By his granddaughter

Margaret McCornack Eakin

Perhaps the only grandchildren of Andrew McCornack who had seen or known him are my brother, Daniel, my cousins, Herbert McCornack and Minerva McCornack Rowe, and myself.  Therefore, I have been asked to give a word-picture or description of him to the great and great-great grandchildren of later generations and because these are the impressions of childhood and early youth, and because you are kinfolk I know you will overlook whatever may be amiss in this.

I never saw grandmother, whose maiden name was Helen McGeough, and no picture had ever been taken of her as far as I know.  From having heard remarks made by my father and Uncle Alexander I gleaned that grandmother was the financial manager and perhaps the leader.  She was probably the sterner of the two characters, although when grandfather made a decision he took a firm stand; for example, when looking for a location the two sons wanted to go farther west but he said, "We settle right here and go no farther."

About two years after the death of grandmother, grandfather came to live in our home where he remained for twelve years until his death at the age of 98.  I was less than four years of age and my brother, Daniel, was younger and naturally we would be the disturbing elements in the quiet home.  Grandfather was very patient with us and I can recall no stronger rebuke from him as we ran noisily around, in and out, than this:  "Weel, you're aye ganging aboot."

He was of average height and quite stooped.  He had rather broad shoulders and a deep chest.  My father resembled him in size and build as does my brother, Daniel.  My cousin, Herbert, resembles him in coloring and features.  His hair was white as I knew him but in his youth I have been told it was of a sandy color.  His features were strong and regular and his countenance ruddy.  I admired his pink cheeks which were made so by a fine network of veins.  He had kindly blue eyes and he could read without the aid of glasses.  He was always serious.  I do not remember of ever having seen him smile or give way to any form of hilarity.

My earliest recollections are of watching him as he sat in his high-backed rocking chair, knitting his own stockings of white homespun yarn.  These were not anklets nor even socks, but stockings at least a yard in length, and so firmly made that the needles could scarcely be drawn through the stitches.  It was most interesting to a child to watch him, a man, leisurely throw over the thread, turn the heel, and bind off the toe.  He kept busily employed in some light occupation around the yard as long as he was able.

Grandfather was a devout man, ever firm and steadfast, and not subject to the condemnation, "Ye knew your duty but ye did it not."  Often on Sabbath evenings about dusk, without a book, he would ask every question in the Shorter Catechism, each one present taking his turn in trying to answer, often standing much in need of his coaching.

When of school age, it was the custom of the children of that time to go and stay all night in each others' homes.  In almost my last visit with my cousin, Mary McCornack Thompson, she reminded me of grandfather's evening prayer, which was never changed, and of how I kept her informed of its progress.  He had the evening devotions—my father, the morning.

When grandfather first came to our house, the evening worship began by singing a Psalm which he would read, but before reading it he always said  this:  "Let us endeavor in the strength of promise and grace to worship the name of the Lord our God by singing to His praise a part of the 24th Psalm."

After reading around a chapter from the Bible, I would whisper to Mary, "We will be a long time on our knees so we'll find a low, comfortable chair where we can visit quietly."  The nightly petition began, "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, which wast and which art and which is to come.  Thou only art holy."  After enlarging upon this he prayed for the distracted condition of our country.  This was just after the Civil War.  I would then say, "Oh, we can visit a long time yet."  When he came to this:  "Unless Thou draw us we cannot come, the natural bent and inclination of our corrupt and desperately wicked hearts is evil and only evil continually while in an unrenewed state."  I would tell her, "He is just about half through," and when he said this:  "Hasten the day when men shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruninghooks, none shall say to his brother, 'Know the Lord' but all shall know Him from the least even unto the greatest.  Then shall peace cover the earth as the waters cover the channels of the great deep," I would say to Mary:  "He is almost at the end."  This description is not given in any spirit of lightness or irreverence but just as it occurred.

Grandfather attended church every Sabbath Day, often preferring to walk the distance of 1 1/2 miles.  Later, when he was too feeble to attend, my brother and I were left at home with him, where we were expected to listen to his reading of some good book.  One book I especially remember, but not with pleasure, was, "Hervey's Meditation Among the Tombs," consisting of Scriptural references and long explanations, for example, "Man is born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward," Job 5:7; "Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth," Eccl. 12:1; "Come now, saith the Lord, let us reason together," Isaiah 1:18; and so on and on.  I usually stayed by but when my brother was on duty he would quietly leave the room and choose his own entertainment.

But my lasting impressions are that grandfather lived a life that was true, and honest, and strong; honest not only with his fellowmen but with himself, and with God; strong in character and true.  Three plain words, but so full of meaning—true, and honest, and strong.

Given July 23, 1938 in a talk delivered at the centennial celebration of the arrival in America of Andrew McCornack and Helen McGeough, his wife.