During the absence of the committee on resolutions, the following speech was delivered by Bathsheba W. Smith: "_Beloved Sisters and Friends_: It is with no ordinary feelings that I meet with you on the present occasion. From my early youth I have been identified with the Latter-day Saints; hence, I have been an eye and ear witness to many of the wrongs that have been inflicted upon our people by a spirit of intolerant persecution. "I watched by the bedside of the first apostle, David W. Patten, who fell a martyr in the Church. He was a noble soul. He was shot by a mob while defending the saints in the State of Missouri. As Brother Patten's life-blood oozed away, I stood by and heard his dying testimony to the truth of our holy religion--declaring himself to be a friend to all mankind. His last words, addressed to his wife, were: 'Whatever you do, oh! do not deny the faith.' This circumstance made a lasting impression on my youthful mind. "I was intimately acquainted with the life and ministry of our beloved prophet Joseph, and our patriarch Hyrum Smith.. I know that they were pure men, who labored for the redemption of the human family. For six years I heard their public and private teachings. It was from their lips that I heard taught the principle of celestial marriage; and when I saw their mangled forms cold in death, having been slain for the testimony of Jesus, by the hands of cruel bigots, in defiance of law, justice and executive pledges; and although this was a scene of barbarous cruelty, which can never be erased from the memory of those who witnessed the heartrending cries of widows and orphans, and mingled their tears with those of thousands of witnesses of the mournful occasion--the memories of which I hardly feel willing to awaken--yet I realized that they had sealed their ministry with their blood, and that their testimony was in force. "On the 9th day of February, 1846--the middle of a cold and bleak winter--my husband, just rising from a bed of sickness, and I, in company with thousands of saints, were driven again from our comfortable home--the accumulation of six years' industry and prudence--and, with the little children, commenced a long and weary journey through a wilderness, to seek another home; for a wicked mob had decreed we must leave. Governor Ford, of Illinois, said the laws were powerless to protect us. Exposed to the cold of winter and the storms of spring, we continued our journey, amid want and exposure, burying by the wayside a dead mother, a son, and many kind friends and relatives.