Paul J. Loizeaux (1841-1916) was a Bible teacher and evangelist, and founder of the Loizeaux Brothers Publishing House in New York. In 1870, while preaching in Kingston, Ontario, Canada, he visited the local jail and found a convict by the name of Daniel Mann under sentence of death for murder. He shared the gospel with him and later published a book called The Lord’s Dealings with the Convict Daniel Mann. The book was so blessed that Paul Loizeaux felt it accomplished more than everything else he ever did in his service for Christ. Tens of thousands of copies were printed and many people came to understand the way of salvation through its pages.
Reproduced below is the beginning and the end of Loizeaux’s book, which recounts Mann’s conversion, and his final day on earth. Daniel Mann was sentenced to death on 10th November 1870, and executed on the 14th of December.
I called on him for the first time on Friday the 18th of November. He appeared very cheerful, but his ways soon convinced me he was doing all in his power to excite himself into happy feelings to drown the thought of his impending execution.
Upon testing him a little as to the ground of the hope he expressed concerning the life to come, I soon found it to be his thorough repentance, his comparative freedom from evil desires, his great love to God, etc. He thought surely he had made his peace with God since he had so many good things to show.
His lips talked about Jesus and His love very nicely. He repeated some of God’s precious promises, but evidently his heart was so intensely occupied with self, that he could grasp no meaning in those promises.
His earnest face, however, and the thoughtful attention he paid to what I said to him, attracted me at once. I remembered how, four years before, I was in the same state — occupied with my humility, my repentance, my faith, my love — and while putting on a cheerful face to make myself believe I possessed that happiness which I had often heard belonged to a man at peace with God, what bitterness and anguish lay in the depth of my soul. I remembered the day when, at the climax of misery, some one had pointed me to the third chapter of Romans, how it had opened Heaven to me — the unutterable deliverance it put me into — and I burned to have him get in the same place.
I told him nothing he could do could save him; neither his repentance, nor his love, nor looking to the work of the Spirit in him, could give him peace with God. “You are lost,” I said, “you are dead in trespasses and sins — condemned already — and you might as well think that weeping and promising to do better could pnt away the sentence pronounced against you the other day as to think your repentance, or your promises, or anything from you can move the curse of God’s eternal law which now hangs over you, as well as over every soul of man who is not saved.”
I told him the only thing which could meet a lost man’s need was salvation — a ‘dead’ man needed life and a ‘condemned’ man needed mercy. I declared to him he was grievously mistaken if he thought he had made his peace with God. He could never do that. “What, then, must I do?” said he, in a half-stunned way. “Read there,” said I, and my finger pointed to Colossians 1:20, “And having made peace through the blood of His cross…” I pointed again to Galatians 3:13 and said, “read again here!” “Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us…”
I then besought him to read, thoughtfully and prayerfully, the third, fourth, and fifth chapters of Romans, and commending him to the Lord, who alone, I knew, could open his blinded eyes, I left him in his lonely cell.
I did not call again until the following Tuesday, Nov 22nd. The jailer the entrance-door told me one of the criminals was anxious to see me since morning. Without asking which of the two, I called first on the one occupying the cell nearest the entrance-door, but found him much as before — more occupied with the actual consequences of his crime than with His lost condition before God — ready enough to pray and engage in devotional exercises; but completely blind as to the ground of salvation.
I left him much downcast in my spirit — full of that dejection which often makes me long to be with Christ when I have set forth a finished salvation before sinners, and they answer me, I’ll try to do better; and I had well nigh forgotten the jailer’s announcement, when Daniel Mann’s cell being opened to me I was soon reminded of it.
Scarcely had I taken my seat on the wooden bench beside him when he said to me: “I longed to see you.” “What for?” said I. “Since daylight this morning,” said he, “I haven’t been able to pray; I can only find time and room for prasie.”
“How is that?” said I — ” what makes you so happy?”
“You remember,” said he, “your visit to me last Friday, and the three chapters you told me to read in Romans? Well, after pondering a good deal on what you had told me, and which sounded so differently from anything I had ever heard, I read them over and over again, but I seemed to get more and more miserable. All day Sunday, and all day yesterday, were dark and gloomy. I felt as if I must surely perish. Last night I could not close my eyes a single moment, but I lay on my couch in misery. Oh! what misery! Suddenly, while in my despair, my mind was arrested by a part of the fifth chapter of Romans — these verses:
“For when we were yet without strength in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet peradventure some would even dare to die. But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” O, dear, dear sir, need I tell you the effect? I jumped to my feet. I praised God outright. I felt like a man who is already in heaven. I saw why Jesus was on the cross crying out “My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?’ I understood what is meant by ‘It is finished’. I saw God’s love to me, and I praised and praised and praised again. I saw my salvation was not out of anything from me, but out of Christ’s finished work; so I cried out, ‘O glorious thing! I am as sure of my salvation now as I am sure Christ’s work is finished: yea, was finished over 1,800 years ago. I have it, I have it, for I believe.”
As he spoke his earnest face, wet with tears, looked to me like the face of an angel. Tears rolled down my face too. I took his neck in my arms, and could but exclaim: “My brother, my dearest brother! we shall sing together throughout eternity the value of the blood of Jesus.”
Again he said: “How blind I have been. I never saw till this morning. Till then my eyes were altogether turned inwardly — looking within to see something that God could be pleased with; but since this morning early my eyes are turned outwardly to that which hath been done for me. Till this morning I always thought what I had heard many say, that Christ had done His part, and we must do ours to be saved. What my part was, however, I never could get any one to tell me with certainty and still less could I get my soul to tell me. I had the Bible, but I didn’t know where to begin. I was told I must repent, and earnestly and prayerfully I went at it, but never had the certainty I had fully satisfied God, and I can answer: I’ve been doing that since my mother’s womb, and here is the sad end of it!”
Here I felt in my heart the pang which crossed his own, and I said: “Yes, you’ve faithfully finished the work the devil gave you to do; but hear the word in John 17:4 – “I have glorified Thee on the earth: I have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do.” Who said that? What work was that which the Father gave Him to do and which He, in anticipation, says He has finished?”
The pang was gone. His dear face beamed again. The word ‘finished’ was enough to soothe all his sorrows now. It made him laugh with delight every time it was pronounced. We knelt and praised God together for a long while, and I left that happiest of all places on earth — a converted criminal’s cell.
On Friday, November 25th, I called again, but finding there was a visitor with him, I told the jailer I would return the next day.
Upon returning the next day, I found him anxiously expecting me. The jailer had told him I was coming, and he said he knew he would have another feast.
“What do you mean,” said I, “by another feast? Are you so fond of visitors that my coming should be a feast to you?”
“O, no sir,” he replied; “of course I love you very much. I can’t help that, for you are the one whom God has used to show me the way — His way of saving sinners. It is what you point me to that makes the feast. You know when a man is as near his end as I am he can’t be expected to take much comfort from any thing but what God has said. That is the very thing which first drew me to you: you never said any thing, or answered anything, without referring me at once to Scripture.”
“I feel exceedingly happy,” I said, “when I see a man whose confiidence lies alone in what the Word of God teaches; for I know this is not the work of Nature. Jesus says: “My sheep hear my voice”, and His voice, dearest soul, being heard only in the Scriptures, it is no wonder you care for nothing but that. When you see a man satisfied with more or less than God’s Word, you may be sure he is none of His sheep. Would to God I could get the whole City of Kingston — if it were only those who profess, even — to try their foundation and their walk by the Word of God. But, alas! when they find their position untenable in the light of Scripture, many flee behind the ramparts of their creeds or opinions, and think themselves safe there.”
“That is very sad,” he said. “Oh! how I wish they would all with one accord turn to the Word alone. I will not cease to pray for this now as long as I am here…But tell me, why didn’t I see the truth sooner? for I had been in the same distressed state of mind nearly since I was retaken in July. I remember one night the sight of my sins became such that I cared neither for my narrow cell nor for the punishment I expected in this world. Appearing before God in such a condition terrified me, so that I lay all night curled up on the floor crying out: “O God, I am surely doomed — there can be no hope for such a wretch as I. It was the first time in my life I knew what conviction of sin is. I had already before wished much to be a Christian, and, to attain my wish, had endeavoured to lead a better life. For quite a while in the Penitentiary I stopped stealing altogether, and refused to join in the wickedness of my fellows, until, overcome again, I made up my mind it was of no use trying to be a Christian in such a place: but now it was no more trying or wanting to reform — it was a burning within — a tossing up and down — an unaccountable anguish, which made me think of hell — a place where a man craves for death and can’t get it. Well, I was regularly visited, and portions of Scripture read to me, but to no avail whatever. Looking to the clergymen for help — as I supposed them endowed with special power — I often felt bitter against them, not getting the relief I expected from them, and which I thought they had it in their power to give me. I have no doubt now the fault was mostly mine; but, tell me, why didn’t I see the truth sooner?”
“First of all,” I answered, “God’s time is the best time. Had you found “peace in believing” before your trial, it would have been very ditferent from what it was. You would not have pleaded “not guilty”, which was a lie: you would not have needed lawyers to talk for you and colour things; but you would frankly, openly, and truthfully have stated things as they were. The truth thus spoken has great effect on men’s hearts. They might have seen your real intention was to disable the guard — not to kill him — so as to effect your escape. You might have been sent back to the Penitentiary for life, whilst God can glorify Himself most in this way. And remember, now that — since you believe — the question of your salvation is eternally settled, God expects you to have only His glory at heart. See 2 Cor 5:15 – “And that He died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him which died for them, and rose again.”
“Secondly, how can a man tell another the way to a certain place?” I asked him.
“Of course, he must know it himself,” he said.
“Truly,” I answered, “and before a man can preach Christ he must know Christ — have Christ. Mark, I do not say before he can preach, but before he can preach Christ. A man may preach all his life, and preach with such eloquence that not an eye could be dry, and yet not preach Christ. A well-informed mind, a sentimental imagination and a good flow of language, is all a man needs to make a popular preacher; but to preach Christ a man must be converted — he must be born again. You could preach Christ now: you’ve passed through God’s school. The first class was that night when you curled up on the floor of your cell. You were in the second when I found you — that is, trying to repent, and to pray, and sing yourself to heaven — doing like the woman who had an issue of blood, and tried all sorts of physicians without growing any better, “but rather grew worse”. You passed through the third last Tuesday morning, and you’re a graduate. The “best robe” covers you. With the touch of faith you touched the hem of His garment, and then and there you were, like her, “immediately healed”. Couldn’t you tell others now the way to be saved?”
“Why, sir, that’s all I can talk about to the jailercri and to poor dear Deacon, when we get together for change of cells. I can’t think about any thing else now, and though some may look upon it as presumption, from the abundance of my heart my mouth must speak.”
“There is also another thing I must tell you, to answer your question fully. Dear, earnest souls, really converted men may be very zealous in advising and trying to teach others without helping them at all, and the reason is this; they have never learned to make the difference which God’s Word makes concerning the relative position of believers and unbelievers – therefore they will apply to a believer what belongs to an unbeliever, and vice versa — so that confusion must ever prevail in the advised person’s mind. God’s Word calls believers ‘saints’, and all the rest ‘sinners’. Sinners are described in 1 Cor 6:9-10: “Know ye not that the unrighteous hhall not inherit the Kingdom of God? Be not deceived — neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the Kingdom of God.” Saints are described in the next verse : “And such were some of you — but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God.” God’s Word speaks to these as to men who are saved; to those as men who are lost; and unless that distinction is strictly adhered to the state of things is seen which is mentioned in Ezekiel 13:22, ‘…with lies ye have made the heart of the righteous sad whom I have not made sad ; and strengthened the hands of the wicked that he should not return from his wicked way, by promising him life’.”
A flood of light was pouring into the precious soul.
” Then,” said he, ” I can confidently take my place among God’s children now, for I do believe and the Spirit of God bears witness with my own spirit that I am a child of God. I know I have eternal life. It is the gift of God through Jesus Christ, and I have it by faith.”
“Yes,” I said; “having seen, by faith, the eternal redemption which Christ has obtained for us” (Heb 9:12); having seen, by faith, that He has, “by Himself purged our sins” (Heb 1:3), you may be as sure of your salvation as if you were already in heaven. God’s Word is as good as His deed. “You are complete in Him”, is His declaration, in Col 2:10, to every believer: only your assurance now must be by faith, whilst in Heaven it will be by sight.”
He said he had been in trouble in leading the third chapter of 1 Corinthians. He could not comprehend about the works of a man being burned and himself saved as by fire, but now he saw through it: the man who was on the foundation was a saved man and if he worked for God he would receive a reward for His faithfulness; but if he didn’t work for God, he would get no reward, but only be saved as a man out of a fire — just with his life.
“Ah!” he said, ” wouldn’t it be sweet, if life were mine again, to live for God now in every thing!”
I felt glad to see he had grasped the difference between the eternal security of every true believer and his daily responsibility, as a believer to God. Knowing that his salvation is secure through Christ’s finished work — that there is no more condemnation for him — the believer is apt to stumble at such a passage as 2 Cor 5:10, unless he has learned about his responsibility for his works for which he will have to appear in judgment. As soon as he sees that it is no more the question of his salvation which is to be raised, but that of his works from the time of his conversion, his soul abides in perfect peace in the assurance of salvation, whilst his conscience finds no satisfaction until he forsakes every thing which is displeasing to the Lord, and walks in every thing, as far as he knows, which is to His glory. This result I at once perceived in Daniel Mann, by his peaceful expression: “Ah I wouldn’t it be sweet, if life were mine again, to live for God now in every thing!”
“Would you like to have life given to you again,” I said.
“I really could not choose,” said he. “The only thing that could now bind me to earth is what I have just said, but on the other hand I have often wished since you were here last that I might not have so long to wait till I see Jesus face to face. The evening and night after your visit I was especially happy. I had caught new views of the face of God and I felt so happy that I wished they might have allowed me to go to the scaffold then.”
On Lord’s Day, Nov 27th, he pressed the jailer to go to the preaching of the gospel at the City Hall, saying that if he were free that was where he would go. The jailer said he would go if he could, but something preventing him, he did not go in the afternoon. When time for evening meeting came he pressed him again. So he came, and as he walked home with me after meeting, he said nothing was more affecting than to see Daniel Mann preaching to his fellow criminal in the morning. “If anybody can do Deacon any good”, he said, “it’s Mann; he talks like a man who knows what he’s about and where to put confidence, and he preaches to me in such a way that it stirs me all up.”
I heard afterward that on one occasion the jailer had spoken to the effect that he was not as great a sinner as others, upon which Mann answered, “He that believeth not is condemned already”.
On Monday 28th November I found him – to use his own words – “resting in the finished work of my Lord”. He was exceedingly occupoed with Ephesians 2:3 especially the last clause: “and were by nature the children of wrath even as others”.
“I see plainly,” he said, “that without one single crime I was lost. By nature a child of wrath, unfit by my very natural condition to dwell with God, and surely if on account of my very nature I was lost, what was I with all my sins and my crimes! But O, the blood, the blood of Jesus, it cleanseth from all sin! I see now what that means in Romans 3 “there is no difference”. I see the whole world is lost, the most moral as the most immoral, all alike lost, and no better off than I am before unless they too rest in the finished work of Christ. O! I am afraid there are thousands who pity me this day while they are really objects of my deep pity, for I fear they think I that they are not as needy of Christ as I am, not having run to such excesses.”
Missing out the middle of the book, here are the details of the final day of Daniel Mann’s life:
I was kindly allowed what we both wished much: to spend the last night together, as the hour for the execution was at eight o’clock in the morning, so I arranged to return in the evening.
No words can describe the strange, sweet hours of that night. Its sweetness, deepened by its sadness, cannot be told. It was my share of God’s grace displayed in him. It was my harvest for my three weeks’ teaching. It is another oasis in the wilderness I have been travelling in these four years. I will be glad when it ends, but until then this is sweet. It was no more teaching and learning as before. We were feasting together on what he had learned during the past three weeks. We worshipped our God; we adored our Lord Jesus. There was no noise, no excitement. Ours was a quiet cell that night, but O the solemnity of it! Jesus was there.
Ah! my brethren, do you know what it is to worship God? do you know what it is to possess eternal life? — to know that that life is in Jesus, yea, is Jesus Himself who sits at God’s right hand, now in the very same body in which He bare our sins on the tree? Do you know what it is to ignore creed, name and title? to know only Christ, and own and love one another only in Him. Do yon know what it is to “keep His word” and let go everything else? To “not deny His name” and deny every other name? Then you know what Jesus meant when He said : “This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you” (John 15:12) and you may form some idea of what we both enjoyed that night. I wept sore many a time at the thought that that man whom I now loved as my own soul was about to be torn away from me in such a violent manner, but he would say, as he would draw me up against him: “Don’t weep, brother; you know I am a son of God, redeemed by the blood of Jesus.” But this, while it forbade all bitterness, only grieved me the more for that was the very ground and bond of my love to him.
His favourite expression through the whole night was “A son of God, a part, yes, a very part of Thee, Lord Jesus! Oh why should I not rejoice?”
He never remained long without returning to his Testament which lay open on the table with many leaves turned and many portions underlined. It was not to seek anything new but to read and reread the passages which referred most clearly to the grace of God. The special portions he used were the 20th verse of Galatians 2, the fifth, sixth and eighth of Romans; the second of Ephesians; the first 4 verses of Colossians 3, and the first 4 of John 14. An expression in the passage of Galatians 2, especially filled him: “and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the son of God who loved me, and gave Himself for me.” “It is nothing of mine” he would say; “it is all of God. Not even my faith, but the faith of the son of God. I am a man in Christ, in the Son of God; one spirit with Him; flesh of His flesh, bone of His bone; a very part of Him, and this for all eternity because I believe. O Jesus, Jesus” he would often exclaim, “how I love Thee! In a few hours I’ll feast on Thee, Lord Jesus, to my heart’s content. Then I will be filled. But O, my Father, until then give me to remember that I walk by faith, not by sight; by simple faith in what Thou hast written in Thy blessed Book.”
Often we prayed. He never asked any thing for himself, save that he might have strength from the Lord to act to the last moment as it becomes one who has all things in Christ. “Thou knowest, my Father,” he would say, “how natural it is to the flesh to shrink from death, and especially a death like this; but Jesus has borne my sins in His own body on the tree; He is risen; He sits at Thy right hand, and He is my life and, therefore, Thou knowest it, my Father, I have no fear of any kind concerning Eternity — there is no sting in death for me. But the world will be looking at me Lord, and I would shame Thee and Thy Word, were I to show weakness. Help me in that hour!”
The burden of his prayers was chiefly for all his “brethren in Christ Jesus”. He would tell the Lord what a wicked world they were in and how much they needed His help to go through it to His glory. He also besought the Lord much for all his family, especially for his mother and a grown-up sister. He prayed much that God would stir up the people every where to hear the truth as it is in Jesus. He asked often that the publication of our interviews might be blessed to every one who would read it, and upon my telling him of a special work for the Lord in the States which weighed somewhat on my mind, he, several times before morning, besought the Lord for it.
At one time, as he lay resting on the bench, his coat rolled up under his head for a pillow, his happiness became so intense that he said to me: “I don’t believe I can live till morning.” His eyes closed, his hands lifted toward heaven, as he lay on his back, he only gave sign of life by repeating in a low voice, ”Lord Jesus, Lord Jesus, one with Thee. I long for Thee, Lord Jesus.” Soon he readied for my hands, which he put on his forehead under his own, and in this way he slept a little while. When he awoke he asked what time it was. “Just three,” I said. “Five hours more, my blessed Jesus, and I shall be with Thee,” he said. “O how sweet that is ! I never knew what real, unbroken, unclouded happiness is even until last Saturday when I saw Christ in Heaven as my righteousness. I knew what peace is from that morning when I saw the finished work of Christ for my salvation; but since I have known Christ Himself as my righteousness I know what joy means. Several gentlemen called in yesterday, and seemed to pity me in my condition; but Oh! how I do wish they might be as I am, save the hanging.”
Againhe said: “Morning is coming and I wish to forget nothing. This Testament was given me by Mr. G. and I leave it for him to carry to my mother. It is the best gift I ever had. May my dear mother find in it what I found. This package of tracts I leave for you to carry to my mother. It will be a kindness to me if you visit her as often as you can. Tell her I am at home, a sinner saved by grace, through faith. I have made a dying request she may be released, for she is not guilty, and is there through my fault alone. I trust my Father will move the heart of the Governor to do so; but tell her that peace with God makes of a prison a palace. She must not think it is easier to believe outside a prison than inside. Christ has done it all, and it is believing that makes every thing ours. If she will only believe she will meet me again when Jesus comes.
”Tell my sister she is lost, as lost as I am, and must therefore be saved in the same way in which I am saved. Please write to her, and tell her I never knew what happiness is till I saw the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. Tell her she may think she is happy in the pleasures of the world, but I know they are death, eternal woe, at the end.
“When you have publislied our interviews, send a copy to each of my relatives whose address you have. Tell every body that I recognise no church but the Church of God, the Body of Christ, of which, through faith in Jesus Christ, I am a happy, happy member. I love, yes, I dearly love all whose confidence is where mine is, and who love my Blessed Jesus. Moreover, I aftectionately and solemnly warn them who seem to place much confidence in the Church or in the Ordinances. I have received several books and other matters, since I am here, which talk in that way; but I am sure there is nothing so dangerous because it hides Christ in whom alone is salvation, and grace, and strength. These things, I know, are very good in their place, but I feel sure many are putting them before Christ; for if they saw in Christ what I see, they would set Him up so high that the other things would not be noticed much.”
“Insist that forgiveness of sins is not when a man dies. It is for ever too late then; but it is when he believes, because the debt was all paid over 1,800 years ago. Tell the world that it is lost, but that God sent His Son to save it; that the work for our salvation is all done since Jesus died. Oh! that they would only believe. If they only could see in Jesus what I see, they could not stay away another moment. Indeed it is not left for man to choose, for when he sees Christ he cannot refuse; he must come, and he must love.”
He called the night-guard and said: “Oh! Mr. R., I love you: I do love you so much that I wish I could see you resting in Christ before I die.”
“I have determined now to try to be a Christian,” answered the guard.
“O no! that will not do! that will not do!” he replied. “God wants none of your determination. It is His Son, eternal Life, a finished redemption, He offers you. Will you not have it? Look at me. Three hours more and I shall hang, and yet I am the happiest man living. What do you think of that? Isn’t there reality in Christ? Isn’t it a reality worth having? Look at that man! (he pointed to me). The love of Christ has enabled him to leave the world and be happy in such a place as this. Isn’t there reality in Christ?”
Thus he pleaded, and after a while he said to me, “Let us pray for Mr. R. May be the Lord will show him what we see.”
Often he would take both my hands in his, stoop a little so as to draw his face close to mine, and then would say: “We are two sons of God, two members of the body of Christ, two brothers in Him; isn’t that delightful?” — and so saying he would look in my eyes until I was compelled to drop my eyelids. Oh! that face! how dear to me! it still lives!
At seven o’clock he said, “Now, Lord, one more glance at Thy Word, then I will tie up the Book for my dear mother, and I go to Thee.”
After he had arranged every thing on the table, he said to me: “Now Satan is assailing me.”
I felt afraid of this, for I well knew that Satan could see he would soon be out of his reach, so I could but silently pray for him. In about four or live minutes he said: “It is all over. I am one with Christ, and Christ is one with God. God is my Father and Satan is at my feet.”
As the noise of feet and voices was beginning to be heard all around, he said : ”Soon we shall be surrounded by people, so let me bid you good-bye as I wish to”, and so saying he took me in his arms as a child, kissed me over and over again, then let me go, and said: ”You have taught me the truth of God, and He has plucked me as a brand from the burning to believe it. May God bless you and everything you do. May He make you strong to preach the same things to many more till Jesus comes.”
While he spoke the cell had been opened, and we were asked to go into another cell, where several were assembled with the other criminal. A few minutes before eight, the arms of both were tied to ascend to the gallows. While he was being tied a shiver seemed to pass over him. Our eyes met, and again his smiling face was turned up toward Heaven. The procession moved on, but as he was a little behind I held him by the sleeve till all but the jailer had gone out, and I kissed him for the last time. A few minutes after he was “out of the body, present with the Lord”, and I returned home with my sorrow and my joy.
Paul J. Loizeaux
Kingston, Canada, December, 1870