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And
now
my
argument
becomes
plain
.
The
spirit
is
the
reality
that
endures
.
I
am
spirit
,
and
I
endure
.
I
,
Darrell
Standing
,
the
tenant
of
many
fleshly
tenements
,
shall
write
a
few
more
lines
of
these
memoirs
and
then
pass
on
my
way
The
form
of
me
that
is
my
body
will
fall
apart
when
it
has
been
sufficiently
hanged
by
the
neck
,
and
of
it
naught
will
remain
in
all
the
world
of
matter
.
In
the
world
of
spirit
the
memory
of
it
will
remain
.
Matter
has
no
memory
,
because
its
forms
are
evanescent
,
and
what
is
engraved
on
its
forms
perishes
with
the
forms
.
One
word
more
ere
I
return
to
my
narrative
.
In
all
my
journeys
through
the
dark
into
other
lives
that
have
been
mine
I
have
never
been
able
to
guide
any
journey
to
a
particular
destination
.
Thus
many
new
experiences
of
old
lives
were
mine
before
ever
I
chanced
to
return
to
the
boy
Jesse
at
Nephi
.
Possibly
,
all
told
,
I
have
lived
over
Jesse
's
experiences
a
score
of
times
,
sometimes
taking
up
his
career
when
he
was
quite
small
in
the
Arkansas
settlements
,
and
at
least
a
dozen
times
carrying
on
past
the
point
where
I
left
him
at
Nephi
.
It
were
a
waste
of
time
to
detail
the
whole
of
it
;
and
so
,
without
prejudice
to
the
verity
of
my
account
,
I
shall
skip
much
that
is
vague
and
tortuous
and
repetitional
,
and
give
the
facts
as
I
have
assembled
them
out
of
the
various
times
,
in
whole
and
part
,
as
I
relived
them
.
Long
before
daylight
the
camp
at
Nephi
was
astir
.
The
cattle
were
driven
out
to
water
and
pasture
.
While
the
men
unchained
the
wheels
and
drew
the
wagons
apart
and
clear
for
yoking
in
,
the
women
cooked
forty
breakfasts
over
forty
fires
.
The
children
,
in
the
chill
of
dawn
,
clustered
about
the
fires
,
sharing
places
,
here
and
there
,
with
the
last
relief
of
the
night-watch
waiting
sleepily
for
coffee
.
It
requires
time
to
get
a
large
train
such
as
ours
under
way
,
for
its
speed
is
the
speed
of
the
slowest
.
So
the
sun
was
an
hour
high
and
the
day
was
already
uncomfortably
hot
when
we
rolled
out
of
Nephi
and
on
into
the
sandy
barrens
.
No
inhabitant
of
the
place
saw
us
off
.
All
chose
to
remain
indoors
,
thus
making
our
departure
as
ominous
as
they
had
made
our
arrival
the
night
before
.
Again
it
was
long
hours
of
parching
heat
and
biting
dust
,
sage-brush
and
sand
,
and
a
land
accursed
.
No
dwellings
of
men
,
neither
cattle
nor
fences
,
nor
any
sign
of
human
kind
,
did
we
encounter
all
that
day
;
and
at
night
we
made
our
wagon-circle
beside
an
empty
stream
,
in
the
damp
sand
of
which
we
dug
many
holes
that
filled
slowly
with
water
seepage
.
Our
subsequent
journey
is
always
a
broken
experience
to
me
.
We
made
camp
so
many
times
,
always
with
the
wagons
drawn
in
circle
,
that
to
my
child
mind
a
weary
long
time
passed
after
Nephi
.
But
always
,
strong
upon
all
of
us
,
was
that
sense
of
drifting
to
an
impending
and
certain
doom
.
We
averaged
about
fifteen
miles
a
day
.
I
know
,
for
my
father
had
said
it
was
sixty
miles
to
Fillmore
,
the
next
Mormon
settlement
,
and
we
made
three
camps
on
the
way
.
This
meant
four
days
of
travel
.
From
Nephi
to
the
last
camp
of
which
I
have
any
memory
we
must
have
taken
two
weeks
or
a
little
less
.
At
Fillmore
the
inhabitants
were
hostile
,
as
all
had
been
since
Salt
Lake
.
They
laughed
at
us
when
we
tried
to
buy
food
,
and
were
not
above
taunting
us
with
being
Missourians
.
When
we
entered
the
place
,
hitched
before
the
largest
house
of
the
dozen
houses
that
composed
the
settlement
were
two
saddle-horses
,
dusty
,
streaked
with
sweat
,
and
drooping
.
The
old
man
I
have
mentioned
,
the
one
with
long
,
sunburnt
hair
and
buckskin
shirt
and
who
seemed
a
sort
of
aide
or
lieutenant
to
father
,
rode
close
to
our
wagon
and
indicated
the
jaded
saddle-animals
with
a
cock
of
his
head
.
