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This
was printed in 1896 in a newspaper, but I don't
know which one...probably one in Moultonborough.
Notation along the edge made by my
great grandmother indicates that this was
her Great Grandma Batchelder's party
and that she died in Sept 1896.
Linda Jones
Her 99th
Birthday
Saturday, May 23rd., Mrs. Maria Batchelder, was ninty-nine years
old, and
the old homestead where she lives in Moultonboro, near Red Hill,
was the scene of a happy collection of friends and neighbors, who
gathered there to pay their respects to the venerable and much
respected lady who bids fair to reach the century mark. Before they
left, many valuable and useful presents where donated out of pure
kindness and love of heart.
Old as Mrs. Batchelder is, she is in possession of
remarkably good health,
and her mental faculties are well preserved.She has resided where
she now lives, for a period of about fifty six years, and during
her declining years her daughter, Miss Maria Batchelder, has
tenderly cared for her.
The daughter has reached the allotted time of life by over seven
years, and the occurrence is very rare indeed when
these two extreme ages is reached by mother and daughter, and
both have the loving privilege of comforting each other.
During this birthday a fine collation was served, and at the
well-filled tables was seated the fourth generation, Miss Lillie
Batchelder, twelve years old.
Among those present were Miss M. F. Batchelder, the
daughter, 77 years old, Edward Batchelder, Mrs. A. A.
Batchelder, Lillie Batchelder, Mrs. Charles F. Burleigh
and daughter, Miss Ethel Burleigh, Sandwich Center; .Mr.
and Mrs. Arthur W. Hutchins, Miss E. A Hutchins, Mrs. William
Bryant, Mrs. Fred Blake, Mrs. C. W. Morrison, Ira C. Moore,
Meredith; Mrs. F. A. Bean, Mr. and Mrs. H. S. Sturtevant,
Mrs. E. Gilpatrick, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Sibley and two
daughters, Hazen and Helen, Mr. and Mrs. Josiah
Sturtevant, Mrs. Herbert Hutchins, Moultonboro'.
Mrs. Batchelder has the distinction of living under every
president down to
Cleveland. She distinctly recollects when there was but one house
in Centre Harbor, and but two in Meredith; and when the roads were
not open to travel,
and the trees were spotted to indicate certain directions and
localities. The war of 1812 is still fresh in her mind, and the
death of Washington she faintly remembers although she was but
three years old. She has two sons, Lafayette and Edward,
and one daughter living.
The following poem was written by Mrs. C. W. Morrison of
Meredith, and read at the birthday gathering;
May 23, 1896
Dear Grandma;
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Another year has passed away
It is now your 99th birthday.We come again with words of cheer
As you begin the journey of another year.
With some life's journey has just begun,
While yours we know is nearly done.
To look back does the way short to you seem?
And the trials of life more like a dream?
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Life to us all is very sweet
Although at times our weary feet
Almost give out beneath their load,
The burden so heavy, so dark the road.Life's journey with us all will soon be done,
We are gathering home, one by one,
God grant we may all meet in that home above,Where all is peace and joy and love. |
"Waiting someone is waiting for me
In the beautiful realms above;
On the shore of Eden's domain,Where all is perfection and love.Life's river will soon bear me there,
Uniting the earth-broken bond,Oh what should invite me to stay
When some one is waiting beyond? |
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When earth has so little to
charm,
And Heaven somuch to bestow,When some one is waiting there still,
Oh why should I shudder to go?
How often I long to be there,To meet with that true heart and fond;For why should I wish to remain
When some one is waiting beyond? |
The beggar, the homeless,the
poor,That worship at poverty's shrine.Will some one be waiting for me?Will they have a welcome like mine?Yes, tatters and rags are unknown;
And unto each call wil lrespond,
Some others as soft and as sweet,For some one that's waiting beyond |
I know not how soon death macome,Perhaps a few dips of the oar
May carry me into that port;I may not be far from the shore,But though I am near or afar,Still ever by faith I can see
A loved one just over the tide
That's watching and waiting for me. |
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If Heaven is bathed in a flood
Of splendor, ofgrandeur, of gold;
If one never longs for repose,
And never grows feeble and old;
Then why should I tremble at death?
Or why should I ever despond?
Why blanch at the thought of the grave;
When so much awaits me beyond? |
Home is where the loved ones
are,Tho north or south, or east or west,Our feet may wander near or far,This truth is borne in every breast--Our home is where our loved ones are.
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Four walls upreared by human
hands
Form not the place that we call home;We turn to them in stranger lands,We yearn for them where'er we roam,Because the hearts that love and live--Because the hearts we know are true,Are gathered there and wait to giveA welcome when our journey's through. |
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?? if by homeward-gazing eyes,
No face is at the window seen,
And, dumb of heart, we look where lies
A mound, a sacred spot of green,
Oh, weary soul remember this:
A second truth our Father gives;The heart that loves, immortal is--
The heart that loves, forever lives! |
Above the blue, beyond the vail,
Our falt'ring feet must journey far,
We'll find our home-- we cannot fail,
For home is where our loved ones are.
With love, from Etta |
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