"My father's family lived in a world of their own, there being ten girls with not more than four years' difference in their ages. Our father affectionately called us his 'big ten,' and nowhere on the earth could be found a happier, merrier set of children. We attended school and were instructed in music and dancing on our own premises. Our mothers taught us to respect each other's rights, as they always set the example by treating one another according to the golden rule. A person entering the room where we were assembled would be at a loss to tell which were the own children of the sisters present. We carried out the proverb--'Love thy neighbor as thyself,' literally. When the memorable exodus of 1858 took place, my mother was the first woman who left Salt Lake City. In company with another of my father's wives, Lucy B., (as she is called,) we started south. This was my first trip from home, it seemed like a pleasure trip to me and it was a matter of surprise that my dear mother and auntie were not as much delighted with the change as we children were; but the subsequent discomforts we were subjected to, and our lonely hours spent away from our dearly loved sisters caused many a heart pang and we began to realize something of the sacrifices made by our people when our enemies came and invaded our homes. My mother was the last of father's family to leave Provo, after the return of the people to their former homes. On our arrival, after a year's absence, father asked mother to take charge of four of his little ones whose mother was dead. She consented, and this event entirely changed my after life; from being the pet and only child I now had to share with these motherless children. It was a trial in many ways, but my precious mother taught me to be unselfish and thank God for all His blessings and not complain, and I am thankful to say, following her advice without once alluding to the fact that my mother was not their own. Thus it proved to be the best lesson of my life, and a great blessing. "My life flowed on in peaceful current, going to school, but going upon the stage when quite young greatly impaired my health. I married when eighteen. My husband, Thomas Williams, had been in my father's employ in his office, for several years; then in the Theatre, where I saw him frequently, but, as he was much older than I, it never occurred to me to fall in love with him. 'None knew him but to love him,' the bard wrote, which is true of my husband. I was his second wife, and here let me testify that in entering into the order of plural marriage, both my husband and myself did so from the purest and holiest motives. For six years I was his loving wife, bearing two sons, Sterling and Thomas Edgar. In July, 1873, my dear husband was called home. None but those who are called upon to pass through similar circumstances can know the sorrow and anguish it is to part from a loving, noble husband and father.