Then came a great decision—­not the first, not the last, but one of the most important that marked her long career.  Her education was by no means complete, and, at whatever cost, she would go to school.  That she had no money, that her clothes were shabby, that her mother needed her, made no difference; now or never she would realize her ambition.  She would do anything, however menial, if it was honest and would give her food while she continued her studies.  For one long day she walked the streets of Belvidere looking for a home.  Could any one use a young woman who wanted to work for her board?  Always the same reply.  Nightfall brought her to a farmhouse in the suburbs of the town.  She timidly knocked on the door.  “No, we do not need any one,” said the woman who greeted her, “but wait until I see my husband.”  The man of the house was very unwilling, but decided to give shelter for the night.  The next morning he thought differently about the matter, and a few days afterwards the young woman entered school.  The work was hard; fires had to be made, breakfasts on cold mornings had to be prepared, and sometimes the washing was heavy.  Naturally the time for lessons was frequently cut short or extended far into the night.  But the woman of the house was kind, and her daughter a helpful fellow-student.

The next summer came another season at school-teaching, and then the term at Rockford. 1862! a great year that in American history, one more famous for the defeat of the Union arms than for their success.  But in September came Antietam, and the heart of the North took courage.  Then with the new year came the Emancipation Proclamation.

The girls at Rockford, like the people everywhere, were interested in the tremendous events that were shaking the nation.  A new note of seriousness crept into their work.  Embroidery was laid aside; instead, socks were knit and bandages prepared.  On the night of January 1 a jubilee meeting was held in the town.

To Joanna P. Moore, however, the news of freedom brought a strange undertone of sadness.  She could not help thinking of the spiritual and intellectual condition of the millions now emancipated.  Strange that she should be possessed by this problem!  She had thought of work in China, or India, or even in Africa—­but of this, never!

In February a man who had been on Island No. 10 came to the Seminary and told the girls of the distress of the women and children there.  Cabins and tents were everywhere.  As many as three families, with eight or ten children each, cooked their food in the same pot on the same fire.  Sometimes the women were peevish or quarrelsome; always the children were dirty.  “What can a man do to help such a suffering mass of humanity?” asked the speaker.  “Nothing.  A woman is needed; nobody else will do.”  For the student listening so intently the cheery schoolrooms with their sweet associations faded; the vision of foreign missions also vanished; and in their stead stood only a pitiful black woman with a baby in her arms.