February l0, 1886
My Very Dear Friend:

At last!-and it was a long, weary waiting the 'at last'--your letter of 5th inst. came and brought me-as your letters always especially bring me far more than is expressed in the commonplace word-pleasure; but I was robbed of much of my delight when I read the brief words of good M. that you were suffering.

Before I began to write this I said the mysteries of the Five Sorrows for you. To some of us physical suffering is harder to bear than mental sorrow; for physical sufferings have an element of coarseness in them. I differ from most when I assert my opinion that the bodily sufferings of our Lord, from the first brutal blow on His cheek on to the last and the end, were more poignant to His soul than its own inner sorrow; and deep theology stands by me, for it is by the bruised body, broken heart, and shed blood we have redemption, and not by the inner spiritual trials of His soul; and the very incarnation truth is very singularly expressed by the phrase: 'The Word was made Flesh'; the very lowest expression-and not by the phrase:' The Word was made man.' These strange shadings of inspired expressions are too frequently overlooked.

I think that all high and high-strung natures suffer more from bodily pains than from mental pangs. Bodily pains and illnesses are lower, coarser, and more vulgar, and hence more abhorrent; yet at the same time, those who most abhorrently endure fleshy ills also suffer most intensely from soul troubles. The unequal distribution of bodily and mental sufferings in this world is a mystery!

Some spiritual writers, not seldom, make general propositions in regard to this question of suffering, which cannot stand the test of true theological criticism. Too many theologians, in giving forth general propositions, forget individuality, temperament, and other special characteristics of body and mind, which constitute one's identity, and differentiate that one from every one else. Resemblance of face with face, of body with body, means very little. Likeness of mind to mind, of soul to soul, means more than many philosophers have dreamed or ever discovered.

The last letter I received from you came from Reading, in November, I think. Since then, gypsy-like, I betook myself to Cincinnati, to Wilmington, to Chillicothe, back to Reading, and thence back to this place.

If you wrote, your letters are lost messengers; and, indeed, I would rather you would not write when you don't know where the tent of the gypsy is pitched. Last November I came here from Reading. The pastor was a schoolmate of mine; he came to Reading, captured me, and brought me here. This is a Quaker town; a convent stillness reigns around and in it. I began work by singing Mass every Sunday. Why? Because now, I like to sleep late in the morning. Of course I had to preach. Being a curiosity or a novelty or a gypsy or something as attractive as a circus, the church began to be crowded. Then young men began to come to me, then ladies, then came albums ! And by my good nature I made some friends.

In the ending of November Father Jas. O'D., of Chillicothe, came to see me. He knew me when I was only nine years old, and he had not forgotten the 'curious child.' He asked me to go to Chillicothe for December 8th. I went, and he kept me there until the second of January. I had to preach to his people, and to give a conference to his Sisters of Notre Dame. It seemed I made a sensation in that city ; the Episcopal minister told his people to go to hear me.

Three times every Sunday-save one-I preached. I heard a great many confessions. I established a sodality of young men. Meanwhile, during the week days there was a series of soirees! (You smile.) Music, supper-conversations, etc. I was obliged to go. There was one immense party, the parlors were crowded, the supper, choice, the music exquisite!
[--]

Since my return here I have been sick, off and on. Next Saturday night, to pay off the church debt, I have arranged a festival in the hall here, of music, singing, recitations, which is titled, 'An Original Valentine.' All who take part are Protestants, and all young people. At the close, I am to give a talk on something or other. On Monday I go to Chillicothe to preach the fortyhours' devotion and to hear confessions. On February 18th I am to give a lecture organized by the sodality I founded, and in compliment to me!

Now, as for home, we shall meet sometime in spring, and it will take me three or four days to give you the history of my travels. My heart is in the South. Everybody is kind to me; but it is a kind kindness, not an affectionate kindness. That winning gentleness and trustfulness which reign in the South are not found here. The people like me because I am something new, strange, and unexpected. Well, I must close. I wrote this letter so rapidly, it may repeat, but it must go! I do hope it shall find you free from suffering.