Mrs. Wells, the editor, like many prominent Mormon women previously mentioned, is of Puritan descent, being a native of New England, and of pure English extraction. Her family name was Woodward, and she was born in Petersham, Mass., February 29, 1828. At an early age she began to manifest a penchant for literature, and while in her teens produced many literary fragments that, as if by manifest destiny, pointed in the direction of her present profession. In 1842 she was baptized into the Mormon Church. It is needless to say that this was a cause of mortification to her many associates and friends, and especially so to a select few, whose appreciative kindness had pictured a glowing future for the young litterateur. Her mother, who was also a convert to the Mormon faith, fearing that the persuasions of friends might lead her into error, sent her to Nauvoo, in the spring of 1844, that she might be away from their influence. The people to whom her mother confided her, apostatized shortly after her arrival, but Emeline remained steadfast. Some time thereafter she became a plural wife. In the exodus, her mother, who had joined her the year before, succumbed under the accumulation of hardships that the saints had then to undergo, and, dying, joined the immortal company of martyrs who fell in those days of trial. At winter quarters she was engaged in teaching, until her journey to the valley in 1848. Here, since the organization of relief societies, and more especially since the women of Utah obtained the right of suffrage, she has employed a large portion of her time in public labors, for the benefit and elevation of woman. In addition to her present editorial duties, she fills the responsible position of president of the organization that, since November, 1876, has been engaged in storing up grain against a day of famine. Under the energetic management of this organization, vast quantities of grain have been stored in the various wards and settlements of Utah. Sister Emeline is also a poetess of no little merit. As a set-off to the popular idea that the Mormon women in polygamy have no sentiment towards their husbands, the following exquisite production, from her pen, entitled "The Wife to her Husband," is offered: It seems to me that should I die, And this poor body cold and lifeless lie, And thou shouldst touch my lips with thy warm breath, The life-blood quicken'd in each sep'rate vein, Would wildly, madly rushing back again, Bring the glad spirit from the isle of death. It seems to me that were I dead, And thou in sympathy shouldst o'er me shed Some tears of sorrow, or of sad regret, That every pearly drop that fell in grief, Would bud, or blossom, bursting into leaf, To prove immortal love could not forget.