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Grandma's Birthday Party
Mrs. Maria Batchelder celebrated her
ninety-second birthday on Thursday, May 23d. About forty persons,
representing all ages, from infancy to extreme old age, including four
generations of the family assembled to do her honor.
Mrs. B. was
born in Moultonboro' and has lived in the same town all her life. Her
maiden name was Hutchins. She married John Batchelder seventy-one years
ago, living with him till his death, which occurred seven years ago.
Mrs. B. is indeed a remakable old lady, retaining all her faculties
to a marked degree. She is one of the few who have "grown old
gracefully." She was pronounced by all present to be the very handsomest
and sweetest old lady they had ever seen.
As we looked upon her
it was hard to realize that her birthdays numbered ninety-two. Age has
touched her lightly. Scarce a wrinkle marred the fairness of her face,
and many a lass in her teens might well have envied the rich carnation
of her cheeks.
She has knit in the past year fifty pairs of
stockings.
About 5 o'clock a bountiful repast was served to which
all did ample justice. Ten of the oldest persons present were seated at
the first table whose united ages were 752 years.
As Grandma of
92 years held the babe of 9 months in her arms she was unconscious of
the beautiful picture she formed of May and December.
After tea
was over, Grandma was seated in the "old arm chair" to receive her
birthday gifts, which consisted of $16 in money beside many other tokens
of love and respect.
Letters were read from absent ones who
regretted they could not be present to honor her birthday. Grandma
expressed her thanks in a very feeling manner and many eyes were dimmed
with tears as she sung the hymn "Farewell my friends," in a voice that
though now weak and trembling showed that Grandma could sing one. Take
her all in all, when shall we look upon her like again?
Mrs. S.
C. Kelley.
Her 99th Birthday
Saturday, May 23rd., Mrs. Maria Batchelder, was
ninety-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;
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?
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?
When earth has so little to charm,
And Heaven so much 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 will respond,
Some others as soft and as sweet,
For some one that's waiting beyond
I know not how soon death may come,
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.
If Heaven is bathed in a flood
Of splendor, of grandeur, 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.
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 give
A welcome when our journey's through.
?? 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
Contributed by Linda Jones
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This page was last updated 05/03/2024