handing a copy of my SOUVENIR, today to a
friend in Meadville, he said in simple words: "I will never forget
you." Days of my childhood and boyhood came at once into my
thoughts; and I still have in my possession scraps of paper and some
little memorandum books written on, one of which in particular is of
good size and bears on the title page the following legend: "WRITE
AND BE REMEMBERED," underneath which many of my schoolmates and
others have written their names, date of birth etc., giving a specimen
of their handwriting Now, the outcome of this is--They are remembered,
and as my friend said, I wilt never forget them.
August 19.--My brother and I, with horse and buggy, and taking
fifty copies of the SOUVENIR, set out from home this afternoon on what I
might term a "delivery trip" to Little Cooley, Centerville,
Titusville, etc. We first drove to Blooming Valley, where we commenced
the work of our mission, and the many kind friends who greeted us on our
journey (a most pleasant one indeed to both of us), were too numerous to
name. The towns or villages we stopped at after leaving home were
Blooming Valley, New Richmond, Little Cooley (where we visited W. V.
Wheeler [Mr. Wheeler is a brother-in-law of R. L. Waid], who was very
ill, and whom we saw for the last time; near Little Cooley we stopped
over night, with my nephew, Orlando Waid), Townville, Tryonville,
Centerville, Titusville, Grand Valley, Sanford, East Branch,
Spartansburg and Riceville; then back to Little Cooley, and so home. At
Titusville we saw our old friends, Asa and
Elizabeth Davis, the latter of whom is a daughter of William
Smith, once a near neighbor of ours, and to whose place I was
taken in infancy in order to be inducted into the art of eating bread
and butter, in other words--weaned. Mrs. Davis reminded me of it to-day,
by saying "I used to hold you in my arms, I could not do it now; I
am sixty-six, but I did it once upon a time." So ended my short
Warren County trip, delightful in all respects, and very profitable.
On August 22, at the home of the bride's parents, were married Rev.
G. S. W. Phillips (a second cousin of mine) and Miss
Clara Smith of Meadville, toward the former of whom I feel myself
much attracted, as I think him an excellent, industrious young man. He
studied with much diligence both at the Normal School, Edinboro, Erie
Co., Penn., and at Allegheny College, Meadville, from which latter he
graduated in the class of 1890. I would like here to add a word of
comfort for his mother who has taken such a deep interest in his welfare
and in his education. I think no little sacrifice has been made, and no
pains have been spared in helping him along in his course of study for
the ministry; and I pray that the Lord may continue His blessing on both
families, and prosper the young man. To these two families--the
"old" and the "new "--I presented a copy of my
SOUVENIR, and also to several other specially respected and beloved
friends, such as Alfred Huidekoper (of
whose father, H. J. Huidekoper, my
grandfather and father bought the homestead farm), Elizabeth
Huidekoper, Hon. William Reynolds (whose father,
John Reynolds, paid me the first dollar I ever owned, which was
for wild strawberries I sold him) and others.
On August 30 I met in Meadville my aged Christian friend, Ross
Lane, and passed our usual kindly greetings, heartily shaking
hands. We spoke kindly and seemingly more tenderly to each other than we
had ever done before, which might be interpreted into premonitions of
some impending calamity; but, be that as it may, it was the last time we
were destined to meet on earth, for next day, Sunday, at noon, Mr. Lane
died in the M. E. Church in Meadville. The account that I received of
this sudden and melancholy taking away was in substance as follows: Mr.
Lane went to church as usual, listened to the sermon, went to his class,
gave his testimony, sat down and (in the words of his pastor, Dr. Hall,
when he gave out in the evening the announcement of the death)
"fell asleep." Brother Ross Lane was a member of our church at
State Road, and his brother Isaiah, a Methodist preacher, assisted in
the protracted meetings during 1850-51, at the same church.
Sunday, August 31.--I was glad to learn that Rev. W. H.
Marshall, Baptist minister, had returned from his trip to Europe, as I
have always profited much by his sermons and had a desire to hear him
once more. And my wish was gratified this forenoon, for, in company with
Mr. Derby, I attended the Baptist Church in Meadville, where we listened
to a most interesting discourse by Mr. Marshall, his subject being
Matthew xxviii: 20: And, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of
the world. Amen. How I would like to dwell on the good things spoken of
in this sermon, and tell of the help I received from it! At the
Sunday-school I was invited with my friend into Mrs.
Wallace's Bible class, and while reciting we had the benefit of
advice and instruction from Mr. Marshall on the lesson. I was pleased to
see present Mr. Luce and other friends whom I met at church. In the
afternoon I went to prayer meeting at State Street M. E. Church, and in
the evening attended the First M. E. Church, where I had the pleasure of
listening to an excellent sermon from the lips of Dr.
C. E. Hall, his subject being "Building," his text
taken from the advice given, by David to his son, Solomon, about the
building of the temple. Dr. Hall is deserving of my heartfelt thanks for
his interest manifested in my welfare. How is it that ever since I first
saw and made the acquaintance of this good man at the funeral of my
aunt, Eliza Phillips, July 25, 1887, at
Townville, Penn., I have been continually attracted toward him? His
sermons, his friendship, his presence and help have had a truly
wonderful influence in building me up in the faith of the Gospel. I have
a right to say I love him. When I grasped his hand in the vestibule of
the church this evening I said to him: "Dr. Hall, I love to shake
your hand, in it is the grasp of friendship; let me thank Christ and
respect you for thus honoring me."
On the following Tuesday I attended the funeral of the late Ross
Lane, the services being held in the church in which he expired, Dr.
Hall and Dr. T. L. Flood officiating. Thus ended the days of a
good Christian man, one ripe in years like a shock of corn that cometh
in in its season. He passed suddenly away (and he often expressed a wish
to so die) in the service of the Lord, from his church on earth to his
eternal home in Heaven, honored of God and beloved by men for his
Christian character. Not long since I met him on the street in
Meadville, and after greetings he said to me. "Brother Waid, over
fifty years ago I gave my heart to the Lord, at which time I was a wild,
reckless young man. The good Lord tamed me, and I have been tamed ever
since." What a sermon! How true in my own experience! The Meadville
Daily Tribune of September 12, 1890, gives the following account of Mr.
Lane's sudden decease, and pays to his memory an elegant tribute:
HE DIED HAPPY.
DEATH OF THE VENERABLE ROSS LANE AT THE FIRST M. E. CHURCH.
The community was startled Sunday afternoon when it was announced
that Ross Lane, one of the oldest citizens
of Meadville, was dead, he having passed peacefully away while attending
class meeting after the regular service at the first M. E. Church. Mr.
Lane was as well as usual, early in the morning, and had remarked that
the day was a glorious one, just before the hour for church service
arrived. He listened intently to the sermon, and appeared to be in a
happy frame of mind. After church he found his way to the classroom and
attended the meeting presided over by Mr. D. R.
Coder. Mr. Lane arose and related his experience with much
earnestness, saying that he was firm in the faith, and felt that the
Lord was with him. As Mr. Lane sat down it was noticed that his body was
swaying, and finally he rested his head on a chair, a groan escaping
from his lips. His head was bowed longer than usual, and when those
present went to his assistance it was found that life was gone. He had
passed away without a struggle, and all efforts at resuscitation were
unavailing. Later the body was removed to the residence of F.
E. Wilson, No. 990 South Liberty Street, where Mr. Lane had made
his home during the past four years.
The writer is without the necessary information for an obituary
notice, except a few words concerning Mr. Lane's life, dropped during
conversation at various times. He was born in the State of New York in
the year 1806, and followed the business of lumbering in early life.
More than a half century ago he came to Crawford County, and an ordinary
lifetime was spent in Meadville. Several years ago he retired from
active duty, but as his health was good for one of his years, he was
able to appear on the streets daily, and always had a cheerful greeting
and pleasant word for his friends. He was always a Methodist, and no man
was ever more strict in his attendance on divine service. Even when his
body became somewhat feeble, and his eye dim, he was always in his pew
in church at the proper time. He lived a consistent Christian life, and
his faith in the promises of his Maker never faltered. We have never
known a man whose belief in the reality of religion was more intense or
earnest. His was a life of never wavering faith, and he was a servant
who was never untrue to his Master. He had often expressed the wish that
the end of his life might come suddenly, and he dreaded the thought that
he might become weak in mind and body, and linger on a bed of sickness
long before the vital spark should finally go out. Had he been given the
power to choose when and where he should die, he would undoubtedly have
said: "Let me be called to my rest on the Lord's day, in the church
which I have always loved."
Those who have no faith in the theory that the Supreme Ruler is
mindful of His creatures, and grants their wishes, might learn a
valuable lesson from the death of the man who was known among the
members of his church as Father Lane. On Sunday, August 24, he attended
class meeting, and among other things said: "I can only hope to
live to once more give my testimony for God." This wish was
gratified, and after being once more permitted to declare his faith in
Divine goodness, he was called hence. His death removes an old and
highly respected citizen. Mr. Lane's wife died several years ago, and of
his family but one is living--Mrs. George H.
Hamilton, at present a resident of Jefferson, Ohio.
The Meadville Tribune, in speaking of the late Ross
Lane, says, he "was a Methodist, and no man was ever more
strict in his attendance on Divine service." This reminds me of my
mother--of how she loved the house of the Lord, and of how faithfully
she sought all the means of grace; yes, and found them too. She visited
the sick, and soothed their sufferings; she was present at funerals, and
wept over dear departed friends; she was constant in her attendance at
church, and prayed devoutly, for all mankind; in all of which duties I,
also, desire to be regular, for the Lord comforts my heart in being
faithful in His service. How appropriate was that sheaf of wheat that
lay on the plain coffin, wherein rested all that was mortal of Ross
Lane! The good pastor said in his discourse that had he selected
a text for the occasion it would have been Job v: 26: Thou shalt come to
thy grave in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in in his
season. I went to the cemetery, where I lingered for a brief space to
meditate and see the last respects paid to this aged pilgrim, whose
cheerful voice we shall never hear again, and whose happy face we shall
see no more on earth. Good-night till the blessed Resurrection Morn
dawns on an Eternal Day! Peaceful is the repose of those who slumber in
the Lord!
Before leaving Greendale Cemetery I visited other dear resting
places, among them that of Dr. David Best, whose
new monument brought to my recollection the occasion of his funeral
which my wife, Eliza, and I attended. On a certain elegant monument I
read this inscription:
THEY HAVE AWAKENED ME FROM
THE
DREAM OF LIFE.
This was surmounted by an angelic figure beautiful to behold.
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