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Source: Church History Vol. 1 Chapter 7 Page: 121 (~1830)

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121 to have been worthy of all commendation and praise, and because her name has been traduced by those who should have been her friends, but against whose dishonorable acts her very existence was a living protest.

In her youth she gave her heart and hand to a poor, illiterate young man. By this act she invited the displeasure of her family. For a brief season they received her back, then turned from her again, and she accompanied her husband to the western wilds. They resided for a season in Ohio, then farther west we see her standing side by side with her companion while surrounded by a hostile foe. Again we behold her, as in tears and bitter anguish she sees her husband torn from her by a ruthless mob and dragged away to prison and prospective death. She is left in poverty and distress, and being no longer able to remain near her husband because of the cruel edict of an inhuman executive, she turns her face eastward and with her little children faces the pitiless winter storm. On foot she crosses the ice of the Father of Waters, her two youngest children in her arms, the other two clinging to her dress. Then in anguish and suspense she awaits tidings from her husband, whom she has left in a dungeon surrounded by cruel foes. If in all this she ever murmured or faltered in her devotion we know it not. At length he joins her and a brief season of repose is granted them, during which she sees her husband rise to eminence and distinction, and she, as she was commanded, delights in the glory that came upon him. But alas! this is only the calm before the storm. Again the heavy, cruel hand of persecution is upon them, and upon a calm summer day they bear to her home the mutilated body of her murdered husband. Thousands pass the bier, and look for the last time on the face of the honored dead. Then she gathers her children around that silent form, and looks upon those calm lips which had in time of trouble pronounced those words so full of pathos and love, "My beloved Emma-she that was my wife, even the wife of my youth, and the choice of my heart. . . . Again she is here, even in the seventh trouble-undaunted, firm, and unwavering-unchangeable, affectionate Emma;" and from her full heart cries, "My

(page 121)

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