Once in Nebraska City, Neb., I was knocked in the temple by a saloon-keeper.  I reeled and fell and while I knew he struck me with his clenched fists as hard as he could, so it seemed to me, I did not have a bruise.

I always prayed to God to take care of me, but to lead me into these tumults to rouse the people to think and to talk.

 The beginning of the graveyard association of medicine Lodge.

I never saw anything that needed a rebuke, or exhortation, or warning, but that I felt it was my place to meddle with it.  I have been called a “meddler”.  Yes I say:  “It is my place to meddle with the devil’s business.  Jesus meddled with the law-breakers in the temple.”

I will give you a few facts to prove what I mean and hope it will inspire my readers to do likewise.  What injures one is the interest of all.  We are personally responsible for all wrong that we neglect to make right, when it is in our power to do it.  If anything injures my neighbor it injures me.  If my neighbor is blessed so am I.

I used to ride out north of Medicine Lodge past the graveyard.  It was situated on an elevated place, barren of trees, for trees could not well grow where it was so dry.  Grave-yards are not pleasant places at best, but to see one barren of trees or flowers, just the graves, the white marble, the sunshine, rain, and prairie grass, in sight of the pleasant yards and homes of the living, I feel a sense of reproach, as if the dead were complaining of this neglect.  The only ground Abraham ever bought was a piece of ground to bury his dead and it had trees on it.  I wanted to see a better condition of things.  I knew this neglect was because no one would make a move.  I felt I was not the one, but I wrote an article for the papers, “Index and Crescent”, of Medicine Lodge, and I took it to a widow, Mrs. Young, who had recently lost a husband who was very dear to her.  I told her she was the one to organize a grave-yard association.  That this letter would call the ladies together.  After making a few changes in the language she published the letter, and the ladies met, organized, and in a few months all was changed.  One will rarely find a more attractive resting place for our beloved dead than in the cemetery of Medicine Lodge.  I could not have effected what Mrs. Young did, but there are more ways of doing things than one, and when people say:  “I can never carry out any plans”, I know they have not tact or perseverance.

Meddling with the devil.

A friend who lived a few miles in the country came to my house in Medicine Lodge, threw her arms around my neck and said:  “Oh, Sister Nation, Matt has gone to Wichita for a bad purpose.  I am almost wild; can’t you help me?  She is in love with Will, and he does not care for her but he has gotten her into trouble and does not intend to marry her.”  She told me that Will wrote her a