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I chose to share this diary because I just loved the way the author expresses herself; especially when she writes about death and the weather. Now you might be saying, how very different those two things are, but you’ll see in the passages below, those specific entries are very thought provoking, not only for our author but for the reader also; at least for me.
Eliza does not write every day of the year but that doesn’t seem to be a necessity for the reader, because those sporadic entries create a vivid picture in the minds eye of who Eliza was and what seemed to inspire or motivate her.
As you will see, the diary opens up with the death of her father, January 1st, 1880, and when I read that first passage, I just had to know more about our author.
Her name is Eliza Jane (Mills) Watson and she was born in Marion County Ohio on July 14th, 1836, so she was 45 years old when writing in her diary. She was a teacher, married to Dr. Joseph Watson and sharing her life with her four children: 24 year old Orville, 22 year old Clarence, 20 year old Minetta and 17 year old Jessie.
Eliza’s mother Mary Ann had passed away two years earlier and now on New Years eve, 1880, her father Joseph passes away. And nine years after this diary was written, November 28th, 1890, Eliza herself passes away from La Grippe….she was just 54 years old.
I wonder what the weather was like that winter day of her passing and if someone were to write about her death in their diary, would it be written as beautiful as the passages Eliza’s shares here……..
1881
“January 1st, Dark lies my fraternal home, this winter day, under Death’s shadowy wing. Relatives and friends are assembled, and their subdued surmise runs through the solemn hours, while cold and mute and still lies all that is mortal of our Father, in an adjoining room. Through suffering so severe that any heart acquiesced when the labored breathing ceased, he passed away.”
“January 2nd, The school bell called me to my accustomed work this morning, to which I went somewhat reluctantly; conscious though that I could not have it otherwise.”
“January 12th, Received a letter from Alice Bunker.”
“February 1st, Wrote last night, and mailed today – this morning – letters to Orville, Bro. Silas and Harper & Brothers; to the latter for the back Dec. numbers of the Weekly.”
“March 7th, Thermometer at 7 o’clock A.M., 32°. A warm, spring like day, with genial sunshine lessening the snow patches on northern exposures, and making the south-fronting nooks almost summery in warmth. I heard John B. Gough lecture at Mt. Gilead this evening about “Peculiar People.” He is striking in appearance to a close observer. He has a benevolent face, wrinkled at the corner of the kind eyes indicative of humor, snow white hair worn long and brushed straight back, white beard, and is very agile in his movements. His talent for mimicry is great. He is a conscientious lecturer and his addressed cannot fail to exert a powerful refining influence on his audiences. He introduced, with a bold and fearless tongue, the topic with which his name is associated the world over – temperance, which he said, he never omitted from any lecture, whatever its subject. Clair and Minnie accompanied me.”
JOHN BARTHOLOMEW GOUGH
At An Early Age & Older Photo Around The Time When Eliza Saw Him
(Sally here: The history behind this man is absolutely fascinating! A must read. I found a website/blog where Bethany Groff Dorau, Executive Director of the Museum of Old Newbury, writes a four part series concerning his past and it’s wonderful. Here’s the website and when you click into it you’ll be in “part 4” but I did it this way because right under his photo she has links where you can click into parts I, II, and II.)
“April 19th, A frisky wind, at dawn, soon began to drive rain drops against the windows, and a brisk shower fell with refreshing effect. Before school time it has ceased, and fitful sunshine has brightened the landscape during the forenoon, thus far, but now it seems darker, at recess, and there may be more rain.”
“April 20th, The wind blows very hard this afternoon, and sometimes seems to shake the firmest buildings. Jessie says tonight, “I am afraid.”
“April 21st, Thermometer at 7 o’clock 46°. The wind blows fitfully, and bears a chill which makes one fear a frost tonight. Broken clouds sweet the sky.”
“April 22nd, The teachers, including Prof. and Mrs. Brown were invited to tea at Mrs. Sherman Peek’s this evening. Mrs. Hillis and Miss Mora McLay called for me and we went together. We had a quite, pleasant time.”
“April 25th, Thermometer 7 o’clock A.M. 34°. There was a hard frost.”
“April 26th, Thermometer 7 o’clock A.M. 38°. Frost last night. Minnie recommenced cleaning house this morning, cleaned the cellar and front room, upstairs.”
“April 27th, Thermometer 7 A.M. about 44°. A dark, cloudy morning with rain about 7 o’clock.”
“April 30th, Thermometer 7 o’clock A.M. 44°.”
“June 10th, School classes with an exhibition.”
“June 13th, Thermometer 34° at 7 o’clock A.M.”
“June 19th, Clarie went to Delaware to visit Orville last evening; will return tomorrow morning. Went to Church and heard Rev. McCaskey preach. Prof. John Moffat lectured on temperance at the M. P. Church this evening. I did not hear him, except as the out-bursts of his voice reached me on the front balcony.”
“August 22nd, Claire’s birthday. Minnie Mills suggested that we invite Huldah Barge to dinner and Claire was requested to call at Mr. Denman’s store and ask her to come. She came and I surprised him by a silver napkin ring under his plate, presented by Jessie and myself. He is twenty two years old today.”
“September 13th, Maud Lentz, after a long illness, which was first bronchitis, and last pneumonia, died suddenly but not unexpectedly this morning, while the family were at breakfast. She leaves a large circle of friends, to whom she had become endeared through her gentle and affectionate disposition, and her bright and cheerful nature. As her teacher, I had become attached to her because of her ambition to stand well in her classes, and her conscientious deportment. Her poor mother drinks deeply of the bitter cup of sorrow, and bends over two graves that have swallowed up a mother’s hopes. Earth has no balm for such a stricken heart.”
“September 15th, At two o’clock today all that was of the earth, earthly, of Maudie Lentz was laid tenderly within the kindly bosom of mother earth. How dear and sacred becomes the soil where we lay our dead ones in their final sleep.”
“September 19th, Tonight about half past ten o’clock our loved and honored President James Abram Garfield died at Elberon, New Jersey, suddenly while all about him supposed there was no immediate danger, and that he would have a comfortable night. His wife and family had retired, and his physicians had left him with his watcher, General Swain. About ten minutes after ten o’clock he awoke in great pain, soon became unconscious, and died in about 25 minutes. Was ever the ebb and flow of life in any human frame so slowly noted before? Was ever there a death when the whole civilized world stood as mourners? His patient suffering has touched all hearts. How pathetic his answer to his gentle wife’s inquiry what hurt him. “It hurts to live.” At last, after 80 weary days of pain and struggle for life, rest has come, complete and unbroken, and the soul of the martyr for right has gone to God.”
PRESIDENT JAMES A. GARFIELD (1831-1881) ASSASSINATED BY CHARLES J. GUITEAU
“September 20th, This morning about eight o’clock the bells of Cardington were tolled for our fallen President. The daily papers were eagerly sought and read for particulars of the sad event. Reports from all parts of the country show that all classes, and all parties unite in mourning the loss of our chief magistrate. As soon as Cincinnati received the dispatch, the fire bells were tolled, and continued all night. Public and private buildings everywhere were draped in mourning.”
“September 22nd, My school is very small because of the county fair at Mt. Gilead. I have only thirteen pupils. The remains of our President are lying in state at the capital at Washington. A wreath of white rosebuds from Queen Victoria lies upon the coffin, and exquisite flowers, woven in emblematic designs are placed about it. I am not well today and dismissed my small school fifteen minutes early this evening.”
“September 23rd, Orville came home tonight. He seems well, but I do not think he looks quite as well as when he went away.”
“September 24th, Orville returned to Delaware.”
“September 25th, Our new minister preached today his first sermon for us. He is a small dark man slightly bald, with dark hair and black burnside whiskers. His name is Warner. He made some beautiful remarks on the subject present to all minds, the death of the President. His sermon was good and I think he will be liked.”
“September 26th, The funeral of President Garfield takes place today at 2 o’clock P.M. in Cleveland. The internment will be in Lakeview Cemetery. Immense crowds of people have filled the trains for Cleveland, and many special trains have been required to convey all who desired to go. Proclamations from President and Governor request the people to observe the day by appropriate services, by fasting and prayer. Services are held here in the Protestant-Methodist Church, and during the entire time the bells of the M.B. and Presbyterian churches are being solemnly tolled. The mutterings of an approaching storm mingled with the heavy metallic tones, but as I look out upon the blue field of the sky westward, I see only beautiful silvery white, slightly grey tinted clouds in small masses floating softly. The business houses are closed and the children have no school. Almost a Sabbath stillness reigns, and the thoughtless whistle of a passing boy, and the singing of a woman across the street, seem dissonant.”
“September 27th, The solemn obsequies (funeral rites) are ended, and human affairs settle back into their wanted channels. Men give their attentions once more to the fluctuations of business and trade. The rain falls on the new-made grave, and the sunshine illumines the sod. Upon other graves the grass grows greener, and the wounded hearts heal slowly but the cicatrices (scars) ever remains.”
“October 1st, Forty-six years ago today my father and mother were married. I think of two graves side by side today in the cemetery. After a long and toilsome life together, they sleep peacefully together at its close. When storms dark and terrible arise, when floods devastate, and frosts destroy, gaunt disease appears, and cankering care sits at the hearth, I remember that they are no longer troubled thereby. And all these things seem smaller to one than ever before. Why should we sigh and weep and beat our breasts and cry “Woe is me”, when life is so short, and a few brief years settles it all – O my dear Father and my Mother, my thoughts go out to you in the mysterious hereafter, where you have been home and I sent my love, my love to you on this your wedding day.”
“October 13th, The weather is very mild and spring-like, with fickle skies and showers. Vegetation gathers a fresher tone of green, and it seems pitiful to know that all the tender and vigorous growth of tree and shrub and plant, is liable at anytime to be suddenly blighted by an inevitable, deadly frost.”
“October 15th, Today I sent $25 to Cobb, Andrews and Co. for books for our Public Library, by P.O. money order.”
“October 18th, Tonight at eleven o’clock, Claire and the Dr. went to Cincinnati on an excursion train. The fare was only $2.25 for the round trip. The occasion of their visit, and the reduced fare, was the Exposition.”
“October 19th, This evening the chill of frost is in the air. The thermometer indicated a temperature of 46°, and I have drawn my potted plants under shelter, and covered the tender ones in the beds: for surely the white blight will fall at last; it has spared our pets (?) long.”
“November 8th, This has been a beautiful balmy day, with sunshine lying warm and bright on the Autumn landscape. Shook the earth from part of my tuberose bulbs, and planted a blackberry rose given me by Mrs. Brown. Received a cheery, good letter from Orville, bless him!”
“November 9th, The early dawn this morning presented a lowering, frowning sky. A chilling north wind rushed through the trees, moaning through the pines and spruces, shaking the doors and shutters. As the morning advanced, the clouds lifted, broke, scattered, allowing fitful falls of sunshine, and promising a pleasant day. At noon the sun shown in an unclouded sky. Sister Min. took dinner with us, her last dinner in Cardington for some time, she proposes. Huldah also dined with us.”
“November 10th, A white frost lay thick on the verdure so long spared the blight of winter weather. Thermometer, at about 7 o’clock A.M. 30 deg. My neglected geraniums and fuchsias droop and cower in the cold air, in the yard. I must bring them indoors. Sister Min took the 3 o’clock train this morning for Loudonville, on a visit of perhaps some months.”
“November 15th, There was a freeze last night, and this morning about 7 o’clock the thermometer marked 26 degrees. Some geraniums in the yard still look brave and green, but I must pull them up tonight and hang them in the cellar, or they will succumb at last.”
“November 16th, 7 o’clock A.M. thermometer 34°. There was too much red in the sunrise this morning for the promise of a pleasant day. Yet the sun is shining beautifully as I sit at my table in the schoolroom, waiting for the second bell for the forenoon session. At noon Clarie handed me a letter from sister Min informing me of her safe arrival in Loudonville, and that she was well. Minnie and Jessie went to Columbus on the 11 o’clock, A.M. train, and returned in the evening. They enjoyed the trip very much and did their shopping nicely.”
“November 17th, A rich treat was ours when we received the Harper’s Monthly, Scribner’s Magazine, the Century, and Minnie’s Delineator, all in the noon mail. What luxury can compare with that of fresh magazines and newspapers.”
“November 18th, The roistering, boisterous wind last night became quiet when a steady mild rain began to fall, and all night the monotonous soothing drip drip kept up an accompaniment to our dreams. The morning light broke tardily through the dripping, misty atmosphere, whose temperature was above 30 deg.”
“November 19th, The first real snow storm of the season occurred today. During the day several black, detached clouds discharged their remarkably white contents, in whirls and gusts and blinding showers, of brief length.”
“November 20th, A glowing fire in a cozy room with books, magazines and newspapers for company, is very alluring this cold day and I did not go to church, a very unusual thing for me. I wrote to Min.”
“November 24th, Spent this Thanksgiving day at the sewing machine and made a night-shirt for Clarie, while he raked and wheeled away the fallen leaves in the front yard, and gave any violets and daisies a warm coverlet of them for protection during the winter. We received the December Number of the Century Magazine. This afternoon while our neighbors Mr. Fiedler’s were looking for their son Frank home to spend a portion of the day with them: a telegram came with the dreadful tidings that he had fallen under the wheels of a moving train or engine, and had been instantly killed. His remains, so mangled his friends were not allowed to see him, were sent home the same evening. It is said he was to have been married, this evening, to Miss Anna Althouse. They have given her a room there and she stays constantly, apparently heart-broken.”
“November 25th, This evening the wind sighs and moans, and now shrieks dismally, like spirits in direst unrest, while the chill of it sends us shuddering to the warmth and light indoors. Across our yard and under swaying pine boughs, through the lattice of our neighbor’s closed shutters, a faint light gleams. A few months ago, within that lattice lay little “Caddie”, all her winsome ways, her smiles and infant graces, frozen into the mute, chill marble beauty of death. Now the coffined fragments of her uncle Frank occupy the gloomy silent room awaiting burial. How unspeakably sad.”
“November 27th, The funeral of Frank Fiedler took place today, from Gurley Chapel, Rev. Warner and T. C. Thompson addressed the large audience.”
“December 11th, When I descended to the vestibule of Gurley Chapel after church, a driving snow storm filled the air and the ground was white. About 1 ½ or two inches fell.”
“December 22nd, School is out this evening until January 2, 1882. For two years my holiday vacations have brought me the greatest bereavements of my life. What has this one in store for me? O My Father, O my Mother: where have you gone that no voice, no sigh, no token that you remember your mourning child ever comes to me.”
“December 23rd, A Christmas Entertainment was given to the Sabbath school this evening in the basement of Gurley Chapel. The proceeds arising from sales to those not belonging to the Sabbath School netted $24.46. I had a position by a small stand and sold tickets for supper, for the good of the cause.”
1882
“January 22nd, Wrote to Sister Min. at Loudonville. This was a cold bleak morning. Sparse, drifted snow lay lightly over the frozen earth, and where ever a crack or cranny gave it admission. The wind bore an unaccustomed chill.”
“January 23rd, Thermometer at 7 o’clock, 16°.”
“January 24th, Thermometer at 7 o’clock 10°.”
“February 4th, Read a letter from Min.”
“February 28th, This last day of winter seems like an April Day. It rains fitfully, but the broken clouds almost allow the sunshine to fall through sometimes, and the air is mild and balmy.”
“March 3rd, Sister Min. came home this evening on the eight o’clock train. She is looking well.”
“March 14th, Wrote to Auntie Johnson today, and sent her some medicine (Ac & Bell) and me.”
“March 15th, The grey morning light dawned upon a snow draped landscape, very wintry in aspect; but – bird voices persistently issued sweet prophesies of coming spring. A few hours dispelled the wintry drapery and the sun shone forth warm and bright.”
“March 22nd, A model March day is this. On the wings of a chill wind, fitfully blowing snowflakes float slowly faster, rapidly, until the air is darkened with them. In ten minutes, perhaps, riffs of clouds disclose blue sky, soft as summer.”
“March 28th, This is a superb day; the air is pure and bracing; the sky blue, deeply blue, flecked with lovely peaceful looking, soft clouds, and the sun shines warm and bright. The Library benefit concert takes place tonight.”
“April 3rd, Two members of the School Board retired from office, their time having expired, and two mothers were elected. W. B. Denman and Chas. Lentz go out and Mr. Geo. Bell and T.W. Long were elected in their stead.”
“April 4th, For Minella (Minetta ?) Mills’s Album
I hope that all things fair and bright
May come with the dew and the morning light
May guard with love, and grace and truth
The rosy days of thy happy youth.
I hope that all things true and good
May crown thy golden womanhood;
And many a weary worker bless
The tender hands of thy helpfulness.
I hope that all things calm and sweet
May come to meet thy tired feet.
When the world is red in the setting sun
And the tasks of thy useful life are done.
Orville E. Watson (Eliza’s Son)
O.W.U. Del. O.
Spring Vacation
“April 8th, I have been working with my plants nearly all the forenoon. The sun shines very warm, although the breeze is cool and pleasant – but off the ends of the lower branches of the spruce evergreens, on each side of the walk, that they may thicken their foliage. Clairie brought to me a twig full of flower buds from our harvest apple trees; sweet promise of delicious fruit when the beneficent effects of gentle rains, soft airs, and golden sunshine shall have wrought their mission. O, Frost King withhold thy blighting wand that bounteous Nature may “comfort us with apples.”
“April 11th, A cold night was last night. At 6 o’clock this morning the thermometer was 24°. I heard only one bird, who piped cheerfully in spite of the biting cold. The poor robins, with ruffled plumage, hopped about hinting for stray crumbs for breakfast. Thermometer, Noon, 28°.
“April 12th, This morning the bell of Gurley Chapel tolled the solemn dirge announcing another departure from the shores of time. Mrs. Eva Shaw has gone to solve the problems of the future, of which she thought so much for some time past. I grieve for her parents, who will miss her unspeakably. This is a cold morning, but the sun shines brightly in a cloudless sky. The thermometer was 27° about 7 o’clock A.M.”
“April 14th, Eva Shaw’s funeral took place this afternoon at two o’clock at the house. She has left a very bright babi daughter which takes its mother’s name, “Eva.”
“May 1st, Thermometer 6 ½ o’clock A.M. 37°. A frost lay white on the face of the earth this morning, but the morning is superb, outstanding. The air is pure and bracing, and the sun shines clear and warm. Minnie, possessed with the spirit of the season, engages with energy in the spring cleaning the parlor.”
“May 3rd, Last night was not simply cool, it was cold. Water was frozen in some places; there was a hard frost, and the thermometer was 39° at 7 o’clock this evening. The day is beautifully clear and bright.”
“May 4th, This is a warm spring-like day, so delightfully pleasant. The birds are wild with delight. The air is full of the perfume of fruit-blossoms, and moist with the dampness of half-shed snows. And all this sweetness and promise. Young Watson Gender lies sick unto death, it seems. I have just been to see him after school, he lies unconscious, but has been wildly delirious all forenoon. He is the only child and his death, if he dies, will be a terrible grief to his parents. O that he might live!……..Less than two hours from the time I saw him, he passed away, his young life closed on earth. He told his friends on Tuesday he was going to die, and made funeral arrangements, and bade farewell to many.”
“May 6th, The funeral of Watson Gender took place today. The schools, excepting the first and second primary dept.’s attended in a body. Rev. Orr preached the funeral discourse, and Rev. Warner made some very touching remarks afterward. The High School room is draped in mourning, also the front of the building.”
“May 12th, This morning I was told the startling news that Ida Burt is dead. She died away from home in the country, with some friends whom she and her mother were visiting. She went to bed laughing, and in half an hour was dead. Heart disease is named as the cause, and her death is said to be not unexpected by her physician, at any moment.”
“June 5th, A family party. Brother Dick and wife, Minnie, the girls and I, conspiring to give Bro Sile a surprise on his birthday, took the 3 o’clock train for Loudonville this morning. The surprise was not as complete as we intended as we were seen on our way to the hotel, where we took breakfast.”
“June 6th, Sile got a hack and took us all except Lottie, who took the morning train to Wooster, to Lake Odell, where is a resort, and was at that time a military reunion. We took with us a nice lunch which was stolen from our carriage and devoured during our absence, the basket, cloth and plate being kindly left.”
“June 7th, The girls returned home today. An accident east of Chestline caused a stoppage of the train. A buggy containing two women was run over, the horse killed, the buggy broken and both women seriously hurt. The girls were very much frightened. Min and I called on Mr. Deyarmons (?), also on Mrs. Leopold in the evening.”
“June 8th, Received a letter from the girls announcing their safe arrival home. Min and I climbed the highest hill near the town on the east, Ball Knob, it is called. It was quite a climb, but not a good place for a view, as it is cluttered with trees.”
“August 2nd, This morning at 3.20 o’clock we took the train for Lakeside. Our company consisted of John Shunk, Minnie Mills, Minette, Jessie and myself. We had to wait at Shelby about two hours, so Jon, Min and I walked up to Cousin Harry’s. It was early and he only was up. We did not stay long. We reached Lakeside about 11 o’clock A.M. and found our rooms at Dr. Rutledge’s Cottage quite pleasant.”
This is the last entry written by Eliza. Such a great example showing that diaries don’t have to be full of handwritten entries to be impactful.
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