We were now arrived at the close of our solitary journeyings along the St. Joseph's trail.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Without the Sisters of St. Joseph, I might not be standing here.
I leave from where the apostle arrived.
We were living in the Slad Road when my father left us. I was about three.
We left Dayton, September 23, and arrived at our camp at Kill Devil Hill on Friday, the 25th.
I had been on the road for a long time and was not really getting anywhere. Bob Johnston, a friend of mine, had taken over Columbia in Nashville. He asked me if I wanted to come down. I did - thank God I did.
Then my mother was taken ill and died and my father took me to St. Mary's.
It was becoming clear that, from being at the top at Holy Cross, we were at the bottom at St. Peter's. Objectively, this was very good, for it offered us a challenge and an opportunity to grow if we were ready to take it; and we surely were.
Over the years, I found myself traveling parts of the Lewis and Clark Trail, putting my hands in the river where they set out from St. Louis, viewing the Great Falls of Montana, standing by the same Pacific Ocean they saw with such joy.
I was born at St. John's, where they lived for a short time.
We were now, as I before mentioned, upon this St. Joseph's trail. It was evident, by the traces, that large parties were a few days in advance of us; and as we too supposed them to be Mormons, we had some apprehension of interruption.