Chapter VI

 

ST. PAUL BRINGS SORROWS AND JOYS

 

When early September came and school days in St. Paul approached, we thought it would be best that Romney did not enter the first term, at least, for his health had not improved.  This was a great regret to us all.  But as always he was brave and cooperated cheerfully.  He was an excellent student and had completed the grade with a year of Latin besides, as had Paul.

 

Alden bought him some chickens and this helped to occupy his time.  He practiced daily on the piano.  I had given him lessons and so conscientious was he that I had to coax him away from the piano instead of driving him to it.  Paderewski was coming to the cities in December and, learning this, Romney had set his heart on buying the nicest ticket procurable for his mother.  Blessed boy!  I have great agony of spirit, blended with great gratitude, even now after 32 years.  He and I had many sacred hours of association that fall.  As it neared Thanksgiving time, he took orders for Thanksgiving turkeys and chickens, dressed.  This kept us all busy and we rejoiced in the success of his enterprise.  All but me knew his secret joy — my hearing Paderewski.  He had cleared $5.00.  He had one accident, breaking down of a borrowed wagon while going over to Midway.  This caused him much worry, though I tried to impress upon him that he was not to blame.  All his orders were delivered in true business-like fashion and he was secretly very happy.

 

THANKSGIVING DAY:  JOY AND TRAGEDY

     We invited Uncle Will, Aunt Eva, and Blanche to Thanksgiving dinner, using one of Romney’s turkeys for the occasion.  The Saturday following Thanksgiving we were invited to Eva’s to spend the day.  The children had a glorious time, much play and fun, so near great tragedy, yet not knowing!  “God so kindly veils our eyes.”  Romney played Paderewski’s Minuet beautifully.

 

     We stayed late, and in those days, we had to take the car downtown, then transfer and when we came to Hamline the line stopped at Snelling and Minnehaha.  Eva said, “Why not let Romney stay all night?”  There was not reason, seemingly, why he should not stay.  I kissed him good-by and then went back, kissing him again.  There was a pain tugging at my heart, yet I knew he was in good hands.

 

     When Eva came Sunday morning to bring the cruel news, my second question was, “Is Romney dead?”  It was a terrible ordeal for her.  They found that the death angel had come in early morning and taken our Romney away.  I marvel at what people endure.  “He is a noble-looking boy,” said the man who came to make preparations, and my sister added:  “He was a noble boy.”  This was November 29, 1903, and on December 3rd we laid to rest all that was mortal of our Romney in Maple Lawn Cemetery, Faribault, Minnesota.  Mr. And Mrs. Connor, of Marshfield, had sent our former pastor, Rev. J. Frank Young, to conduct the service.  Everything that could be done to soften the anguish was done.  Wires had been sent bringing Romney’s father and Grandfather Hills to us.  So earth was robbed, but heaven must have needed him.  “To one fixed trust my spirit clings, I know that God is good” . . . the words of the preacher . . . the lovely flowers, the guests, Alden’s sister, my aged father, the songs . . . “Face to Face” . . . seeing and hearing . . . all unreal!  It almost overpowers me now.  I see Romney playing Paderewski’s Minuet . . . I hear him through the years.  I am sure the heavenly just borders on the earthly.  Another leaf must turn . . . cold, hard reality.

 

     But human nature has a wonderful way of adjusting itself.  It must do so or be snuffed out.  Kind letters, kind calls, [and] flowers help to soften the blow — and time is a great healer.  Alden went onto the road again and Paul and Miriam to school.

 

A MEMORIAL TO ROMNEY A. BLISS

     When the great Paderewski came, I went to hear him in Minneapolis.  He certainly was and is a great genius.  The precious $5.00 was not used, I could not use it.  “Out of my stony grief Bethel I’ll raise,” insistently presented itself.  Dr. Robert E. Speer, of the Presbyterian Men’s Board of New York City lectured in St. Paul, and I met him, asking for advice about what to do.  After much thought, correspondence with Dr. Speer, and consideration with family and friends, it was decided to raise what funds I could and place them in a boy’s school in Coyoacon, Mexico, two miles out of Mexico City.  A Mrs. Campbell, whom we knew as a missionary, was there at the time.  A little later we became acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, also missionaries at Coyoacon.

 

     As soon as possible I began the fund.  My father and family gave me small amounts often.  Friends, learning of the work, helped.  I took students to room and board.  A lady in Knox Church had some dramatic ability and offered to put on a play, “The Old Main’s Convention.”  Ladies in the church were glad to help.  A sale and supper were given.  The Methodist people were just as generous:  Dr. Avison, pastor at that time, spoke from his pulpit asking the congregation to cooperate with me.  Friends kept adding small amounts.  During summer vacations, I had a good many transient boarders, who were friends:  Mrs. Iva Farmer, some of the Rounds family, Mrs. James King’s parents from Wisconsin, the Wedge family from Albert Lea, and so the fund grew until it reached nearly a thousand dollars.  The money was placed in a bank at interest.

 

DEATH COMES TO ALDEN S. BLISS

     Alden had not been well for some time and in early 1909 his malady was more evident and in May his work had to be abandoned.  He had been unable for some months before to work steadily. After a consultation it was decided that an operation would probably be necessary.  In early June, 1909, the operation was performed, Dr. Kirkwood of Hamline taking the responsibility.  I think it was evident from the first that he could not recover.  A tumor had grown into the brain.  It was a painful two months for him and a sad and trying one for us all.  He was unhappy at the hospital where the operation was performed and when his brother came for a visit it was decided that he be moved to a paid room at City hospital.  On July 26th, he passed away and knowing that it was his wish we laid him to rest with his mother in Maple Grove Cemetery (Old Baldwins Mill) near Waupaca and Weyauwega, Wisconsin.

 

     The raising of money for the fund had gone on steadily and hopefully till the latter part of 1908 when Alden’s condition became worse.  After his passing I was something of a wreck and did nothing except to care for my children and home, and do some church work.  In  1907 Paul had graduated from St. Paul Central High School, Tenth and Minnesota streets.  Miriam was soon to enter the same school — although it was now housed in the new buildings on Lexington Avenue.

 

     Paul, after his father’s going, felt that he must help in the support of the family.  He was at the time in Hamline College and midway of his Junior year went to work on the Pioneer Press and Dispatch.  I had built a house in the “George Bros. Addition,” bordering on the south half of the old Territorial Road, now the corner of Blair and Aldine Streets. Our good neighbor, A. M. Sandberg, built the house, and it was rented.

 

     The Romney A. Bliss Memorial Fund, which eventually amounted to $1,036, I placed with the Men’s Board of the Presbyterian Church of America, New York City.  It was arranged that the Missionary Society of Knox Presbyterian Church, Hamline, would have credit for the interest, each year.  This was continued through all the years.  The society was afterward named the Caroline Elmer Missionary Society in memory of the wife and an early pastor.  Those of the family who are here had always been useful members or officers in the church.  Mrs. Julia Elmer Duff and Charles K. Elmer are in St. Paul at the present time.  The interest on the fund, which the Board invested well, has given credit to the society of $51 annually. So far as I know the “depression” has not touched it.  Some years ago, the Board decided to change the place of the gift’s use, though it is still in Mexico, in a Theological seminary.  The boys’ school had a theological department and this was moved to Mexico City and joined with the work of other denominations in the Evangelical Seminary of Mexico.  I believe the Baptists, Congregationalists, the Episcopalians joined with the Presbyterians in the work, and the Y.M.C.A. also cooperates.

 

“WHAT LOTS OF BROKEN PEOPLE!”

     Another remark of Romney’s when he was a small boy, probably not more than three years old, has clung to me all through the years.  He sat on the floor with a magazine, probably a fashion magazine, spread out in his lap. After looking intently for some time, he sighed deeply and said:  “What lots of broken people!”  Yes, I often think, broken hearts, broken health, and now, during the depression, broken families!  You spoke more wisely than you knew, dear little lad.

 

     I feel like referring, at least to “pastors I have had” — most of them splendid, spiritual men:  Mr. Hoover and Mr. Carter, Cannon City; Mr. Edwards, Northfield, while I was at Carleton; Mr. Gale in Faribault; Mr. Omelvena, Rice Lake — it was his wife who exclaimed, “Just think of it, Mrs. Bliss, the mother of two lovely boys!”; Rollo M. Branch, Marshfield; then J. Frank Young, whom Mrs. Connor had sent to us when Romney was taken.

 

     We all worked in the Presbyterian Church of Marshfield from the beginning of our stay there.  Alden and I joined at once and Paul and Romney about three years before coming to St. Paul.  Miriam had joined the Knox Church, Hamline, after we moved to St. Paul.  The Hamline pastors were Mr. Makely, Mr. Davis, Mr. Wittenberger, a good pastor who always made me think of Hamlet; Mr. Bates, another fine pastor who had a bent for finding the new family; Mr. W. E. Johnstone was supply pastor for some years and occupied the pulpit when I was last able to attend Knox Church.  Dr. John MacIvor, and Rev. Norman Euwer, assistant, in the Second Presbyterian Church were our pastors in St. Louis.

 

GRANDFATHER HILLS AND HIS ROMANCE

     My father had sold the house in Faribault and gone east to visit relatives. He returned to us but seemed restless.  It is not easy for age to adjust itself, and he went east again and visited in New York State. This time I presume he had a motive — we learned through cousin Selleck Hills that he had married!  I am afraid that we daughters were all indignant.  But it might have been worse, as my mother used so often to say, for he had married a second cousin whom he had known when they were children.  She had called him “the little lame boy.”  He had a lame foot since childhood and wore a shoe made specially for him.  He always used a home-made crutch.  One of father’s hands was injured in the mill in Cannon City and it was necessary to remove the first finger.  This was done with no anesthetic, which in these days seems an extreme cruelty.

 

     Notwithstanding these physical imperfections, father was a distinguished-looking man.  He had culture, intellect and a great aspiration for higher things.  The woman he had married, Mrs. Annis Collins, was ordinary, but was kind to father.  Her daughter, a teacher, about 45 I think, and living at home, had asperity enough to supply the whole family and she used this weapon to make life unhappy for her mother’s new husband.  The other children, older, I believe, or at any rate not at home, were kind to him.  In 1908 father returned to Minnesota, but his wife remained at home.  He lived with Eva and me for several months and then went to Mankato to visit Alice, I think at Christmas time.  He was evidently reasonably well.  In February, 1909, he complained of a pain in his chest and it was thought to be a touch of pleurisy.  On February 16th he was playing with Raymond, Alice’s younger son.  He went to the bed that she had put in her parlor for him, laid down, and was gone.

 

     In 1908 Blanche Howard married Frank O. Huebener of St. Paul, and a home was built next to Eva and Will, on Dayton Avenue. One by one, four boys came to their household, good boys all of them.  Very early in this story I mentioned Sybil, one of the twins in the home of Aunt Amanda Sanderson, my mother’s sister.  Sybil Sanderson Clausen, my cousin, lives in a modern home in Faribault. She had been brave through many trials.  Now that Aunt Amanda has died, past the age of ninety, Cousin Sybil remains the only one in her family, the others having gone on before.