"She was named Prescendia Celestia, and was rightly named Celestia, for she was more like a celestial being than a mortal one. President Young once asked her name; quick as thought, he said, _'Celestial Prescendia.'_ Coming here as the Saints did provided with only the barest necessities, there was much privation to contend against. The families of Brigham and Heber shared in these respects equally with the others. When Sister Prescendia's babe was quite small, she had to put up an umbrella over them in bed to protect them from the rain. Sister Prescendia was patient and thanked her Father in heaven that he had permitted her to gather to the Rocky Mountains, and also that she had been permitted to become a mother under the new and everlasting covenant of marriage." Nothing could be more affecting than her story of the loss of this lovely child. She dressed her for a visit, and gave her in charge of her brother, while she finished her preparations. He took her to the family of President Young, and as they were seated at table, each gave her a kiss, admiring her beauty, President Young last. "Returning to the mother, he sat her down a moment to cut a willow from the water's edge, and turning to her--she was gone. The sweet face, that going out smiled such a tender good-bye, was brought in cold in death. Vilate, the first wife of Heber, said, "The flower of the flock is gone." Years have passed since then, but the beauty of that little face is undimmed in her mother's memory." Sister Prescendia was for fifteen years secretary of the Sixteenth Ward Relief Society. Sister Prescendia's labors have been in the House of the Lord, and annointing and administering to the sick. Hundreds have asked for her presence at their bedside--the name, Prescendia--has been almost like that sweet word, _mother_. I reflect upon the lonely, trial path that she has trod, the wounds her heart has borne; and listening to the tender pathos of her voice, the sublimity of her words; the nobility of her life commanding my love and reverence. If I could choose the picture which should be historical, it should be as I have seen her; standing, her grand figure becomingly wrapped in a large, circular cloak, a handsome, large black bonnet shielding her venerable and beloved face from the falling flakes of snow. Looking upon her I thought her the very picture of a Puritan exile, a revolutionary ancestress, and a Latter-Day Saint veteran and pioneer. I shall always remember her thus, it is an ineffaceable picture in my memory. Since writing the above, the following appears in the _Deseret News_ of September 11th: "MANIFESTATION OF RESPECT.