It was in this condition that, one day in the late winter I had been out from early in the morning, walking the streets in quest of some honest employment that I might keep body and soul together. My clothing was very thin; my feet nearly bare. I arrived home about nine o'clock in the evening, tired and disappointed from the day's unsuccessful effort, as I had done many other nights. Had I been successful, it would have helped the woman I was with just as much as it would have helped me, and it would only be natural to think that she would have been very anxious to know about the day's result. But, quite to the contrary, when I arrived home this particular evening the doors were all locked against me, and by a woman who pleased to call herself Protestant. And I wish it plainly understood that this was not a warm summer night, but just the opposite, a cold, dark, wintry night in the latter part of February. Could anyone blame me for believing the terrible stories I had heard about Protestant people while I was in the convent?
I made my presence known by knocking on the door, but this lady who was comfortably warm in her bed did not condescend to stir herself to admit me. I found a window which was not locked and I entered by climbing through it. When she saw that I was inside she asked, "How did you get in?" Indeed, I will never forget that question. Imagine, if you can, the feeling I had. There were six vacant beds in the house that night, but with the unwelcome feeling which was implied by her actions and talk, I did not retire, but laid on the sofa in the clothes I had worn during the day, as I did for several nights to follow. Shame, shame on such Protestant people! To my sorrow I have found many who have the same spirit that this lady had. She evidently did not care what became of me. If she did not want me there, why did she not tell me? No, she would rather break what little spirits I had remaining.
In the meantime, I had made the acquaintance of two real Protestant people, Mr. and Mrs. E. U. Morrison. I went to Mrs. Morrison the following morning and told her about the above incident. She told me that I did not have to endure this kind of treatment, and that, if I wished, I could move to her home, and that as long as she had a crust of bread it would be shared with me. I accepted her very kind offer, and moved a few days later, March 1st. From that day till now, they have been the Good Samaritan to me, always the same in all kindness and Christian spirit. All I am, all I have today, I owe it, to a certain extent, to these good people, Mr. and Mrs. Morrison. "For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick, and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto me." Matt. 25:35, 36.
In all my trouble and sorrow of moving, and settling with the sisters, there were many instances which I now look upon with much amusement. I remember about the first thing that happened when I arrived at Mrs. Morrison's home. She came to my room and asked me if I wanted "to eat with the family or eat by myself or how I wanted to eat." There were several men there, and I had never eaten with a man, except once when I was with Mrs. Kearney in Spokane, since I left my home in 1881. I thought for a moment and then I told Mrs. Morrison that I was not accustomed to eating with men, but that I would try it. It was a very peculiar feeling that came over me the first time I sat at the table with them, but I soon became acquainted and felt very much at home. When I would go to the dining-room, I would very often say, "Well, I used to go to mass, now I go to mess."
As the days and weeks passed by, I more and more realized that the great hand of God was directing me in all my movements. Even though my short experience out of the shadow of the convent cross had not been a success, so to speak, yet it was preparing me for the days to follow. God was very good to me, and my sentiments cannot be better expressed than my repeating that wonderful twenty-third Psalm: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the path of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
I visited a great many Protestant ministers, asking them to explain different parts of the Bible to me, and they all received me and treated me very courteously. I started studying God's Word as revealed by Christ in the New Testament, and the more I read and studied, the more I became convinced that the religion I had been living all my life was not the religion of a Christ "crucified, dead and buried" for the salvation of poor, fallen mankind.
The Scriptures are replete with teachings that conflict with the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church, which are traditional and a great many of them are taken from religions other than Christianity.
"And call no man your father upon the earth: for one is your Father, which is in heaven." Matt. 23:9.
"We have one Father, even God." John 8:41.
These, and many more verses of the like, show conclusively that it was never intended that the priests of the church of Rome should be called "father," for God is our spiritual Father, and the Good Book does not lie.