The vessel pointed fairly into the vast eastern sea.

The land became a dark, fast-thinning line on the western horizon, and then even that was swallowed up in the mist of rain.
"Well, good-by, old home, good-by thou goodly Land of Joseph," spoke Chester, half aloud, as he stood for one intense moment facing the west, then turned to go down into his room.

The rain must at last have reached him for his eyes were so blurred that he bumped rather abruptly into an elderly man who was standing at his elbow.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Chester.
"It was nothing, sir.

I, too, was just bidding farewell to the Land of Joseph, and I fear my sight was also rather dim." Chester paused and looked at the man who had heard and repeated his remark.

No one but a Latter-day Saint would call America the Land of Joseph.