rhemes1582
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For one thing he was shortening his Purgatory

Read my friends part of this story from the Crusaders Almanac 1933
Words and thoughts that seem to be lost to today's Church

A Famous Jesuit retreat master, dying, sniffed contemptuously at a huge and extravagant bunch of American Beauty roses that towered on his table. You may be sure Lucille {whom the story was about,this is just some of the backdrop} had never given them to him. She'd slipped him a box of real cigars. He laughed, fighting down the agony in his breast. "Lucille your more welcome than the death angel. He's not far off, but I won't go till I've smoked the very last of these. My nunc dimittis shall be breathed in nicotine" " You don't want the flowers" rejoined Lucille; " I'll take them down to the ward to old Mrs. Buckner, who never had a real flower in her life. She'll get better because I'll tell her a Jesuit sent them to her with his blessing". The Jesuit did not deceive Lucille, much as he tried. She understood what racking anguish was his; what a relief death would be. BUT THE PRIEST WAS SUFFERING FOR A PURPOSE.FOR ONE THING HE WAS SHORTENING HIS PURGATORY.

Mark them well my Catholic Brothers and sisters, for you may never read them again in this lifetime.
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Dr Bobus
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An old Benedictine Abbess was on her death bed, some minutes from taking her last breath. As the sisters gathered around her bed, the Abbess said she would like a few sips of warm milk before she departed this life. Hurrying to fulfill the request, one of the sisters added a bit of whiskey to the milk.
She returned, handed the cup to the Prioress, who helped the dying woman raise her head a bit to …More
An old Benedictine Abbess was on her death bed, some minutes from taking her last breath. As the sisters gathered around her bed, the Abbess said she would like a few sips of warm milk before she departed this life. Hurrying to fulfill the request, one of the sisters added a bit of whiskey to the milk.

She returned, handed the cup to the Prioress, who helped the dying woman raise her head a bit to sip the milk. The Abbess then made it known she had something to say. The Prioress bent over as a few words were whispered in her ear. Then the Abbess laid her head back and died.

The other sisters appealed to the Prioress to tell them what was the departing message of the holy woman. The Prioress obliged, repeating the holy message:

Don't sell that cow.
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