Information from Second Souvenirs, by Francis C. Waid, 1890, pp. 188-230 Extracts from his diary 1887 Sunday, March 13--Went to church to-day with Mr. and Mrs. Robert A. Fergerson. On Monday following, on our way home, we attended, in company with our cousins, the funeral of John Parks, in Kerrtown, Rev. A. C. Ellis, of the First Methodist Episcopal Church of Meadville, being the officiating minister. His remarks, though brief, were very good and appropriate, and whatever else of his discourse might be forgotten, by repetition he impressed these words on his hearers: "We all preach our own funeral sermons in life." No matter what may be said over our remains ere being forever hidden from view, the truth is manifest that we all preach our own funeral sermons in life. We are prone rather to inquire how a person may have lived than how he may have died, although the dying are included in this life--the last act in the great drama. So our study should be how to die, not how to live. Mr. Parks was Mrs. Fergerson's uncle, and he died at the age of seventy-seven years. On coming through Meadville we called on our lifelong friend, Henry Smith, who resides near the top of the town hill, where Avery Oaks formerly lived. Henry and I did many a day's work together, and he helped to build our house. I can safely say that for aught I know we have enjoyed unbroken friendship from childhood. Before corn-planters were introduced here, and even since, Henry and I have dropped corn many a day together, and he had the credit of dropping straight rows of corn,, which I tried to imitate, and was often chosen "second dropper." March 20, 1887--James Wygant, born April 10, 1824, and died March 17, 1887, at his home in Blooming Valley, was buried to-day. The funeral services were held in the Methodist Episcopal Church, which was filled to the doors, the attendance being so large that twice I gave my seat up to accommodate others; by special request however, I was seated with the family of the deceased, much to my gratification. Rev. William B. Trevy was the officiating brother. James Wygant was well known in this county, and when I get his obituary I will probably write more concerning him. He was converted at State Road Methodist Episcopal Church during the wonderful revival in the winter of 1850-51. Although over nine years older than myself, he frequently claimed to be my age, we having both set out on our Christian journey about the same time. And there is something more in this than a mere passing thought. The living within a mile of each other ever since our conversion, and the enjoying together Christian fellowship and friendship, had endeared us to each other, which is one reason why I wish to pay a tribute of respect to his memory. In life he was my friend, and I have often appreciated his advice, and listened with profit to his many funeral (In his obituary it is stated he had preached over 344 funeral sermons) and other sermons. I regarded him as one of the most accommodating men in Blooming Valley, not infrequently making unselfish sacrifices to others, and I remember it was often said: "If you want an accommodation, go to Brother Wygant." When I was a young man I used to visit his home frequently, for my "girl" (who is now my wife) boarded there at the time she was going to school. James Wygant was twice married; on the first occasion, September 18, 1844, to Lucretia B. Halley, and the second time April 6, 1854, to Maria E. Cutler, of Randolph Township, Crawford County. His first wife died October 29, 1853, and his remains now rest beside her in Blooming Valley Cemetery. Our last visit with Brother Wygant's family before he was prostrated with sickness, was December 15, 1886; but the last time I talked with him was on Tuesday evening, March 15, 1887, two days before he died, and I heard him repeat this verse on awakening from a short sleep: "Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are, While on His breast I lean my head And breathe my life out sweetly there." Brother George Floyd and Robert Teasdale were present, also Dr. I. T. Akin, while I was there. The last words Mr. Wygant uttered were from the well-known beautiful hymn: "Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee; E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me, Still all my song shall be, nearer my God to Thee, Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee." Our family Bible, which was rebound, having been in daily use since 1852, was bought from Rev. James Wygant who was colporteur that year. March 24, 1887--When I and my family returned home in the evening from Meadville, in the midst of a storm, we were most agreeably surprised to find awaiting us Mr. and Mrs. Gilmore, of Dakota, who had arrived but a few minutes before we got home. Joy does not always wait till morning; on this occasion it came in the evening. We were truly glad to meet our old friends, whom we had visited in September, 1881, when they were living near St. Charles, Minn. There were four of us who enjoyed that visit: Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Cutshall and Mr. and Mrs. Francis C. Waid. At the time spoken of we had been visiting our brother-in-law, Willis Masiker, who lives at Lansing, Iowa; and from his place we drove by hired team to Pine Island, Goodhue Co., Minn., in order that we might have a better view of the country than could be got by rail. At Pine Island we visited Warren W. Cutshall and Victor Sterling, and on our way thither we stopped at Chester, Olmsted County, where we had the pleasure of dining with our friend and old acquaintance, Hon. Thomas W. Phelps. On our return trip we took dinner with Eleazer Phelps, at his residence in Rochester, Minn., after which we drove to William Gilmore's and made our long-to-be-remembered visit; I call it so, as it proved to be one of the most fortunate visits we made in this entire trip. We expected to meet only William Gilmore and his family at his home, but imagine our pleasant surprise when we learned that J. Y. Gilmore and his daughter were there, from New Orleans. To have met my old school-mate anywhere in the West would have been a surprise to me; but to unexpectedly find him at his brother's was to me a genuine pleasure, which I heartily enjoyed. As I have said, this occurred in 1881. On March 25, 1887, we were favored with the company at our home of Mrs. Gilmore (mother of William and J. Y.), who is now in her eighty-sixth year; also of Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Cutshall, and Mr. and Mrs. Gaylord Smith, the last two named being near neighbors--altogether a very happy reunion. William Gilmore was in the Mexican War, and was personally acquainted, I believe, with Gen. Zachary Taylor, having served on guard duty under him. During the Presidental campaign of 1848, Gen. Taylor came to Meadville, where, with many others I had the honor of shaking hands with him, and here Mr. Gilmore was introduced to the General with whom he had a long chat. March 31, 1887--Success does not always depend on our own exertions. After we have done all in our physical power to bring about certain results, and have seemingly failed, there is yet not alone hope of success for us, if in the proper path of duty, but even a certainty of victory if we will take our case to the Lord in prayer. "Prayer is appointed to convey the blessings God designs to give." We may mark out our way, but should always ask his approval. "Man proposes, God disposes." My experience of this day is not the first demonstrated in my life. A similar experience came to me December 14, 1886, and I could recall many others; but I will forbear. I have just spoken of Hope. How thankful we ought to be for that desire of some good that "springs eternal in the human breast!" Without it man's life would be almost a blank. It is true hope may be deceitful, but yet there is pleasure in cherishing it. Peacock speaks of "Those blest days when life was new, And hope was false but love was true." In the darkest hours of distress and despair, when all else has deserted us, sweet hope remains. It is a balm for every condition of life--" The miserable have no other medicine, but only hope;" it is the Divinity ever stirring within us. Byron thus apostrophizes Hope: "Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life, The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray." My son, Guinnip P., has been married four years today, and has been living since then, with exception of a short time, on the old farm. I have received an interesting letter from Mr. J. F. Hamilton, dated Muddy Creek, Loudon County, Tenn., March 29, 1887, a portion of which will be found in the Appendix. This letter commences with general news, including an account of the sale of Col. Easiley's estate, with a pressing invitation for Frank and his wife, and myself and my wife to visit his family, and attend the sale on May 5, 1887. Mr. Hamilton was Frank's nearest neighbor, and had lived on Col. Easiley's farm several years. We had the pleasure of forming the family's acquaintance and visiting them when we were at our son's place, in October, 1883. April 4:, 1887--I copy from my personal journal the following: November 11, 1852. May I remember my teacher, Mr. S. S. Sears; may I ever hold his name dear to me, and should it please God to spare my life until I reach that place among men where I may be the means, in the hand of Him who has created me, of doing good to all my fellows around me, I still wish to remember Mr. Sears, who has been and now is so kind to me. I may read these lines long hereafter, and I will always hold his name dear to me. lie has treated me well, and labored hard to instruct me, for which I give him my sincere thanks, this being all I have to give, though not all he deserves. The following certificate was written by Mr. Sears and handed to me: November 11, 1852. To whomsoever it may concern: Sir: I take pleasure in recommending to you Francis C. Waid as a young man every way capable of teaching a common school, and well calculated to win the esteem of both parents and scholars. S. S. SEARS, Teacher of Waterford Academy, Erie County, Pa. Although Mr. Sears has passed from earth, and his family are living far from here, in the West, yet as soon as I learn their address I intend to send them a SOUVENIR with our best wishes. April 5, 1887--To-day I and my youngest son, Fred. F., were near the northwest corner of the farm, in the hollow, and close by the site where many years ago stood a saw-mill, cutting and splitting into firewood (for our fire-place is still in use) an old three-prong-forked pine log, that once lay in the mill-yard, on the side hill, probably over forty years ago--indeed it may have been cut fifty years ago. While thus occupied my thoughts again became retrospective, flying back with magic speed to days of long ago. I remembered of my twin brother and myself visiting this old saw-mill when we were little boys, when everything to our young senses had grand proportions. And I also remember that one time when my twin brother and I were there, we found our uncle, Washington Waid, sawing. The mill, in those days, stood on what was known as the "Goodwill Farm," on a little creek or run that meandered between hills on either side, steep and lofty, more so below the mill than above it, the valley or fiat being quite narrow. It was then all woodland, but now there is no timber except below the old mill site, and this and the sugar bush, probably 100 rods east of this, include all the woodland on this farm. So working away with my hands, cutting and splitting this old pine log, and at the same time conjuring up visions of the past in my equally busy mind, I felt, indeed, happy, and was ready to pity any man who had his health and could not enjoy farm life, the oldest and best occupation among men. On it all mankind depend. The "king himself is fed on the herb of the field." In its day the saw-mill, just referred to, did considerable business; but when I cast ray eyes on the limited bit of territory where lay the source of its water-power, I wonder the mill was ever built on so small a stream. This creek was the output of some neighboring springs, namely: The Pitcher Spring (now on the James Harris Farm), a little over a mile southeast of the mill; a second one about three-fourths of a mile southwest, on Jabez Goodrich's farm (now on our farm); a third one on James Douglass' farm, which united with some other springs in that locality; and a fourth one, distant from the mill less than half a mile, and located on the east side of our 100-acre meadow. Several years after the mill had ceased to do business, Justus Goodwill began the erection of another one, constructing the dam farther up the stream; but after doing some work on it he abandoned it, and Ira C. Waid bought the property. April 8, l887--To-day we attended the funeral of an only child of Harry Roudebush, Ida by name, who, had she lived till June 30, this year, would have been four years old. Services were conducted in the Methodist Episcopal Church, Blooming Valley, by Rev. Mr. Thompson, of Guy's Mills, and friends and relatives whom we had not seen for a long time were present. Among them were Bigler Roudebush, son of my aunt, Clarissa U., and uncle, George Roudebush (Bigler lives at Erie, Penn., and his wife we met for the first time at this funeral), also Mr. and Mrs. Charles Gilmore, from Bradford, Penn., and Mrs. Scott, from Dakota. Some time after this funeral Mr. and Mrs. Bigler Roudebush sent me a photograph of one of my dearest aunts--my father's youngest sister, Mrs. Clarissa U. Roudebush--and her youngest son, Bigler, whom she is represented holding in her arms when a child. Bigler is now (1887) a young man, married, and in the employment of William Densmore, who is engaged extensively in the manufacturing of flour in Erie, Penn. We had likenesses of his father and mother sent to us after the death of my parents, which we prize highly, and this to be supplemented by the one sent by my cousin, Bigler Roudebush, was indeed an agreeable surprise. If this comes in the nature of a complimentary return for a single copy of my SOUVENIR, the pleasure to me is such that I believe I will never regret the labor and expense incurred in trying to benefit a thousand or more of my kindred and friends in the same way. I wish my liberality to be commensurate with my means, and may it be influenced by Divine help in the various channels wherein I shall accomplish the most good. How I love this great truth written for our good: God loveth a cheerful giver. Life is worth living when He rules our motive. Take my yoke upon you, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light. How heavy our burdens would be without his aid, how easy with it! It was not taught by Him in vain, The merciful shah peace obtain; But they who to the end endure, Will find His promise fixed and sure. 'Twas eighteen hundred fifty-one, This Christian course had then begun, The Bible truth which makes all free, Then proved a blessing unto me. My years have very sweetly flown, When in search of truth alone; And while working in the field, His word to me did comfort yield. Contented now by day or night, For His landmarks are in sight, Which point me to His favor given, And lead me upward unto Heaven. F. C. Waid More to follow, David