After I had lost my arm, in coming back from Mexico, while I was still feeble, when crossing the New Mexico desert, the Navajos were unfriendly. At Captain Toms Wash, they started in to rob us. A big buck, after making an inflammatory speech, sprang upon the wagon hub, caught hold of a sack of provisions to lift it from the wagon. As quick as a flash, Tamar struck him across the nose with a stick of wood. The blood spurted from both nostrils, and the brave, dropping the sack, got off the wheel quicker than he got on. For a moment my heart ceased to beat, for I expected trouble; but the warriors who witnessed the act, roared with laughter, and I soon saw that they were amused at the defeat, by a "squaw," of their windy-mouthed captain. But it was in the home circle where she shone with the greatest brilliancy; not with a meteoric flare, rather with the continual glow of the summer's sunshine. Perhaps the darkest hour of my life was when I lost my arm, and fell penniless among strangers. But Tamar with a smiling face, nursed the mutilated man, and at the same time whirled the wheel of the washing machine; thus winning the bread that kept the breath of life in us. Tamar calmly and bravely met the responsibilities of married life, grateful for the gift of motherhood, and willing to sacrifice her own life, if need were, in order to give life to others. She believed and practiced the principle that "it is more blessed to give than to receive." I never was so weary or discouraged that her words would not rest and cheer me. She being younger than I by fifteen years, I fondly anticipated that my last hours would be comforted by her ministration. I often hear the remark that "we never miss the water till the well goes dry," and that "we do not appreciate the loved ones until they are taken from us." Possibly I did not fully value the wealth I possessed in my family, but I always said--and it came from my heart--that God had blessed me with noble wives; that I became a better man through obeying the principle of plural marriage than I ever should have been without it. Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, and no other principle taught by him would have done as much for the uplift of the human family, on the plane of purity and righteousness. The men and women who practiced that principle were not sensual sinners, but they were strong, clean souls, willing to suffer, and die if need were, for the right as they saw the right.