Information from Second Souvenirs, by Francis C. Waid, 1890, pp. 42-43 Death sunders the strongest human ties ever formed, and like all other things earthly, friendship conies to an end. Permit me here to repeat the words of Martha Smith to her husband. She was a little older than I, and we were always acquainted, she being one of our nearest neighbors in her youth, and afterward a resident of Meadville, where she died March 12, 1874. The remark she made to her husband, taking his hand, a short time before her departure from earth, was this: "Do you remember where you first saw me?" "Yes," he replied, "in the cemetery;" "There," she added, "is where you will see me last." Many are the pleasant memories that arise to me as I think over the past, even in this single instance, for her life was one of usefulness. We never can forget such friends. Here we have in those few last words of hers the beginning and the end, not only of friendship, but of the bond and union of life eompleta within itself, looking from file starting point to the end of the journey. Martha Smith is interred in Greendale Cemetery, Meadville, Penn. An older sister, Mary Smith, married Nathan Southwick, and died at Little Cooley, Crawford County, Penn., February 12, 1860, in her thirty-eighth year. She is interred in the Smith Burying-ground, in Mead Township, Crawford County. They were not only my schoolmates, but, as I have already remarked, our nearest neighbors. Of Joseph Smith's family of twelve children five are living-the youngest daughter and four sons; the aged mother is yet alive. I remember the last time I saw Mary Southwick; it was on this occasion. My brother-in-law, Asa Masiker, who lived at Spring Creek, Warren Co., Penn., was here (Blooming Valley) to attend the funeral of his father, who died January 30, 1860, and I accompanied him with my horse and cutter on his way home after the funeral, as far as Little Cooley. Before leaving this place I called to see Mary, who was very low with consumption, though still able to sit up. She did not see me coming in, but she recognized my voice at once, for she said: "Why, that is Francis Waid, I know your voice," reaching out her hand to me, "I am so glad to see you, I thought I would never see you again." Now there was in that last interview the fruit of true friendship; and before I close I wish to relate one incident that occurred in our lives which doubly endears her memory to me. When I was a lad of not more than seven or eight summers, she and I had to come home from school together, a distance of a mile and a half, on a certain cold, stormy, wintry evening. We expected my father to come for us with the team, as was his custom in stormy weather, but we were disappointed, and so had to face the bleak wind and blustering storm as best we could. In coming over Felty Hill; I believe I would have certainly perished with cold but for the protection and care Mary manifested in my behalf. To her eldest daughter, who lives in Bloomfield Township, Crawford County, I had the pleasure of presenting a copy of my 1886 Souvenir. More to follow, David