Zion

The stranger, whose name is Albert Bierstadt, saw to my protection in that wild Union fort filled with devils, and was pleased to see me on my way with a passing train of well-set-up emigrants to Zion. I was able to rest and walk alternately, they being well provided with wagons. We encountered no other difficulties than the usual ones of the road, and were not harassed by soldiers nor Indians nor Gentiles. Arriving through the last, difficult defile, Emigrant's Canyon, I walked with bare head so that I could see Zion and I repeated my father's name, William Ferguson, with prayer, sorrow and rejoicing. There, at the head of the defile, was a party of mounted men, with their leader seated upon a tall grey. With the sun in my eyes, and in my astonishment, I believed I beheld Joseph Smith, our beloved Prophet! When I recovered from my joy and astonishment, while others held me and bathed my face in cool water, I was told that it was not Joseph, after all, but Brigham Young, come to meet us, and me in particular. He inquired kindly about my wounded hands, and said kind words about Father, followed by a Blessing for us all. I was filled with a curious excitement and happiness, not only about our arrival in Zion, but was filled with a rising and certain conviction that this was the man I was going to marry: Brigham Young.