We must grow old! The years go by,
Sometimes on wings they seem to fly;
But why such haste? We know not why!
We only know that we grow old!
Sometimes, alas! The years they go
As if with leaden feet, so slow
We faint from pain, we cannot know
Wherefore or why, but we grow old!
Each vanished year its own sad tale
Of disappointment, woe and wall,
Adds to the score, until we fall,
Since we grow old! We must grow old!
Can never find their place again;
The heart will bleed when pierced with pain,
When loved ones die, and we grow old.
Into the dark unknown we take
The hopes misfortune could not shake,
Pure as the mountain’s snowy flake,
Where all is well—when we are old.
Welland Telegraph February 1900
The children play in the fields,
And I who watch am a man,
Knowing the struggle and strife and toll
With work and a hope and a plan;
Bowing my knee to the rod
The king of my leisure wields,
But my heart—my heart is ever at play
With the children in the fields.
My heart is ever at play,
Ever at play in the fields
Smelling the perfume, windy sweet,
The clover blossom yields;
Smiling with curious gaze
At its elders over the way
And harking back to the green again
Where my heart is ever at play!
–Post Wheeler in New York Press
Welland Telegraph May 1900
When July comes and we begin,
Of course they say we throw them in;
But just come o’er and see the stand,
The pears that are on Horton’s land.
Three thousand there we all put in,
One knot is all was in the string;
And if they doubt that this is so
Of course they must put up the dough
And we can show them any day
Just how we do in easy way
And hope that there will be no more
Doubting our word, as was done before.
–One Who can Bud Three Thousand
Brown’s Nurseries P.O., Aug 14th, 1900
Welland Telegraph 1900.
Snow along the hillsides lingers.
Raw and frosty is the air,
Dead the grass along the meadows,
And the branches still are bare;
Yet we often pause to listen,
And we fancy that we hear
Robins to each other calling,
Piping merrily ad clear.
Here and there we’re quickly peering
For the harbingers of spring,
Birds that brave the northern breezes
While remains the winter’s sting;
But though eagerly we listen,
And although our eyes we strain,
There’s no sound of robin piping,
There is heard no glad refrain.
It was just an idle fancy
That was born of fond desire
For the music that in springtime
Comes from nature’s feathered choir,
For we weary of the winter
Long before its days are spent,
And we yearn for song and sunshine
And the blossoms redolent
It was just a foolish fancy
That was given sudden play,
For the robins still are dwelling
In the southland far away.
And the snow is on our hillsides,
Raw and frosty is the air,
Dead the grass along the meadows,
And the branches still are bare.
But the winter days are passing,
And the sun now northward swings,
Bringing life t bud and blossom,
Long ‘neath nature’s coverings,
Springtime soon again will gladden
All these scenes now desolate—
We are watching for the robins,
And we won’t have long to wait!
[Assumed, 1900]
Oh, sweet is the hush in the pine tree boughs
And sweet is the breath of the night,
When the earth quiet lies
And the grass waves and sighs,
We are waiting the beautiful moon!
Oh, low moans the dove in the pine tree boughs,
And low moans his mate on her nest,
While the wind whispers low
And the soft waters flow
In the sheen of the pale. Tender moon.
Oh clear shines the light on the pine tree boughs!
Oh, clear shines the light of the moon!
When the clouds softly lie
On the bright eastern sky.
They are bathed in the gleam of the moon.
Oh, dark wave the tops of the pine tree boughs!
Oh, dark wave their tops ‘gainst the sky!
While the earth and the sky
And the soft waters lie
In the light of the beautiful moon.
Helen E. Harrison in Ladies’Home Journal
Welland Telegraph March 1900
[Welland Telegraph, 7 September 1900]
After an illness extending over nearly a year, G.L. Hobson, treasurer of the County of Welland, passed over to the great majority on Friday morning last, August 31st.
In the death of Mr. Hobson, Welland loses its best beloved citizen-popular alike with both political parties-although at all times himself a keen politician and a Conservative of the old school. But Mr. Hobson’s popularity-his genial, courteous bearing to all-made him as popular with his opponents as with those of the same political stripe-and his removal will leave a void in Welland, both in social and official circles, that it will indeed be hard to fill. And not only in Welland but throughout all sections of the county will the people feel that in his demise they have lost one of their best friends.
A Welland county boy from his birth, G.L. Hobson lived his life among the people to whom he was endeared. He was born at Fonthill on May 31st, 1841.
He was a son of the late Sheriff Robert Hobson, who had lived 60 years in the neighborhood, and who died in 1881. Sheriff Hobson was first appointed to office in 1856; G.L. Hobson was appointed deputy-sheriff in 1866, prior to which time he was for a while in the registry office, then at Fonthill. In ‘61 Mr. Hobson joined the party from this neighborhood that went to California at the time of the discovery of the Cariboo gold fields. He returned in ‘64. He was appointed division court clerk by Judge Macdonald on the death of the late Henry Willett. In June 18891, he was appointed county treasurer and up to the time of his death he filled both positions with marked ability.
Both in municipal and Dominion politics Mr. Hobson was a prominent figure in the Conservative party. He had the honor of representing the town as deputy-reeve and reeve on various occasions-having been deputy reeve in 1882, 1885, 1888, 1889, and reeve in 1886, 1890 and 1891. Mr. Hobson was chosen warden of the county in 1890. In 1882 he contested the county in the Conservative interest for the Local Legislature, opposing Col. Morin. Although defeated by 55 votes, Mr. Hobson polled the largest vote ever given a Conservative in the County of Welland up to that time. But for an unfortunate illness the week prior to the election, it might have been closer. But he took his defeat gracefully, and he and Col Morin were the best of friends to the end.
Up to less than a year ago, Mr. Hobson had always been blessed with the best of health, and to meet and converse with him was as good as a tonic. Bright, cheery and witty, a clever and entertaining speaker, he was in great demand at social and public gatherings, and the brilliant tilts of wit between he and his friend Cruikshank will be remembered by county councillors who have attended the annual gatherings at the warden’s dinners for many years past. He was present at Warden Henderson’s supper last December, and at the annual gathering of the officers of the 44th he was apparently at his best, making a stirring patriotic address, that warmed the hearts of the soldiers present. This was his last appearance as a public speaker.
During the summer Mr. Hobson went to Kane, Pa., to visit relatives, and the change apparently did him good, as he stood the journey well and returned home so much improved that he resumed his official duties. But gradually he grew weaker. The best medical advice was obtained and the disease diagnosed as Addison’s disease of the kidneys-and then it was known there was no cure. Mr. Hobson bore his illness with much fortitude, and did all in his power to lessen the blow to his loved ones at home.
Despite the terrific rainstorm on Monday afternoon, there was a large and thoroughly representative gathering at the funeral obsequies. The services at the house were conducted by Rev. F. McCuaig. Before the service Miss Lizzie Morin sang very impressively, “Lead, Kindly Light,” and at the conclusion of the funeral discourse God Save the Queen was sung. Interment took place at Fonthill cemetery, the pall-bearers being Warden C. Henderson (Marshville), Cols. Morin, Raymond and Cruikshank and Messrs. T.D. Cowper and R. Cooper.
The floral offerings were chaste and elegant-the casket being completely covered with them. The county council sent a wreath, the county officials a pillow; Judge Fitzgerald and Mr. and Mrs. German sent wreaths; the Messrs. Crowell a pillow, besides numerous others.
The immediate relatives surviving are his aged mother, his wife (nee Fanny Crowell, daughter of Theodore Crowell, New York,) the two daughters, Misses Daisy and Fanny Hobson, and his brother, Harry W. Hobson of Niagara Falls.
The county council attended the funeral in a body-Warden C. Henderson, and Councillors Jas. Henderson, Fares, Cruikshank, Morris, Upper, Bennett and Morden. Among others from a distance were Messrs. J. Crowell and R. Crowell of New York; Mr. and Mrs. T. Crowell of Kane, Pa.; S.J. Sidey, R. Greenwood, A.K. Scholfield, Port Colborne; H.G. Macklem, Chippawa; L. McGlashan, J.G. Cadham, and D.R. Pursel, Niagara Falls South, and many others from surrounding villages. The flag on the court house was at half mast out of respect to the memory of one of the most efficient officials the County of Welland has ever had. A kind and indulgent husband and a faithful friend-the memory of George Lambton Hobson will ever be cherished with feelings of love and respect. To the bereaved family and friends the Telegraph tenders sincere sympathy.
By Marie Chamberland, Tribune Staff Writer
[The Evening Tribune 24 July 1990]
Welland—An autopsy revealed Frances Turnbull, a well-known city artist died of smoke inhalation.
The 89-year-old’s body was pulled from the second floor of her burning home at 102 River Road Sunday.
Cause of the fire is still under investigation.
“I have found nothing to indicate anything suggesting foul play, or for that matter, anything other than an accidental cause,” Cliff Miller, an investigator for the Ontario Fire Marshal’s Office, said at the scene late yesterday.
“The actual cause remains undetermined at this time,” he said.
“Natural gas has been ruled out as the cause of the fire,” he said.
Read the rest of this entry »
Welland county woman who eloped with the hired man a fortnight ago.
[Welland Telegraph 1900]
They were traced to Chicago by Constable Dowd, who prevailed on the woman to return to her husband.
Detective John R. Dowd went to Chicago on Thursday last in quest of a woman who had left her husband’s home in Wainfleet for the society of another man. Mr. Dowd returned with the woman on Sunday night.
The following dispatch from Chicago in Thursday’s Mail-Empire gives full particulars:– Chicago, March 27.—An erring but repentant wife, a wronged but forgiving husband, and a faithless employee figure in a romance which has been unearthed by the Englewood police, and which resulted in the return yesterday of the wife to the forsaken home with her daughter, whom she has carried along with her in flight.
The story was revealed to Captain O’Neill Sunday by Constable John Dowd, of Welland, Ont., who had followed a runaway wife to Chicago, and who took her back to the waiting husband. The woman is Alice Stayzer. Up to March 8th she lived with her husband, John Stayzer, and their four-year old daughter, Alice, on a prosperous farm near Welland. A happy home was the Stayzer homestead until early last fall, when stayzer engaged William Lambert. Lambert and the wife discovered congenial tastes and the mutual attraction grew until the husband became suspicious. Stayzer then took measures to head off the intimacy. He discharged Lambert and sent his wife and child to the home of a relative on a visit.
March 8 Mrs Stayzer took her child and left, ostensibly for home. She never reached there, and the distracted husband sought the aid of the police in finding her. Constable Dowd learned that she had purchased tickets to Chicago, and he came to search for her. With the aid of Detective Storen he found the woman at Lambert’s home, No. 6920 Paulina street, where the man lives with his mother.
Mrs Stayzer made no objections when the constable told her the purpose of his trip, and with her child, accompanied the officers to the station. At first the woman was reluctant to return to Canada, and it took the united persuasions of Captain O’Neill and the constable to gain her consent. The constable departed yesterday morning with his charge for Welland.
[Welland Telegraph, 11 May 1900]
There is nothing to break the monotony of jail life this week and even the dynamiters have given nothing to renew the interest in their case. Dullmann’s one outside meal per day has been granted to him again, and this he shares with Werke. The other two of the famous trio are resting quietly and without complaint. There are only four new names on the roll this week, and they were all brought in yesterday morning by Constable Dowd who found them trespassing.
[Welland Telegraph, 11 May 1900]
Great sympathy is felt for Mr. E.T. Green, in his late terrible bereavement in the loss of his wife, Edna E., who died on Wednesday of this week, in her 34th year. Of a bright and cheerful disposition. Mrs. Green’s friends were all who had the pleasure of her acquaintance and her untimely death is indeed a sad blow to relatives and friends. Several young children besides her husband are left to mourn her loss. The funeral takes place to-day (Friday) from her late residence at 2 p.m. Interment at Doan’s Ridge Cemetery. d: 9 May 1900
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