To David M. Waid dmwaid@provide.net and other WAID researchers in Crawford County. Here is the information I found on Pember Waid in the "History of Crawford County, PA, 1885." "A friend of Mr. F.C. WAID, while on one of his frequent pleasant visits to the hospitable home of the latter, and when in the reception room, remarked: "You are quite a Tennesseean, I see you have a fireplace in this room." "Yes," replied Mr. WAID, "and use it when we have occasion to. My mother was the last person in this neighborhood to give up cooking by a fireplace, and I know of but one other family in this community who use a fireplace to sit by, and the race is between us. Besides, I never find the same comfort sitting by a stove as by the cheerful chimney corner, and our friends, when visiting us, so well enjoy the 'old new thing,' in cold weather, we can afford to keep it up on their account, and so in 1884, you find in my house the good old-fashion grate with its cheery fire and cosy hearth." Yes; there is indeed the good old-fashioned fireplace with its many hallowed associations that are understood by us today just as they were understood by our forefathers centuries ago; associations that are linked as closely as love can unite them with all the holy ties of domestic happiness and peace, ever reminding us that as the “sacred refuge of our life," be it the palace or cot, be it regal and stately, or " be it ever so humble, there's no place like home" Francis C. WAID's parents only paid one visit to the land of their nativity (Connecticut) after coming to Pennsylvania, and it was a notable and pleasant coincidence, not only in their lives, but in the lives of our subject and his wife, that they four should form the happy party to perform that dutiful and almost sacred pilgrimage and to remain together during the entire visit. Mr. WAID himself, in his own graphic manner, thus speaks of this interesting episode in their lives "A good man lives his life twice over, and in this sense I think of my parents. From my earliest boyhood until their journey through life closed I have heard them speak of relatives, friends and schoolmates in Connecticut. Hearing of and seeing are two different things, like faith and works, but the one often leads to the other; so after a lapse of forty-eight years, my father, mother, my wife and myself, on August 24, 1864, left for the land of my parents' childhood and youth. My eldest son-Franklin I.-who was then only in his ninth year, drove us to Waterford in a two-horse carriage, and returned home the following day. The good visit opened with my old familiar friend with whom I had boarded when attending the academy in 1852, and we had the pleasure of calling on relatives and friends at several places. In the town of Saybrook, Conn., my father met some of his old schoolmates, and after crossing the Connecticut River and coming into the town where he was raised, we put up at the home of Benijah Bills, whose father was still living in the same building. In conversation with him, Mr. Bills said that he had worked many a day with Pember WAID in the shipyard. Three of my father's aunts were living, aged seventy-eight, eighty-two and.eighty-six respectively. Visiting the old schoolhouse and play-ground, we found the boys playing (it being noon recess) as merrily and boisterouslv as my father and his chums did on the same ground half a century before. 'There,' said my father, 'is the hickory tree I have told you so much about; it does not look as big as I thought it would be, but it is the same old tree; here we played base ball,' pointing out the spot. Here the meadow, there the tree, the wonted scene, Where in boyish glee so oft we gambolled on the green.' "On this I felt like paying my father a compliment, but I was relieved by my mother saying: 'Ira, you look and act more like a boy now than -.your youngest son.'' 'Good! exclaimed I; 'I have a mother if my father is a boy.' In company,with Mr. Brockway, father showed us where the old cider-mill stood and how they used to make the cider when he was a boy. There lay the old bed rock with a groove cut in circular form, perhaps a foot wide by two or three inches deep, in which a large stone wheel ran to crush the apples, and near by lay a portion of one of the stone wheels partly covered by grass and rubbish. After viewing this I did not wonder at my father building a cider-mill and a good one in its day. When we came to the house where Pember WAID had lived, my father stepped up to the door (which was open) and, taking off his hat, said: 'I have got home now, I will go in without knocking.' My father seemed to me to be as well pleased as anybody could be. The impression made has never been forgotten. We gathered wild grapes by the same place where he had picked them in childhoods sunny days along with his brothers and sisters. In meeting with relatives and friends my pen is inadequate to relate more than a few of the joys that came to each of no. We visited Forestville, Farmington and the city of Hartford, where my parents looked, for the last time, on those whom they loved so well. Altogether it was one of the happy events of our lives, and one we will never forget. Frederick A. Tiffany, with whom we seemed to make our home during our visit in that locality, is my father's cousin. He (Mr. Tiffany) had visited my relatives in Crawford County previous to our going to Connecticut, and once since with his wife he visited my parents and myself and family, and my father had the pleasure of taking them to other relatives and friends, where they rehearsed for the last time." To speak of the many acts of charity, liberality and good works of Francis C. WAID might be here considered an act of superfluity, but is it not written in the Scriptures: "Let your liberality be known to all men?" Reference might, in a becoming spirit. be made to the ministers of the Erie Conference, who can speak in Mr. WAID's behalf as to his relationship in assisting to build and repair churches, in furthering missionary work, etc.., not to mention what he has done for his own church, his " Pilgrim Home," on the State road. Mr. WAID has long since realized the fact that " It is more blessed to give than to receive." Several years ago our subject was present at the dedication of a church at Saegertown, but did not arrive in time to hear the text. After a good sermon came the " tug of war " to raise the amount necessary to free the church from debt. Mr. WAID was waiting for an opportunity which soon came. Being anxious to know what the text was, he rose to his feet and said, addressing the speaker: - " Sir, please to repeat the text, as I came too late to hear it, and I will donate $100." Good! " exclaimed the speaker, " I hope there are more of you who want to hear the text." Business then moved on in a lively manner. The text was from Matthew v, 16.- "Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven." Similar scenes occurred at Blooming Valley, Townville and some other places where Mr. WAID was present." More to follow! Kathy Brubaker Volunteer Genealogist Linesville Historical Society kbrbkr@toolcity.net