https://mariststudies.org/w/index.php?action=history&feed=atom&title=Girard0087bGirard0087b - Revision history2026-04-21T16:52:30ZRevision history for this page on the wikiMediaWiki 1.43.1https://mariststudies.org/w/index.php?title=Girard0087b&diff=6670&oldid=prevMerv at 23:10, 29 September 20192019-09-29T23:10:19Z<p></p>
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<tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>==7 March 1841 —Father Jean-Baptiste Petit-Jean to Mr Auguste Paillasson, his brother-in law, Whangaroa== </div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>==7 March 1841 —Father Jean-Baptiste Petit-Jean to Mr Auguste Paillasson, his brother-in law, Whangaroa== </div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>''Translated by Mary Williamson, July 2019''</div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>''Translated by Mary Williamson, July 2019'' <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">See [[Girard0087|an alternate translation here]]</ins></div></td></tr>
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</table>Mervhttps://mariststudies.org/w/index.php?title=Girard0087b&diff=6669&oldid=prevMerv at 23:09, 29 September 20192019-09-29T23:09:30Z<p></p>
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<tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>;[9]: On Thursday 26 November I went down the Whangaroa river to visit a poor unwell woman. I had taken some provisions: Some salted pork, some corn cobs, no potatoes, they were too scarce then. I had travelling in my craft, besides my two boys, three natives with whom I would also have to share my provisions which were, nevertheless, so essential for me and would later be in short supply. That is not surprising. Another time, when about to depart and when I was having a modest breakfast, along came a chief who demanded his share, without considering that on my trip my small boys and myself would perhaps suffer greatly from hunger. One must have for these people, otherwise so interesting, the same attitude as for children. The family of this ill woman who I was having to visit were so destitute or so lazy that they did not have the tiniest shelter to offer me to spend the night. The first night I wiped off the rain; the second, I constructed for myself a small tent with the sail of my craft. A similar construction seen in France would have been regarded as a coffin covered with a sheet. I prepared this woman for death as best I could. I also had the consolation of baptising an infant who I called Marc. It is a real consolation to give to my newborns some family name and to thus produce around me fond images of my relatives and friends. The name of Auguste has not yet been given. A choice of names for these people is very difficult and it often happens that a name transposed into their language loses its beauty because the Maori language never has two consonants that follow each other in the same word.</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>;[9]: On Thursday 26 November I went down the Whangaroa river to visit a poor unwell woman. I had taken some provisions: Some salted pork, some corn cobs, no potatoes, they were too scarce then. I had travelling in my craft, besides my two boys, three natives with whom I would also have to share my provisions which were, nevertheless, so essential for me and would later be in short supply. That is not surprising. Another time, when about to depart and when I was having a modest breakfast, along came a chief who demanded his share, without considering that on my trip my small boys and myself would perhaps suffer greatly from hunger. One must have for these people, otherwise so interesting, the same attitude as for children. The family of this ill woman who I was having to visit were so destitute or so lazy that they did not have the tiniest shelter to offer me to spend the night. The first night I wiped off the rain; the second, I constructed for myself a small tent with the sail of my craft. A similar construction seen in France would have been regarded as a coffin covered with a sheet. I prepared this woman for death as best I could. I also had the consolation of baptising an infant who I called Marc. It is a real consolation to give to my newborns some family name and to thus produce around me fond images of my relatives and friends. The name of Auguste has not yet been given. A choice of names for these people is very difficult and it often happens that a name transposed into their language loses its beauty because the Maori language never has two consonants that follow each other in the same word.</div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr>
<tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>[10] On Saturday morning the 28th <ref> That is to say the last Saturday of the month of November 1840, two days after Thursday 26 November which is mentioned in the preceding paragraph. </ref> with the sky promising a fine day, I resolved, following my plan, to set out by sea to take myself to Mangonui; The wind was favourable except towards the evening, when we had to row against the tide, which was against us. I used an oar energetically myself; following my example and my verbal encouragement, I urged on my boys. Finally, with courage, we rounded a rocky point and found ourselves in shelter in the total calm of evening. It was night when I reached the small tribe called Wai Awa in Mangonui, amongst whom I had planned to find lodgings so as to proceed from there, as my hub, to visit the numerous tribes scattered around the large bay of Mangonui. The fires of the natives served me as a compass. I called out; they knew my voice. ''Epikopo'', someone called out, it is the ''epikopo'' (that is what they called the Bishop from the Latin ''episcopo''; by extension they had given this name to priests, even though their proper name was ''ariki''. More commonly, even our faithful were for a long time known by this name; nevertheless, the name of the apostolic Roman Catholic church is beginning to take over.) I took possession of my little shelter. I said a prayer for the natives. I prepared something to eat. My children were overcome with sleep. Remembering to which master I belonged, who I had come to serve, I called them and served them. When I was alone, I gathered myself together for a few moments to thank God for the hospitable roof that his goodness had prepared for me by the hands of a pious Catholic. I offered up to God my works in this part of our mission. In our weary state and in the heat of the day, we had been at sea without a supply of fresh water. Eating salt pork, fresh water was in itself of great benefit for my burning limbs. A peaceful sleep managed to rebuild my strength. On 29th, I went to the home of a European Catholic to celebrate the blessed mysteries and to give to the Catholics of the area the advantage of sharing in the holy mass and towards evening, despite the urging of the European, I returned to my humble hut. Freedom and the wish to be amongst my natives, the fear of overstaying with this excellent European, everything pushed me to take this step. Also I had another fear. Passing the night in the home of a white person a few weeks previously, the drunkenness of the master of the house made me take flight at 11 0’clock at night and I was left wandering in the woods looking for a safe haven. It is horrible to see an excess of drunkenness; these orgies, this state of abasement sometimes lasts 8 days, 2,3 weeks in a row during which time one wonders from time to time if such a person is ever sober. On Monday, I went again to the home of the European to beg for an old chest that I had spotted, wishing to make a throne for the King of Kings; and on Tuesday 30th, <ref> Here there is a mixup of dates: Petit-Jean has already spoken of Thursday 26 November, of Saturday 28 and of 29 (evidently a sunday when he celebrated mass for the Catholics of the area); Tuesday is the 1 December 1840.) </ref> I began my visits amongst the tribes, most of them generally Protestants in these areas. Koou Marou to the East of Mangonui was the first place I visited; having met three native Catholics there, I was overjoyed within myself, remarking that even in our little district the great church of Rome has its own place. To this tribe as with the others, I wished to show them the priest at the altar and generally they were impressed and stood in a respectful silence. When I had completed the noble sacrifice, these people asked me to show them my priestly garments again, I admired their simplicity when seeing an old vestment decorated on both sides, on one side with white braiding and on the other with very ordinary and very dull gold. They said on one side it is silver and on the other gold and as they did not know silver or gold except in cash, they said, here are shillings and here are pounds, his garment is all covered with money. In many circumstances I am annoyed to find myself without another person who could, with me, admire the simplicity and ingenuity of the simple folk. In this same tribe, I had the occasion to see two natives arguing in the way of their countrymen; the two opponents were each in front of their own house making threatening movements, coming and going within a certain space, striking their thighs from time to time. They were separated by a river. The chief carried out the function of a justice of the peace and I heard him say to the younger man, ''E koro kia iti iti to ou korero. '' Young man, keep your oratory brief, brief. I would need many pages to describe these very interesting scenes, the spectacle would be well paid-for in Europe. On Thursday 3rd, <ref> Thursday 3 December 1840 </ref> I went back up the Orourou river. I did not stay long in this settlement, the natives were away working their gardens somewhere else. From there, going back down this same river, I arrived at Tahipa <ref> Read: Taipa, a village situated where the Oruru river flows into Doubtless Bay. </ref> where I found a large group of the natives who had been absent from Orourou. There I baptised the infant of a white person with the agreement of the parents that he would be raised in the Catholic religion. I saw the chief who I had been looking for at Oruru. <ref> The letters “ou” had been added above the two “u” either to indicate the pronunciation, or to modify the written form. </ref> His wife and several other people said that they were Catholics, he himself seemed to me very indifferent. His people are Protestants. It was something to see, in particular these poor young people speaking a lot about the bible (they had in their hands the new testament translated by some missionaries, Anglican, Methodists or other). They thought they could find everything in there, even the invention of firearms - which they attributed to Jesus Christ. Poor young people, yet again they were ignorant of the primary truths of Christianity, even the most educated were strangers to this idea: One single God, with three people in God. Jesus Christ is the son of God made man; and yet their masters have been in New Zealand for more than twenty years. I would have left there in a hurry, if it were not for a poor ill woman whose salvation I had at heart. But what more could I do to enlighten this soul? I was not able to approach the sick woman. If I did that, they would shout at me. How I suffered. Finally, after having seen her two or three times on the sly, so to speak, and trying to gain her confidence with small services and having repeated to her the essential truths alone, without witnesses, I poured onto her forehead a few drops of holy water and uttered the words of baptism without her being aware and left immediately, recommending her soul to God. These people have the habit of abandoning their sick people. Sometimes they refuse them food * '' [Note added by the author at the bottom of the page]'' when they think that they must certainly die of this illness.] on the pretext that they are stranded without resources; all that they do is to make their bed reasonably comfortable; after that, that is all. They believe that their god is eating away their sick person. This way to speaking is so familiar to them that they sort out in this way the types of death of different people. This one, they say, died during a war from a shot, the other one was eaten away by our god. That means that he died of a natural death.</div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">;</ins>[10]<ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">: </ins> On Saturday morning the 28th <ref> That is to say the last Saturday of the month of November 1840, two days after Thursday 26 November which is mentioned in the preceding paragraph. </ref> with the sky promising a fine day, I resolved, following my plan, to set out by sea to take myself to Mangonui; The wind was favourable except towards the evening, when we had to row against the tide, which was against us. I used an oar energetically myself; following my example and my verbal encouragement, I urged on my boys. Finally, with courage, we rounded a rocky point and found ourselves in shelter in the total calm of evening. It was night when I reached the small tribe called Wai Awa in Mangonui, amongst whom I had planned to find lodgings so as to proceed from there, as my hub, to visit the numerous tribes scattered around the large bay of Mangonui. The fires of the natives served me as a compass. I called out; they knew my voice. ''Epikopo'', someone called out, it is the ''epikopo'' (that is what they called the Bishop from the Latin ''episcopo''; by extension they had given this name to priests, even though their proper name was ''ariki''. More commonly, even our faithful were for a long time known by this name; nevertheless, the name of the apostolic Roman Catholic church is beginning to take over.) I took possession of my little shelter. I said a prayer for the natives. I prepared something to eat. My children were overcome with sleep. Remembering to which master I belonged, who I had come to serve, I called them and served them. When I was alone, I gathered myself together for a few moments to thank God for the hospitable roof that his goodness had prepared for me by the hands of a pious Catholic. I offered up to God my works in this part of our mission. In our weary state and in the heat of the day, we had been at sea without a supply of fresh water. Eating salt pork, fresh water was in itself of great benefit for my burning limbs. A peaceful sleep managed to rebuild my strength. On 29th, I went to the home of a European Catholic to celebrate the blessed mysteries and to give to the Catholics of the area the advantage of sharing in the holy mass and towards evening, despite the urging of the European, I returned to my humble hut. Freedom and the wish to be amongst my natives, the fear of overstaying with this excellent European, everything pushed me to take this step. Also I had another fear. Passing the night in the home of a white person a few weeks previously, the drunkenness of the master of the house made me take flight at 11 0’clock at night and I was left wandering in the woods looking for a safe haven. It is horrible to see an excess of drunkenness; these orgies, this state of abasement sometimes lasts 8 days, 2,3 weeks in a row during which time one wonders from time to time if such a person is ever sober. On Monday, I went again to the home of the European to beg for an old chest that I had spotted, wishing to make a throne for the King of Kings; and on Tuesday 30th, <ref> Here there is a mixup of dates: Petit-Jean has already spoken of Thursday 26 November, of Saturday 28 and of 29 (evidently a sunday when he celebrated mass for the Catholics of the area); Tuesday is the 1 December 1840.) </ref> I began my visits amongst the tribes, most of them generally Protestants in these areas. Koou Marou to the East of Mangonui was the first place I visited; having met three native Catholics there, I was overjoyed within myself, remarking that even in our little district the great church of Rome has its own place. To this tribe as with the others, I wished to show them the priest at the altar and generally they were impressed and stood in a respectful silence. When I had completed the noble sacrifice, these people asked me to show them my priestly garments again, I admired their simplicity when seeing an old vestment decorated on both sides, on one side with white braiding and on the other with very ordinary and very dull gold. They said on one side it is silver and on the other gold and as they did not know silver or gold except in cash, they said, here are shillings and here are pounds, his garment is all covered with money. In many circumstances I am annoyed to find myself without another person who could, with me, admire the simplicity and ingenuity of the simple folk. In this same tribe, I had the occasion to see two natives arguing in the way of their countrymen; the two opponents were each in front of their own house making threatening movements, coming and going within a certain space, striking their thighs from time to time. They were separated by a river. The chief carried out the function of a justice of the peace and I heard him say to the younger man, ''E koro kia iti iti to ou korero. '' Young man, keep your oratory brief, brief. I would need many pages to describe these very interesting scenes, the spectacle would be well paid-for in Europe. On Thursday 3rd, <ref> Thursday 3 December 1840 </ref> I went back up the Orourou river. I did not stay long in this settlement, the natives were away working their gardens somewhere else. From there, going back down this same river, I arrived at Tahipa <ref> Read: Taipa, a village situated where the Oruru river flows into Doubtless Bay. </ref> where I found a large group of the natives who had been absent from Orourou. There I baptised the infant of a white person with the agreement of the parents that he would be raised in the Catholic religion. I saw the chief who I had been looking for at Oruru. <ref> The letters “ou” had been added above the two “u” either to indicate the pronunciation, or to modify the written form. </ref> His wife and several other people said that they were Catholics, he himself seemed to me very indifferent. His people are Protestants. It was something to see, in particular these poor young people speaking a lot about the bible (they had in their hands the new testament translated by some missionaries, Anglican, Methodists or other). They thought they could find everything in there, even the invention of firearms - which they attributed to Jesus Christ. Poor young people, yet again they were ignorant of the primary truths of Christianity, even the most educated were strangers to this idea: One single God, with three people in God. Jesus Christ is the son of God made man; and yet their masters have been in New Zealand for more than twenty years. I would have left there in a hurry, if it were not for a poor ill woman whose salvation I had at heart. But what more could I do to enlighten this soul? I was not able to approach the sick woman. If I did that, they would shout at me. How I suffered. Finally, after having seen her two or three times on the sly, so to speak, and trying to gain her confidence with small services and having repeated to her the essential truths alone, without witnesses, I poured onto her forehead a few drops of holy water and uttered the words of baptism without her being aware and left immediately, recommending her soul to God. These people have the habit of abandoning their sick people. Sometimes they refuse them food * '' [Note added by the author at the bottom of the page]'' when they think that they must certainly die of this illness.] on the pretext that they are stranded without resources; all that they do is to make their bed reasonably comfortable; after that, that is all. They believe that their god is eating away their sick person. This way to speaking is so familiar to them that they sort out in this way the types of death of different people. This one, they say, died during a war from a shot, the other one was eaten away by our god. That means that he died of a natural death.</div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr>
<tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>;[11]: On Saturday morning, I hastened on foot to an establishment called Parapara. Then I returned to my craft and set out to cross the large bay of Mangonui to arrive by sunset to see a tribe named Wai hari. It was a crossing of about three leagues. As the wind was very violent and the waves very high for our small craft that three people can easily drag along the shore, and as we could not easily see our landing place between two rocks, we let ourselves be carried along towards a coastline where we could see some natives. On seeing them I was comforted. A priest’s home territory is wherever there are some men to be converted, as long as he is legitimately sent there. I have noticed that my voyages never follow a straight line following my plans, but that the winds or other circumstances always disrupt my plans, even when I am aboard a small ship where I have been welcomed, so true is it that God directs everything and controls everything so as to carry out his grand designs for the consummation of his chosen ones. Quickly back to my subject: Here is our craft arrived on the sandy shore. Without hesitating I jump into the water to help my boys pull our boat out of the water. We were busy with this difficult task when I see a crowd of natives coming towards us; they are shouting. Then they get to work on us. Our boat was not yet on dry land, waves were still breaking against my legs and these people are demanding a reward. I beg them to wait; my tobacco is at the bottom of my trunk; my feet are in the water. Right now, they say to me; they insist; they almost menace me. Without fearing anything of their threats and thinking that a gentle expression was not suitable and only hearing my blood boiling in my veins: Are you going to cut my throat, I said to one of them. Here is my head. Strike if you wish, I am ready. Nothing more was needed to calm them down. They worked in their turn to calm me down. Leave me alone, I said to them, leave me in peace on this shore. Then I went towards the edge of a wood. Do not approach this place. It is a place that is tapu; here rest the bones of our fathers. At the same time they showed me another place; their hearts were becoming more and more adjusted to me. They showed themselves tending towards being obliging towards me. I distributed a few plugs of tobacco. However, I asked them to withdraw, promising to go and see them later. No, they said, we want to hear you, stay with you. In such circumstances my travelling companions do nothing for me, they do not dare to, they hide their heads under their blankets. I get a spark from my lighter, the fire lights up, then I move away a little to say my prayers on this shore which had been beaten by waves for so long before the arrival of priests. After having recited a part of my breviary, I rejoined my people. The chief of the area arrives. He asks to take my hand. His face was very open. He was listless. We went into the church. I showed them the true vine where Jesus Christ is depicted as the trunk and living permanently on earth in the person of his noble vicars the pontiffs of Rome. My speech made an impression on the chief and when, later on, I took leave of him: Listen, he said to me, I would willingly join with you if I had not already joined the missionaries that you know. He had some potatoes brought to me. I accepted them with gratitude towards him and especially towards God, our heavenly Father, who provides so well for the needs of his own. This first exchange having ended, I was led towards a small shelter where I spent the night. In this same place I made the acquaintance of a poor woman who said to me: My son and I, we have embraced your faith, I hope that the God of the Bishop will protect me better than all the others, for up till now I have had many misfortunes. In her face there was something good, simple, innocent. The same expressions distinguish our Catholics; in contrast, a wild, harsh, expression betrays those of other teachings. This is remarked on by strangers who as well, generally like much better dealing with the Catholic tribes than with others. The next day I set up a rustic altar to sanctify this land with the presence of Jesus Christ and immediately after a meal of potatoes, I reembarked for Wai Hari with a chief of that tribe who had come to find me. His expression was sad, because his searching eyes had not seen any clothing in my trunk. He was hoping no doubt to receive many gifts, and he was further away than the Samaritan of the scriptures <ref> Cf. Jn 4.5-30, story in which Jesus meets a samaritan woman. </ref> from knowing and desiring the faith of Jesus Christ and his holy love.</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>;[11]: On Saturday morning, I hastened on foot to an establishment called Parapara. Then I returned to my craft and set out to cross the large bay of Mangonui to arrive by sunset to see a tribe named Wai hari. It was a crossing of about three leagues. As the wind was very violent and the waves very high for our small craft that three people can easily drag along the shore, and as we could not easily see our landing place between two rocks, we let ourselves be carried along towards a coastline where we could see some natives. On seeing them I was comforted. A priest’s home territory is wherever there are some men to be converted, as long as he is legitimately sent there. I have noticed that my voyages never follow a straight line following my plans, but that the winds or other circumstances always disrupt my plans, even when I am aboard a small ship where I have been welcomed, so true is it that God directs everything and controls everything so as to carry out his grand designs for the consummation of his chosen ones. Quickly back to my subject: Here is our craft arrived on the sandy shore. Without hesitating I jump into the water to help my boys pull our boat out of the water. We were busy with this difficult task when I see a crowd of natives coming towards us; they are shouting. Then they get to work on us. Our boat was not yet on dry land, waves were still breaking against my legs and these people are demanding a reward. I beg them to wait; my tobacco is at the bottom of my trunk; my feet are in the water. Right now, they say to me; they insist; they almost menace me. Without fearing anything of their threats and thinking that a gentle expression was not suitable and only hearing my blood boiling in my veins: Are you going to cut my throat, I said to one of them. Here is my head. Strike if you wish, I am ready. Nothing more was needed to calm them down. They worked in their turn to calm me down. Leave me alone, I said to them, leave me in peace on this shore. Then I went towards the edge of a wood. Do not approach this place. It is a place that is tapu; here rest the bones of our fathers. At the same time they showed me another place; their hearts were becoming more and more adjusted to me. They showed themselves tending towards being obliging towards me. I distributed a few plugs of tobacco. However, I asked them to withdraw, promising to go and see them later. No, they said, we want to hear you, stay with you. In such circumstances my travelling companions do nothing for me, they do not dare to, they hide their heads under their blankets. I get a spark from my lighter, the fire lights up, then I move away a little to say my prayers on this shore which had been beaten by waves for so long before the arrival of priests. After having recited a part of my breviary, I rejoined my people. The chief of the area arrives. He asks to take my hand. His face was very open. He was listless. We went into the church. I showed them the true vine where Jesus Christ is depicted as the trunk and living permanently on earth in the person of his noble vicars the pontiffs of Rome. My speech made an impression on the chief and when, later on, I took leave of him: Listen, he said to me, I would willingly join with you if I had not already joined the missionaries that you know. He had some potatoes brought to me. I accepted them with gratitude towards him and especially towards God, our heavenly Father, who provides so well for the needs of his own. This first exchange having ended, I was led towards a small shelter where I spent the night. In this same place I made the acquaintance of a poor woman who said to me: My son and I, we have embraced your faith, I hope that the God of the Bishop will protect me better than all the others, for up till now I have had many misfortunes. In her face there was something good, simple, innocent. The same expressions distinguish our Catholics; in contrast, a wild, harsh, expression betrays those of other teachings. This is remarked on by strangers who as well, generally like much better dealing with the Catholic tribes than with others. The next day I set up a rustic altar to sanctify this land with the presence of Jesus Christ and immediately after a meal of potatoes, I reembarked for Wai Hari with a chief of that tribe who had come to find me. His expression was sad, because his searching eyes had not seen any clothing in my trunk. He was hoping no doubt to receive many gifts, and he was further away than the Samaritan of the scriptures <ref> Cf. Jn 4.5-30, story in which Jesus meets a samaritan woman. </ref> from knowing and desiring the faith of Jesus Christ and his holy love.</div></td></tr>
</table>Mervhttps://mariststudies.org/w/index.php?title=Girard0087b&diff=6668&oldid=prevMerv at 23:08, 29 September 20192019-09-29T23:08:59Z<p></p>
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</table>Mervhttps://mariststudies.org/w/index.php?title=Girard0087b&diff=6667&oldid=prevMerv: Created page with "==7 March 1841 —Father Jean-Baptiste Petit-Jean to Mr Auguste Paillasson, his brother-in law, Whangaroa== ''Translated by Mary Williamson, July 2019'' ''Based on the doc..."2019-09-29T23:08:46Z<p>Created page with "==7 March 1841 —Father Jean-Baptiste Petit-Jean to Mr Auguste Paillasson, his brother-in law, Whangaroa== ''Translated by Mary Williamson, July 2019'' ''Based on the doc..."</p>
<a href="https://mariststudies.org/w/index.php?title=Girard0087b&diff=6667">Show changes</a>Merv