The Use and Need of the Life of Carrie A. Nation
by Carrie A. Nation
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman

THE USE AND NEED OF THE LIFE OF CARRY A. NATION

WRITTEN BY HERSELF

REVISED EDITION
1905

ENCOURAGEMENT FOR CHRISTIAN WORKERS.

"My word shall not return unto me void."--Isa. iv., II.

"When saddened by the little fruit thy labors seem to yield,
And when no springing blade appears in all thy barren field;
When those whom thou dost seek to win, seem hard, and cold, and dead--
Then, weary worker, stay thine heart on what the Lord hath said;
And let it give new life to hopes which seem well-nigh destroyed--
This promise, that His word, shall not return unto Him void.
For, if, indeed it be His truth, thy feeble lips proclaim,
Then, He is pledged to shadow forth, the glory of His name.
True this at present may be veiled; still trustingly abide,
And "cast thy bread," with growing faith, upon life's rolling tide.
It shall, it will, it must be found, this precious living seed,
Though thou may'st grieve that thoughtless hearts take no apparent heed.
'Tis thine to sow with earnest prayer, in faith and patient love,
And thou shalt reap the tear-sown seed, in glorious sheaves above,
Then with what joy ecstatic, thou wilt stand before His throne,
And praise the Lord who used thee thus to gather in His own!
Adoring love will fill thine heart, and swell thy grateful lays,
That thou, hast brought some souls to Christ, to His eternal praise,
That thou hast helped to deck His brow, with blood-bought jewels bright;
Trophies of His wondrous love, and His all-saving might.
Oh, the grandest privilege to be thus used, to bring them in!
Oh, grandest joy to see them safe beyond the reach of sin!
Then mourn not, worker; though thy work shall cause thee many a tear,
The glorious aim thou hast in view, thy saddened heart will cheer,
Remember, it is all for Him, who loveth thee so well;
And let not downcast weary thoughts, one moment in thee dwell,
It is for Him! this is enough to cheer thee all the way;
Until thou hearest the glad "Well done", and night is turned to day."
                                        --Author Unknown

A MOTHER'S CRY,

Yes I represent the mothers. "Rachel wept for her children and
would not be comforted because they were not." So I am crying for
help, asking men to vote for what their forefathers fought for--their
firesides. Republican and Democratic votes mean saloons. There is not
one effort in these parties to do ought but perpetuate this treason. Yes,
it is treason, to make laws to prohibit crime and then license saloons,
that prohibit laws from prohibiting crime. There is not a lawful or
legalized saloon. Any thing wrong can not be legally right. "Law commands
that which is right and prohibits that which is wrong." Saloons
command that which is wrong and prohibit that which is right. This
is anarchy. There is another grievous wrong. The loving moral influence
of mothers must be put in the ballot box. Free men must be the
sons of free women. To elevate men you must first elevate women.
A nation can not rise higher than the mothers. Liberty is the largest
privilege to do that which is right, and the smallest to do that which is
wrong. Vote for a principle which will make it a crime to manufacture,
barter, sell or give away that which makes three-fourths of all the
crime and murders thousands every year, and the suffering of the women
and children that can not be told. Vote for our prohibition president
and God will bless you. Pray for me that I may finish my course with
joy, the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus.
                                   CARRY A. NATION,
                              Your Loving Home Defender.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.                                      
MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME AND WHAT I REMEMBER OF MY LIFE UP TO THE
TENTH YEAR.

CHAPTER II.
MY EXPERIENCE WITH THE NEGROES AS SLAVES.--THEIR SUPERSTITIONS.--A
BEAUTIFUL FAIRY TALE.

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.

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.

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 JUDGEMENT ON THE WICKED.--
MOVED TO KANSAS.--DEATH OF MOTHER GLOYD.--SERMON OF A CATHOLIC
PRIEST.

CHAPTER VI.
WHY MY NAME IS NOT ON A CHURCH BOOK.--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.

CHAPTER VII.
SPIRITUAL LEADINGS.--JESUS A CONSCIOUS PRESENCE THREE DAYS.--LOSS OF
LIBERTY BY COMPROMISING.--THE PRICE PAID TO BE REIN STATED.--
DISGRACE TO IRE A MILLIONAIRE.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE DIVINE CALL.--THE JOINT DRUGGIST OF MEDICINE LODGE.--BEER A POISON.--
DOCTORS MAKE DRUNKARDS.--SMASHING AT KIOWA.--ATTITUDE OF SOME
W. C. T. U.'S OF KANSAS.--SUIT FOR SLANDER.--SMASHING AT WICHITA.--
CONSPIRACY OF THE REPUBLICANS TO PUT ME IN THE INSANE ASYLUM.--
SUFFERINGS IN JAIL AT WICHITA.--SLANDERS FROM THE RUM-SOAKED
PAPERS OF KANSAS.

CHAPTER IX.
OUT OF JAIL.--EGGS AND STONE.--SMASHING STILLING'S JOINT AT
ENTERPRISE.--WHIPPED BY HIRED PROSTITUTES.-PLOT AT HOLT BY HOTEL KEEPER
AND JOINTIST TO POISON AND SLUG ME.--AT CONEY ISLAND.-HAND
BROKEN AND HANDCUFFS.

CHAPTER X.
LEGAL STATUS OF PROHIBITION AND JOINT SMASHING.

CHAPTER XI.
MY TRIAL FOR DIVORCE.--THE LICENSED RUM TRAFFIC THE CAUSE OF SO MANY
DIVORCES.-DIFFERENT TIMES AND PLACES I HAVE BEEN IN JAIL.--AT THE
CAPITOL OF CALIFORNIA.--WIDE OPEN TREASON.--AT THE UNIVERSITY OF
TEXAS.--WOOLLEY CLUB AT ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN.--CATHOLIC PRIEST
AND CIGARETTES.

CHAPTER XII.
WOMAN'S SUFFRAGE.

CHAPTER XIII.
ECHOES OF THE HATCHET.

CHAPTER XIV.
CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE.

CHAPTER XV.
SPIRITUAL AUTHORITY FOR MY CHRISTIAN WORK.

CHAPTER XVI.
IN NEBRASKA.--WHAT I DID WITH THE FIRST MONEY I GAVE TO THE LORD
AT CONEY ISLAND.--WHAT I SAID OF MR. MCKINLEY.--IN CALIFORNIA.
"CRIBS" AT LOS ANGELES.--ARREST IN SAN FRANCISCO--CONDEMNED BY
SOME MINISTERS.--WHISKEY AND TOBACCO ADVERTISEMENTS.

CHAPTER XVII.
MY VISIT TO WASHINGTON, D. D.--ARRESTED IN THE SENATE CHAMBER.--
TAKEN OUT BY OFFICERS.--THE VICES OF COLLEGES, ESPECIALLY YALE~
ROOSEVELT A DIVE-KEEPER.

CHAPTER XVIII.
PROHIBITION OR ABOLITION.--WHAT IT MEANS.--THE FREE METHODISTS AND
OTHER MINISTERS ENDORSE THE WORK.--A CATHOLIC PRIEST'S ENDORSEMENT.--
MODERN DEBORAH.--JOHN P. ST. JOHN.

CHAPTER XIX.
DR. MCFARLAND'S PROTEST.--KICKED AND KNOCKED DOWN BY CHAPMAN OF
BANGOR HOUSE.--MEDDLING WITH THE DEVIL.--TIMELY WARNING TO OUR
BOYS AND GIRLS.--BRUBAKER OF PEORIA.--WITCHCRAFT.--LAST TIME IN
JAIL.

CHAPTER XX.
WHY I WENT ON THE STAGE.--THE VICE OF TOBACCO.

CHAPTER XXI.
TRIP ON FALL RIVER STEAMBOAT, FROM BOSTON TO NEW YORK--OFFICERS TRIED
TO LOCK ME IN MY STATE ROOM.--SEQUEL SATISFACTORY, MADE PLEASANT
TRIP AND MANY FRIENDS.

CHAPTER XXII.
TRIP TO CANADA, CORDIAL RECEPTION.--RETURN TO CHICAGO TO FILL ENGAGEMENT.--
SECOND VISIT TO CANADA.--TRIP TO MARITIME PROVINCES.--VISIT
CLUB IN CHARLOTTE TOWN.--PREJUDICE AGAINST ME OWING TO MALICIOUS
REPORTS.--SPEAK IN PARLIAMENT IN FREDERICTON.--VISIT TO SIDNEY.--
SCOTT ACT.--MY ARREST AND RELEASE.--EPISODE IN JAIL.

CHAPTER XXIII.
COWARDLY ASSAULT BY SALOON KEEPER, G. R. NEIGHBORS OF ELIZABETHTOWN,
KY.--APATHY OF OFFICERS, BUT PEOPLE MUCH MOVED BY OUTRAGE,
LECTURED AFTERWARDS, THO' VERY FAINT AND WEAK FROM LOSS OF BLOOD.--
CIGARETTE SMOKING IN HIGH PLACES DISCUSSED WITH MISS GASTON,
PRESIDENT NATIONAL ANTI-CIGARETTE LEAGUE.

CHAPTER XXIV.
SISTER LUCY WILHOITE'S VISION.--WRITES TO ME FOR CO-OPERATION IN MAKING
RAID ON MAHAN'S WHOLESALE LIQUOR HOUSE.--HESITATE ON ACCOUNT
PRESSING ENGAGEMENTS AHEAD.--ANSWER THE CALL.--RAID SET
FOR 29TH.--W. C. T. U, CONVENTION IN SESSION.--FOUR SISTERS AND
MYSELF START FROM M. E. CHURCH.--A CALL FOR THE POLICE BEFORE WE
COULD EFFECT AN ENTRANCE.--TAKEN TO JAIL IN HOODLUM WAGON.--
UNHEALTHY CONDITION OF CELL~IN JAIL FROM FRIDAY TO MONDAY.--
GOOD OLD PENTECOSTAL TIME ON SUNDAY.--COUNTY JAIL MONDAY.--TRIAL
WEDNESDAY.--JAIL SENTENCE AND FINES.--APPEAL TO DISTRICT COURT.

CHAPTER XXV.
CLOSING REMARKS WITH PLANS FOR THE FUTURE.--PROHIBITION CLEARLY
DEFINED.

CHAPTER XXVI.
CARRY NATION CLOSES CRUSADE IN DAYTON, OHIO.--HOLDS THREE LARGELY
ATTENDED MEETINGS. --SPEAKS TO LARGE AUDIENCE IN ARMORY.--HAD
ENGAGED NATIONAL THEATRE, BUT INSPECTION OF AUDITORIUM INTERFERED.--
REVIEW WEEK'S WORK.

CHAPTER XXVII.
SKETCH BY WILL CARLETON, IN HIS MAGAZINE "EVERYWHERE."

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 d 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.
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