Results for ‘Early Citizens’
[Welland Tribune, 20 November 1943]
A quiet ceremony took place in the United Church parsonage, Port Robinson, Friday afternoon, November 19, at two o’clock when Rev. W. E. Long united in marriage Viola Louise Horton, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Horton, Cook’s Mills, and Joseph Albert Edmondson, son of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Edmondson of Netherby.
The bride looked lovely in a two-piece heavenly blue wool dress with chocolate brown accessories. Her corsage was f talisman roses and she wore a gold bracelet, the gift of the groom.
Her only attendant was her sister, Mrs. Clifford Kramer of Fingal, who wore a becoming rose wool dress with black accessories and corsage of pink and white mums.
The groom was attended by his brother-in-law, Frank Beresford, of St. Catharines.
Following the ceremony a reception was held at the home of the bride for the immediate relatives. Mrs. Horton, mother of the bride, received the guests in a black crepe dress with embroidered bodice and assisted by Mrs. Edmondson, mother of the groom, who wore a black crepe dress with white trim. Both wore corsages of roses and baby mums.
A buffet luncheon was served to the guests by Miss Jean Horton, assisted by the bride’s sister, Eileen Horton. The bride’s table was lovely with a damask cloth, centred with t three-tiered wedding cake flanked with tall silver tapers in crystal holders.
Later the happy couple left on a brief honeymoon after which they will be at home to their friends at 92 McNaughton road, Welland.
[Welland Tribune March 11, 1940]
The following reminiscences were written by Miss Wetherald and sent to John W. Garvin who included them in his foreword of Miss Wetherald’s bound volume of the 1931 edition of lyrics and sonnets.
As a child I was never robust enough to enjoy outdoor exercise although I took pleasure in all-day excursions after wild raspberries among the hills of Rockwood, usually accompanied by several of our household. Large pails were brought back brimming with the perfumed fruit, which was “put down pound for pound”( a pound of sugar to each pound of berries) to ensure freedom from mould. Long walks through the woods, which never had enough mosquitoes to frighten me away, were always a delight… I am very fond of country life; less enthusiastic over farm activities. I was seven years old when we left Rockwood. Hills and rocks, woods and the smell of cedars, all come back in the name (At the age of eight, accompanied by my sister and three brothers, I watched the slow-moving train draped in black passing by the railroad station near Haverford College bearing the dead body of Presidenr Lincoln. The aura of intense grief, nation-wide, and the sorrowful face of my father, made a deep impression.)
Disliked Mathematics
At school I had no love of mathematics and have always thought that for me to go beyond the multiplication table was a waste of time.. I have studied French and have taken private lessons from a native Frenchman, who shook his head over my hopelessly British accent. I attended Pickering College and shall never forget the endless patience of my favorite teacher, who would take me into her room in the evening and go over and over the mathematical puzzle that perplexed me in a usually vain attempt to make it clear. Really in the realm of figures I am a hopeless moron.
The very first cheque I received for verse was when I was seventeen and sent a string of stanzas to the St. Nicholas of New York, in which I described some of the antics of my two brothers, Lewis and Herbert, aged four and two respectively. I have forgotten the words. It was a mere rhyme so I don’t regret its oblivion; but I have some poems that I should have kept copies of. One was called”The Fire Builders.” which appeared in Youth’s Companion in 1890- I think in July of that year. Another July contribution to Youth’s Companion- I’ve forgotten the year- dealt with the misunderstanding between two children, a Canadian and an American, one praising the “glorious fourth” the other protesting it was the “glorious first,” and correcting each other very frequently. There was an editor’s note at the end explaining that July 1st was Confederation Day in Canada..Most of the poems in The House of the Trees appeared first in that periodical.
Just before moving to London, Ontario in 1890, I sent “The Wind of Death” to the Travellers Record and when I showed the ten dollar cheque received for it to me fellow-boarders, they were openly astonished. To get real money for a string of verses seemed absurd….
The impulse to write verse became irresistible between 1893, when I returned home, and 1896, when The House of the Trees appeared.
A humorous poem sent to Munsey’s Magazine has been lost. The editor returned it with a note saying it was a dreadful mistake to make ‘swan’ rhyme with ‘dawn’, but if I would remove that defect he would gladly accept it.
Horseback Riding
Nearly all the verse I have had printed appeared between 1890 and 1900… While I was in London, Ontario, I took lessons in horseback riding-the old fashioned side-saddle kind, and my friends and I often went for a twenty-mile rode in the moonlight. No mere motor-car could give such pleasure as that…Part of the summer of 1888 I spent with cousins on a large prairie farm in Iowa. There were two boys and three girls in the family, hospitable parents numerous horses. My favorite cousin, Clara, and I had many a horseback ride over the prairies. The farm and the congenial society of my relatives gave me a sense of peace and freedom.
Most of my journeys were in company with my brother Sam who was six years my senior. When he suffered from a nervous breakdown, I was his nurse, private secretary, companion and closest friend. When he recovered we went together to Florida., to Atlantic City, Philadelphia, Washington on a ‘pay trip’ to Devil’s Lake while he was paymaster on the Great Northern and to California.
Unless there is a direct inspiration I prefer discursive essay writing to writing stories. “The Autocrat at the Breakfast Table” by Oliver Wendell Holmes, I have read again and again. Also his ‘Professor and Poet’ at the same unwearying table… I had sketches accepted by the Youth’s Companion and New York Outlook formerly (Christian Union). On appearance of the sketches one of the editors of the David Cook Company in Chicago wrote to me asking for stories for their Sunday school papers. I wrote a few for them, and several stories for young people in the Sunday Edition of a Philadelphia Daily. I also wrote a host of brief stories and articles for agricultural papers all of which brought modest sums. But I cared little for the work and much more enjoyed sending aphorcisms and pointed paragraphs to the Detroit Free Press, to Smart Set. And to Puck, Judge and Life of New York. The Star Weekly of Toronto accepted a weekly column entitled Reflections of an Old Maid.
The house in the tree was built in March 1910, and was blown down in a high gale in the fall of 1920.The old willow, being very much alive and steadily growing, seemed to work itself loose from the house fastened to its branches, The last nights I slept in it were memorable. Every joint and ligament shrieked and groaned in the wind; so finally when the dear thing was pulled away by the gale and fell to the ground, roof downward, I saw that finis had been written. It was taken apart, but the old willow still survives. It is a lovely memory. Sam called it Camp Shelbi, a name made up of the first letters of the ten kinds of wood used; chestnut, ash, maple, pine, spruce, hemlock, elm, linden, birch, and ironwood.These and these only were the woods represented in my dear little tree house.
How Name Originated
“The Tall Evergreens” the name of the Wetherald homestead came very naturally by its name. So many times friends of the family, coming for the first time to this neighborhood and inquiring for us would be told at the station (Fenwick), “Take the next road south and go east a mile till you come to some tall evergreens; that’s the place” My father and Sam planted these spruces and pines in 1867.
I frequently met James J. Hill when I lived in St. Paul with my brothers, Sam and Charlie. They were employed in the Great Northern Railway office. Mrs Hill’s splendid team of blacks made a sensation in our quiet street on the occasions when she called on me. We spent pleasant evenings in their home.I recall the great gallery of famous paintings and the admonitory gesture with which Mrs. Hill checked her husband’s rather too audible conversation while her three youngest children were saying their evening prayers at their mother’s knee.
When I was nineteen I visited friends in New York who took me to their Unitarian Church to hear Dr. Bellows preach. I was less impressed by his disclosure than by the fact that William Cullen Bryant was seated in the pew before me. I was thrilled by the thought that at my age he had written the wonderful poem, “Thanatopsis”
One of my class mates at Pickering College was the later internationally known Dr. Barker of Johns’ Hopkins University in Baltimore. He was a small, slight, white-faced boy known to all of us as Lewy Barker. He was easily first in everything, simply ate up knowledge like a child at a candy box. His father, A Quaker, was superintendent at Pickering and often preached in meeting.
Another noted man whom I knew was Lyman Abbott, successor to Beecher, who lectured in London in the fall of 1890, and was entertained by the Camerons when I was with them.
When Wilfred Campbell happened to be in London he called on me several times and read aloud to me from a sheet of his poems. We had considerable argument as I could not agree with his estimate of Lampman as a ‘carver of cherry stones.’
Disliked Dr. Johnson
I have always prized the friendship of Paul Peel. He was a very charming personality. I have his autograph on a picture he gave me.
I have been asked, frequently about my favorite books. In my teens I was fond of Emerson, Carlyle and Matthew Arnold and can truthfully say that they have never wearied me. The New England poets and essayists, Holmes and Lowell, always delighted me. I had read all of Dickens before I was fifteen and all of Shakespeare before I was twenty. I always enjoyed the prose of Swift and Addison but disliked Dr. Johnson because of his rough ways and the pleasure he evidently took in snubbing others. Cowper’s gentle and sympathetic nature attracted me more than his poetry. Of course, all the poets are dear to me, though of the Brownings I much prefer Elizabeth to Robert.
As for fiction I never cared for the realism of Zola; but there is a realism I greatly admire—that of Arnold Bennett, Jane Austen, W.D. Howells, Mary E. Wilkins, Booth Tarkington, George Elliot and the class of novelists who tell what is going on in people’s minds show that character always compels destiny.
Most of the winter of ‘95-’96 I spent in Philadelphia as assistant to Francis Bellamy; the literary editor of the Ladies’ Home Journal. There I met Mr. Edward Bok, who always impressed me as a man just fresh from a bout with the punching bag and a cold shower. Also I met and very much liked Mrs. George T.Lanigan, managing editor, and widow of the famous author of “The Ahkoond of Swat.” Mr. Lanigan, I fancy did not shine as a moneymaker, as she told me that, at the time of his death, she was left with five children and seven dollars. She was amazed to hear me say I would rather be the author of “The Ahkoond of Swat” than any other humorous poem in the English language, with the possible exception of Bret Harte’s “Heathen Chinee” and Oliver Wendell Holmes “One Hoss Shay.”..My work was altogether critical—reading of manuscripts which came in by the hundred every day and writing out an estimate of worthwhlie articles of their availability for the Journal In some ways I enjoyed the experience, but it was a lasting dissatisaction to feel at the end of each day, that I was too tired to do any creative work of my own.
My chance to assist one of the editors of The World’s Best Literature came about through correspondence. He had written in praise of my “Wind of Death.” and we had corresponded for years before we met. If ever there was a human cyclopeadia it was Forrest Morgan. He did a tremendous amount of work on “The Word’s Best.” When the mother of his assistant was so seriously ill that the girl had to give up her work and go home, Mr. Morgan wrote, urging me to take her place. I acted as his assistant for nearly a year, when the thirtieth and last volume of the series was published. This final volume consisted entirely of verse, and Charles Dudley Warner, editor-in-chief, included in it five or six little poems of my own. I was paid eighteen dollars a week.
When the work was finshed Mr. Morgan offered me a position as first-class proofreader at a large salary, but I longed for home. I was not homesick but there was an indefinable feeling that too much”Learned lumber in the head” must crush out whatever repressed spontaneous growth of my own was still surviving. Our correspondence ceased in 1923, just after his physician had told him he had only a few weeks to live. Certainly to know him was a liberal education.
Among the most memorable weeks of my life are two spent at Pinehurst, Helena Coleman’s island home in the St Lawrence near Gananoque. It was an ideal spot for a vacation in that exceptionally hot July of 1911, as it consisted of a three-acre island, satisfyingly rough and rocky with paths leading from the wide-verandaed residence to boat-house and bathing pool. We were a group of women and girls;Miss Colema, her two nieces, a literary friend from Austrailia, Marjorie Pickthall and myself, not to mention the cook, who produced the outdoor meals we so much enjoyed. These were movable feasts, as when the wind was fresh from the west, we moved to the east veranda and when the sun was hot at the east the table was set at the other side. My sleeping-room was open on one side to the St Lawrence and when a great steamer moved past in the night, the impression was unforgetable. My choicest pleasure came in the morning, for as the early light awakened Marjorie Pickthall in the room next to mine and Helena Coleman just across the hall we fell into frequent talk and discussion before arising.. How I wish I had taken notes of these impromptu exchanges of thought, fancy and opinion. I remember distinctly that Marjorie Pickthall did not argue. She questioned, mused awhile, differed gently or expressed her differing attitude by a little laugh, that was as charming as it was free from selfconsciousness. She was a poet to the innermost fibre of her beautiful and totally unaffected nature. Her Three Island Songs I am confident were written at Pinehurst.
The amusements of these harmonious housemates were boating and bathing rambles after wild berries, fishing, five-o’clock tea, discussion of just-read books and visiting of picturesque points of interest. I remember in particular the Sunday morning when the cook wished to go to church. Miss Coleman and I rowed her across to Gananoque and while she went to her place of worship we waited outside in the boat and talked of churches and creeds of Christianity and the meaning of existence of things that remind us we are infinite. The best of herself is what Helene Coleman gives in her talk as in her written prose and poetry.
[Welland-Port Colborne Evening Tribune. 13 January 1945]
Rose Ann Ingrao, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Lorenzo Ingrao, Park street, became the bride Wednesday in St. Mary’s church, of Sante Scadallaro, son of Mr. and Mrs. Scadallaro of Timmins. Rev. A. McMahon performed the ceremony.
Given in marriage by her father, the bride was lovely in a gown of ivory brocaded lace fashioned with a sweetheart neckline, with long sleeves ending in a point over the wrists and a long trim. She wore a Queen Anne headdress covered with simulated pearls. The bridal bouquet consisted of red roses and white mums.
Miss Mary Capoli, maid of honor, was gowned in yellow tulle with a blue Queen Anne headdress trimmed with pink for-get-me nots. She carried yellow roses.
The bridesmaids, Misses Mary Barblinardo, Helen Ingrao, Angela Fazzarli and Verna Cipolli wore gowns of pink and blue chiffon fashioned similarly to that of the maid of honor. They carried colonial bouquets of pink and white carnations.
Miss Stella O’Brien presided at the organ and Mrs. Kathleen Repar sang “Ave Maria” during the signing of the registrar.
Anthony Ingrao, brother of the bride, was the best man. Salvator Ingrao, Mickel Mendola, Franklin Kafun and James Calarco were ushers.
A reception followed the ceremony at the house of the bride’s parents where the rooms were decorated with pink and white streamers and white bells, Mrs. Ingrao received the guests wearing a blue street length frock and a corsage of yellow roses. The bride’s table was decorated with pink and white carnations and centred with a four-tier wedding cake. White mums and roses decorated the guests’ tables.
For travelling to Niagara Falls, Toronto, and Sarnia donned a princess styled lime green frock, with matching bag and Dutch hat, under her muskrat coat.
The happy couple’s future residence will be 13 Park street.
Guests were present from Toronto, Timmins, Rochester, N.Y., and the east coast.
[Welland Tribune March 11, 1940]
Death Comes to Agnes Ethelwyn Wetherald In her 83rd Year; The funeral on Tuesday.
Fenwick, Ont. March 11- Death had ended the career of one of Ontario’s most renowned and well loved women in the person of Miss Agnes Ethelwyn Wetherald, distinguished poetess and writer. Miss Wetherald passed away early Sunday morning succumbing to an attack of pneumonia.
Deceased was a daughter of William Wetherald and Jemima Harris Balls of Rockwood, Ont., where she was born on April 26, 1857. She was the sixth child in a family of 11 children, of which she was the sole survivor. Her maternal grandparents were Irish while her father was English coming to Canada from Yorkshire in 1820. Mr. Wetherald established in 1851 a boarding school at Rockwood , it later became known as Rockwood Academy, from which graduated many distinguished men. He later resigned his principalship to become superintendent of Havergal College, near Philadelphia, returning a few years later to settle on the farm near Fenwick. Known as “The Tall Evergreens.” where he became an ordained minister of the Society of Friends. He had a fine mastery of English which he imparted to his family and it was in this home and under the fine tutelage of her father that Miss Wetherald receiver her early education. Later she attended The Friends Boarding School at Union Springs, N.Y., and subsequently Pickering College, Ontario.
Literary Career
As a writer, Miss Wetherald won her first prominence in the years 1887-88-89 when she contributed articles frequently to The Globe at Toronto. Each article was about a column in length and was signed by the mon de plume of Bel Thistlewaite, a contraction of the maiden name of her paternal grandmother. In June 1889, Miss Wetherald was requested by the editor to come to Toronto to write “Notes and Comments” and an occasional editorial. The editor was John Cameron.
The following year Mr. Cameron resigned and returned to London, Ont., where in 1890 he founded a small monthly magazine titled “Wives and Daughters” and Miss Wetherald became assistant editor. This little magazine continued publication for three years during which time Miss Wetherald capably wrote nearly all the editorials, as well as the book reviews and was responsible for selected poetry, the children’s department etc. It was during those years in London that Miss Wetherald began writing her exquisite lyrics and sonnets, which have since charmed so many readers. By 1895 she had enough for her first book. “The House of the Trees,” and other poems. In 1902 appeared “Tangled in Stars,” and in 1904, “The Radiant Road,” In the autumn of 1907 a larger collection of her verse was published in Toronto, “The Last Robin; Lyrics and Sonnets,”
Miss Wetherald returned to her home in 1893, going to Philadelphia in the winter of 95-96 as assistant to Francis Bellamy the literary editor of the Ladies’ Home Journal. Her chance to assist Forrest Morgan, one of the editors of the “The World’s Best Literature” came about through correspondence. He had written in praise of her “Wind of Death” and later asked her to be his assistant, in which capacity she acted for nearly a year and included in ne of his volumes five or six of her poems.
Active to the end
Miss Wetherald, in company with her brother, Samuel, travelled extensively before returning to the quiet life she lived of latter years. One by one her large family predeceased her and for a number of years she has left the shelter of her home only on rare occasions.
Happily engaged with her books, her writing and a large correspondence with friends far and wide, this quiet unassuming little woman with her keen intellect and wide interests in the affairs of the world of today lived out her life to a happy end. Although she left her home but seldom, many famous people renowned in the world of letters and art found their way to her door.
A complete edition of lyrics and sonnets containing every poem which Miss Wetherald wishes preserved and comprising 350 in all was arranged and published in 1931. John W. Garvin was responsible for the arrangement of this work. A couple of her better known poems also had the distinction of being a part of the public school readers in Ontario.
Miss Wetherald leaves to mourn an adopted daughter, Miss Dorothy Wetherald, two nieces, Mrs. R.D. Linden of St. Paul, Minn, and Mrs. Thomas Wollsright of San Franscico, California, one nephew, Rene Wetherald of St. Paul; and a host of sorrowing friends.
A private service for intimate friends will be held at the home on Tuesday, March 12th, at 3 o’clock proceeding to the Friends’ church at Pelham Corners for public service at 2.30 p.m. Burial will be in the Friends’ cemetery.
[Welland Tribune March 13, 1940]
Glowing Tribune Paid to Long Life and Service
Fenwick, March 13-Friends and neighbors gathered on Tuesday afternoon to pay their last respects to Miss Agnes Ethelwyn Wetherald, who passed away early Sunday morning. A short service for intimate friends was held at the family home “The Tall Evergreens,” then the funeral cortege proceeded to the Friends church, Pelham Corners, for a public service. The pastor, Rev. Stanley Van Every, officiated.
It was fitting that the final ceremonies for Miss Wetherald should take place in the place so closely associated with the life of the Wetherald family. Here for many years Mr. Wetherald, father of the deceased preached for divine worship, and Miss Wetherald herself was always a faithful adherent.
Mr. Van Every paid glowing tribute to the long life of love and service of the one who had gone, she had not really died, as her spirit would live eternally in the many lyrics she left behind and which were so much a part of herself, the pastor stated.
Six friends of many years standing acted as bearers, Frank Page of New Dundee, Wm. Dorland of St. Cathareines, J. A. Daboll of Ridgeville, Stewart S. MacInnes of Welland, Walter McRaye of Grimsby and Louis Blake Duff of Welland.
After a short service in the church, the remains were reverently laid to rest in the adjoining cemetery.
[Welland Tribune March 13, 1940]
A friend upon whom I leaned heavily
Is gone, and I shall miss her counsels true;
Instead of friendly cheer, now dreacfully
A yawning gulf now widens ‘twixt us two
Yet was her soul eternal, let us say,
As all who walk God’s earth, on other hand,
And will she not arise, that certain day
When trumpets call His flock, from every land.
Until that day of meeting, let mine be
A life still lived on well, and selflessly,
Which she would quite approve if she could see;
I know that I a better life can lead
Because she was a friend indeed;
God answered well, when He, a prayer, did heed.
-Dorothy Evelyn White
[Welland Tribune March 12, 1940]
The homestead trees are black tonight
Against the winter sky,
And all the happy, eager earth
Has blossomed but to die.
My heart was ever one to sing
With shining field and wood;
The blind and cruel and bitter way
It never understood.
But still above the evergreens
I see the stars burn bright;
And there once more my soul mounts up
Where it is always light.
-Fisher Davidson
[Welland Tribune March 12, 1940]
Tribute Paid Memory of Poet, Former Pupil
Fenwick, March 12- A special assembly of staff and pupils of Pelham Continuation school was held on Monday morning to pay tribute to the memory of Miss Ethelwyn Wetherald, renowned poetess and to Miss Evelyn Berry a former pupil of the school.
Miss Wetherald had presented the school with an autographed copy of her last book of lyrics and sonnets, on February 15, 1933, and from this volume two poems were read: “Parting” and “The Soul Knows.”
It is not given to many communities to have the honor of claiming such a famous and well loved person as their own, and while she has passed into that great beyond of which she wrote frequently, her works remain a living monument to the memory of a gracious and lovely lady.
[Welland Tribune February 26, 1940]
Fellow workers and members of the Welland Hydro Commission this morning attended in a body funeral services for Steve Lapka, whose death occurred at the Welland County General hospital last Friday from injuries incurred in the line of duty as a Hydro lineman last January 10.
The funeral was held from the J.J. Patterson and Sons’ Funeral Residence 19 Young street to St Mary’s church where requiem was chanted by Rev. Father Horvath, assistant pastor of the Church of our Lady of Hungary, of which deceased was a member. Interment was in Holy Cross cemetery.
Pallbearers were all fellow workers, J. Taylor, A. Acaster, O. Brown, F. Hartmier, J. Sylie and N. Cobolak.
[Welland Tribune February 26, 1940]
Many friends, including some from Wainfleet, Long Beach and Buffalo attended the funeral of the late Mrs. Horace Rathfon on Saturday afternoon. Mrs. Rathfon died at her residence in Bethel on Thursday in her 61st year. The funeral was held from the late residence to First Lutheran church, Rev. Theo A. Iseler conducted the service. Interment was in Overholt’s cemetery.
During the service Misses Helen and Marguerite Climenhage sang the duet. “The Old Rugged Cross,” accompanied at the organ by Miss Minnie Boneberg, The pallbearers were Emanuel White, George Schleffel, George MacIntyre, Allan Steele, Gordon Doan and William Christmas, neighbors and friends of the deceased.
Among many beautiful floral tributes were those of the Ladies Aid of First Lutheran church and the Bethel Sunshine Class.
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