Part 5 (1/2)

But she replied: ”I came from Vermont and it is very cold there.”

She followed me to the train, and when I went to leave her she placed her arms around me and her head on my breast. Her last words were: ”I have lived with you and I want to die with you.” Oh, how I disliked to leave her! This was the last time I saw her dear, sweet face. We had lived together as constant companions for twenty-three years.

Before I left Richmond, I requested of two of my dear friends, Mrs.

Connor and Mrs. Todd, that if mother ever got sick, they would stay by her until the last. In a year from this time she died, being sick only three days. These dear friends stayed by her side until the last. A telegram was sent to me when she was first taken sick, and I wanted to go, but I had no money of my own, and Mr. Nation would not consent. I have never ceased to be sorry for it.

I was very much pleased when I first went to Kansas, for it was a great relief from burdens. We boarded six months. After the year was up, Mr. Nation went to Holton, Kansas, and took charge of a church there. He went before I did, and to save s.h.i.+pping our horse and buggy, I drove through. In order to get a good start and directions for my journey, I went to Bro. Ed. Crouce, who lived on a farm about five miles from town. Our horse was not very safe for he had a way of balking. Bro.

Crouce told me to give him a severe cut across the back and give him the reins if he attempted to balk. I tried this on two occasions, following his directions. The horse reared up and acted in a way that terrified me, but I conquered and for ten years I drove that horse. He was a n.o.ble beast with almost human sense. This journey was four hundred miles. For a hundred and fifty miles I was accompanied by a young girl of sixteen years of age, who was a farmer's daughter and seemed to be afraid of nothing. She was a great inspiration to me, preparing me to drive the two hundred and fifty miles alone. The great difficulty was in finding places to stop at night. I got so I did not look for large roomy houses for entertainment, but the smaller ones. I found out that the friends of the poor are the poor. Mr. Nation met me at Topeka and he was so pleased that he said: ”You shall have this horse and buggy for your own.”

Holton was thirty miles north and we drove up together.

I began to have a contempt for popular preaching, keeping apart from ”clicks” and ”sects”. I knew that my husband ought not to be in the ministry.

I do not believe he was ever a converted man. This made me very miserable, putting us in a false light before the people. It was my desire to serve G.o.d in a simple, humble way. Before the year was out because of some dissatisfaction in the church between Mr. Nation and the board, we left Holton. I then drove back to Medicine Lodge alone, enjoying my trip very much. Mr. Nation never took charge of a church again. He was a man well versed in law, and at one time rendered valuable service in prosecuting liquor cases in Medicine Lodge.

When I lived in Texas and was keeping hotel in Richmond, one cold rainy morning, a lot of men came in from the train.

I took special notice of one man. His hands were that of a woman, his face was very refined, but his clothes were shabby. He was sitting by himself and I said to him: ”You must excuse me but you look so much like a catholic priest I once saw.” I did not then dream he was one. Next morning I sent one of the boys that waited on the table to see what was the matter that he did not come down to breakfast. He was sick. I went up to see him and he told me he often had attacks of heart trouble; that he had fallen in a faint in the yard the night before. I asked him if he had any friends. He said: ”No.” I asked him his business?

”You guessed it last night,” he replied. Then he told me he was a catholic priest. I was very much astonished for he had on a common suit with a red necktie. I then knew he was in trouble somewhere. He told me he had no money. I told him he was welcome to stay as long as he wished.

I gathered up some clean garments and did for him all I could. I felt glad to have this catholic priest in my house. I resolved to ask him concerning their faith. He was one of the saddest man I ever saw and it made my heart ache to see him. I knew so well what it was to have ”a heart bowed down with grief and woe,” and I saw in this poor creature desolation.

I asked him if he should die, what sin he would have to repent of.

He said: ”I may have sinned in trying to fix up a home for poor priests who come into disfavor with the bishops.” His words were: ”There is no one so helpless as a catholic priest sent adrift. A boy ten years old knows as well how to make a living for himself. I have been from a boy, in a Jesuit College, St. John's, near New York. You do not know the sorrows of a catholic priest. Few know that so many priests are dying from heart disease. I am trying to get to San Antonio, for a priest there may help me some.” He stayed at the hotel five days. One evening he came in the parlor where there was quite a company, and I was astonished to see him so changed. He was no longer the shrinking, crest-fallen man, but he seemed bright and joined in conversation; sang and played on the piano.

I soon found out he had been drinking. I wanted to s.h.i.+eld him from the scandal and made an excuse to call him from the room, and told him what I did this for. Next morning he came down as ”sad as night”. I said: ”Are you going to leave?” ”Yes,” he replied. I wrote a note to the conductor, whom I knew well; told him the condition of this poor man; told him to pa.s.s him to San Antonio. I had just three dollars, this I gave to him. Oh, the grat.i.tude in the face of this poor man. He raised his hands and asked ”Christ, and his mother, the holy martyrs, and the angels to bless me.”

In a few days I heard of a priest from Cleveland, Ohio, who through gambling and drinking, had spent thirty thousand dollars of the church's money and he was sent adrift. The name of this priest was John Kelly and on our hotel register the name of this priest was written ”John Kelly.”

CHAPTER VI.

WHY MY NAME IS NOT ON A CHURCH BOOK, AND WHY THE MINISTERS WITHDREW FROM ME.--CLOSING THE DIVES OF MEDICINE LODGE.--CORA BENNETT, AND WHY SHE KILLED BILLY MORRIS IN A DIVE IN KIOWA.--HER RESURRECTION.--RAIDING A JOINT DRUGSTORE.

I soon saw that I was not popular with the church at Medicine Lodge. I testified to having received the ”baptism of the Holy Ghost,” and the minister, Mr. Nicholson, took occasion to say that I was not sound in the faith. This church at this time had a board of deacons and elders, who I knew to be unworthy, some of them addicted to intoxicating drinks and other flagrant sins. There was one man whose sincerity I never questioned, Mr. Smith, who had a good report from those in and out of the church.

Mr. Nicholson, the preacher, used to go to a drugstore kept by a noted jointist and infidel. He would sit with him in front of his drugstore. I would rebuke him for ”sitting in the seat of the scornful and in the way of sinners.”

Whenever I went visiting, I went where I felt I could do some good for Jesus, and at Thanksgiving and Christmas I invited the poor, crippled and blind, to a feast at my house as Jesus said to never invite those who were able to make a feast.

There was a Mrs. Tucker, who was quite young and married to an old man. She worked hard, was.h.i.+ng, to care for her five children. I would take her to church and it was not long before she joined. There was rejoicing in Heaven, but none in the church at Medicine Lodge.

For two years she attended church, and not an officer or member ever called to see her. I would visit her, and often take her clothes for her children, also read the Bible, and prayed with her. I did not wish her to notice the lack of all Christian fellows.h.i.+p, but she saw the cool way in which she was treated and she stopped going to church. A false report of treachery was told to this minister by her unfeeling, jealous husband, and without going to see this poor woman, it was decided to take her name from the church book.

One Lord's Day morning, before Mr. Nicholson commenced his sermon, he said: ”It is the painful duty of the church to withdraw fellows.h.i.+p from Sister Tucker, who had been living in open adultery.” I was sitting in front, and I rose to my feet.

Mr. Nicholson said: ”You sit down, the elders will attend to this.”

I said: ”No, the elders will not, but I will. What you have said is not true about this woman. She has been a member of the church for two years, and neither you nor the elders or any member of this church but myself have been in her home. I do for that woman what I would want some one to do for me, under the same circ.u.mstances. These elders never reclaim the erring or pray with the dying, but this poor little lamb has come in for shelter, and they are pulling the fleece off of her.”

All this time Mr. Nicholson was telling me in angry tones to ”sit down”. He then called on the elders to take me out, came down from the pulpit, took me by the arm intending to put me out himself, but he could not move me. I turned to the audience, told them what the preacher said could not be proven. The Normal was in session and there were many strangers present. I sat down as calmly as if nothing had happened out of the usual, and waited until the close.

Mr. Nicholson came to me after service and said: ”We will settle your case.”