Nauvoo

This is the story of how came I to be the wife of Brigham Young. Oh, yes, not the only wife, you'll say, wisely and with a hidden wink, oh yes, only number twenty-seven, or twenty-five if you counted the living, but I was his wife, and will always be for Time and Eternity and no Gentile silliness will ever alter that. My father, William, a carpenter, always felt I was destined to be in the highest place, and with his dying breath urged me to carry on and marry well. Marry well, I did. We followed Joseph Smith from New York to Nauvoo. There my father stayed to finish the Temple after the Prophet was murdered. How he suffered to learn it had been burnt! To Iowa and then to Zion, we travelled, but only I arrived. Dear Father. How his skilled hands labored for the glory of the Kingdom of God. One day, I believe, we will see the Temple in Nauvoo raised again, in Glory. I am as certain of this as I am of anything in this world, or the next.