On the ninth day, the physicians told the bishop, who had visited me, that there was no hope for my recovery. The last sacraments were administered to me, and I prepared myself to die, as taught by the Church of Rome. The tenth day I was absolutely motionless, and not able to utter a word. My tongue was parched like a piece of dry wood.
Through the terrible ravage on the whole system, my very eyes were so turned inside their orbits, the white part only could be seen; no food could be taken from the beginning of the sickness except a few drops of cold water, which were dropped through my teeth with much difficulty. But, though all my physical faculties seemed dead, my memory and my intelligence were full of life, and acting with more power than ever. Now and then, in the paroxysms of the fever, I used to see awful visions. At one time, suspended by a thread at the top of a high mountain, with my head down over a bottomless abyss; at another, surrounded by merciless enemies, whose daggers and swords were plunged through my body. But these were of short duration, though they have left such an impression on my mind that I still remember the minutest details. Death had at first no terrors for me. I had done, to the best of my ability, all that my church had told me to do to be saved. I had, every day, given my last cent to the poor, fasted and done penance almost enough to kill myself, made my confessions with the greatest care and sincerity, preached with such zeal and earnestness as to fill the whole city with admiration.
My pharisaical virtues and holiness, in a word, were of such a glaring and deceitful character, and my ecclesiastical superiors were so taken by them that they made the greatest efforts to persuade me to become the first Bishop of Oregon and Vancouver.
One after the other, all the saints of heaven, beginning with the Holy Virgin Mary, were invoked by me that they might pray God to look down upon me in mercy, and save my soul.
On the thirteenth night, as the doctors were retiring, they whispered to the Revs. Baillargeon and Parent, who were at my bedside: “He is dead, or if not, he has only a few minutes to live. He is already cold and breathless, and we cannot feel his pulse.” Though these words had been said in a very low tone, they fell upon my ears as a peal of thunder. The two young priests, who were my devoted friends, filled the room with such cries, that the curate and the priest, who had gone to rest, rushed to my room, and mingled their tears and cries with theirs.
The words of the doctor, “He is dead!” were ringing in my ears as the voice of a hurricane; I suddenly saw that I was in danger of being buried alive; no words can express the sense of horror I felt at that idea. A cold, icy wave began to move slowly, but it seemed to me, with irresistible force, from the extremities of my feet and hands toward the heart, as the first symptoms of approaching death. At that moment, I made a great effort to see what hope I might have of being saved, invoking the help of the blessed Virgin Mary. With lightning rapidity, a terrible vision struck my mind; I saw all my good works and penances, in which my church had told me to trust for salvation, in the balance of the justice of God. These were in one side of the scales, and my sins on the other. My good works seemed only as a grain of sand compared with the weight of my sins.[[B]]
[B]. In order to be understood by those of my readers who have never been deceived by the diabolical doctrines of the Church of Rome, I must say here, that when young I had learned all my Catechism, and when a priest, I had believed and preached what Rome says on that subject. Here is her doctrine as taught in her Catechism:
“Who are those who go to heaven?”
Ans. “Those only who have never offended God, or who, having offended Him, have done penance.”