He did not bring Mrs. Cunningham and the new baby girl, Tillie, born March 21, 1872, until the middle of May, 1872.

The first years were hard. As soon as the Indians smelled the bread baking, they came stomping to the dugout door. Mrs. Cunningham baked her own bread from yeast she made herself and when she baked she would save a "starter" for her next baking. Indians would say "Bread, bread." Mr. Cunningham said, "Mama, we'll bake some more." They had to bake on the pot-bellied stove they had brought from home. Mr. Cunningham soon made friends with the Indians. They would come and get his horses but always brought them back.

Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham named the little dugout church on the top of the hill, Maple Grove Church. Mr. Cunningham took his potbellied stove to keep it warm. They also built a school and it was called Maple Grove School and is so known to this day.

Mr. Cunningham loved the prairie dogs and prairie chicken. Indians told Mr. Cunningham, "No fraid! They good!" He took their word for the prairie chicken.

Mr. Cunningham took grain to Columbus to be ground into meal and flour. It was fifty miles away and took three or four days to make the trip. Hardships were many. Their first home in Nebraska was a covered wagon. They never did give up. They had faith, loving kindness, and togetherness where it never ended, "Trusting God." To this union were born five girls and one boy.

Today we have a Maple Grove 4-H Club on the top of the same dear old hill where Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham started the church and school ninety-five years ago.

Mrs. Cunningham died in 1921 and Mr. Cunningham in 1937--two dear old pioneers of the plains where only grass grew to a hilltop of love.

Written by Mrs. Elmer Volk,

Granddaughter.

Legendary Mollie Taylor -- but not just a legend -- real! The story of a saint if there ever was one in the human race. The exemplary life she led was that of a Christian -- one who daily read her Bible and could quote from it.

This writer remembers an incident which occurred at a funeral which will demonstrate her devotion to her Savior. Because at one time she had taught the young man, a soldier who gave his life in defense of his country in whose memory a memorial service was being held, Mill Mollie was asked if she cared to speak. When asked she arose from her place in the congregation and with unfaltering steps but with a heavy heart, I am sure, slowly walked down the aisle to stand before the bereaved family. She spoke in a low modified voice, as if speaking only to the bereaved, quoted scripture from memory to comfort her hearers. In only a few moments she delivered a sermon from the Bible which had

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