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 all was changed. One will rarely find a more attractive resting place for our beloved dead than in the cemetery of Medicine Lodge. I could not have effected what Mrs. Young did, but there are more ways of doing things than one, and when people say: "I can never carry out any plans", I know they have not tact or perseverance. MEDDLING WITH THE DEVIL. A friend who lived a few miles in the country came to my house in Medicine Lodge, threw her arms around my neck and said: "Oh, Sister Nation, Matt has gone to Wichita for a bad purpose. I am almost wild; can't you help me? She is in love with Will, and he does not care for her but he has gotten her into trouble and does not intend to marry her." She told me that Will wrote her a note to go to the Goodyear Hotel. I wrote to Matt and told her if she became the murderer of her child that a fearful judgement was in store for her. I also wrote to Will and told him to marry Matt or I would expose him. Will's father got the letter, as it was directed to Medicine Lodge. His father came down to see me, weeping as if his heart would break; told me of the trouble this boy had given him; said that he was preparing to marry another girl and could not marry Matt; but that he had forwarded the letter to Will, as he had gone to Wichita. Will and Matt got their letters at the same time and were filled with terror. Both came back to Medicine Lodge and in a few months poor Matt was the mother of a little girl. Her mother, sent for me. I stayed until the little angel died. From the time Matt looked on the face of the little one she loved it with all the intensity of a true mother and grieved so when it died. In a few hours I went to the grave-yard With the little coffin. This Will or his father never spoke to me again. He married the other girl. In a few years father and son were both killed.