mother who first kissed him, after he had taken the oath to perform the duties growing out of his position as the chief magistrate of this great Republic. But in this country we had these influences; they were started, this great party had a small beginning; in the forties it grew, it took about twelve years, a pretty small boy. It takes a boy about twenty years now to become a man, but this boy got to be pretty strong in sixty, and they brought out a man in sixty who was one of the common people, but they worked like sixty to get there, and they got there.

Now, let me go back a little. What influences did we need to succeed in that wonderful enterprise? Prejudice was strong against the North. I was in Virginia, I was from the Western Reserve. I was never accustomed to talk much when I was young; I have done all that since-I can talk enough now. I remember the lesson that the old mother gave to her boy when he brought in a string of fish. He was in the habit of talking a good deal. She says, "Now, my son, do you know why these fish are not swimming in the water and having a nice time?" and he says, "No mother, only I caught them," and she says, "Don't you know if they had kept their mouths shut they wouldn't have been caught?" I didn't say much in those days among the Southerners. They knew I was from the North. I kept quiet but I thought a good deal. There was a work to be done, and it seemed to me it was a herculean task in this country.

In the early part of this decade the sewing machine and the mowing machine were brought out in the same year, and the telegraph wire was stretched in 1844 from Baltimore to Washington. The Democratic party was holding its convention in Baltimore, and Morse had stretched a single wire from Baltimore to Washington. The Democratic party nominated James K. Polk for President, and that was the first dispatch that went over the wire, and they knew it in Washington before they knew it in Baltimore, and it was a great marvel; it was a wonderful thing. The people marvelled about that telegraph wire. An old lady up in Ridgeville-it was not Mrs. Harris by

any

means, though I had the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Harris away back there fifty years ago—but this old lady said, "I don't see how the letters can get through that little hole in the insulator, in the glass on the pole." Her idea was the letters were going to be stretched out on the wire. But a darkey down in Washington got it the best. He says, "I can explain the whole thing." "Well," they said, "go ahead and explain it then." Says he, "Supposing a great big dog, so big that it reached from Baltimore to Washington." "Well," they said, "there never was such a big dog as that." "But, then, you have got to suppose it or I can't explain it." "Well, go ahead then." "You step on his tail in Baltimore, and he will bark in Washington." That explained the whole thing. Who dreamed then there would be such a webwork of wire around the world, that I could speak to my son traveling in northern Europe in the morning and receive an answer in the evening? Who dreamed anything of that kind? I did not, nor you did not. We have seen that work go on. It was a necessity; the sewing machine was a necessity; the reaper and mower was a necessity, and the photograph. I claim that the photograph is a great civilizer. It is a gospel of affection and tenderness. What woman is there who is not better because she can look upon the face of a loved one taken from the cradle? How many times she opens the drawer and looks upon that little face, the tears come and she drops upon her knees and thanks God for the promise, “Suffer little children to come unto me and forbid them not." What would we not give if we had the photographs of the fathers back generations after generations? How I would like to look upon the faces of my illustrious ancestors: In the city of Boston I went to the historical rooms and I traced back my mother's family for nine generations, to 1631. How I would have liked to have had those faces all along the generations. We couldn't have them.

Of the ten dacades, and we are in the evening of the last, no decade, to my mind, compares with this decade, the last of the first half of the century.

Now, this is about all that I have to say. There was a man

raised up in that decade, in our own community a little east of here, in a cabin-a boy ten or fifteen years of age, working, chopping wood, anything that he could do to help his father, a boy in the woods of Orange township, who afterwards became PresiIdent of the United States. Such were the influences started in that most marvellous of all decades.

Now, I am going to conclude. I did not intend to make a long speech, but this may be the last time I shall address you, for life is very uncertain. But I believe, my dear friends, that this is not all. I believe there is a land of eternal spring and immortal beauty, where none grow old. I believe there will be a time of reunion on the other side. I cannot believe that I shall never know anything more of General Elwell, whose voice we heard one year ago in our Association. I believe we shall strike glad hands on the other side. Let us so live that when the hour comes, not like the galley slave who leaves his task to lie down on a bed of death, but like the weary traveller with a life well spent, with echoes coming back to cheer us, we find the way to that undiscovered country, from whose bourne no traveller returns, and it will be well with us.

The quartet then sang "A Negro Melody."

The President: We were to have been addressed by the Rev. J. A. Rutledge, but he wrote me only very recently that he had been disappointed in not being able to attend. I very much regret that this eloquent divine was not able to be here on this occasion and give you a short address.

The quartet then sang "Coronation," the audience standing and joining in the singing.

The audience then sang the Doxology, led by the quartet, and Rev. Lathrop Cooley pronounced the following benediction:

BENEDICTION BY REV. LATHROP COOLEY.

Gracious Father, dismiss us with Thy blessing, go with us through the journey of life, hand us down to our graves in peace, gather us home at last to enjoy the fullness of Thy presence, through Jesus Christ, our Lord, Amen.

Sketches of Deceased Members.

MRS. ELIZABETH BARKER.

Mrs. Elizabeth Vanderwerker Barker, widow of the late Benaiah Barker, was born in New York, of distinguished Knickerbocker ancestry, February 12, 1810; died March 26, 1900. She was the last surviving charter member of Plymouth church and in earlier days was most active and influential in church work. Her late pastor says, “She was a woman run in a grand mold, of heroic proportions. I often envied her the definiteness and vigor of her opinions. And what grand patience and what superb hope was hers. To have ministered to her, to have been anything to her shall be a precious memory." She was a wonderful and beautiful woman at 90 years of age. Mr. and Mrs. Barker came to Cleveland in 1848. Mr. Barker was one of the leaders in the abolition movement, and the founder of Plymouth church. The parents are survived by two children, Mrs. Frances E. Shipherd and James W. Barker.

JONATHAN FORD CARD.

Jonathan Ford Card, who died May 25, 1900, was one of the old citizens who helped to connect the former pioneer days with those of the present. He was born on January 8, 1815, in the village of Chagrin, which is now known as Willoughby, Lake County, Ohio, to which place his parents moved in the fall of 1814 from Newport, N. Y. He was one of six children born to Joseph and Mary Ford Card. His earliest days were spent in a small log cabin, which stood on a hill, over which the Lake Shore railroad tracks now have their course. At the age of ten, however, he found himself back in Newport, N. Y. The family did not stay there long, but returned to Ohio in 1825, where Joseph Card became actively engaged in the business world; being at one time postmaster of Willoughby. On his way to Ohio it may be mentioned that he took passage on a canal boat on which Gov

ernor De Witt Clinton was en route to Buffalo, to celebrate the completion of the Erie Canal.

Mr. Card received his earliest education in the common schools, but in 1830 he completed his studies in a select academy. They consisted of chemistry, rhetoric, grammar, and Latin. His parents wished him to stay at school for several more years, but as he said, he was possessed of a burning desire to get to work and accomplish something in the world of business. His first start was very unpromising, as he was obliged to do all the drudgery of a little store and sleep in a bunk under the counter at night. In 1832, his health giving out, he was obliged to take a trip up the lakes.

Probably this trip did much to acquaint the boy he was but eighteen years of age-with a portion of the world in which he was to become actively engaged in later years. He made another trip to Chicago a few years later, being sent there by his former employer to collect a large sum of money. On this trip he visited a great many towns, to some of which he later returned, either to live or establish some business. In the spring of 1834 he first started in business for himself by buying, in partnership, a grocery and general country store. At that time a railroad company establishing connections with Chagrin, he bought a number of shares in the company, and in these and many other ways he gradually became identified with the world of business.

On August 26, 1835, he married Miss Maria Phelps, a daughter of Samuel Phelps, who was a well-to-do resident of Painesville. With her he lived most happily for fifty years. In 1847 he moved to Fairport. The couple had five children born to them. Mrs. Card died on April 28, 1887.

In about 1847, it may be said, Mr. Card started in earnest on his remarkable business career. He had been engaged in a number of enterprises in the smaller towns of Ohio, but it was not until in 1857 that he first came to Cleveland. In that year he came to this city and engaged in business with Daniel P. Rhodes under the name of Rhodes & Card, dealers in coal and