I take, collect and keep photos of St. Francisville, Illinois in this photo gallery.


For many members of our family this small town on the banks of the Wabash River in southern Illinois has deep and pleasant memories. It's where several generations of Halls, Grays, Clarks and Caldwells have been reared and many of today's 800 (probably less) residents are relatives. It is the 2nd oldest town in Illinois and celebrated its bicentennial in 2012. The poem below was featured at the 150th anniversary of the St. Francisville in 1962. The photos can be found at the end of the poem.

Meditation on the Wabash

MRS. N J. PEPPLE


The evening sun is setting
O'er the Wabash old and gray.

And I watch its lengthening shadows,
As the bright light fades away.

And I fancy many pictures

As the waters roll along,
And I wonder not the poet

Has its beauty told in song.

And I wonder not one's lonely
As they wander many ways.

And the thoughts so often linger
On the scents of other days.

So I view the rolling Wabash,

And I note its every form,
Sometimes shining in the sunlight.

Sometimes angry m the storm

Then I see the moonlight gleaming
O'er the waters calm and still.

And WE hear the distant echo
As it soundeth o'er the hill.

'Tis a bell we hear so often
Calling on the other shore.

Someone's on the other side
Waiting to be ferried o'er.

Then we see ths busy boatman
Row across the waters wide

And he lands the weary traveler
Safe upon the other side.

Then we see the fortune hunter

With his anchor at his side.
Drifting in the deepest waters.

For 'tis there the pearls abide.

Then we see the boats come freighted
Some with produce, some with sand;

Man must labor on the water
Just the same as on the land.

So I've watched the rolling waters

Of the Wabash far away
And I see it moving onward

In course that none can stay.

Then I think that life's a river

And we are drifting down the stream.

And the way laid out before us
Is no vain and idle dream.

For the hand that guides the boatman
O'er the waters dark and wild.

With an anchor safely grounded.
Never will forsake a child.

So we're sailing toward the city
While the sunset lingers near.

And we'll anchor in the harbor
Ere the morning dawneth clear.

There to rest bsside life's river

Is a promise that is given.
And to meet the many loved ones

Will increase the joys of heaven

Then we'll know why all life's changes

As we drifted on its way.
And we'll praise our blesed Savior

In that land that's fair as day.

Mrs. Pepple was the mother of Oris Pepple who lived in the home now occupied by
Truman Barnett. She wrote this poem while living in sight of the Wabash ferry
and could see the musselers digging for pearls.











FOR MORE ST. FRANCISVILLE PHOTO GALLERIES CLICK ON LINKS BELOW.

go here: https://pbase.com/hallr/cannonball_bridge

or here: https://pbase.com/hallr/st_xavier_church

or here: https://pbase.com/hallr/wooden_bridge

or here: https://pbase.com/hallr/historic_st_francisville