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 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.
Pages:
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300