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30 Memento Mei Fr. Jerome Maria, mater gratiae, mater Dei, memento mei, I pray against this bloody flux that eats away at me. Yet, I have sought this death in the Huron Missions where God has sent me, but regret I do not die a witness for the southern tribes. I cannot see the trees around me, but still see clearly the Illinois gathered around for their first mass, and smell their heavy buffalo robes, the air full of smoke from their cooking fires. The Chinese taffeta of the Virgin was like a surprise when a wind raised the silk in air and made the Virgin float above us. But now the strange beasts we saw painted on a rock 31 wall of the river come to have a go at me. Mater Dei, memento mei. One plunges his scaly tale into my bowels and I foul myself, a stinking red corruption in this little hut Noel has made us. Then She motions them away and pulls aside the darkness with Her white hand, and shows the tunnel of my agony, as I have chosen. I strain to better see the terms of my martyrdom. Memento mei, memento mei. ...

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