into the rotary and put me in one of those little triangular cells, which was indeed a place of filth.  The faucet leaked, and kept a continual spatter, which made the foot of my cot damp.  I stayed there five days and while it was not as bad as Jeremiah’s dungeon, it was similar.  The dampness and poison of this cell added to the already deep cold on my lungs.  Dear Bro.  Schollenberger!  Who has not heard of this great hearted man of Wichita?  He brought us little treats and in many ways relieved us of our afflictions and bonds.  I was not allowed to be with my lovely sisters again in prison they would write notes and send them by a “trusty,” for they were very uneasy about me, fearing foul play.

As soon as the sisters could get bonds, they got out, but I was not allowed to give bond.  I was not a meek prisoner, did not act like a criminal.  This vexed my prosecutors and they tried to humble me, but I felt that I was right and that God would stand by me and I wanted Him to look down and always find me brave and true and in nothing to be terrified by my adversaries.

I had some money sent me while in jail and this I divided, often to the last, with my fellow prisoners.  To one I gave four dollars, for his poor wife was soon to be confined.  To the “trusty” John, I gave three dollars for his destitute wife, and often bought little treats, such as fruits and butter.  The meals were meat and beans one day, then potatoes and meat all cooked tip into a mush.  I became very much attached to my fellow prisoners and I found some with noble sentiments.  What do people do who have no hope of heaven, I often ask.  What a joy to have a place in view where there is no sickness, no death, no jails, no suffering of any kind.

THE THIRD TIME IN TOPEKA JAIL.

I had become so disgusted with jail food that my stomach refused it.  As soon as I was put in jail I told Mr. Cook to send the milkman to my cell.  He came and was very kind.  He agreed to bring me some bread and milk, ten cents worth a day.  This I lived on for the eighteen days.  In the cell with me was a woman named Mrs. Mahanna, who was put in for selling beer.  She did not happen to have a government license.  Poor creature!  She bad been the mother of fifteen children; had a broken hip caused by a kick of a drunken husband.  She was very ignorant but kind-hearted.  The heat was intense and we were next to the roof.  Sometimes I would feel like I was suffocated.  The windows slanted so that but little draught came in.  One pane of glass was partly out and we would sit by that to get a breath of air.  While in this jail I had many offers from different theatrical, circus, and museum managers, who tried to tempt me with all kinds of prices; one as high as $800 a week, and a palace car and a maid.  I never for one moment thought of taking any of them until two managers came from New York City.  The sheriff, Mr. Cook, brought