It would be strange indeed, if after the life and labors of Brigham Young, a work of this character should appear, lacking the name and record of his descendants. The sons of noble men have greater opportunities of adding lustre to their father's name by reason of the advantages which sons possess over daughters; yet among our people, women have their acknowledged province in which they may distinguish themselves, in which their position is not borrowed from the other sex, or an infringement upon them; and yet may adorn the memory of even Brigham Young. Such a daughter is Zina Y. Williams, the original of this sketch. Born in plural or celestial marriage, and with an understanding of this condition, as much as any young girl can possess, a wife in the same order of marriage. Some have said, "Let us see the workings of this system, let us see how the next generation will receive it." The time has come when they can see, and learn that those who understand it best fear it least. The words of the daughter herself, it seems to me, should go farther in effect than mine could for her. Here is a true picture in the home life of the earliest advocates of that ancient principle, restored through Joseph Smith, the prophet. I have known Mrs. Williams beneath her father's roof and in her own married home, intimately, for eighteen years, and knew the union and love of the band of sisters. "I was born April 3rd, 1850, in Salt Lake City. My mother, Zina H. Young, was made glad by my presence, her only daughter. My father, President Brigham Young, made me welcome; though he was the father of many others he was as much pleased as many men are over their only girl. My childhood was clouded with sickness, and one of my earliest recollections is of my loving mother holding me in her arms, singing a sweet song; with the moonlight streaming over me and gazing out upon the full moon I sank to sleep, soothed from suffering by her magic care. I was the pet of my two brothers and of all my mother's friends. I knew nothing of want or care till the year of famine, (1856) which gave me a faint idea of what want was. (All through the Territory families were on short rations.)