Bro.  Wesley Cain had charge of that church and this man and his wife were a tower of strength to me.  What this man and wife did for the people of Medicine Lodge will receive approbation on “That Day,” at the resurrection of the just.

Mrs. Cain was local president of the W. C. T. U. and she was at her post; was self-sacrificing, and had such a sympathizing heart.  The poor never applied to Bro.  Cain and his noble wife in vain.  I have much to thank them for.

I was Jail Evangelist at this time for the W. C. T. U. and I learned that almost everyone who was in jail was directly or indirectly there from the influence of intoxicating drinks.  I began to ask why should we have the result of the saloon, when Kansas was a prohibition state, and the constitution made it a crime to manufacture, barter, sell or give away intoxicating drinks?  When I went to Medicine Lodge there were seven dives where drinks were sold.  I will give some reasons why they were removed.  I began to harass these dive-keepers, although they were not as much to blame as the city officials who allowed them to run.  Mart Strong was a noted joint-keeper.  He and his son, Frank, were both bad drinking characters, and would sell it every chance they got.  Mart had a dive and I was in several times to talk to him, and he would try to flatter me and turn things into a joke.  When he saw I did not listen to such talk, treated me very rude.  One Saturday I saw quite a number of men into his place, and I went in also.  Saloons in Kansas generally have a front room to enter as a precaution, then a back room where the bar is.  I didn’t get farther than the front, for Mart came hastily, taking me by the shoulders and said:  “Get out of here, you crazy woman.”  I was singing this song: 

 Who hath sorrow?  Who hath Woe? 
 They who dare not answer no;
 They whose feet to sin incline,
 While they tarry at the wine.

Chorus: 

 They who tarry at the wine cup
 They who tarry at the wine cup. 
 They who tarry at the wine cup.

 Who hath babblings, who hath strife? 
 He who leads a drunkard’s life;
 He whose loved ones weep and pine,
 While he tarries at the wine.

 Who hath wounds without a cause? 
 He who breaks God’s holy laws;
 He who scorns the Lord divine,
 While he tarries at the wine.

 Who hath redness at the eyes? 
 Who brings poverty and sighs? 
 Unto homes almost divine,
 While he tarries at the wine?

 Touch not, taste not, handle not: 
 Drink will make the dark, dark blot,
 Like an adder it will sting,
 And at last to ruin bring,
 They who tarry at the drink.”

I continued to sing this, with tears running down my face.  When I finished the song there was a great crowd; some of the men had tears in their eyes as well.  James Gano, the constable, was standing near the door and said:  “I wish I could take you off the streets.”  I said:  “Yes, you want to take me, a woman, whose heart is breaking to see the ruin of these men, the desolate homes and broken laws, and you a constable, oath-bound to close his man’s unlawful business.”