Village Life in America, 1852 – 1872, by Caroline Cowles Richards

May.—The 4th New York Heavy Artillery is having hard times in the Virginia mud and rain. They are near Culpepper. It is such a change from their snug winter quarters at Fort Ethan Allen. There are 2,800 men in the Regiment and 1,200 are sick. Dr Charles S. Hoyt of the 126th, which is camping close by, has come to the help of these new recruits so kindly as to win every heart, quite in contrast to the heartlessness of their own surgeons. They will always love him for this. It is just like him.

May 16.—I have not written in my diary for a month and it has been the saddest month of my life. Dear, dear Grandfather is dead. He was buried May 2, just two weeks from the day that he returned from New York. We did everything for him that could be done, but at the end of the first week the doctors saw that he was beyond all human aid. Uncle Thomas told the doctors that they must tell him. He was much surprised but received the verdict calmly. He said “he had no notes out and perhaps it was the best time to go.” He had taught us how to live and he seemed determined to show us how a Christian should die. He said he wanted “grandmother and the children to come to him and have all the rest remain outside.” When we came into the room he said to grandmother, “Do you know what the doctors say?” She bowed her head, and then he motioned for her to come on one side and Anna and me on the other and kneel by his bedside. He placed a hand upon us and upon her and said to her, “All the rest seem very much excited, but you and I must be composed.” Then he asked us to say the 23d Psalm, “The Lord is my Shepherd,” and then all of us said the Lord’s Prayer together after Grandmother had offered a little prayer for grace and strength in this trying hour. Then he said, “Grandmother, you must take care of the girls, and, girls, you must take care of Grandmother.” We felt as though our hearts would break and were sure we never could be happy again. During the next few days he often spoke of dying and of what we must do when he was gone. Once when I was sitting by him he looked up and smiled and said, “You will lose all your roses watching over me.” A good many business men came in to see him to receive his parting blessing. The two McKechnie brothers, Alexander and James, came in together on their way home from church the Sunday before he died. Dr Daggett came very often. Mr Alexander Howell and Mrs Worthington came, too.

He lived until Saturday, the 30th, and in the morning he said, “Open the door wide.” We did so and he said, “Let the King of Glory enter in.” Very soon after he said, “I am going home to Paradise,” and then sank into that sleep which on this earth knows no waking. I sat by the window near his bed and watched the rain beat into the grass and saw the peonies and crocuses and daffodils beginning to come up out of the ground and I thought to myself, I shall never see the flowers come up again without thinking of these sad, sad days. He was buried Monday afternoon, May 2, from the Congregational church, and Dr Daggett preached a sermon from a favorite text of Grandfather’s, “I shall die in my nest.” James and John came and as we stood with dear Grandmother and all the others around his open grave and heard Dr Daggett say in his beautiful sympathetic voice, “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” we felt that we were losing our best friend; but he told us that we must live for Grandmother and so we will.

The next Sabbath, Anna and I were called out of church by a messenger, who said that Grandmother was taken suddenly ill and was dying. When we reached the house attendants were all about her administering restoratives, but told us she was rapidly sinking. I asked if I might speak to her and was reluctantly permitted, as they thought best not to disturb her. I sat down by her and with tearful voice said, “Grandmother, don’t you know that Grandfather said we were to care for you and you were to care for us and if you die we cannot do as Grandfather said?” She opened her eyes and looked at me and said quietly, “Dry your eyes, child, I shall not die to-day or to-morrow.” She seems well now.

Inscribed in my diary :

.
“They are passing away, they are passing away,
Not only the young, but the aged and grey.
Their places are vacant, no longer we see
The arm chair in waiting, as it used to be.
The hat and the coat are removed from the nail,
Where for years they have hung, every day without fail.
The shoes and the slippers are needed no more,
Nor kept ready waiting, as they were of yore,
The desk which he stood at in manhood’s fresh prime,
Which now shows the marks of the finger of time,
The bright well worn keys, which were childhood’s delight
Unlocking the treasures kept hidden from sight.
These now are mementoes of him who has passed,
Who stands there no longer, as we saw him last.
Other hands turn the keys, as he did, before,
Other eyes will his secrets, if any, explore.
The step once elastic, but feeble of late,
No longer we watch for through door way or gate,
Though often we turn, half expecting to see,
The loved one approaching, but ah! ’tis not he.
We miss him at all times, at morn when we meet,
For the social repast, there is one vacant seat.
At noon, and at night, at the hour of prayer,
Our hearts fill with sadness, one voice is not there.
Yet not without hope his departure we mourn,
In faith and in trust, all our sorrows are borne,
Borne upward to Him who in kindness and love
Sends earthly afflictions to draw us above.
Thus hoping and trusting, rejoicing, we’ll go,
Both upward and onward, through weal and through woe
‘Till all of life’s changes and conflicts are past
Beyond the dark river, to meet him at last.”

In Memoriam

Thomas Beals died in Canandaigua, N. Y. on Saturday, April 30th, 1864, in the 81st year of his age. Mr Beals was born in Boston, Mass., November 13, 1783.

He came to this village in October, 1803, only 14 years after the first settlement of the place. He was married in March, 1805, to Abigail Field, sister of the first pastor of the Congregational church here. Her family, in several of its branches, have since been distinguished in the ministry, the legal profession, and in commercial enterprise.

Living to a good old age, and well known as one of our most wealthy and respected citizens, Mr Beals is another added to the many examples of successful men who, by energy and industry, have made their own fortune.

On coming to this village, he was teacher in the Academy for a time, and afterward entered into mercantile business, in which he had his share of vicissitude. When the Ontario Savings Bank was established, 1832, he became the Treasurer, and managed it successfully till the institution ceased, in 1835, with his withdrawal. In the meantime he conducted, also, a banking business of his own, and this was continued until a week previous to his death, when he formally withdrew, though for the last five years devolving its more active duties upon his son.

As a banker, his sagacity and fidelity won for him the confidence and respect of all classes of persons in this community. The business portion of our village is very much indebted to his enterprise for the eligible structures he built that have more than made good the losses sustained by fires. More than fifty years ago he was actively concerned in the building of the Congregational church, and also superintended the erection of the county jail and almshouse; for many years a trustee of Canandaigua Academy, and trustee and treasurer of the Congregational church. At the time of his death he and his wife, who survives him, were the oldest members of the church, having united with it in 1807, only eight years after its organisation. Until hindered by the infirmities of age, he was a constant attendant of its services and ever devoutly maintained the worship of God in his family. No person has been more generally known among all classes of our citizens. Whether at home or abroad he could not fail to be remarked for his gravity and dignity. His character was original, independent, and his manners remarkable for a dignified courtesy. Our citizens were familiar with his brief, emphatic answers with the wave of his hand. He was fond of books, a great reader, collected a valuable number of volumes, and was happy in the use of language both in writing and conversation. In many unusual ways he often showed his kind consideration for the poor and afflicted, and many persons hearing of his death gratefully recollect instances, not known to others, of his seasonable kindness to them in trouble. In his charities he often studied concealment as carefully as others court display. His marked individuality of character and deportment, together with his shrewd discernment and active habits, could not fail to leave a distinct impression on the minds of all.

For more than sixty years he transacted business in one place here, and his long life thus teaches more than one generation the value of sobriety, diligence, fidelity and usefulness.

In his last illness he remarked to a friend that he always loved Canandaigua; had done several things for its prosperity, and had intended to do more. He had known his measure of affliction; only four of eleven children survive him, but children and children’s children ministered to the comfort of his last days. Notwithstanding his years and infirmities, he was able to visit New York, returning April 18th quite unwell, but not immediately expecting a fatal termination. As the final event drew near, he seemed happily prepared to meet it. He conversed freely with his friends and neighbors in a softened and benignant spirit, at once receiving and imparting benedictions. His end seemed to realise his favorite citation from Job: “I shall die in my nest.”

His funeral was attended on Monday in the Congregational church by a large assembly, Dr Daggett, the pastor, officiating on the occasion — Written by Dr O. E. Daggett in 1864.

April 20. — Grandfather dictated a letter to-night to a friend of his in New York. After I had finished he asked me if I had mended his gloves. I said no, but I would have them ready when he wanted them. Dear Grandfather! he looks so sick I fear he will never wear his gloves again.

April 19.—Grandfather is much worse. He was delirious all night. We have sent for Dr Rosewarne in counsel and Mrs Lightfoote has come to stay with us all the time and we have sent for Aunt Glorianna.

April 18.—Grandfather returned home today, unexpectedly to us. I knew he was sick when I met him at the door. He had traveled all night alone from New York, although he said that a stranger, a fellow passenger, from Ann Arbor, Mich., on the train noticed that he was suffering and was very kind to him. He said he fell in his room at Gramercy Park Hotel, in the night, and his knee was very painful. We sent for old Dr Cheney and he said the hurt was a serious one and needed most careful attention. I was invited to a spelling school at Abbie Clark’s in the evening and Grandmother said that she and Anna would take care of Grandfather till I got back, and then I could sit up by him the rest of the night. We spelled down and had quite a merry time. Major C. S. Aldrich had escaped from prison and was there. He came home with me, as my soldier is down in Virginia.

April 1.—Grandfather had decided to go to New York to attend the fair given by the Sanitary Commission, and he is taking two immense books, which are more than one hundred years old, to present to the Commission, for the benefit of the war fund.

December 31.—Our brother John was married in Boston to-day to Laura Arnold, a lovely girl.

Christmas Eve, 1863.—Sarah Gibson Howell was married to Major Foster this evening. She invited all the society and many others. It was a beautiful wedding and we all enjoyed it. Some time ago I asked her to write in my album and she sewed a lock of her black curling hair on the page and in the center of it wrote, “Forget not Gippie.”

Canandaigua, December 8. — Home again. I had military attendance as far as Paterson, N. J., and came the rest of the way with strangers. Not caring to talk I liked it just as well. When I said good bye I could not help wondering whether it was for years, or forever. This cruel war is terrible and precious lives are being sacrificed and hearts broken every day. What is to be the result? We can only trust and wait.