I WAS now expecting soon to be called upon to undergo the most fearful ordeal that any woman can possibly be required to pass through-that of giving my husband another wife. The thought of doing this was even worse than death. It would have been fearful to have followed my husband to his grave; but to live and see him the husband of another woman seemed to me like exacting more than human nature was capable of enduring. With all my faith in Mormonism, doubts would arise, and in my bitterest moments of anguish I would exclaim, "This is more like the work of cruel man than of God. Why should man have this power over woman, and she so helpless? Surely, a just and impartial God can have nothing to do with this!" Then, again, I would come to the conclusion, as I had many times before, that " the ways of the Lord are past finding out," and, therefore, I must submit.

As the time approached for me to do this, I felt like a condemned felon in his cell, waiting in agony the day of his execution. I knew that my husband suffered also, now that it was so near; for he necessarily saw that it would make a great change in his future life. His freedom was gone.

. . .

There was a darkness before my eyes, and, struggle as I might, I could see no ray of light, no glimmering of hope. I was utterly cast down and broken- hearted, and felt almost as if the Lord had forsaken me. I could not go to my husband for sympathy; for I felt that his thoughts were with his young bride, and that my sorrows would only worry him at a time when he must desire to be at peace.

. . .

During the remainder of that day, how I watched their looks and noted their every word. To me, their tender tones were like daggers, piercing me to the heart. One moment I yearned for my husband's undivided love; the next moment I hated even the very sight of him, and vowed that he never again should have a place in my heart. Then I would feel that there was no justice in heaven, or this great sorrow would not have come upon me.