The Use and Need of the Life of Carrie A. Nation [101]
McFarland, but it was only
a bluff. Before this all night long there was loud talking and swearing
in the room under mine as if around a card table. After Dr. McFarland's
sermon I heard no more of it. There were several of these poor degraded
girls in jail. I knew of actions and words that were not decent between
the officers and these girls. This exposure of Dr. McFarland's was very
salutary. Before that, officers would come into my room without knocking
and address me in a rough manner. After this they knocked at the
door and were respectful and even kind. The Reverend Doctor did a
great work by that sermon which was to the point and effective.
I went to Bangor, Maine, to lecture once. Stopped at the Bangor
House, run by one Chapman. Roosevelt had stopped there just two
weeks before. I heard this hotel had one of those traps, called "dives."
When I went into the dining-room I asked a young lady waiting on me,
if she could get me a bottle of beer? She said they kept it and that she
would ask the head waiter to get it for me. She spoke to him. He left the
dining-room and in a few minutes the man Chapman came out of the
winding way to his dive; the proprietor rushed up to me in a drunken
rage. He threw me against one of the pillars, then literally knocked me
out into the hall in the presence of the guests, perhaps a hundred; then
he kept knocking me down every time I rose to my feet. He would not
allow me to get my things. I was invited to go home with a prohibitionist,
Dr. Marshall. This Chapman was a noted dive-keeper, a rummy, and
ran a representative rum-soaked republican hotel. He was angry, because
I dared to expose him, in his sneaking way of drugging and robbing
his guests. It was marvelous what rages these law-breakers used
to have when I came around at first. It is not so now. Their bands
have been smashed and they are not as bold; and more marvelous that
I was not seriously hurt.
Once in Nebraska City, Neb., I was knocked in the temple by a
saloon-keeper. I reeled and fell and while I knew he struck me with his
clenched fists as hard as he could, so it seemed to me, I did not have a
bruise.
I always prayed to God to take care of me, but to lead me into these
tumults to rouse the people to think and to talk.
THE BEGINNING OF THE GRAVEYARD ASSOCIATION OF MEDICINE LODGE.
I never saw anything that needed a rebuke, or exhortation, or warning,
but that I felt it was my place to meddle with it. I have been called a
"meddler". Yes I say: "It is my place to meddle with the devil's
business. Jesus meddled with the law-breakers in the temple."
I will give you a few facts to prove what I mean and hope it will
inspire my readers to do likewise. What injures one is the interest of
all. We are personally responsible for all wrong that we neglect to make
right, when it is in our power to do it. If anything injures my neighbor
it injures me. If my neighbor is blessed so am I.
I used to ride out north of Medicine Lodge past the graveyard. It
was situated on an elevated place, barren of trees, for trees could not
well grow where it was so dry. Grave-yards are not pleasant places at
best, but to see one barren of trees or flowers, just the graves, the white
marble, the sunshine, rain, and prairie grass, in sight of the pleasant
yards and homes of the living, I feel a sense of reproach, as if the dead
were complaining of this neglect. The only ground Abraham ever bought
was a piece of ground to bury his dead and it had trees on it. I wanted
to see a better condition of things. I knew this neglect was because no
one would make a move. I felt I was not the one, but I wrote an article
for the papers, "Index and Crescent", of Medicine Lodge, and I took it to
a widow, Mrs. Young, who had recently lost a husband who was very
dear to her. I told her she was the one to organize a grave-yard association.
That this letter would call the ladies together. After making a
few changes in the language she published the letter, and the ladies met,
organized, and in a few months
a bluff. Before this all night long there was loud talking and swearing
in the room under mine as if around a card table. After Dr. McFarland's
sermon I heard no more of it. There were several of these poor degraded
girls in jail. I knew of actions and words that were not decent between
the officers and these girls. This exposure of Dr. McFarland's was very
salutary. Before that, officers would come into my room without knocking
and address me in a rough manner. After this they knocked at the
door and were respectful and even kind. The Reverend Doctor did a
great work by that sermon which was to the point and effective.
I went to Bangor, Maine, to lecture once. Stopped at the Bangor
House, run by one Chapman. Roosevelt had stopped there just two
weeks before. I heard this hotel had one of those traps, called "dives."
When I went into the dining-room I asked a young lady waiting on me,
if she could get me a bottle of beer? She said they kept it and that she
would ask the head waiter to get it for me. She spoke to him. He left the
dining-room and in a few minutes the man Chapman came out of the
winding way to his dive; the proprietor rushed up to me in a drunken
rage. He threw me against one of the pillars, then literally knocked me
out into the hall in the presence of the guests, perhaps a hundred; then
he kept knocking me down every time I rose to my feet. He would not
allow me to get my things. I was invited to go home with a prohibitionist,
Dr. Marshall. This Chapman was a noted dive-keeper, a rummy, and
ran a representative rum-soaked republican hotel. He was angry, because
I dared to expose him, in his sneaking way of drugging and robbing
his guests. It was marvelous what rages these law-breakers used
to have when I came around at first. It is not so now. Their bands
have been smashed and they are not as bold; and more marvelous that
I was not seriously hurt.
Once in Nebraska City, Neb., I was knocked in the temple by a
saloon-keeper. I reeled and fell and while I knew he struck me with his
clenched fists as hard as he could, so it seemed to me, I did not have a
bruise.
I always prayed to God to take care of me, but to lead me into these
tumults to rouse the people to think and to talk.
THE BEGINNING OF THE GRAVEYARD ASSOCIATION OF MEDICINE LODGE.
I never saw anything that needed a rebuke, or exhortation, or warning,
but that I felt it was my place to meddle with it. I have been called a
"meddler". Yes I say: "It is my place to meddle with the devil's
business. Jesus meddled with the law-breakers in the temple."
I will give you a few facts to prove what I mean and hope it will
inspire my readers to do likewise. What injures one is the interest of
all. We are personally responsible for all wrong that we neglect to make
right, when it is in our power to do it. If anything injures my neighbor
it injures me. If my neighbor is blessed so am I.
I used to ride out north of Medicine Lodge past the graveyard. It
was situated on an elevated place, barren of trees, for trees could not
well grow where it was so dry. Grave-yards are not pleasant places at
best, but to see one barren of trees or flowers, just the graves, the white
marble, the sunshine, rain, and prairie grass, in sight of the pleasant
yards and homes of the living, I feel a sense of reproach, as if the dead
were complaining of this neglect. The only ground Abraham ever bought
was a piece of ground to bury his dead and it had trees on it. I wanted
to see a better condition of things. I knew this neglect was because no
one would make a move. I felt I was not the one, but I wrote an article
for the papers, "Index and Crescent", of Medicine Lodge, and I took it to
a widow, Mrs. Young, who had recently lost a husband who was very
dear to her. I told her she was the one to organize a grave-yard association.
That this letter would call the ladies together. After making a
few changes in the language she published the letter, and the ladies met,
organized, and in a few months