"In August Sister Eliza visited Sanpete Co., and in Thistle Valley assisted the Bishop in organizing a Relief Society, with an Indian sister as a counselor; the first Indian woman ordained and set apart to an office in this dispensation. November 8th, Sister Eliza accompanied by Sister Zina D. Young, left home for St. George to do a work in the Temple. They traveled over one thousand miles in carriages and wagons, doing missionary work among the Saints. In St. George the anniversary of Sister Eliza's birthday was publicly celebrated, and on the same day the people of Weber Stake paid a delicate tribute to the honorable lady by a similar celebration at Ogden City. "Sisters Eliza and Zina returned from St. George March 31st, and were met at the depot by a party of thirty ladies who escorted them to the Lion House, where a reception, a welcome home, awaited them. In 1881, during the intervals of her many public duties, she prepared her new book Bible Questions and Answers. In September, visited Thistle Valley, organizing a Primary Association with ten little Indian children enrolled as members. April 1883, the Relief Society was organized among the Indians at Washakie, an Indian village in Box Elder Co. After duly considering the long-felt necessity among our own people of an institution for the sick and injured, where the ordinances of faith might be administered freely and without restraint, in fact, one that we might term our own, and as one of the links in our system of organizations, the sisters took a course that led to the establishment of the Deseret Hospital, at which institution the dedication services were held, July 17th, 1882, by the First Presidency, Stake Presidency, Apostles Wilford Woodruff and F. D. Richards; Mayor William Jennings, C. W. Penrose, Editor _Deseret News_, L. John Nuttall and Joseph Horne being present. Eliza R. S. Smith, President, E. B. Wells, Secretary." I will conclude this brief sketch with one of her latest poems: BURY ME QUIETLY WHEN I DIE. When my spirit ascends to the world above, To smile with the choirs in celestial love, Let the finger of silence control the bell, To restrain the chime of a funeral knell, Let no mourning strain--not a sound be heard, By which a pulse of the heart is stirred-- No note of sorrow to prompt a sigh; Bury me quietly when I die. I am aiming to earn a celestial crown-- To merit a heavenly; pure renown; And, whether in grave or in tomb I'm laid, Beneath the tall oak or the cypress shade; Whether at home with dear friends around; Or in distant lands upon stranger ground-- Under wintry clouds or a summer sky; Bury me quietly when I die.