She set her firm little chin then, and travelled on.  Her clothes were much worn, and her skin was brown as a berry.  The horse plodded on with a dejected air.  He would have liked to stop at a number of places they passed, and remain for life, what there was left of it; but he obediently walked on over any kind of an old road that came in his way, and solaced himself with whatever kind of a bite the roadside afforded.  He was becoming a much-travelled horse.  He knew a threshing-machine by sight now, and considered it no more than a prairie bob-cat.

At one stopping-place a good woman advised Elizabeth to rest on Sundays.  She told her God didn’t like people to do the same on His day as on other days, and it would bring her bad luck if she kept up her incessant riding.  It was bad for the horse too.  So, the night being Saturday, Elizabeth remained with the woman over the Sabbath, and heard read aloud the fourteenth chapter of John.  It was a wonderful revelation to her.  She did not altogether understand it.  In fact, the Bible was an unknown book.  She had never known that it was different from other books.  She had heard it spoken of by her mother, but only as a book.  She did not know it was a book of books.

She carried the beautiful thoughts with her on the way, and pondered them.  She wished she might have the book.  She remembered the name of it, Bible, the Book of God.  Then God had written a book!  Some day she would try to find it and read it.

“Let not your heart be troubled”; so much of the message drifted into her lonesome, ignorant soul, and settled down to stay.  She said it over nights when she found a shelter in some unpleasant place or days when the road was rough or a storm came up and she was compelled to seek shelter by the roadside under a haystack or in a friendly but deserted shack.  She thought of it the day there was no shelter and she was drenched to the skin.  She wondered afterward when the sun came out and dried her nicely whether God had really been speaking the words to her troubled heart, “Let not your heart be troubled.”

Every night and every morning she said “Our Father” twice, once for herself and once for the friend who had gone out into the world, it seemed about a hundred years ago.

But one day she came across a railroad track.  It made her heart beat wildly.  It seemed now that she must be almost there.  Railroads were things belonging to the East and civilization.  But the way was lonely still for days, and then she crossed more railroads, becoming more and more frequent, and came into the line of towns that stretched along beside the snake-like tracks.

She fell into the habit of staying overnight in a town, and then riding on to the next in the morning; but now her clothes were becoming so dirty and ragged that she felt ashamed to go to nice-looking places lest they should turn her out; so she sought shelter in barns and small, mean houses.  But the people in these houses were distressingly dirty, and she found no place to wash.