Dear Mother, how I thank you for having taught us children a great devotion to the Mother of God. Such an inheritance from parents is worth more than gold or silver.
Today we will have no writing. The Blessed Mother has appeared to me and told me to become a missionary.
I was John Neumann’s subject but was more like a son who needed help. In every respect he was a remarkable father to me.
Baltimore is one of the loveliest and most beautiful cities in all of North America.
If these riots continue, I may even have the privilege of becoming a martyr—a wonderful way to go to heaven.
According to people, I am a thorough saint. In reality, I am a thorough scoundrel.
If the Church should ever decide to celebrate the feast of a rude rascal, [Secretary of War] Stanton would easily qualify—even with an octave.
I love the work of the missions more than all other labors; it is a complete apostolic employment in the Lord’s vineyard.
If the Americans were as expert in spiritual matters as they are in business affairs, all of them would be saints.
I have made the rounds of all the houses in the province. Only New Orleans yet remains. I have come here to pass the rest of my days and find a lasting resting place at Saint Mary’s. I feel I have traveled enough. I shall never leave New Orleans.
So the doctor says I am to die! Oh, what pleasant news! How thankful I am! And to you, doctor, how much I have to return thanks for your kindness and attention to me.
I never thought it was so sweet to die in the Congregation. I now begin to know what happiness it is to live and die a Redemptorist. Oh, let us love our vocation and strive to persevere in it! Then everything will be all right with us.