go Life of The 



ears of the ripened grain, and storing them away in 

 the granaries of heaven. 



He heeded not the toil nor the labour. The 

 glory of God and the salvation of souls urged him 

 onward, and for these great ends "he travelled by 

 day and by night, in the wintery cold and under 

 the scorching rays of the summer's sun, exposed to 

 the dangers of the swollen river, of the storms and 

 of the rain, and cheerfully partook of the humblest 

 fare, glad to repose his wearied frame upon the 

 floor of the poor man's hut." And as an instance 

 of how faithfully he discharged every duty belonging 

 to his ministry, I may observe, that during the last 

 winter of his life he said mass every morning in the 

 Convent for the Sisters of Mercy; and no matter 

 how pleasant or unpleasant it might be, the hour of 

 five o'clock found him at the altar offering up the 

 holy sacrifice. 



He was, without being rash, a naturally 

 courageous, even a fearless man. After the destruc- 

 tion of the Convent at Charlestown by a band of 

 midnight incendiaries, mobs became the order of 

 the day; even New York was threatened with their 

 pious efforts to demolish popish temples — with a 

 repetition of scenes that have stained the escutcheon 

 of Massachusetts forever; and while one of these 

 popular gatherings was tossed and heaving like an 

 angry sea beneath the windows of his residence, 

 preparing to destroy the church opposite to him, he 

 was seated in his study, writing his charity sermon 

 to be delivered for the benefit of the Eastern Dis- 



