Just recently, I heard a story I had never heard before regarding an Italian priest named John Bosco whom some of you may know lived back in the 19th century. He dedicated most of his life to working with children. The story goes that at a certain point in his life, near the end of his life, John Bosco wanted to make a visit to Paris but he had no place to stay. So he made his trip to Paris, he wore rather shabby clothes and spoke rather pathetic French. Looking for a place, he knocked on the door of a French priest, and asked for lodging. The priest was rather unimpressed by what he saw and what he heard in Bosco as a person but finally acquiesced, gave him a room in the rectory on the sixth floor, in the attic. Bosco died shortly thereafter after he had returned to his native Italy. And it turns out that some years shortly after this, the canonization of his sainthood began.