Information from Second Souvenirs, by Francis C. Waid, 1890, pp. 257-293 Extracts from his diary 1889 Tuesday November 5, 1889--Election day, at home and abroad. I write this in St. Louis, where I wish I could spend a day or so, as the city is very interesting to me. On our way I noticed a marked improvement in the crops since last I saw them, especially in the wheat; indeed I was surprised at the marked advance made. We pass through Carlyle and Salem, Ill., Vincennes and North Vernon, Ind., and finally reach Cincinnati in the evening of November 5, and on the following day I found myself once more "on my native heath," where I received a most pleasant and happy greeting from kindred and friends. I had been absent only four weeks, and yet the many changes that had taken place in a measure startled me, when I came to hear of them. Births, marriages, deaths and loss of property by fire or otherwise, all these militate to bring about the changes and chances of this mortal life: "Change and decay in all around I see; O Thou, who changest not, abide with me." In speaking of destruction of property by fire, I here more especially refer to the burning of G. W. Cutshall's old farm-house in Randolph Township, Crawford County, which was totally consumed by fire on Wednesday, October 30, 1889. The homes of our fathers, the dwelling places or abodes of men, our own homes, all pass away. If they do not disappear by fire or earthquake, or are swept away by floods or cyclones, they return to earth with time, and pass away. Men often leave their homes, but their homes sometimes leave them. We are here together on earth but a little while at longest, yet our homes, our houses, our abodes, the places where we live have great attractions for us, and this farm-house on my brother-in-law's farm is one long to be remembered. Many families have lived in it in its day including G. W. Cutshall's father, George Cutshall and others. But I am not disposed to give in detail here the names of all who have lived here; nor at present could I, even if I so wished. But I do want to say a little of the proverbial hospitality that was ever found at this old farm-house. The generosity of the men and women who have inhabited it is well known, not only in this community, but also throughout the whole county, and even beyond its limits. Here the hungry have been fed, here the weary have found rest, and here many have been encouraged and strengthened in the battle of life; in which connection I take a pardonable pride in saying that Mrs. Jane Cutshall is sister to Eliza, my first wife. A man's heart deviseth his way, and the Lord directeth his steps. To-day, November 8, I walked over to Mr. Cutshall's to pour out my sympathy with him and his family in their trouble. We know our friends in prosperity, but we appreciate them in adversity, when misfortune comes, and we can then counsel, and speak comfort to their grief. The old house that was burnt was built in 1853, thirty-six years ago, and it was fortunate for Mr. Cutshall and his family that his spring house, which was built later, and is commodious and conveniently located near the old one, has escaped the fire untouched. It is a two-story slate-roofed building 16x20, and is now their dwelling. A true friend loveth at all times; and I do not forget the occasion of my sister-in-law's (Matilda Jane Cutshall) birthday party, September 12, 1889, which Anna and I attended. I gave her (Mrs. Cutshall), at that time, our photographs with the promise that some time in the future I would remember her with some token of our esteem. I have been waiting for an opportunity all along, and now it has in an unexpected manner arrived. I believe in gifts, but always in bestowing them when and where they will do the most good. We should study how, what, when and where to give, as well as to whom, if we would fulfill the Divine law, and have our gifts appreciated by the receiver. Imagine, if you can, my dear reader, the pleasure that came to each of us when I wrote out and handed Matilda Jane Cutshall my check for $100. Of course I had talked this over with husband and wife, and a full understanding was arrived at between us. I have had the pleasure of being with the family over night, and they tell me it is like beginning the world again, so many things were destroyed; indeed only those who have experienced being "burnt out," can appreciate the condition of things. Our real friends come to comfort us in the darkest hours of life. I know what that is, and if I should be asked why I am at Mr. Cutshall's place to-day, I could give no better reason than this--It is the Lord's will. Then, let me add, the greatest loss on earth is husband or wife by death; and he who pens these lines wishes to tell you, dear reader, that at the close of the services on the occasion of the funeral of my beloved wife, Eliza, at Blooming Valley Cemetery, on July 5, 1888, when I turned from the grave and left behind me all that was dear to me on earth, George and Matilda Jane Cutshall, with other friends and relatives, accompanied me to my desolate home, and stayed with me overnight. I never shall forget it. Is not that sufficient reason why I am here to-night? I am also well rewarded by meeting Mr. T. Davis, a friend, who lives near Waterford, Erie Co., Penn., and who, with his wife, was present at Mr. Cutshall's fiftieth birthday party [It will be seven years ago December 31, 1889]. Mrs. Davis has died since that time. Mr. Davis told me about Matthew Smith's family, of whom I was much pleased to hear, as I was well acquainted with them, having boarded with them when C. R. Slocum, and E. T. Wheeler and myself attended school at Waterford Academy. There were five children in the family--three daughters, Elizabeth, Jane and Katie, and two sons, Wilson and Hunter. The children are all living, but the parents are deceased. November 11, 1889--I sit down to write a few more lines about my Third Trip to Kansas, but I have just about commenced the pleasant duty when along comes our assessor, with whom I have to do business. He leaves a notice of assessment including money out at interest, $40,000; total in Woodcock Township, Crawford Co., Penn., $45,880. In this life we have something to do. If we have nothing we want to get something; then when we get it we have something to do to take care of it. It is all right to double our talents, and serve the Lord with whatever he may give us. I may sometimes forget; but whatever I may do I always wish to remember the Lord. You know what is written in the Bible: Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth. Oh, how good that was for me; but it is better now. The Lord has taught me much since. I verily believe his word: Behold the righteous are rewarded in the earth much more than the wicked and the sinner. But in referring back briefly to "My Third Trip to Kansas," I will put a few thoughts connected therewith in writing. The lips of the wise feed many, but fools die for want of wisdom. How much my heart seeketh after this true wisdom! And however much I may have learned from others, or by my own experience, I want the Lord, like the potter who shapes the clay, to direct my steps day by day. Our planning without His approval is in vain. "Man proposes, but God disposes." But when we can say: "Thy will be done," then all will be well. The Lord's Prayer is the Key to man's whole life--it unlocks the hidden mysteries of earth and heaven to the true disciple of Christ. It is the secret to success, and no Christian can get along without it. And that is why my wife and I knelt down and prayed in secret, imploring Divine aid and blessing before starting off on our trip to Kansas, the burden of our prayer being "bless those, O Lord, whom we leave behind, and our kindred everywhere; and remember us O Lord who are about to depart on this journey. Grant us a safe journey, and may we be permitted to return in health to our home." And as Anna lifted up her voice in earnest faith, I was reminded of another prayer I once heard many years ago, when my father, Ira C. Waid, was wrestling with the spirit in secret and alone. He was in such strong earnestness, and so loud in his invocations, that I could hear him many rods off. Well, as I have said, my wife and I prayed for health and strength, a safe journey and a return home in health. Many thoughts and perplexities about this journey made our burden heavy, but how easy it became when we remembered the word of the Lord: Cast thy burden on the Lord, he will sustain thee. That is why we prayed. We looked unto Him, and our fears were lightened. Smiles and help came, and we started on our journey with glad hearts. On our way Anna and I had plenty of opportunity to talk over past incidents in our lives--from our first meeting on the train, already narrated, down to the present time. All the promises conveyed in the Bible are not confined to the future life; very many of them come direct to us as help here, that we may have the promise of this life, and that which is to come--eternal life. And when God cheers our heart, it is cheered Sot good. And I wish to say that I am trying to appreciate His precious gifts, not only the gift of His Son, but other gifts that call for praise and gratitude. When I read in His Word: Every good and perfect gift cometh from Him with whom there is no variableness or shadow of turning, my heart has a desire to praise and honor him. What did the wise man mean when he said: Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the Lord? Now it is a wife I am to be thankful for; and I wish to say here that no man knows the value of a true Christian wife better than I do, nor the loss of such an one, as I do. Having had both these blessed and sad experiences in my life, is it any wonder I should now be so thankful to my Heavenly Father for a wife--"God's first gift to man." I have written elsewhere in this volume about my wife, Anna, asking me to return thanks at her father's table October 10, 1889, which was her first request. But I wish to relate to the reader when and where it was that Anna first heard me give thanks. It was at Aunt Abbie's, Monroe Centre, Ogle Co., Ill., on July 17, 1889. I shall always remember Aunt Abbie, who, when supper was ready, and we had sat down, asked me to give thanks. Now I fear that even the most patient reader will think I am dwelling too long on my third trip to Kansas, but I crave indulgence and permission to say how it was that I came home alone, leaving my wife with her parents. We had intended when we left home to return within thirty days, and our excursion tickets were to that effect "good for thirty days." But on our arrival at Mr. Tyler's, Anna had a bad cold and cough from which she did not entirely recover while we were there. So on account of her impaired health and the pressing request of her parents and the family (as already remarked), it was judged better for her to spend the winter in Kansas, whither I expect to return as soon as business may permit, and there I hope to spend part of the winter, with our aged parents. Since my return to my Pennsylvania home (for I speak now as having a home in Kansas as well as in the East), I have received and read the first letter Anna, as Mrs. Francis C. Waid, ever wrote me, and much do I appreciate it. It is dated November 10, 1889. She and I had a good deal of correspondence between the years 1881 and 1888 (October 10), some sixteen letters or thereby, on either side, and Anna has them all with her in Kansas. She tells me there was a time when we did not correspond (for friends in this regard are often neglectful) for, perhaps, more than a year (Anna has told me that when this dropping off in our correspondence took place, her mother said that she (Anna) would never hear from me again, and that she then destroyed all my letters to that date.--F. C. Waid). Then when my first SOUVENIR came out, I naturally thought of my friends, including the Tyler family, and among others sent Anna a copy, which renewed our friendship. I wrote her before our marriage, I think, about fifty-five letters, Anna's to me being a few less, probably about fifty. These letters I regard as a part of real life, written in faith with a pure motive and with the best of intentions. It is true the sound wheat in them is naturally not without some leaven of chaff, but it is the good contained in them I so fondly cherish, and for that reason only I here make mention of them en passant in my SOUVENIR. More to follow, David