February 2.--I thought it
best to remain in Meadville till after the funeral of my old friend and
acquaintance, Joseph Taylor, who had died
at the age of seventy-two years, and whom I have known for a long time. Rev.
W. H. Marshall delivered the funeral sermon, the text he chose
for the occasion being Ecclesiastes vii: 1: A good name is better than
precious ointment; and the day of death than the day of one's birth. The
pastor demonstrated well and clearly that to the righteous the day of
death is better than the day of his birth. I am thankful for having
heard this discourse, as it did me good; building me up on a sure
foundation. How I love them that love the Lord! I would always be Thine
Lord, Thy word is so dear to me.
Besides doing some business to-day in the city, I purchased six
Bibles to present as gifts to my friends, and I enjoyed the pleasure of
a visit with Mr. and Mrs. Quick, whose
relatives I called on when I was in Chicago. Mrs.
Kate Quick was once a pupil of mine in her girlhood; it is a
pleasure not only to remember but to be remembered. Surely there is
something in every hour of life; we can either help or be helped as the
moments pass by, bringing opportunities either to be seized or lost
forever! On my way home I called on Henry Smith,
with whom I tarried over night, and spent a most pleasant social evening
with his family and aged father-in-law, William
Chase, who, I believe, still enjoys good health for one of his
age; he had been an active and industrious farmer, and retains his
usefulness longer than most men. I will here chronicle the death of Mr.
and Mrs. Baldwin, whom I knew well in my youth and early manhood,
and at whose house I used to attend prayer meeting: "Permelia
Baldwin died July, 1, 1873, aged 83 years, 3 months, 18 days; Aaron
Baldwin died April 19, 1881, aged 87 years, 2 months, 19
days."
February 3.--This evening I had the pleasure of presenting to
my friend and relative Mrs. Ralph Roudebush
of Blooming Valley, a copy of the best of all books--a Bible--for which
she thanked me kindly. No one need say to me it does not pay to do good;
I know the value of it. Every effort in the right spirit and with proper
motives on my part has brought reward to me. We should always bear in
mind that even in this life the righteous are promised "Thirty,
sixty and some an hundred fold," and, in the next, life
everlasting. How necessary, then, for us to sow the good seed if we
would reap a golden harvest! The Lord will help us to do it, if we only
try to help ourselves.
This cold, wintry day, requiring some letters and books to assist me
in collecting matter for my THIRD SOUVENIR, I went over to my old home,
only about eighty rods distant, where my youngest son, Fred
F., lives, and I found everything about the house and farm in
such good order, that I could not refrain from complimenting him and his
wife. I was much pleased at the advancement they had made within less
than two years, or since they were married; I mean in the way of
housekeeping, farming and in the general conducting of things, both in
doors and out of doors. Indeed, I may truthfully say, the same of my
other sons, Frank and Guinnip,
and their wives. It naturally affords me much pleasure to see for myself
that my boys are trying the best they know how to get along in the
world. May the Lord bless us, and help us all to do right.
But I must now speak of my old books and letters, from which to
gather some of the best thoughts for my SOUVENIR, in the compilation of
which I find that my old diaries and some of my school records and
compositions do not come amiss. But as I pause for a moment and at a
glance span the journey of life with many of the relics before
me--letters, books, pictures, mementos, keepsakes, etc.--I find nothing
more dear to me than those reminding me of Eliza,
my dead wife. Time will never efface her memory. Anna's
letters are undoubtedly dear to me, but Eliza's
recall to me visions of youth and their happy halcyon days. Then how
dear to any one are old school books and their associations! To-day,
from among others, I pick up my old "English Reader," on the
flyleaf of which appears, in the handwriting of either my father or the
school-teacher, my name and the date when I commenced to dive into its
mysteries: "Francis C. Waid, Dec. 2,
1846." I am glad I studied and made myself acquainted with the
contents of that book. I remember, when my twin brother and I, along
with others, were thought capable of being advanced a grade higher than
"Cobb's Third Reader '' (which we had just been studying), to the
first class in the "English Reader," that we required new
books; and we got them. Father bought each of us two a copy of the
"English Reader," and that was a grand day for us. He told us
to make good use of our books and keep them, which we did, and I have
mine still, while that of my twin brother is, I think, either in
possession of my brother, G. N., or some
other relative. I love the "English Reader" and always did,
for long after leaving school I used to take if off the book-shelf
frequently, as did also Eliza, and read it
to our children as well as for our own pleasure. And I do not even now
wish to let this opportunity pass without selecting one piece of poetry
from the second part of the "Reader." It is by Cowper, the
English poet, and the verses are supposed to be written by Alexander
Selkirk during his solitary abode of four years and four months
on the island of Juan Fernandez, in the Pacific Ocean:
"I
am monarch of all I survey,
My right
there is none to dispute;
From the
center all round to the sea,
I am lord
of the fowl and the brute.
O
Solitude! where are the charms
That
sages have seen in thy face?
Better
dwell in the midst of alarms
Than
reign in this horrible place.
"I
am out of humanity's reach;
I must
finish my journey alone,
Never
hear the sweet music of speech--
I start
at the sound of my own;
The
beasts that roam over the plain
My form
with indifference see;
They are
so unacquainted with man,
Their
tameness is shocking to me.
"Society,
friendship and hove,
Divinely
bestowed upon man!
O, had I
the wings of a dove,
How soon
would I taste you again!
My
sorrows I then might assuage
In the
ways of religion and truth--
Might
learn from the wisdom of age,
And be
cheered by the sallies of youth.
"Religion!
what treasure untold
Resides
in that heavenly word!
More
precious than silver and gold,
Or all
that this earth can afford;
But the
sound of the church-going bell
These
valleys and rocks never heard,
Never
sighed at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled
when a Sabbath appeared.
"Ye
winds that have made me your sport,
Convey to
this desolate shore
Some
cordial, endearing report
Of a land
I shall visit no more!
My
friends--do they now and then send
A wish or
a thought after me?
O, tell
me I yet have a friend,
Though a
friend I am never to see.
"How
fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compared
with the speed of its flight,
The
tempest itself lags behind,
And the
swift-winged arrows of light.
When I
think of my own native land,
In a
moment I seem to be there;
But,
alas! recollection at hand
Soon
hurries me back to despair.
"But
the sea-fowl has gone to her nest,
The beast
is laid down in his lair;
Even here
is a season of rest,
And I to
my cabin repair.
There's
mercy in every place,
And
mercy--encouraging thought!--
Gives
even affliction a grace,
And
reconciles man to his lot."
February 5.--To-day until noon I was busy at home writing, and
looking over old letters, over a hundred in number, written to my father
and mother by kindred and friends, and so long carefully preserved for
me to review now after many or most of the writers, besides the
recipients, have departed for the other shore. What a pleasure and
comfort they bring to me! Then the afternoon had yet another sweet
pleasure in store for me in my having the privilege of presenting a
Bible to John F. Breed on his eightieth
birthday, to give to his great-grandchild, Shirley
Chipman, a seven-year-old boy, who was present when I handed the
book to Mr. Breed. This boy's grandfather, Edward
Chipman, was a schoolmate of mine, and also at one time a pupil.
A number of relatives of the old gentleman were gathered at his home to
congratulate him on the occasion, and I had an opportunity of thanking Mrs.
Phebe Jones, of Buffalo, N. Y. (Mrs. Breed's youngest daughter),
for her kind letter of sympathy, conveying a tribute to the memory of
Eliza. From Mr. Breed's I went to see my brother, who accompanied me in
a walk to our friend, William Smith, living about two miles from town,
where we remained, each of us enjoying an old-fashioned visit such as
brings a threefold pleasure in Anticipation, Participation and
Remembrance, you know, friend reader, there are such visits, and this
was one of them. We had each over fifty years of life from which to
gather our experience, and we had not met together for a long time; yet
how quickly the evening passed away! On the following day I again called
on my sick neighbor, Mr. Miller, whom I
found no better; then went to Mr. Glenn Fleek's
to see his aged father-in-law, Mr. Henry Kelley,
in verity a patriarch, born September 14, 1800, and whom I had known
from my boyhood.
Sunday, February 8.--This turned out a profitable day for me
all round. Where labor is followed by rest and duty by pleasure, what a
blessing they bring! In the morning I attended the State Street M. E.
Church Sabbath-school, and at the close I was invited to address a few
words to the children. One thought I expressed was the value of time and
place when and where I love to see children. If time is more valuable
than gold, why then not make the best use of it? And where can we make a
better use of time than by employing an hour in the Sunday-school? I
have seen children in many places, but I do not remember of ever looking
on them with greater pleasure than in the Sabbath-school, where we all
learn the most useful lessons, especially the young, for here they
receive their equipment for life's journey. In the forenoon there was
preaching by our pastor, Rev. J. Laverty,
his text being John xv: 15: But I have called you friends. I love the
Gospel, and, as I have often thought and said, let it do me good as it
doeth the upright in heart, so as I can repreach and practice it in my
life work. A good class-meeting followed the service, and in the
afternoon a prayer meeting was held in the church, instead of the usual
"cottage-meeting." In the evening I heard Dr.
T. C. Beach preach in the First M. E. Church from Matthew vii:
20: Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them, a passage in Scripture
I had many a time read, and heard expounded. I had heard Dr. Beach twice
before--once in his own church and once at Cochranton, last month, as
already related. He who loves home best has the greatest appreciation of
good things when he goes abroad; at least that is how I have found it in
the line of my experience. That passage of Scripture he spoke on
to-night, Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them, reminds me that
there is something about the Bible, the Gospel, that never loses its
attraction to the Christian. It never grows stale or unprofitable by
being read and studied over and over again. We love it more and more as
the years roll by. It is better farther on.
"How
sweet is the Bible! how pure is the light
That
streams from its pages divine!
'Tis a
star that shines soft thought the gloom of the night,--
Of jewels
a wonderful mine.
"'Tis
bread for the hungry, 'tis food for the poor,
A balm
for the wounded and sad,--
'Tis the
gift of a father--His likeness is there,
And the
hearts of His children are glad."
February 9.--It is said that only one individual in a thousand
lives to see eighty, and only one in ten thousand reaches the
patriarchal age of a hundred years. In the married life how few live to
see their fiftieth wedding anniversary! probably not one in a thousand.
I can name, however, an exception in my own family, in the person of my
uncle, Robert Morehead, who lived fifty
years with his second wife! Now the reader will perhaps be wondering
what all this has got to do with February 9, 1891, and I must reveal the
truth to him or her--it is the fiftieth anniversary--"Golden
Wedding"--of my most esteemed and well-beloved old friends,
Mr. and Mrs. John Roudebush [Mr. Roudebush was born April 18,
1818, in Bedford County, Penn., and has been a resident of Woodcock
Township, Crawford County, Penn., since 1824; Mrs.
Lucy J. Roudebush is a daughter of Joseph
and Sarah Armstrong, early settlers of Troy Township, also in
this county], of Blooming Valley, whom I have known from my earliest
recollections, having lived within a mile of their abode all my life.
That I received an invitation to join, with many other guests, in the
appropriate celebration of this semi-centennial, goes without saying,
and on my arrival at the home of the happy couple I received a most
friendly and cordial greeting. My only regret was that my dear wife, Anna,
was not with me to contribute to the pleasure of the gathering, and
share in the many hospitalities extended. On account of her health she
is still with her parents in Kansas, but I hope the day is not far
distant when she will be restored, by the blessing of God, to sound
health. Notwithstanding the day was wet, there was a large gathering of
relatives and friends, young and old, who all heartily enjoyed
themselves; and so eager was I to be present that I walked from
Meadville, and on reaching my home stopped to get a couple of books I
intended to present to Mr. and Mrs. Roudebush, as small tokens of
remembrance, the true value of which would be found between the boards.
These books were the Bible and a copy of my SECOND SOUVENIR and in them
I wrote the following:
THE GOLDEN WEDDING GIFT.
Presented to Lucy and John Roudebush, by
Frances C. Waid, Blooming Valley, Pa.,
February 9, 1891.
P. S.--If my request meets with your approbation, I wish you to leave
this Bible, and also the Souvenir, with your children in remembrance of
your Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary which I had the pleasure of attending.
F. C. WAID.
SOUVENIR.
Presented to Mr. and Mrs. John Roudebush
February 9, 1891, on their Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary, the
"Golden Wedding," by Francis C. Waid,
Blooming Valley, Crawford Co., Pa.
Remembrance and Friendship are valuable all along the journey of
life, and real friends appreciate it. May we bequeath it to our
children. Please give this book to yours as a token of our life-long
friendship.
A Friend loveth at all times.
F. C. WAID.
After the banquet, to which all were freely welcomed, came
congratulatory addresses and appropriate speeches, the first of which
was a poem written for the occasion and read by Mrs.
Nancy Floyd. The verses presented a brief sketch of the Roudebush
Family, and was very interesting. This was followed by an address by Mr.
Humes, who in the course of his remarks paid Mr. Roudebush and
his estimable wife a well-deserved compliment, in saying that not only
hundreds but even thousands in this county and elsewhere respected and
honored them for their integrity and real worth. I also spoke a few
words, and one question I asked was: "Are there any here who
attended the wedding of our host and hostess fifty years ago?" To
which Mrs. Roudebush replied' "No--they are all dead." Of Mr.
and Mrs. Roudebush's eight children--five sons and three
daughters--seven are living, and four of the seven were present at the
"Golden Wedding," viz.: Benton, Almond,
Effie and Ettie; Clinton, Lorenzo and Frank are in Europe; the
eldest daughter, Sylvania, is deceased. In
concluding my necessarily brief account of this happy event, I will
quote a few words from the "History of Crawford County," page
1159: "Mr. Roudebush has one of the finest farms in Blooming
Valley; has served as a justice of the peace." This worthy and
honored couple are among the best citizens of the county, and may they
long live to enjoy the fruits of their labor!
February 12.--1 received a very affectionate letter from my
wife, to-day, the purport of which set me deeply thinking. Her health,
which continues in an unsatisfactory condition, necessitates her still
remaining at her Kansas home among her own people whom I know she loves
well. I, too, love my native county, my home, my family, my friends, and
have never lived or had a permanent home anywhere else; yet I do not say
these are sufficient reasons why I should ask my wife to come here to
live, were it not for a sense of duty and what I believe to be right.
The problem, as I have presented it, I intend to solve by placing it
trustfully in the hands of the Lord, do His will to the best of my
ability, and leave the results with Him, a Rock on which to rest, either
at home or abroad.
Since our marriage I have been spending part of my time in Kansas
with my wife, and part at my home near Blooming Valley, in duty and
business as best I know how. Now, I believe, in fact I know, the Lord
helps us, when we rely on Him with faith, and the more obedient we are
to Him, and the more we trust in Him, the better it is for us. He would
not invite us to come to Him in the time of trouble if He could not
deliver us; neither would He say "cast thy burdens on me and I will
sustain thee," if He did not mean it. He is a present help in time
of trouble, mighty to save, strong lo deliver. I trust the reader will
properly comprehend my motive in alluding in my SOUVENIR to what might
be justly called "purely private affairs ;" but my reason I
feel assured is quite apparent to the intelligent. My motive is simply
to DO GOOD; and for the benefit of all who may be in sorrow, need,
sickness or any other adversity, I have named the one reliable
Physician, and the only remedy in the hour of trouble.
"He
leadeth me! O, blessed thought!
O, words
with Heavenly comfort fraught!
Whate'er
I do, where'er I be,
Still
'tis God's hand that leadeth me.
"Sometimes
'mid scenes of deepest gloom,
Sometimes
where Eden's bowers bloom,
By waters
still, o'er troubled sea,--
Still
'tis His hand that leadeth me."
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