CHAPTER XXVIII.

LIQUOR DRINKING IN HEALTH AND DISEASE.

POETRY.

{illust. caption = This is what's the matter with Kans. This is a reproduction

of an oil painting I had made and put on my building in Topeka. The oil being

poured on the wounded heart a prohibition ballot.}

The Use and Need of the Life of Carry A. Nation.

CHAPTER I.

MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME AND WHAT I REMEMBER OF MY LIFE UP TO THE

TENTH YEAR.

I was born in Garrard County, Kentucky. My father's farm was

on Dick's River, where the cliffs rose to hundreds of feet, with great

ledges of rocks, where under which I used to sit. There were many large

rocks scattered around, some as much as fifteen feet across, with holes

that held water, where my father salted his stock, and I, a little toddler,

used to follow him. On the side of the house next to the cliffs was

what we called the "Long House," where the negro women would spin

and weave. There were wheels, little and big, and a loom or two, and

swifts and reels, and winders, and everything for making linen for the

summer, and woolen cloth for the winter, both linsey and jeans.

The flax was raised on the place, and so were the sheep. When a child

5 years old, I used to bother the other spinners. I was so anxious to

learn to spin. My father had a small wheel made for me by a wright in

the neighborhood. I was very jealous of my wheel, and would spin on it

for hours. The colored women were always indulgent to me, and made

the proper sized rolls, so I could spin them. I would double the yarn, and

then twist it, and knit it into suspenders, which was a great source of

pride to my father, who would display my work to visitors on every occasion.

The dwelling house had ten rooms, all on the ground floor, except

one. I have heard my father say that it was a hewed-log house,

weather-boarded and plastered as I remember it. The room that possessed

the most attraction for me was the parlor, because I was very

seldom allowed to go in it. I remember the large gold-leaf paper on the

walls, its bright brass dogirons, as tall as myself, and the furniture of red

plush, some of which is in a good state of preservation, and the property

of my half-brother, Tom Moore, who lives on "Camp Dick Robinson"

in Garrard County, this Dick Robinson was a cousin of my father's.

There were two sets of negro cabins; one in which Betsey and Henry

lived, who were man and wife, Betsey being the nurse of all the children.

Then there was aunt Mary and her large family, aunt Judy and her family

and aunt Eliza and her's. There was a water mill behind and almost

a quarter of a mile from the house, where the corn was ground, and

near that was the overseer's house.

Standing on the front porch, we looked through a row of althea

bushes, white and purple, and there were on each side cedar trees that

were quite large in my day. There was an old-fashioned stile, instead of

a gate, and a long avenue, as wide as Kansas Avenue, in Topeka, with

forest trees on either side, that led down to the big road, across which

uncle Isaac Dunn lived, who was a widower with two children, Dave

and Sallie, and I remember that Sallie had all kinds of dolls; it was a

great delight of mine to play with these.

To the left of our house was the garden. I have read of the old-

fashioned garden; the gardens written about and the gardens sung about,

but I have never seen a garden that could surpass the garden of my old

home. Just inside the pickets were bunches of bear grass. Then, there

was the purple flag, that bordered the walks; the thyme, coriander,

calamus and sweet Mary; the jasmine climbing over the picket

fence; the syringa and bridal wreath; roses black, red, yellow and pink;

and many other kinds of roses and shrubs. There, too, were strawberries,

raspberries, gooseberries and currants; damson and greengages, and apricots,

that grew on vines. I could take some time in describing this beautiful

spot.

At the side of the garden was the family burying ground, where the

gravestones were laid flat on masonry, bringing them about three feet

from the ground. These stones were large, flat slabs of marble, and I

used to climb up on top and sit or lie down, and trace the letters or figures

with my fingers. I visited this graveyard in 1903. The eight graves

were there in a good state of preservation, with not a slab broken,

although my grandfather was buried there, ninety years ago. My father

had a stone wall built around these graves for protection, when he left

Kentucky. I am glad that family graveyards have given place to public

cemeteries, for this place has changed hands many times and this graveyard

is not pleasant for the strangers who live there. We who are

interested in these sacred mounds, feel like we intrude, to have the homes

of our dead with strangers.

{illust. caption =

MY OLD HOME WHERE I WAS BORN IN GARRARD COUNTY, KENTUCKY.

THE OLD GRAVE YARD NEAR BY, AND MY GRANDFATHER's GRAVE.}

The memories of this Kentucky home date from the time I was

three years old. This seems remarkable, but my mother said this

incident occurred when I was three years old, and I remember it distinctly.

I was standing in the back yard, near the porch. Mr. Brown,

the overseer, was in the door of my half-brother Richard's room,

with my brother's gun in his hands. At the end of the porch was a

small room, called the "saddle room." A pane of glass was out of the

window and a hen flew out, cackling. Aunt Judy, the colored woman,

went in to get the egg, and walked in front of Mr. Brown, who raised

the gun and said: "Judy, I am going to shoot you," not thinking the

gun was loaded. It went off, and aunt Judy fell. Mr. Brown began to

wring his hands and cry in great agony. I screamed and kept running

around a small tree near by. This was Sunday morning. Runners were sent for

the doctor, and for my parents, who were at church.

Aunt Judy got well, but had one eye out; we could always feel the shot

in her forehead. She was one of the best servants, and a dear good

friend to me. She used to bring two of her children and come up to my

room on Sundays and sit with me, saying, she did not want to be in the

cabin when "strange niggers were there." This misfortune had disfigured

her face and she always avoided meeting people. I can see her

now, with one child at the breast, and another at her knee, with her

hand on its head, feeling for "buggars." I was very much attached to

this woman and wanted to take care of her in her old age. I went to

Southern Texas to get her in 1873. I found some of her children in

Sherman, Texas, but aunt Judy had been dead six months. She always

said she wanted to live with me.

My mother always left her small children in the care of the servants.

I was quite a little girl before I was allowed to eat at "white

folk's table." Once my mother had been away several days and came

home bringing a lot of company with her. I ran out when I saw the

carriages driving up, and cried: "Oh, ma, I am so glad to see you.

I don't mind sleeping with aunt Eliza, but I do hate to sleep with uncle

Josh," think I was quite dirty, and some of the colored servants snatched

me out of sight. Aunt Eliza was aunt Judy's half-sister, her father

was a white man. She was given to my father by my grandmother,

was very bright and handsome, and the mother of seventeen children.

My grandmother remembered aunt Eliza in her will, giving her some

linen sheets, furniture, and other things.

One of aunt Eliza's sons was named Newton. My father had a mill

and store up in Lincoln County, near Hustonville. Newton used to do

the hauling for my father with a large wagon and six-mule team. He

would often do the buying for the store and take measurements of

grain, and my father trusted him implicitly. Once a friend of my father

said to him, as Newton was passing along the street with his team:

"George, I'll give you seventeen hundred dollars for that negro." My

father said: "If you would fill that wagon-bed full of gold, you could

not get him." A few weeks after that Newton died. I remember seeing

my father in the room weeping, and remember the chorus of the song

the negroes sang on that occasion: "Let us sit down and chat with the

angels."

The husband of aunt Eliza was "uncle Josh," a small Guinea negro, as

black as coal and very peculiar. I always stood in awe of him, as all

the children did. I remember one expression of his was: "Get out of

the way, or I'll knock you into a cocked hat." The reason I had to

sleep with aunt Eliza, Betsy, my nurse, was only ten years older than

I was. Betsy was a girl given by my grandfather Campbell to my

mother when my father and mother were married. My mother was

a widow when she married my father. She had married Will Caldwell,

a son of Capt. Caldwell, who died in Sangamon County, Ill.,

he had freed his negroes and moved there from Kentucky. Will Caldwell

died after three years, leaving my mother with two children. Both of

them died at my grandfather Campbell's in Mercer county, Kentucky, before

she married my father.

I was about four years old when my grandmother Moore died. She

lived on a farm in Garrard County, about two miles from my father. She

used to ride a mare called "Kit." Whenever we would see grandma

coming up the avenue, the whole lot of children, white and black, ran

to meet her. She always carried on the horn of her saddle a handbag,

then called a "reticule," and in that she always brought us some

little treat, most generally a cut off of a loaf of sugar, that used to be

sold in the shape of a long loaf of bread. We would follow her down

to the stile, where she would get off, and delight us all by taking something

good to eat out of the "reticule." We would tie old Kit, and then

take our turn in petting the colt. The first grief I remember to have

had was when I heard of the death of my grandmother. I wanted to

see her so badly and go to the funeral, and for weeks I would go off

by myself and cry about her death. I used to love to lie and sit on

her grave at the back of the garden. Older people often forget the

sorrows of childhood, but I felt keenly the injustice of not being allowed

to see her dead face and do to this day.

We left that home, when I was about five years old, for a place

about two miles from Danville, Kentucky. The house had a flat roof, the

first one built in that county; it had an observatory on top. Our nearest

neighbors were Mr. Banford's family, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Spears.

Dr. Jackson and Dr. Smith were both our physicians, and my father

used to hire his physicians by the year. Dr. Jackson was a bachelor

and said he was going to wait for me, and I believed him. I remember

visiting Dr. Smith in Danville and seeing a human skeleton for

the first time. I also saw leeches he used in bleeding. I remember when

one of my little brothers was born, they told me Dr. Smith found him in

a hollow stump. After that I spent hours out in the woods looking

in hollow stumps for babies.

My mother's father was James Campbell, born in King and Queens

County, Virginia. His parents were from Scotland. He was married

twice. By his first wife he had two sons, William and Whitaker. William

married and died young, and I heard, left one child, a daughter.

Uncle "Whitt" lived to be an old man. The second time my grandfather

married a Miss Bradshaw. He had four sons and six daughters. I

used to stay at grandma's with my aunt Sue. When my mother would

take long trips or visits, she would send the younger children, with my

nurse Betsy, over there to stay until she returned. The only thing I

construe into a cross word, that my grandfather ever spoke to me, was

when I was running upstairs and stumbled and he said: "Jump up, and

try it again, my daughter." I was so humiliated by the rebuke that I

hid from him for several days. He was a Baptist deacon for years.

When gentlemen called on my aunts, lie would go in the parlor at 10

o'clock in the evening and wind the big clock. He would then ask the

young men if he should have their horses put up. This was the signal

to either retire or leave. He never went to bed until everyone else had

retired. My grandfather lived in Mercer County, not far from Harrodsburg.

My grandmother was an invalid for years, and kept her room.

My aunt Sue was housekeeper. In the dining room was a large fireplace.

The teakettle was brought in at breakfast, water was boiled by

being set on a "trivet," over some coals of fire.

Every morning my grandfather would put in a glass some sugar,

butter and brandy, then pour hot water over it, and, while the family

were sitting around the room, waiting for breakfast, he would go to

each, and give to those who wished, a spoonful of this toddy, saying:

"Will you have a taste, my daughter, or my son?" He never gave but

one spoonful, and then he drank what was left himself. This custom

was never omitted. I remember the closet where the barrel of spirits

was kept. He used to give it out to the colored people in a pint cup

on Saturdays. Persons have often said to me: "Our grandfathers used

it, and they did not get drunk." Truly, we are reaping what they have

strewn. They sowed to the wind and we are reaping the whirlwind.

After breakfast, the colored man, Patrick, who waited on my

grandfather, would bring out a horse and grandfather would ride around

the place. He was very fond of hunting, and always kept hounds. My

father would tell this joke on him. When "Daddy" Rice was baptising

him in Dick's River grandpa said: "Hold on, Father Rice, I hear Sounder

barking on the cliffs." Sounder was his favorite hound. There was a

Mr. Britt who was a great fox hunter, who lived near my grandfather,

and whose wife was opposed to his hunting. One morning my grandfather

went by Mr. Britt's house winding his hunter's horn. Mr. Britt

jumped for his trousers and so did Mrs. Britt, who got them first and

threw them into the fire. Another time, quite a party of ladies and

gentlemen had gathered at my grandfather's place, to go on a fox hunt.

Grandfather went upstairs hurriedly to put on his buckskin suit. He

jumped across the banisters to facilitate matters, lost his balance and

tumbled down into the hall, where the company was waiting. He did not

get hurt, it was a great joke on him. When he was a young man

he learned carpentering in company with Buckner Miller, who was of

the same trade. These two young men came to Kentucky from Virginia,

on horseback, seeking their fortunes. They had many experiences,

always endeavoring to stop at houses for the night where there

were young ladies. One house where there were quite a number of

girls, Buckner Miller played off this joke on my grandfather. The

girls occupied the room below where the men were sleeping. The men

heard a commotion in the girls' room. My grandfather tipped softly,

down and Buckner after him, to find out what was going on. They

opened the door sufficiently to see the girls in their gowns, circling

around the candle, playing "poison." Mr. Miller, to pay my grandfather

for some pranks he had played off on him, gave him a push, and grandfather

rushed into the middle of the room in his night clothes. The

girls flew under the beds and the men ran upstairs and climbed out at

the window.

{illust. caption = MY FATHER, GEORGE MOORE.}

My father's name was George Moore, and his father's name was

Martin Moore. He was of Irish descent. He had two brothers who

died when the cholera raged in Kentucky, about 1842. One of them,

William Moore, married a Miss Blackburn of Versailles, Ky. He had

several sisters, some of them died young.

Mark Antony, in his memorial address over the body of Caesar, said

that Brutus was Caesar's angel. If I ever had an angel on earth, it was my

father. I have met many men who had lovable characters, but none

equaled him in my estimation. He was not a saint, but a man--one of

the noblest works of God. He was impetuous, quick, impatient, but never

nervous, could collect himself in a moment and was always master of

the situation. I have seen him in many trying places but never remember

to have seen him in a condition of being afraid. When he lived

in Cass County, Mo., during the war, we saw Quantrell's men coming

up to the house. These men were dressed in slouch hats, gray suits,

and had their guns and haversacks roped to their saddles. My father

was a union man, but a southern sympathizer. He cried like a child

when he heard the south had seceded and taken another flag. He did

not know to what extent he was disliked by this gang of bushwhackers,

and we were very much alarmed; fully expected some harm was meant.

Men on both sides were frequently taken out and shot down. When

the Bushwhackers would kill a union man then the Jayhawkers would

kill "a secesh."

My father said to us: "You stay in the house and keep quiet. I will

meet them." I watched him through a window. He was tall and straight

as an Indian. He walked up to them, taking off his hat and called "Good

morning" to them in a friendly tone. Asked them to get off their horses,

for he had a treat for them. In the corner of the yard was the carriage

house and under that was a rock spring house, through which a

living stream of water ran around the pans of milk. He took them to

the door, gave them seats, then went in this milkhouse and brought out

a jar of buttermilk. I have heard it said that buttermilk is one of the

greatest treats to a soldier. He talked with these men as if they had

been friends; brought out fruit; loaded them with bread, butter and milk;

and they left without even taking a horse from us. I fully believe it

was their intention to do some harm, but by the tact of my father they

were disarmed. "A soft answer turneth away wrath, but grievous words

stir up strife." He was a thorough business man, but his social qualities

exceeded all others. He often had to pay security debts, one for

Mr. Key, his brother-in-law, of five thousand dollars. Just before the

election of Lincoln, he took a large drove of mules to Natchez, Miss.,

twenty-two of these mules were of his own raising. While there Lincoln

was elected, which threw the south into war. He sold the mules

on time and never got a dollar for them. To the honor of my father

be it said, he gave up all his property to pay his debts, never withholding,

where he could have done so. A short while before he died there was

one debt of a few hundred dollars he could not pay. He wept and told

me of this. A year ago I settled up with Mr. Wills' heirs and paid

this debt to his children, who live near Peculiar in Cass county, Mo.

It would be such a joy to my father to know that I did this to save his

honor. When I see him, in our heavenly home, he will bless me for this.

"Love knows no sacrifice."

I can not call to mind when the thought of self, governed any of my

father's actions. It was his delight to provide for the comfort of others.

Devoted to his family and friends, and such a friend to the poor; I have

heard my mother say that he made every one rich who worked for him.

When I first remember him he was a "Trader" and left his farm to an

overseer. My father drove hogs to Cincinnati before there were any

railways. I was always at his heels, when I could be. He was standing

on the stile one day giving directions to have a drove of hogs meet

him at a certain place on Sunday. I said: "Pa, you will lose on those

hogs. You ought not to do that on Sunday." He gave me a quick,

light, playful slap, saying: "Stop that, every time you say that, I do

lose."

I can see that a responsibility to God was the fundamental principle

in my father's life. After the negroes were freed, and we lived on

the farm, there was so much to do, especially for him, but there was

always a conveyance prepared to take his family to church and Sunday

School--I took the "New York Ledger". Mrs. Southworth wrote for it

then. 'Capitola', The Wrecker's Son, with other thrilling stories, were

so fascinating to me--The paper came late Saturday and I would rather

read it Sunday morning than go anywhere. One morning I took my

paper and went to the back of the orchard, thinking to get out of the

sound of my father's voice when he would call me to get ready for

church. I could just hear him but did not move. After reading my

paper, I returned to the house, Pa was just coming back with the rest

of the family from church. He looked at me with grief and anger in

his glance and said, "Never mind, you ungrateful girl, you cannot say

at the judgment Day, that your father did not provide a way for you

to go to church." I never did this again and never was free from remorse

for this ingratitude. I know how Dr. Johnson felt when he was

seen standing on a corner of the street with the sun beaming down

upon his bare head, when asked why he did that he said, "My father

had a book stand on this corner, when I was a boy once he asked me to

stand here in his place as he was sick. I would not, now I would expiate

that by blistering my bare head in the sun if I could. To this day

I weep to think of grieving so noble a parent.

My mother was a very handsome woman. My father was what you

might call good looking. I was very anxious to look like him; used to

try to wear off my teeth on the right side, because his were worn off.

About two years before he died, he came to Texas to visit me. I was

then in the hotel business. During the first meal he ate at the hotel,

he looked up and seeing me waiting on the table, he got up and began

waiting on the table himself. I had to work very hard then and it was

a grief to him to have no means to give me. One morning he came into

my room while I was dressing and said: "Daughter, I have not slept

all night for thinking of you. The last thing last night was you in the

kitchen and the first thing this morning. I have always hoped to have

something to leave you, and it is such a grief to me that I can not help

you. Carry, it seems the Lord has been so hard on you." I said:

"No, Pa; I thank God for all my sorrows. They have been the best for

me, and don't you worry about not leaving me money, for you have left

me something far better." He looked up surprised and said: "What is

it?" I answered: "The memory of a father who never did a dishonorable

act." My father's eyes filled with tears, and after that he seemed to

be happier than I had ever seen him; everything seemed to go right.

My father was a very indulgent master to his colored servants, who

loved him like a father. They always called him "Mars George." The

negro women would threaten to get "Mars George" to whip their bad

children, and when he whipped them, I have heard them say: "Served

you right. Did not give you a lick amiss." This was proving their

great confidence, they being willing for some one else to whip their

children. They were very sensitive in this matter and were not willing

for my mother to do this. My father would lay in a supply, while in

Cincinnati, of boxes of boots and shoes, arid get combs, head handkerchiefs,

and Sunday dresses, which would greatly delight his colored people.

Happy, indeed, would the negroes have been if all their masters

had been as my father was.

When we moved to Mercer County from Garrard, we had a sale.

It was customary then at such a time to have a barbecue and a great

dinner. The tables were set in the yard. I remember Mr. Jones Adams,

a neighbor and great friend of my father, brought over a two bushel sack of

turnip greens and a ham. I remember seeing him shake them out of the

bag. At this sale for the first, and only time, I saw a negro put on a

block and sold to the highest bidder. I can't understand how my father

could have allowed this. His name was "Big Bill," to distinguish him

from another "Bill". He was a widower or a batchelor and had no

family. There was one colored man my father valued highly, and

wanted to take with him, but this man, Tom, had a wife, who belonged

to a near neighbor. After we got in the carriage to go to our new home,

Tom followed us crying: "Oh, Mars George, don't take me from my

wife." My father said: "Go and get some one to buy you." This Tom

did, the buyer being a Mr. Dunn. Oh! What a sad sight! It makes the

tears fill my eyes to write it.

But a worse slavery is now on us. I would rather have my son sold

to a slave-driver than to be a victim of a saloon. I could, in the first case,

hope to see him in heaven; but no drunkard can inherit eternal life. The

people of the south said no power could take from them their slaves, but

'tis a thing of the past. People now say, you can't shut up saloons. But

our children will know them as a thing of the past. My father was glad

when the slaves were free. He felt the responsibility of owning them.

Have heard him say, after having some-trouble with them: "Those

negroes will send me to hell yet." He would gather them in the dining-

room Sunday evenings and read the Bible to them and have prayer. He

would first call aunt Liza and ask her to have them come in. The negroes

would sing, and it is a sweet memory to me.

{illust. caption =

THIS IS A PICTURE OF MYSELF AND SISTER EDNA, SITTING ON EACH SIDE OF OUR

MOTHER.I AM ON THE LEFT AND WAS ABOUT SIX YEARS OLD.}

CHAPTER II.

MY EXPERIENCE WITH THE NEGROES AS SLAVES.--THEIR SUPERSTITIONS.--

A BEAUTIFUL FAIRY TALE.

The colored race, as I knew them, were generally kind to the white

children of their masters. Their sympathy was great in childish troubles.

They were our nurses around our sick beds. Their lullabyes soothed us

to sleep. Very frequently my nurse would hold me in her arms until

both of us would fall asleep, but she would still hold me secure. When

any of my misdoings came to the ears of my parents, and I was punished

their testimony would, as far as possible, shield me, and not until I would

try their patience out of all bounds would they tell my mother on me. I

never heard an infidel negro express his views, even if very wicked.

They had firm belief in God and a devil. I always liked their meetings,

their songs and shoutings. They always told me that no one could help

shouting. The first time I ever heard a white woman shout was in Northern

Texas, during the war. I did not wish the spirit to cause me to

jump up and clap my hands that way, for these impulses were not in my

carnal heart, so, for fear I should be compelled to do so, I held my dress

down tight to the seat on each side, to prevent such action. The negroes

are great readers of character; despise stingy people or those who were

afraid of them. These colored friends taught me the fear of God. The

first time I ever attended church, I rode behind on horseback, and

sat with them in the gallery. I imbibed some of their superstitions.

They consider it bad to allow a sharp tool, as a spade, hoe or ax, to be

taken through the house; to throw salt in the fire, for you would have to

pick it out after death. They would kill a hen if she crowed; looked for

a death, if a dog howled; or, if one broke a looking-glass, it meant

trouble of some kind for seven years. They believed that persons had

power to put a "spell" on others, would, if taken sick, frequently speak of

having "stepped on something" put in their way or buried in their dooryard.

There is no dialect in the world that has the original characteristics so

pleasing to the ear as the negro. There is a softness and music in the

voice of a negro not to be found in any other race on earth. No one can

sing a child to sleep so soothingly as a negro nurse. After I left Texas

and went to Medicine Lodge, Kansas, when I had a headache or was

otherwise sick, I would wish for the attendance around my bed of one of

the old-fashioned colored women, who would rub me with their rough

plump hands and call me "Honey Chile," would bathe my feet and tuck

the cover around me and sit by me, holding my hand, waiting until I

fell asleep. I owe much to the colored people and never want to live

where there are none of the negro race. I would feel lonesome without

them. After I came to Medicine Lodge, I did not see any for some

time. One day, while looking out, I saw one walking up the street

toward the house. I ran to the kitchen, cut an apple pie, and ran out

and said: "Here, Uncle, is a piece of pie." He was gray-headed, one of

the old slaves. He seemed so glad to see my friendly face and took the

pie with a happy courtesy. I watched for his return, as he came in on

the train, and was going out. At last he came. I asked him in the

kitchen, fixed a meal for him, and waited on him myself. Before eating,

he folded his hands, closed his eyes, with his face toward heaven, thanked

God for the meal, as I had often seen them do in slave time. As a

race, the negroes have not the characteristics of treachery. They are

faithful and grateful.

In my hotel experience, I would often ask Fannie, my cook: "What

kind of a man is that?" Fannie would say: "Don't trust him too far

Mrs. Nation, he steps too light." When a child my playmates were a

lot of colored children. Betsy came to the table with the children and

ate with us. But the sweetest food was that left in the skillets, both

black and white children would go around the house, sit down and "sop"

the gravy with the biscuits the cooks would give us. I was fond of

hearing ghost stories and would, without the knowledge of my mother,

stay in the cabin late at night listening to the men and women telling

their "experiences." The men would be making ax handles and beating

the husk off of the corn in a large wooden hopper with a maul. The

women would be spinning with the little wheel, sewing, knitting and

combing their children's heads. I would listen until my teeth would

chatter with fright, and would shiver more and more, as they would tell

of the sights in grave-yards, and the spirits of tyrannical masters, walking

at night, with their chains clanking and the, sights of hell, where

some would be on gridirons, some hung up to baste and the

devil with his pitchfork would toss the poor creatures hither

and thither. They would say: "Carry, you must go to the house,"

and I would not go with one, but have two, one on each side of me. I

remember seeing the negro men laugh at me, but the women would shake

their heads and say: "You better quit skeering that chile." But there

was one pleasure above all the rest, it was to hear any one tell "tales."

When my mother would have a visitor, very frequently the lady would

bring a nurse to care for one child or children, she might bring with her.

Oh, how pleased the black and white children would be to see such visitors.

We would gather around and in every way made our pleasure

known. Would give them doll-rags, nuts, or apples, and in many ways

express our delight at having them come. As soon as they were made

comfortable, the next thing was: "Tell us a tale." And seating ourselves

around on the floor, or in a close group, we would be all attention.

Of course there would be some raw heads and bloody bones, but not so

much as the stories told at night in the cabins.

One of the prettiest stories I ever heard, and never tired of hearing,

that taught me a great moral, was about two girls the children of a

couple who were hard working people. One of the girls was named

Sarah, the other Mary. Sarah was a very pretty girl with curls. Mary

was rather ugly and had straight hair. Curls in my childhood days were

something very much sought for. Although Sarah was pretty in the face

she had very rude ways; she would not speak kindly and politely; would

not help her hard working mother; but was idle and quarrelsome, always

wanted some one to wait on her; while Mary was the reverse; would pick

up chips to make a fire, would sweep the yard and bring water, and was

kind to all, especially to her mother. One day the well went dry and

there was no water to make the tea for supper. Mary saw her mother

crying and said: "Don't cry, mother; I will go and get some at the

Haunted Spring."

Her mother said: "Oh, no, dear sweet child, those goblins will kill

you."

"No, mother," replied Mary. "I will beg them to let me have some

water for dear father, and I am not afraid."

So her mother got a light bucket for her, and went to the top of

the hill with her, and said: "God bless you, my dear child, and bring

you back to me."

Then Mary went on until she came to the high iron gate. She said:

"Please gate open and let me through. I mind my father and mother

and love everybody."

And the gate opened and she passed into the "haunted" grounds--

She saw a funny, little, short man come running with a stick and said:

"Please, nice man, don't hit me. I have come down to get some good

water to make tea for my father's supper. He has been working all

day, and our well has gone dry. May I please have some of your spring

water?"

"Well, little girl, as you talk so nice, you can have some. Tell the

little folks to open the briars for you."

So she went on and came to a briar patch and saw down at the roots

little people, not much longer than your finger. Mary spoke so kindly to

them; said she would be so glad if they would open a path for her to

walk in, she would thank them so much; so they began to pull the briars

back until there was a good path. Mary thanked them and went on until

she came to the spring and there was a rabbit jumping up and down in

it. Mary said: "Please Mr. Rabbit, don't muddy the water for I would

like to get a bucket of nice clean water to take home to make tea for

supper." The rabbit ran off and she dipped her bucket full of pure

water.

Then she looked down the branch, and there was a little lamb that had

fallen in and was lying down, and could not get up. The lamb said:

"Little girl, please pick me up and lay me on the grass to dry." Mary

stepped on some rocks till she got to the lamb and lifted him up and

laid him on the bank to dry. The lamb said: "When you go home, spit

in your mother's hand." Mary thought that would not be right, but she

said nothing. She went back through the briar patch and the little folks

held them from scratching her, and the little old man spoke nicely to her

and the gate opened for her. Her mother was watching for her and helped

her home with the water, kissed her, and prepared them a good supper.

While they were sitting at the table Mary said: "Mother, the little

lamb told me to do something I do not like to do."

"What was it?"

"He told me spit in your hand."

"Well, you can my child; come on;" and the mother held out her

hand and Mary spat in it, a diamond and a pearl. This made the family

happy and rich; they had men come the next day and dig a new well.

Now Sarah wished to try her fortune, her mother did not want

her to go, because she knew what a bad girl she was, to talk saucy; but

Sarah said she would do as well as Mary. Her sister told her how she

must do; she got angry at her, and said: "You mind your own business;

I reckon I know what I am about."

So she took her bucket and went on until she came to the gate; she

gave that a kick and said: "Open gate!" and the gate opened and slammed

on her. The little old man came running with his stick. Sarah said:

"Don't you hit me, old man; I'll tell my father." And the old man beat

her and the little folks pushed up the briar bushes so she tore her clothes

and scratched herself badly. The little rabbit was in the spring and he

jumped up and down and she threw at him, telling him she would knock

his head off; but the rabbit jumped up and down 'till the spring was a

lob-lolly of mud, so she had to take muddy water in her bucket. The

little lamb had gotten back into the branch and said: "Please, little

girl, pick me up and put me on the bank to dry."

But Sarah said: "I won't do it."

The lamb replied: "Spit in your mother's hand when you go home."

So Sarah had to go through the briars, that scratched her, and the old

man beat her, and the gate slammed on her, and when her mother met her

she was a "sight." Her face was dirty, her dress torn, her legs and arms were

scratched and bleeding, and her curly hair was in a mass of tangles. Her

mother washed the dirt off and scolded her for being so naughty. Mary

helped to wash and dress her for supper. Then they all sat down to eat,

and every one was happy but Sarah.

Sarah said: "Mother, the lamb told me to spit in your hand."

"Very well, come on," answered the mother. So Sarah spat in her

mother's hand and out jumped a lizard and a frog.

A child ever so small will see the moral, and that, I never forgot. Of

course the pearls and the diamonds are the politeness and kindness, which

is so beautiful in children; and the lizard and the frog are rudeness

and impudence. Very often the nurse would say: "Look here, you Sarah,

you."

I remember how shocked I would be to think I would ever be like that

naughty Sarah.

A positive indication of a corrupt age is the lack of respect children

have for parents. This is largely owing to the neglect of teachers. I

am heartily thankful I was taught to say 'Yes Ma'am, and 'No, ma'am,'

'Yes, Sir, and No, Sir.' Now it is--'Yah! Yes, No, What, etc. Nothing

is a greater letter of credit than politeness and it costs nothing. T'is not

the child's fault but the parents and teachers.

I was, when a child, always doing something; was very fond of

climbing; seemed to have a mania for it. I never saw a tall tree that I

did not try to climb, or wish I could. I used to run bareheaded over the

fields and woods with the other children, lifting up rocks and logs to look

at the bugs and worms. When we found a dead chicken, bird, rat or

mouse, we would have a funeral. I would usually be the preacher and we

would kneel down and while one prayed, the rest would look through

their fingers, to see what the others were doing. We would sing and clap

our hands and shake hands, then we would play: "Come and see."

I never had but one doll, bought out of a store, it was given to me by

Dr. Jackson for taking my medicine, when I was sick. We made rag

dolls out of dresses. My delight was to have one of the colored women's

babies. We would go visiting and take our dolls, and would tell of the

dreadful times we had and of how mean our husbands were to the children;

sometimes one would tell of how good instead. And then we would

catch bees in the althea blooms. One of the delightful pastimes was to

make mud cakes and put them on boards to dry. We had some clay that

we could mould anything out of--all kind of animals, and, indeed, there

were shapes worked out by little fingers never seen before.

The race question is a serious one. The kindly feeling between black

and white is giving place to bitterness with the rising generations. One

reason of this seems to be a jealousy of the whites for fear the negroes

will presume to be socially equal with them. The negro race should

avoid this, should not desire it, it would be of no real value to them.

They are a distinct race with characteristics which they need not wish

to exchange. When a negro tries to imitate white folks, he is a mongrel.

I will say to my colored brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus; Never

depart from your race lines and bearings, keep true to your nature,

your simplicity, and happy disposition--and above all come back to the

'Oldtime' religion, you will never strand on that rock.

CHAPTER III.

MOVED TO WOODFORD COUNTY, KENTUCKY.--ALSO MOVED TO MISSOURI.--SAVED

FROM BEING A THIEF.--MY CONVERSION--GOING SOUTH AT OPENING OF

THE CIVIL WAR.--AN INCIDENT OF MY GIRLHOOD SCHOOL DAYS.--WHY I

HAD TO BELIEVE IN REVELATION.--SPIRITUALISM OR WITCHCRAFT.

In 1854, we moved to Woodford County, Kentucky, and bought a farm

from Mr. Hibler, on the pike, between Midway and Versailles. Mr. Warren

Viley was our nearest neighbor. My father was one of the trustees in

building the Orphans' Home at Midway. Here in Midway I attended Sunday

school and I had a very faithful teacher who taught me the Word of

God. I have forgotten her name but I can see her sweet face now, as she

planted seed in my heart that are still bringing forth fruit.

A minister came to our house one day and gave me a book to read,

which made a very deep impression on me. As well as I can remember

it was called: "The Children of the Heavenly King." This story represented

three brothers, one, the youngest, was named Ezra, the other Ulrich,

the third I forget. These three were intrusted with watching certain passes

in the mountains during the warfare between a great, good king, and a

bad one, and in proportion as these boys were faithful, the good king was

victorious in battle, but when they neglected their duty, he would suffer

loss. The character of little Ezra was a sweet, unselfish one. He tried

so hard to help, and have his brothers do right. He would run from his

post to wake them up, and tried to make up for their neglect; would

do without rest and food for himself, and plead with them to do their duty.

At last, when the king came, little Ezra was richly rewarded; Ulrich barely

passed, and the unfaithful one was taken out amidst weeping, wailing

and gnashing of teeth, and the door was shut. The minister did not know

what good he had done.

"Only a thought, but the work it wrought,

Could never by tongue or pen be taught;

For it ran thro' a life, like a thread of gold,

And the life bore fruit, an hundred fold.

Only a word, but it was spoken in love,

With a whispered prayer to the Lord above;

And the angels in heaven rejoiced once more

For a new-born soul entered in, at the door."

I resolved to be like little Ezra as near as I could. When I was a

child I fought against my selfish nature. I would often give away my

doll clothes and other things that I wanted to keep myself. Some of the

strongest characteristics of my life were awakened in my childhood. I

would often blush with shame, when committing sins, and I had a great

fear of the judgement day; it would terrify me when hearing of Jesus

coming to the earth. I would often ask myself: "Where can I hide?"

If the public knew of the smashing God gave me the strength to do in my

heart, they would not wonder at my courage in smashing the murder-

shops of our land. "He that ruleth his own spirit, is greater than he that

taketh a city."

In 1855, we moved to Missouri, just a year before the trouble broke

out between Kansas and Missouri. Missouri determined to make Kansas

a slave state; but Kansas said she would not have a slave upon her soil.

Squads of men in Missouri would often go into Kansas and commit depredations.

At one time they burned Lawrence, Kansas, and killed many

people. This trouble continued to grow worse until it brought on the great

Civil War.

When we moved from Kentucky to Missouri, I took a severe cold on

the boat, which made me an invalid for years. I was not a truthful child,

neither was I honest. My mother was very strict with me in many ways

and I would often tell her lies to avoid restraint or punishment. If there

was anything I wanted about the house, especially something to eat, I

would steal it, if I could. The colored servants would often ask me to

steal things for them. My nurse Betsy, would say: "Carry get me

a cup of sugar, butter, thread or needles," and many other things.

This would make me sly and dishonest. I used to go and see my aunts and

stay for months. I would open their boxes and bureau drawers and steal

ribbons and laces and make doll clothes out of them. I would steal perfumery

and would run out of the room to prevent them from smelling it.

I am telling this for a purpose. Many little children may be doing what

I did, not thinking of what a serious thing it is, and I write this to show

them how I was cured of dishonesty: I got a little book at Sunday school

and it told the way people became thieves, by beginning to take little things

naming them, and some of these were the very things I had been taking.

I was greatly shocked to see myself a thief; it had never occurred to

me that I was as bad as that. I thought one had to steal something of

great value to be a thief. My repentance was sincere, and I was made honest

by this blessed book, so much so that even after I became grown,

if any article was left in my house I would give it away, unless I could

find the owner. I was perfectly delighted when I was entirely free. I asked

for everything I wanted, even a pin. After that, I could show my doll

clothes, and it was not necessary for me to be sly or tell stories any more.

It was about this time I was converted. There was a protracted meeting

at a place called Hickman's Mill, Jackson County, Missouri. The

minister was gray haired and belonged to the Christian or Disciples

church, the one my father belonged to. I was at this time ten years

old and went with my father to church on Lord's Day morning. At

the close of the sermon, and during the invitation, my father stepped

to the pulpit and spoke to the minister and he looked over in my

direction. At this I began to weep bitterly, seemed to be taken up, and sat

down on the front bench. I could not have told any one what I wept for,

except it was a longing to be better. I had often thought before this

that I was in danger of going to the "Bad place," especially I would be

afraid to think of the time that I should see Jesus come. I wanted to hide

from Him. My father had a cousin living at Hickman's Mill, Ben Robertson.

His wife, cousin Jennie, came up to me at the close of the service,

and said: "Carry, I believe you know what you are doing." But I did not.

Oh, how I wanted some one to explain to me. The next day I was taken to

a running stream about two miles away, and, although it was quite cold

and some ice in the water, I felt no fear. It seemed like a dream. I know

God will bless the ordinance of baptism, for the little Carry that walked

into the water was different from the one who walked out. I said no word.

I felt that I could not speak, for fear of disturbing the peace that is

past understanding. Kind hands wrapped me up and I felt no chill. I

felt the responsibility of my new relation and tried hard to do right.

A few days after this I was at my aunt Kate Doneghy's. Uncle

James, or "Jim," we called him, her husband, was not a Christian. He

shocked me one day by saying: "So those Campbellites took you to the

creek, and soused you, did they 'Cal'?" (A nick name.) What a blow!

My aunt seemed also shocked to have him speak thus to me. I left

the room and avoided meeting him again. How he crushed me! It

had the effect to make me feel like a criminal.

The Protestant Church here makes a fatal error which the Catholics

avoid. The ministers of the latter have all young converts come so

often to them for instruction. A child may be born, but not being nursed

and fed, it will die. God has command them to be fed in the sincere

milk of the word. My greatest hindrance has been from the lack of

proper Christian teaching. I love the memory of my father, he used

to have me read the bible to him, and while I did not enjoy it then, it

is a blessed memory. The family altar is essential to the welfare of

every home, no other form of discipline is equal to it. The liberty,

chivalry, and life of a nation live or die in proportion as the Altar fires

live or die.

"And these words which I command thee this day shall be in thine

heart and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children and shalt

talk of them when thou sittest in thine house and when thou walkest by

the way and when thou liest down and when thou risest up."

When I was fifteen, the war broke out between the north and the

south. My father saw that Missouri would be the battle ground and he,

with many others, took their families and negroes and went south, taking

what they could in wagons, for there were no railroads then in that section.

There was quite a train with the droves of cattle, mules and horses.

One wagon had six yoke of oxen to it; had to get into it by a ladder,

the kind that was used to freight across the plains. The family

went in the family carriage that my father brought from Kentucky.

I remember the time when this carriage was purchased, with the two

dapple gray horses, and silver mounted harness, and when my mother

would drive out she had a driver in broadcloth, with a high silk hat,

and a boy rode on a seat behind, to open the gates. This was one of

the ways of traveling in Kentucky in those days. My mother was an

aristocrat in her ideas, but my father was not. He liked no display. He

was wise enough to see the sin and folly of it.

{illust. caption =

THIS IS THE PICTURE OF MY GIRLHOOD HOME IN CASS COUNTY, MO.

UNDER THE TREES OF THIS DEAR OLD PLACE I LISTENED

TO THE SWEET STORY OF MY LOVE OF A MAN MURDERED BY DRINK.

"WHEN THOU HAST LOVED ONE LIVING MAN, THEN MAYEST THOU LOOK

UPON THE DEAD."}

After being on the road six weeks, we stopped in Grayson County,

Texas, and bought a farm. As we started from Missouri one of the

colored women took sick with typhoid fever. This spread so that ten

of the family, white, and black, were down at one time. As soon as we

could travel, my father left the colored people south, and took his family

back to Missouri. That winter south was a great blessing to me, for I

recovered from a disease that had made me an invalid for five years--

consumption of the bowels. Poor health had keep me out of school a

great deal. My father at one time sent me to Mrs. Tillery's boarding

school in Independence, Mo., but I was not in the recitation room more

than half of the time.

After I recovered my health in Texas, it was my delight to ride on

horseback with a girl friend. The southern boys were preparing to go to

war. Many a sewing did we attend, where the mothers had spun and

woven the gray cloth that they were now working up so sorrowfully for

their sons to be buried in, far away from home. They thought their cause

was right. There were many good masters. And again there were bad

ones. Whiskey is always a cruel tyrant and is a worse evil than chattel

slavery. We were often stopped on our trip by southern troops, in the

Territory and Texas, and then again by northerners. We passed over the

Pea Ridge battle ground shortly after the battle. Oh! the horrors of war.

We often stopped at houses where the wounded were. We let them have

our pillows and every bit of bedding we could spare. We went to our

home in Cass County, Missouri.

Shortly after this we, with all families living in that country, were

commanded by an order from Jim Lane, to move into an army post. This

reached several counties in Missouri. It was done to depopulate the

country, so that the "Bushwhackers" would be forced to leave, because of

not being able to get food from the citizens. This caused much suffering.

But such is war. We moved to Kansas City. I was in Independence, Mo.,

during the battle, when Price came through. I went with a good woman

to the hospital to help with the wounded. My duty was to comb the

heads of the wounded. I had a pan of scalding water near and would use

the comb and shake off the animated nature into the hot water. The southern

and northern wounded were in the same rooms. In health they were

enemies, but I only saw kindly feeling and sympathy.

Mothers ought to give their daughters the experience of sitting with

the sick; of preparing food for them; of binding up wounds. It is a pitiful

sight to see a helpless woman in the sick room, ignorant through lack

of experience and education, of ways to be useful at the time and place

where these characteristics of woman adorn her the most of all others.

After we returned from Texas, being the oldest child and the servants all

gone, my mother sick, and the younger children going to

school, I had the house work, cooking and most of the washing to do. It

was a new experience for me, and it was twice as hard as it ought to have

been. I exposed my health; would slop up myself when I washed, and

almost ruined my health, because I had not been properly educated. Herein

was the curse of slavery. My father saw this, and I don't believe he

had a regret when the slaves were free. Mother, it matters not what else

you teach your daughters, if they have not an experience in doing the

work themselves about a home, they are sadly deficient. It is not the soft,

palefaced, painted, fashionable lady we want, for the world would be better

without her; but the woman capable of knowing how, and willing to take

a place in the home affairs of life. It is an ambition of mine to establish

a Preparatory College in Topeka, Kansas, where girls may be taught, as

women should be, that they in turn may teach others, how to wash, cook,

scrub, dress and talk, to counteract the idea that woman is a toy, pretty

doll, with no will power of her own, only a parrot, a parasite of a

man. To be womanly, means strength of character, virtue and a power

for good. Let your women be teachers of good things, says the Holy

Spirit.

The last school I attended was at Liberty, Missouri, taught by Mr.

and Mrs. Love. Only went there a year, but it was of untold value to me.

I was so eager to get an education. On account of ill health and the war,

I knew but little. I wanted a thorough education. I had read a good

many books, and would write sketches; kept a diary part of the time.

I will here relate an incident that will give my readers a little insight

into my impulses. At Liberty School we had a class in Smellie's "Natural

Philosophy." There was an argument among the girls. Some said

animals had reasoning faculties. Others said not. Miss Jennie Johnson,

our teacher, said: "Have that for a question to debate on in your society."

So it was ordered. I was given the affirmative. The Friday came.

I was taken by surprise and was in confusion, when I saw the room

crowded. The two other societies of the Seminary, "The Mary Lyons"

and "Rising Star," also all the teachers, were present. Our Society was

the "Eunomian". I had made no preparations. When I was called I

know I looked ridiculously blank. The president tried to keep her face

straight. I got no farther than, "Miss President". All burst out in

uncontrollable laughter. I went to my seat put my face in my arms and

turned my back to the audience. I wept with tears of humiliation. I

felt disgraced. I thought of what a shame this would be to my parents.

How ever after this I must be considered a "Silly" by my schoolmates.

These things nerved me. I dried my tears, turned around in my seat,

looked up, and the moral force it required to do this was almost equal

to that which smashed a saloon. I arose and said: "Miss President, I

am ready to state my case." I began in this style: "I know animals

have the power to reason for my brothers cured a dog from sucking eggs

by having him take a hot one in his mouth, and it was the last egg we

ever knew him to pick up. Why? Because he remembered the hot one

and reasoned that he might get burned. Why is it that a horse will like

one person more than another? Because he is capable of reasoning and

knows who is the best to him." I went on in this homely style and spoke

with a vehemence which said: "I will make my point," which I did

amidst the cheers of the school. I was eighteen at this time and you

would say: "You must have been rather green." So I was in some

things.

I believe I have always failed in everything I undertook to do the

first time, but I learned only by experience, paid dearly for it, and valued

it afterwards. My failures have been my best teachers. I see no one

more awkward than I once was, but I had determined to conquer. My

defects were the great incentives to perseverance, when I felt I was right.

I shall not in this book speak much of my love affairs, but they were,

nevertheless, an important part of my life. I was a great lover. I used

to think a person never could love but once in this life, but I often now

say, I would not want a heart that could hold but one love. It was not

the beauty of face or form that was the most attractive to me in young

gentlemen, or ladies, but that of the mind. Seeing this the case with myself,

I tried to acquire knowledge to make my company agreeable. I see

young ladies, and gentlemen, who entertain each other with their silly

jokes and gigglings that are disgusting. When I had company I always

directed the conversation so that my friend would teach me something, or

I would teach him. I would read the poets, and Scott's writings and history.

Read Josephus, mythology and the Bible together, and never read a course

that taught me as much. I would go to the country dances and sometimes

to balls in the City. The church did not object to this: I would

teach Sunday school at the same time. No one taught me that this was

wrong. One thing was a tower of defense to me. I always, when possible,

read the Bible and would pray. After retiring would get up and kneel,

feeling that to pray in bed only, was disrespectful to God. If the angels in

heaven would prostrate themselves before Him, I a poor sinner should.

And right here, I believe in "advancing on your knees." Abraham prostrated

himself, so did David and Solomon, Elijah, Daniel, Paul, and even

our sinless Advocate. Why did the Holy Ghost state the position so often?

For our example, of course. There are no space writers in the Scriptures.

I often had doubts as to whether the Bible was the work of God or man.

I kept these doubts to myself, for I thought infidelity a disgrace. I

wanted to believe the Bible the word of God. I early saw that to close

the Bible was to shut out all knowledge of the purpose of life. Without

its revelations one does not know why we are born, why we live, or

where we go after death. We can see the purpose of all nature, but not

of this life of ours, and God had, by revelation, to make this known.

The Bible was a mystery to me. It often seemed to be a contradiction.

I did not love to read it, but above all things, I did not want to be a

hypocrite. I was determined to try to do my part. I would pray for the same

thing over and over again, so as to be in earnest, and think of what I was

asking. My mind was distracted by thoughts of the world. I said, if

there is a God, he will not hear the prayer of those, so disrespectful as

not to think of what they ask. I never seemed to get rid of this, unless at

times, when I would have some sorrow of heart. "By the sadness of the

countenance, the heart is made better."

I do not believe the Bible because I understand it; for there are few

things of revelation that I do understand. Creation is a mystery, still

we know everything had a beginning. I do not know why things grow

out of the earth. Why they are green. Why grass makes wool on a

sheep and hair on a cow, but I know these are facts. I cannot understand

why or how the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses from sin, neither

do I understand that greatest of all mysteries, the new birth, but nothing

more positively a fact in my experience.

God is not perceived by the five senses. The things that are seen

are temporal, but those that are unseen are eternal. What a sin of presumption

to question God in any of His providences. What God says

and does is wisdom, righteousness and power.

The book of Psalms condemned me. I said, I never felt like David.

I cannot rejoice. Still I felt that I ought to, but instead, a constant

feeling of condemnation and conviction. This was torture to me. I would

often have been willing to have died, if I thought it would have been an

eternal sleep. My childhood and girlhood were not happy; had so many

disappointments. I was called "hard headed" by my parents. I never was

free to have what I wished; something would come between me and what

I wanted. No one understood me so well as my darling aunt Hope Hill,

my mother's sister. She seemed to read me and would talk to me of persons

and things, answering the very cry of my heart. My mother would

often let me stay with her for months. She had five sons, but no daughters

and she was very fond of me. This lesson she taught me: A party

of ladies came out from Independence to spend the day with her. Mrs.

Woodson and a Mrs. Porter, wife of Dr. Porter, I remember the latter, one

of the handsomest women I ever saw, beautiful feet, hands, hair, and a

woman who knew it, and, it was a mater of the greatest pride with her,

these charms. I was very much captivated by her splendid appearance

and could not keep my eyes from her. Next day Mrs. John Staton, a

country neighbor of my aunts, came in to make a visit, She was very

plain, wore a calico dress, waist-apron, and she was knitting a sock.

After she left aunt said to me: "Carry, you did not seem to like Mrs.

Staton's society as you did Mrs. Porter's; but one sentence of Mrs.

Staton's is worth all Mrs. Porter said. Mrs. Porter lives for this world,

Mrs. Staton lives for God." This Lesson I did not learn then, but have

since. Oh! for the old-fashioned women.

MY EXPERIENCE WITH SPIRITUALISM.

Just at the close of the war when we were on a farm in Cass County,

Missouri, a colony of spiritualists were near us, Mrs. Hawkins, the

medium was about 60 years old, very peculiar, and finely educated.

My father had some farms he was selling for other people. He took

Mrs. Hawkins and several of her company to look at a farm with a view

of selling it. When she saw it from a hill some distance off she said:

"That is the place I saw in Connecticut." She bought it for a town site.

In writing to Washington to give it a name, the word "Peculiar" was

selected, and so it has ever been called. Mrs. Hawkins took a great

fancy to me. She would tell me of great things she had done, then say:

"Could Jesus Christ have done more?" I had never heard of Spiritualism

that I knew of, up to this time. This colony brought mechanics, merchants

and musicians with them. I was in great confusion about this matter, not

knowing what to think, for she did some superhuman things. Up stairs

we had a large safe full of old books. I was looking over them one day,

came to a little book called "Spiritualism Exposed". I immediately went

to the orchard, sat under a tree, as my custom was, when I wished to read,

for there I could be quiet. I read the little book through, before I stopped.

This blessed lesson showed me to my entire satisfaction, that modern

spiritualism is witchcraft. The writer took the instances in the Bible.

God told Moses: "You must not suffer a witch to live;" see it at the

court of Pharoah, and that they have "superhuman power." There are

two kingdoms. One of darkness, and one of light. God rules in the latter;

The Devil in the former. Both have powers above the power of man.

The magicians at Pharoah's court were wizards; and the woman of Endor

was a witch. The Bible speaks of dealing with "familiar spirits." Manasseh,

Saul, and other Kings, were cursed for such. Gal. 5th has it as

one of the "mortal sins." The Devil can do lying miracles to deceive. He

will heal the body, or appear to do it, to damn the soul. I find this in

"Christian Science." This is the mark of the "Beast" or carnal mind. Man

is but a beast without the new birth, or spirit of God. Carnality always

seeks to elevate itself. Grace is humble, and sees nothing good outside of

God. The mark of the beast, is the number, or mark of a man; that is

carnality or the Beast. Rev. 13:18.

CHAPTER IV.

MY FIRST MARRIAGE.--A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT.--MOTHER GLOYD.--MY

DRUGGED AND WHISKEY MURDERED HUSBAND.--LOSING MY POSITION AS

TEACHER.--SECOND MARRIAGE.--LOSS OF PROPERTY.--KEEPING HOTEL.--

STRUGGLES FOR DAILY FOOD.--THE AFFLICTIONS OF MY CHILD.--ANSWER

TO PRAYER.

In the fall of 1865, Dr. Gloyd, a young physician, called to see my

father to secure the country school, saying he wished to locate in our

section of the country, and wanted to take a school that winter, and then

he could decide where he would like to practice his profession.

This man was a thorough student, spoke, and read, several different

languages; he boarded with. I liked him, and stood in awe of him because

of his superior education, never thinking that he loved me, until he

astonished me one evening by kissing me. I had never had a gentleman

to take such a privilege and felt shocked, threw up my hands to my face,

saying several times: "I am ruined." My aunt and mother had instilled

great reserve in my actions, when in company of gentlemen, so much so

that I had never allowed one to sit near or hold my hand. This was not

because I did not like their society, but I had been taught that to inspire

respect or love from a man, you must keep him at a distance. This often

made me awkward and reserved, but it did me no harm. When I learned

that Dr. Gloyd loved me, I began to love him. He was an only child.

His parents had but a modest living. My mother was not pleased with

seeing a growing attachment between us, for there was another match she

had planned for me. When she saw this she would not allow me to sit

alone in the room with him, so our communication was mostly by writing

letters. I never knew Shakespeare until he read it to me, and I became

an ardent admirer of the greatest poet. The volume of Shakespeare on

his table was our postoffice. In the morning at breakfast he would manage

to call the name "Shakespeare;" then I would know there was a letter

for me in its leaves. After teaching three months he went to Holden,

Mo., and located; sent for his father and mother and in two years we

were married.

{illust. caption =

MRS. NATION IS SITTING WHERE SHE STOOD AT HER FIRST MARRIAGE IN THE PARLOR

OF HER OLD HOME IN CASS COUNTY, MISSOURI.}

My father and mother warned me that the doctor was addicted to

drink, but I had no idea of the curse of rum. I did not fear anything, for I

was in love, and doubted in him nothing. When Dr. Gloyd came up to

marry me the 21st of November, 1867, I noticed with pain, that his countenance

was not bright, he was changed. The day was one of the gloomiest

I ever saw, a mist fell, and not a ray of sunshine. I felt a foreboding

on the day I had looked forward to, as being one of the happiest. I did not

find Dr. Gloyd the lover I expected. He was kind but seemed to want to

be away from me; used to sit and read, when I was so hungry for his

caresses and love. I have heard that this is the experience of many other

young married women. They are so disappointed that their husbands

change so after marriage. With my observation and experience I believe

that men have it in their power to keep the love of ninety-nine women out

of a hundred. Why do women lose love for their husbands? I find it is

mostly due to indifference on the part of the husband. I often hear the

experience of those poor abandoned sisters. I ask, Why are you in this house

of sin and death? When I can get their confidence, many of them say: "I

married a man; he drank, and went with other women. I got discouraged

or spiteful, and went to the bad also." I find that drink causes so much

enmity between the sexes. Drinking men neglect their wives. Their wives

become jealous. Men often go with abandoned women under the influence

of that drink that animates the animal passions and asks not for the

association of love, but the gratification of lust. Men do not go to the

houses of ill-fame to meet women they love but oftener those they almost hate.

The drink habit destroys in men the appreciation of a home life, and when a

woman leaves all others for one man, she does, and should, expect his

companionship, and is not satisfied without it. Libertines, taking advantage

of this, select women whose husbands are neglectful, and he wins victims

by his attentions, and poor woman, as at the first, is beguiled. Marriage,

while it is the blissful consummation of pure love, is the most serious of

all relations, and girls and boys should early be instructed about the secrets

of their own natures, the object of marriage, and the serious results of any

marriage where true love is not the object. I confess myself that I

was not fit to marry with the ignorance of its holy purpose. Sunday school

teachers, mothers, fathers, and ministers, look into God's word and see the

results of sin. God has written of this so as to force you to educate your

children. Talk freely. Truth will purify everything it comes in contact

with. Ignorance is not innocence, but is the promoter of crime: "My

people are destroyed for lack of knowledge."

About five days after we were married, Dr. Gloyd came in, threw

himself on the bed and fell asleep. I was in the next room and saw his

mother bow down over his face. She did not know I saw her. When

she left, I did the same thing, and the fumes of liquor came in my

face. I was terror stricken, and from that time on, I knew why he was

so changed. Not one happy moment did I see; I cried most all the time.

My husband seemed to understand that I knew his condition. Twice,

with tears in his eyes, he remarked: "Oh! Pet, I would give my right arm

to make you happy." He would be out until late every night. I never

closed my eyes. His sign in front of the door on the street would creak

in the wind, and I would sit by the window waiting to hear his footsteps.

I never saw him stagger. He would lock himself up in the

"Masonic Lodge" and allow no one to see him. People would call for

him in case of sickness, but he could not be found.

My anguish was unspeakable, I was comparatively a child. I wanted

some one to help me. He was a mason. I talked to a Mr. Hulitt, a

brother mason, I begged of him to help me save my precious husband.

I talked to a dear friend, Mrs. Clara Mize, a Christian, hoping to get

some help in that direction, but all they could say, was. "Oh, what a

pity, to see a man like Dr. Gloyd throw himself away!" The world was

all at once changed to me, it was like a place of torture. I thought

certainly, there must be a way to prevent this suicide and murder. I now

know, that the impulse was born in me then to combat to the death

this inhumanity to man.

I believe the masons were a great curse to Dr. Gloyd. These men

would drink with him. There is no society or business that separates

man and wife, or calls men from their homes at night, that produces

any good results. I believe that secret societies are unscriptural, and

that the Masonic Lodge has been the ruin of many a home and character.

I was so ignorant I did not know that I owed a duty to myself to

avoid gloomy thoughts; did not know that a mother could entail a curse

on her offspring before it was born. Oh, the curse that comes through

heredity, and this liquor evil, a disease that entails more depravity on

children unborn, than all else, unless it be tobacco. There is an object

lesson taught in the Bible. The mother of Samson was told by an angel to

"drink neither wine nor strong drink" before her child was born, and not

to allow him to do so after he was born. God shows by this, that these

things are injurious. Mothers often make drunkards of their own children,

before they are born. My parents heard that Dr. Gloyd was drinking.

My father came down to visit us, and I went home with him. My

mother told me I must never go back to my husband again. I knew the

time was near at hand, when I would be helpless, with a drunken husband,

and no means of support. What could I do? I kept writing to

"Charlie," as I called him. He came to see me once; my mother treated

him as a stranger. He expressed much anxiety about my confinement in

September; got a party to agree to come for him at the time; but

my mother would not allow it. In six weeks after my little girl was

born, my mother sent my brother with me to Holden to get my trunk and

other things to bring them home. Her words to me were: "If you stay

in Holden, never return home again." My husband begged me to stay with

him; he said: "Pet, if you leave me, I will be a dead man in six months."

I wanted to stay with him, but dared not disobey my mother and be

thrown out of shelter, for I saw I could not depend on my husband. I

did not know then that drinking men were drugged men, diseased men.

His mother told me that when he was growing up to manhood, his father,

Harry Gloyd, was Justice of the Peace in Newport, Ohio, twelve years, and

that Charlie was so disgusted with the drink cases, that he would go in

a room and lock himself in, to get out of their hearing; that he never

touched a drop until he went in the army, the 118th regiment, Thomas L.

Young being the Colonel. Dr. Gloyd was a captain. In the society of these

officers he, for the first time, began to drink intoxicants. He was fighting

to free others from slavery, and he became a worse slave than those he

fought to free. In a little less than six months from the day my child

was born, I got a telegram telling of his death. His father died a few

months before he did, and mother Gloyd was left entirely alone.

Mother Gloyd was a true type of a New England housewife, and I

had always lived in the south. I could not say at this time that I loved

her, although I respected her very highly. But I wanted to be with the

mother of the man I loved more than my own life; I wanted to supply his

place if possible. My father gave me several lots; by selling one of these

and Dr. Gloyd's library and instruments, I built a house of three rooms

on one of the lots and rented the house we lived in, which brought us in

a little income, but not sufficient to support us. I wanted to prepare myself

to teach, and I attended the Normal Institute of Warrensburg. I was

not able to pay my board and Mr. Archie Gilkerson and wife charged me

nothing and were as kind to me as parents. God bless them! I got

a certificate and was given the primary room in the Public School at Holden.

Mother Gloyd kept house and took care of Charlien, my little girl,

and I made the living. This continued for four years. I lost my position

as teacher in that school this way: A Dr. Moore was a member of the

board, he criticised me for the way I had the little ones read; for instance,

in the sentence, "I saw a man," I had them use the short a instead of

the long a, and so with the article a; having them read it as we would

speak it naturally. He made this serious objection, and I lost my place

and Dr. Moore's niece got my room as teacher. This was a severe blow

to me, for I could not leave mother Gloyd and Charlien to teach in another

place, and I knew of no other way of making a living except by teaching.

I resolved then to get married. I made it a subject of prayer and went

to the Lord explaining things about this way. I said: "My Lord, you

see the situation I cannot take care of mother and Charlien. I want you to

help me. If it be best for me to marry, I will do so. I have no one picked

out, but I want you to select the one that you think best. I want to give

you my life, and I want by marrying to glorify and serve you, as well as

to take care of mother and Charlien and be a good wife." I have always

been a literalist. I find out that it is the only way to interpret the Bible.

When God says: "Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him he

shall bring it to pass," I believe that to be the way to act. My faith does

not at all times grasp this or other promises, but there are times when

I can appropriate them and make them mine; there are times when I can

pray with faith, believing that I have the things I pray for, other times it

is not so.

In about ten days from that time I made this a subject of prayer, I

was walking down the street in Holden and passed a place where Mr.

Nation was standing, who had come up from Warrensburg, where he was

then editing the "Warrensburg Journal". He was standing in the door with

his back to me, but turned and spoke. There was a peculiar thrill which

passed through my heart which made me start. The next day I got

a letter from him, asking me to correspond with him. I was not surprised;

had been expecting something like it. I knew that this was in

answer to my prayer, and David Nation was to be the husband God

selected for me. He was nineteen years older than I, was very good looking,

and was a well-informed, successful lawyer, also a Christian

minister. My friends in Holden opposed this because of the difference

in our ages and of his large family. I gave him the loving confidence

of a true wife and he was often very kind to me. We were married

within six weeks from the time I got the letter from him. Mother

Gloyd went to live with us and continued to do so for fifteen years, until

she died. My married life with Mr. Nation was not a happy one. I

found out that he deceived me in so many things. I can remember the

first time I found this out. I felt like something was broken that could

never be mended. What a shattered thing is betrayed confidence!

Oh, husband, and wives, do not lie to each other, even though you should

do a vile act; confess to the truth of the matter! There will be some

trouble over it, but you can never lose your love for a truthful person. I

hated lying because I loved the truth. I hated dishonesty because I loved

honesty. I loved, therefore I hated. I love mankind therefore I hated

the enemies of mankind. I loved God and therefore hated the devil.

Truth is the pearl of great price. Whoso getteth it has all earth and

heaven.

I shall not in this book give to the public the details of my life as a

wife of David Nation any more than possible. He and I agreed in but

few things, and still we did not have the outbreaks many husbands and

wives have. The most serious trouble that ever rose between us was in

regard to Christianity. My whole Christian life was an offense unto him,

and I found out if I yielded to his ideas and views that I would be false

to every true motive. He saw that I resented this influence and it caused

him to be suspicious and jealous. I think my combative nature was largely

developed by living with him, for I had to fight for everything that I kept.

About two years after we were married, we exchanged our mutual properties

for seventeen hundred acres of land on the San Bernard River in

Texas, part of which was a cotton plantation. We knew nothing of the

cultivation of cotton or of plantation life. We took a car load of good

furniture with us and some fine stock, hogs and cattle. In packing up to

go to Texas there was a widow who assisted me. In paying her for her

services, I gave her some worthless things, because I was so avaricious.

I would not pay her money, but gave her the things I did not want to

carry with me. I remember I left about eight bushels of potatoes in the

cellar for her and the night we left they froze. I felt very much condemned

the way I treated this poor woman.

We were as helpless on the plantation as little children. The cultivation

of cotton was very different from anything we had been used to. A

bad neighbor threw all of our plows in the Bernard River and everything

seemed to go wrong. We had eight horses die in the pasture the spring

after we moved there. Soon the money we took with us was gone and

Mr. Nation got discouraged. He went to Brazoria, the county seat, and

stayed six weeks during court, for the purpose of entering the practice

of law again.

The cotton had been planted before he left. A neighbor named Martin

Hanks came over and told me not to allow the cotton to go to waste, said

he would lend me his plows, and advised me to get a colored man named

Edmond, who was his master's overseer in slave time, to manage this

crop for me. I hired five other negroes, paying them with things I had

in the house, for I had not a cent of money. The result was a fine crop of

cotton. Mr. Nation's daughter Lola, was then eleven years old, and

Charlien was three years younger. We lived six miles from a school, and

just at a time when the girls needed school most. I began to see what a

disastrous move we had made. I became very dispondant and sick at

heart. I was young and did not know then how to contend with

disappointments on every hand. At one time I was quite sick with chills

and fever. I had nothing in the house but meal, some fat bacon and sweet

potatoes. There was a poor old man that we took in for charity who

was with us, named Mr. Holt. I called him to my bedside and asked

him to go to the patch and dig a bushel of sweet potatoes and take them

to town and exchange them for a little tea, sugar, lemons and bread.

He failed in this and was returning when, he met a dear, sweet woman,

Mrs. Underwood, that I called my "Texas Mother." She called to Mr.

Holt, and asked him how I was. He told her I was sick and out of

anything to eat. She took the potatoes and sent the articles I wanted.

I believe I should have died had he returned without them, for I was

almost famished for food and sick besides.

I was in Columbia one day and stopped at the Old Columbia Hotel,

owned by the Messrs. Park, two bachelors. Mrs. Ballenger a widow was

renting it from Messrs. Park. I said to them: "If you ever need a tenant,

send for me." In a few months Mrs. Ballenger's daughter died and she

left. Mr. Park sent for me to come. We had a car load of good plain

furniture and bedding, some handsome tableware, but no money to buy

provisions.

Dear old mother Gloyd was a great help to me. She had once

kept hotel herself. I did not ask credit, and this is how I got the money

to begin keeping hotel: There was an Irish ditcher named Dunn whose

wife did my work. She was a good cook. I borrowed of Mr. Dunn three

dollars and fifty cents, and with this money began the hotel business. The

house was a rattle trap, plastering off, and a regular bed-bug nest.

I fumigated, pasted the walls over with cloth and newspapers, where the

plastering was off, and made curtains out of old sheets. My purchases

were about like this for the first day: Fifty cents worth of meat, coffee

ten cents, rice ten cents and sugar twenty-five cents, potatoes five, etc.

The transients at one meal would give me something to spend for the next.

I assisted about the cooking and helped in the dining-room. Mother Gloyd

and Lola attended to the chamber work, and little Charlien was the one

who did the buying for the house. I would often wash out my tablecloths

at night myself and iron them in the morning before breakfast. I would

take boarders' washing, hire a woman to wash, then do the ironing myself.

Columbia was a small village of not more than five hundred people. It was

the terminal of a railroad called the Columbia Tap. Mr. Painter, the

conductor, began boarding with us right off and in three or four days he

brought a family there to board by the name of Oastram, father, mother

and two boys, having come south to buy a plantation. Mrs. Oastrom handed

me a ten dollar bill. I called Lola and Charlien upstairs and showed

them the ten dollar bill. We were overjoyed; we danced, laughed, and

cried. Charlien said: "Now we can buy a whole ham." For several

months my little children and I ate nothing but broken food. I can never

put on paper the struggles of this life. I would not know one day how we

would get along the next.

The bitterest sorrows of my life have come from not having the

love of a husband. I must here say that I have had, at times, in the

society of those I love, a foretaste of what this could be. For years

I never saw a loving husband that I did not envy the wife; it was a

cry of my heart for love. I used to ask God why He denied me this.

I can see now why it was. I know it was God's will for me to marry

Mr. Nation. Had I married a man I could have loved, God could never

have used me. Phrenologists who have examined my head have said:

"How can you, who are such a lover of home be without one?" The very

thing that I was denied caused me to have a desire to secure it to others.

Payne who wrote "Home Sweet Home" never had one. There is in my

life a cause of sadness and bitter sorrow that God only knows. I shall not

write it here. Oh! how the heart will break almost for a loving word!

I believe the great want of the world is love. Jesus came to bring love to

earth.

During these severe afflictions I began to see how little there was in

life. I wondered at the gaiety of people. Seemed like a pall hung over the

earth. I would wonder that the birds sung, or the sun would shine. I

might say that for years this was my experience. I would go to God but

got very little relief; yet I never gave up. It was all the hope I could see

for me. About this time my little Charlien, who had been such a help to me,

began to go into a decline, until she was taken down with typhoid fever.

Her case was violent and she was delirious from the first. This my only

child was peculiar. She was the result of a drunken father and a distracted

mother. The curse of heredity is one of the most heart-breaking

results of the saloon. Poor little children are brought into the world,

cursed by disposition and disease, entailed on them. How can mothers be

true to their offspring with a constant dread of the nameless horrors wives

are exposed to by being drunkards' wives. Men will not raise domestic

animals under conditions where the mothers may bring forth weak or

deformed offspring. My precious child seemed to have taken a perfect

dislike to Christianity. This was a great grief to me, and I used to pray

to God to save her soul at any cost; I often prayed for bodily affliction on

her, if that was what would make her love and serve God. Anything for

her eternal salvation.

Her right cheek was very much swollen, and on examination we

found there was an eating sore inside her cheek. This kept up in spite of

all remedies, and at last the whole of her right cheek fell out, leaving the

teeth bare. My friends and boarders were very angry at the physician,

saying she was salivated. From the first something told me this is an

answer to your prayer. At this time, when her life was despaired of, I

had an intense longing to save my child, who was so dear to me. I said:

"Oh, God, let me keep a piece of my child." A minister said: "Don't

pray for the life of your child; she will be so deformed it were better she

were dead." I could not feel this way. After being at death's door for

nine days, she began to recover. The wound in her face healed up to a

hole about the size of a twenty-five cent piece. Her jaws closed and

remained so for eight years. The sickness of my daughter and the keeping

up of the hotel was such a tax on my mind, that for six months all

transactions would recede from my memory. For instance, if anyone

told me something, in an hour afterwards, I could not tell whether it

had been hours, days or months since it was told me. I never entirely

recovered from this, still being forgetful of names, dates and circumstances,

unless they are particularly impressed upon my mind. When I could afford

it, I took my child, then twelve years old, down to Galveston, put her

under the care of Dr. Dowell for the purpose of closing the hole in her

cheek. I had to leave the little one down there among strangers, for I

could not afford to stay with her. A mother only will know what this

means. After four operations the place was closed up in her cheek, still

her mouth was closed, her teeth close together. I suffered torture all these

years for fear she might strangle to death. I took her to San

Antonio, Texas, to Dr. Herff, and he and his two sons removed a section

of the jawbone, expecting to make an artificial joint, enabling her to use

the other side of her jaw. After all this, the operation was a failure, and

her jaws closed up again. We, in the meantime, moved to Richmond

from Columbia. We became very successful in the hotel business and I

saved money enough to send her to New York City, where her father, Dr.

Gloyd, had a cousin, Dr. Messinger, who would see that she had the best

relief possible. None of the surgeons there gave her any hope of opening

her jaws. She went to Dr. John Wyeth to have him perform the plastic

surgery; that is, he cut off a flap from under her chin, turning it over the

scar on her cheek.

Although Charlien was not a Christian, she had faith in God. Once

she complained of my being too strict with her, but said: "Mamma I owe

it to you that I have any faith in God, even if you are severe with me."

She always believed that her mother had a God. Finding no physician

in New York that could open her jaws, she wrote me this: "No one but

God can open my mouth, Mamma; ask him to do it." There was a Catholic

woman, Miss Doregan, who boarded with me and had a store around

the corner from the hotel, and I could think of no one else who had as

much faith as this woman. She said she believed that God would heal

my child according to prayer, so I went for seven mornings before breakfast

to this saint of God. She taught me many holy truths and she

explained the Scriptures to me. I learned from her a prayer that we said

in concert, that was written by one of the Old Fathers, and is one of the

most complete in devotion I have ever read. I will record it here:

"Come Holy Ghost send down those beams,

That sweetly flow in silent streams,

From thy bright throne above;

Oh, Come Father of the poor,

Thou bounteous source of all our store;

Come fire our hearts with love.

Come thou of comforters the best,

Come thou the soul's delicious guest,

The pilgrim's sweet relief:

Thou art our rest in toil and sweat,

Refreshment in excessive heat

And solace in our grief.

Oh! sacred light shoot home the darts,

Oh! pierce the center of those hearts

Whose faith aspires to thee.

Without thy God-head nothing can

Have any worth a price in man,

Nothing can harmless be."

"Lord wash our sinful stains away,

Water from heaven our barren clay,

Our wounds and bruises heal.

To thy sweet yoke our stiff necks bow,

Warm with thy fire our hearts of snow,

Our wandering feet repair.

Oh, grant thy faithful dearest Lord,

Whose only hope is thy sure word,

The seven gifts of thy spirit.

Grant us in life to obey thy grace,

Grant us in death to see thy face

And endless joys inherit,

Through the same Christ our Lord."

"Amen."

And now I often use this beautiful and comprehensive petition to my Dear

Lord.

Charlien wrote that she had letters of introduction to a physician in

Philadelphia, Dr. J. Ewing Mears, but in every letter would say: "Keep

on praying." This we did. Oh, the anxiety of my mother heart! My

duties as landlady kept me busy all day and part of the night. I often

had to do my own cooking.

God was good to me and we were very successful financially, and

managed to meet all debts and payments on the property we had purchased.

After I knew the operation had been performed in Philadelphia, I

telegraphed to Charlien. The answer came from the physician: "All

right," but my anxiety was intensified. I became almost wild with anxiety,

and I determined to go to her. I borrowed four hundred dollars from

Alex McNabb, the man she was engaged to, and in three hours I was

on my way to my precious suffering one. As soon as I got on the

train a sense of divine guidance came to me.

When I arrived at the hospital, I had the nurse take me to my child's

room. I cannot describe the meeting. She was packing up her clothes.

I said: "Why are you doing this?" Then she told me this pitiful story:

"Mamma, you did not send me any money, and the Doctor and nurse

seemed dissatisfied, so I took most of my clothes down to a soup house and

pawned them, that the woman may give me a room and soup until I

could hear from you."

This was horrible to think of. I had sent her money, but like some

others, Charlien never knew the value of money. I had her on my lap

and we were crying together. Just to think, in ten minutes more my

child might have been gone, and I might not have found her for some

time. Her mouth was opened half an inch, and as she talked, I noticed

that the side of her face the jaw bone had been taken from, was moving

as she chewed a piece of gum. I placed my hands on each side of

her face and said: "Now chew, Well, this is just like God; he has not

only opened your mouth, but has given you a new jaw bone. My darling

you know that the bone from this side was taken out." "Yes", she said,

"I told Dr. Mears that, but he said it could not be."

I told him I saw the bone and teeth that were taken out. So in answer

to prayer, God had wrought this miracle.

I stayed there six weeks with her, She went to see the doctor three

times a week. He used a pry to open her jaws, which was very painful to her

but she gradually grew better. We were so happy in each other's society.

I took her every place to see sights in that grand, philanthropic city. I

believe Philadelphia, "Brotherly Love," has more evidence of the meaning

of the name than any city I have ever seen. The "Breakfast Association"

for redeemed men has no equal in its Christ-like work. When I left

New York for Kansas, I bought two tickets, one from New York to Chicago

and another one from there on. When I went to check my trunk

I found one ticket was gone. I had only about three or four dollars, not

enough to get me another ticket. This was at Fulton Ferry. I turned and

walked out going toward the elevated road, looking as I went for my

ticket. Was praying God to help me find it. I walked about the streets

as if in a dream. Wishing to learn where I was, I crossed the street to

ask a policeman. Seeing a paper at his feet I picked it up and it was my

lost ticket. Joshua made the sun stand still by prayer. Elijah closed the

heavens from raining on the earth and raised the dead. It is not strange

that God should answer my prayer in this case.

In six weeks I returned home leaving Charlien, who went to Vermont

to visit some of her father's relatives, the Gloyds. She was gone six

months, came home and married and continued to live in Richmond,

Texas. For a year she and her husband lived with me; also Mr. Nation's

daughter, Lola, was married and living with me, and mother Gloyd, now

eighty-six years old, was there. My cares now were so heavy many times

that I could not attend religious worship as I wished. Sunday morning I

frequently gathered my servants in the dining-room, and there we read and

studied the Bible. I had great heaviness of heart, because I had no time

to meditate and study the Scriptures. I saw I was only living to feed

the perishing bodies of men and women. I would frequently go upstairs

and prostrate myself on the floor, crying to God for deliverance from my

present surroundings, telling Him over and over, "if he would free me I

would do for Him what he couldn't get anyone else to do." How literally

this has been fulfilled, for God held me to my vow, and what Carry A.

Nation has done is what no one else has; not only in the instance of smashing

saloons, but in every other work. My life beyond dispute has

been marvelous and no one that will stop to consider but will know

and must admit that an unseen power, one super-human, has upheld me,

"not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord."

CHAPTER V.

THE BAPTISM OF THE HOLY GHOST.--REJECTED AS A BIBLE TEACHER IN

METHODIST AND EPISCOPALIAN CHURCHES.--TAUGHT IN HOTEL DINING-ROOM.--

VISION, WARNING AND BLESSING.--ENTERTAINING ANGELS.--THE JEWS.--

PRAYER FOR RAIN AND ANSWER.--GOD'S JUDGEMENTS ON THE WICKED.--

MOVED TO KANSAS.--DEATH OF MOTHER GLOYD.--SERMON OF A CATHOLIC

PRIEST.

In this chapter I will tell of God's leading. I say of my life, "This

is the Lord's doings and marvelous in our eyes." A Methodist conference

was held in Richmond, Texas, about the year 1884. I attended. The

minister read the sixty-second chapter of Isaiah. From the time he began

reading I was marvelously affected. Paul said it was not "lawful" or possible

to utter some things. There was a halo around the minister. I was

wrapt in ecstacy. My first impression was that an angel was talking and

that the house was ascending to heaven. I felt my natural heart expanding

to an enormous size. I looked to see what impression was made on

the people in the audience. I saw one man nodding. I was surprised, for

no one seemed at all astonished or delighted.

At the close of the meeting I tried to find out the meaning. No one

felt as I did. I went to a saintly woman, Mrs. Ruth Todd, and asked her

about the sermon. She had felt nothing remarkable. I had never been

taught that anyone but the Apostles in Jesus' time got the gift of the Holy

Ghost, or I would have understood this wonderful state. I then and there

openly consecrated myself to God, telling my friends that "from henceforth

all my time, means and efforts should be given to God." (Mr. Nation

in his petition for divorce said that up to this year I had been a good wife.)

I was often considered crazy, on the subject of religion. When I spoke

to people I would ask them, "if they loved God;" I could not refrain from

this; the servant in the kitchen, the guest, the merchant, the market man;

I felt impelled by divine love for the souls of men.

God had given me an intense love for souls, and one was as precious

as another to me. I now see what the enlarging of my heart meant. Once

an old colored man brought in the kitchen some eggs to sell. I said:

"Uncle, do you love God?" He turned to my cook Fannie and said:

"Hear dat". Fannie said: "Oh! Mrs. Nation knows the Lord." Uncle

said: "Thank God one white woman got ligen," clapped his hands and

praised God. It used to be and is now the sweetest music to have anyone

praise God. I am at church often, when I long to hear a loud shout of

praise go up to the giver of every good and perfect gift. It is torture to

attend the cold, dead service of most of the churches.

I was a teacher in the Methodist Sunday school and had given perfect

satisfaction up to this time; but things changed. The minister said from

the pulpit that the teachers should be Methodists, and spoke so pointedly

that all knew he meant me. The superintendent at the Episcopal Sunday

school asked me to teach in their Sunday school. (This was Judge Williams,

the husband of Lola, Mr. Nation's daughter.) I did so, and things

went smoothly for a while.

Father Denroach was the minister, and one morning he asked the

school questions out of the catechism. My class could not answer. I

arose and said: "Father Denroach, I do not teach my class the catechism,

I use only God's word." "What objection do you find to the

catechism?" he asked. I replied: "I cannot teach the Bible and catechism,

for one contradicts the other. The gospel is to be believed and

obeyed and a Christian is a follower of Christ. The catechism in the

first lesson asks this question: What is your name? 'Bob, Tom or John.'

'When did you get that name?' 'In my baptism, when I was made a Christian.'

"Baptism never did make a Christian. Infants cannot be made Christians,

they cannot follow Christ, cannot believe or obey the Gospel. Jesus

said: 'Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven! Now if I teach my class that

the state of being a Christian is something they get without the exercise of

their will, I contradict what I have been teaching." The dear old man

walked up and down the aisle shaking his robes. I said: "A house

divided against itself cannot stand." You must have an Episcopalian

teacher to teach your doctrine." So I was shut out from teaching in the

only two churches in Richmond.

I could not be satisfied. I tried to get the Methodist church for a Mission

school in the afternoon, but failed. I got plank for seats and after

dinner on Lord's Day I had my hotel dining-room seated and gathered all

the little ones I could. These were largely children who went to no Sunday-

School. I got five Catholic children to attend. We had an attendance

of from thirty to forty. We bought an organ, had our charts and

maps. One poor saloon keeper named Frost came several times and always

gave a dollar. He was killed in the fight between the Jaybirds and

Peckerwoods in Richmond. This work was a blessing to my soul and I

have seen happy results from that little school. I kept this up until I

left there for Kansas. The last Sunday we all went to the graveyard to

study our lesson. I wished by this to impress the little ones with the

purpose of the Gospel.

I have had visions and dreams that I know were sent to me by my

Heavenly Father to warn or comfort or instruct me. I notice my dreams,

not all, but I can tell the significant ones, usually by the impression they

make on me. The dream that comes to me just before waking up generally

means something to me. To dream of snakes has always been a

bad omen to me. When I first started out smashing, while in Wichita

jail, I dreamed of two enormous snakes, one on one side of a road, the

other on the other; one raised to strike me, the other made no move. I

was impressed that the one that was the most venomous and in the attitude

of striking me with its fangs was the Republican party, and this

has been my deadly foe.

I will here relate a vision I had. One cold night in March, 1889, I

heard a groan across the hall. It was about three o'clock in the morning.

I found the sufferer to be an old gentleman who was having very severe

cramps, so I went down to the kitchen to make a mustard plaster. The

hotel was a number of frame buildings, one having twenty-one rooms, and

about five or six cottages around the main building. We carried no insurance,

and so many would say we had a "firetrap" there. We had a mortgage

on the place, and I was kept in terror constantly for fear of fire, and

would often spring out of bed at night in my sleep, expecting to see a fire.

I lit a candle, went down stairs through several dark halls. Then

I went upstairs again and gave the old man the plaster; afterwards returned

to the kitchen, thinking probably I left the candle burning. Things

were all dark, but when I started up the stairs, there seemed to be

a light shining behind me, which would come and go in flashes, as I

ascended. I looked everywhere to see where it came from, but discovered

it to be an unnatural manifestation, for I could not see to step nor

move by it. It followed me until I got to my room door. It did not alarm

me. I felt the sweet, peaceful presence of God, I prayed to him and I

could think of no reason for having this blessing from God, except that

I had gotten up in the cold to relieve this suffering man. I stood by my

bed for a short time praying to God, and thanking him for his goodness to

me. I thought Mr. Nation was asleep, but he afterwards told me that he

heard me whispering. I slept until late, and when I did go down to breakfast,

Mr. Nation and Alex, my son-in-law, were at the table. I told them

I had a warning last night, and if I had a Daniel or Joseph they could

interpret a vision I had. The peculiar vision of the light was repeated to

them, but they paid very little attention to it; being very busy I thought

no more of it that day.

Just about three o'clock the next morning, I was awakened by the cry

of fire. Charlien screamed from the next room: "Mamma, the town is on

fire." I ran out and the whole heavens seemed to be on fire. It had originated

in a drugstore and was sweeping towards the hotel. I immediately

ran upstairs and began to pray. I told God "There wasn't a dishonest dollar

so, far as I knew in the house, and that He told me "to call on Him in

a day of trouble," and said, "this is my day of trouble, and begged He

would hear me. Many of the guests passed by, some of them with baggage

in their hands and some still dressing. I prayed until I seemed to get

an answer of security. One lady, Mrs. Moore, the wife of a physician,

who had boarded with me a long time, had a very elegant set of furniture,

and she called to me several times to take my things out of the hotel. She

had two colored men moving her furniture I heard her say to several persons:

"That woman has lost her mind." All the boarders had their trunks

out and everyone was saying to me: "Why don't you try to save your

furniture?" I would take hold of some things to take out, but it seemed

something would intimate, "Let it be." I walked down the street and Mr.

Blakely, one of the men who was killed in the Jaybird and Peckerwood battle

in Richmond said: "Are you insured?"

I said: "Yes, up there," pointing to Heaven.

All fear was gone, and now in the time of almost certain danger I

was confident of deliverance, when before I had been nervous, in time when

all was secure. At last the cry came in: "You are saved." I went in the

hotel office, sat down by the stove and Alex, my son-in-law, was by me. I

said to him: "Oh, Alex, my vision!" He looked almost paralyzed, for

I had told him it was a warning and all the circumstances. From that

day to this I have never had any fear of fire.

ENTERTAINING ANGELS UNAWARES.

One noon I was busy with the guests and waiting on the tables, and

going to the kitchen I saw sitting on the wood-box a poor dejected looking

creature, a man about twenty-four years of age. He asked me if I had any

tinware to mend. I told him, "No, but you can have your dinner."

He said. "I don't want any." He looked the picture of dispair.

I said: "Don't go until I can speak to you."

When I had time I told him I wanted some one to wash dishes. He

consented to stay, and I felt at that time I must care for that poor creature

or he would die. He stayed with us three years and proved to be a

jewel. All the rest of my help was colored, and generally speaking, white

and colored help do not assimilate, but they all had profound respect for

Smith. He soon owned his horse and did the draying for the hotel. Then

he got to be a clerk, and bought pecans for the northern market. All his

family had died from consumption, and he was traveling for his health.

He left us for Pierce's Sanitarium, Buffalo, N. Y., and stayed there some

time for treatment. He ran a little booth by the Niagara Bridge, and soon

accumulated quite a little sum. He became a Christian and married. I

often got letters from him expressing so much gratitude. He was an

infidel when he first came, and he said it was my influence that made him

a Christian.

I often had the Orthodox Jews to stop with me. They ate nothing

that contained lard; their food was mackerel, eggs, bread and coffee. The

rates were two dollars a day, but I charged them only one dollar, and

allowed them to pay their bills with something that was in their "pack."

My other guests would often regard them with almost scorn, but when

they were at their meals I would wait on them myself, showing them this

preference, for I could not but respect their sacrifice for the sake of

their religion. I have always treated the Jews with great respect. Our

Savior was a Jew and said: "Salvation is of the Jews." They are a monument

to the truth of the Scriptures, a people without a country; and

though they are wanderers upon the face of the earth, they retain their

characteristics more than any other people have ever done. If an Italian,

German or Frenchman comes to America, in a hundred years he becomes

thoroughly an American, losing the peculiarities of his descent. But

wherever a Jew goes no matter how long he stays he remains a Jew.

This can be said of no other people on earth.

I know by experience that the Jews are tricksters, but they have

almost been forced into their cupidity in getting money, yet the greatest

promise of deliverance in the Bible is for that nation. The foundation

stones of heaven and the pearly gates are named for the twelve tribes. No

Christian should scorn a Jew.

One day I was driving down the street of Richmond in a buggy, and

Mr. Blakely the merchant I dealt so much with, and also a member of

the Methodist church, stopped me, saying that he had something to say

to me:

"Your friends are becoming very uneasy about the state of your mind.

You are thinking too much on religious subjects, and they asked me to

warn you." This gave me a blessed assurance, and I laughed very heartily,

saying:

"Your words are indeed a blessing to me, for if I have a religion

that the world understands, it is not a religion of the Bible."

I was naturally ambitious and was very fond of nice furniture, china

and dainty things, but I have lost all taste for these, and stopped making

fashionable calls, for I have seen the vanity and wickedness in fashionable

society and costly dressing. I educated myself to look at things as I

thought God would, and this change came about after that transaction

between my soul and God, at the Methodist church, which I know was the

"Baptism of the Holy Ghost;" but did not know then what it was. I had

been born in the Christian church, and was taught that only the Apostles

had received that gift. I never knew what to call this experience until

three years after when I went to Kansas, and had it explained to me by

the Free Methodists, and where God gave me a witness that it was true.

We had quite a drought in Texas, everything was parched and burning

up, and great concern was felt by all. Charlien said to me one day:

"Mamma why don't you pray for rain?"

I was so struck with the idea that I went to the church that night and

proposed that we pray for rain. So four ladies were elected to appoint

a special meeting. The minister's wife, Mrs. Todd, Mrs. Blakely and myself

were the four. We met and we said the first thing is to agree. The

minister's wife began to cry and said:

"I have read of so many thunderbolts lately, that I am almost afraid

to pray;" and Mrs. Blakely repeated the same, but I told the women this

was doubting God in the beginning.

" 'If you ask for bread, will He give you a stone.' I am willing to

trust God who said: 'Ask and ye shall receive,' and let Him send the

rain any way He pleases." This was finally agreed upon, and the next

afternoon the citizens of the town were called to the church to pray for

rain.

After the meeting, we were standing on the platform in front of the

church, and a sprinkle of rain out of a cloudless sky fell on the platform,

and on the shutters of the house. This was nothing but a miracle, and

was very astonishing to us all. The next day the clouds began to gather

in the sky, and the moisture began, at first, to fall like heavy dew. There

was no lightning or thunder and the rain came down in the gentlest manner

and continued in this way three days. With this marvelous manifestation

in direct answer to prayer, many people said "we would have had the

rain any way." "Truly the ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's

crib, but my people doth not know, my people doth not consider."

I began to think what I should do to fulfill my vow to God, for I

vowed to return to Him something for rain, to show my gratitude that I

had seen done. There was an old man, about seventy years old, entirely

destitute, whose name was Bestwick. I went to see him, asked him to

come to the hotel and make his home there. There was also a poor German

girl, named Fredricka. I also gave her board at the hotel. These two

stayed with me free of charge as long as I lived in Richmond.

There were two political factions in Richmond at this time, one called

the "Jaybirds" and the other "Peckerwoods". The latter were people

that were in favor of the negro holding offices. This party had control of

the country for some time. The head of this party was Garvey, the

sheriff. The head of the former was Henry Frost, a saloon-keeper, and

to this belonged nearly all the young men of Richmond.