John Carroll had been named Bishop in 1790, two years before Gallitzin's arrival. He belonged to one of those honorable families that had come over to America in Lord Baltimore's time and settled in Maryland. His cousin Charles was a true-hearted patriot, who had signed the Declaration of American Independence. Demetrius found Bishop Carroll living a life of truly evangelical poverty and hardship. Beyond a small private fortune, he possessed no means except such as, with some difficulty he derived from Europe; for no endowment went with the episcopal dignity. Carroll had received his ecclesiastical education in France, where he had formed many friendly relations. Hence when the revolution broke out several distinguished French priests came to America and offered him their services. Among these were the Abbé Dubois, who died in extreme old age as the first Bishop of New York; Flaget, Bishop of Louisville; Bruté, afterward Bishop of Vincennes; and Nagot, president of the famous Seminary of St. Sulpice in Paris. When first this little band of devoted men came to the new country, they had to earn their daily bread by giving French lessons; and only after mastering the difficulties of the English language were they able to help Bishop Carroll in the care of souls. The Abbé Nagot soon founded an establishment for training youths for the priesthood; it was on so modest a scale and so humble in its beginnings it could hardly be called a seminary. Among its candidates for the priesthood, Stephen Badin was the first and Demetrius Gallitzin the second. At first, of course, Gallitzin took up his abode in the quasi-seminary simply for convenience' sake--as a visitor,--for Brosius, his travelling companion, had been sent off to another mission; so he was alone. But he had hardly been Abbé Nagot's guest for two months ere he wrote a letter to Münster, in which he said that he had dedicated himself, soul and body, with all that he had and all that he was, to God's service and the salvation of his neighbor in America; and that what had led him to this resolve was the urgent need of workers in the Lord's vineyard. He saw that priests in this country had often to ride for forty or fifty hours or more to administer the Sacraments to the faithful. He could scarcely fear that any one would doubt the sincerity of his vocation, considering the prospect of very hard work which it entailed. This was indeed true. Mitri had well counted the cost; for was he not living in the heart of the painful but glorious self-immolation which characterized those first Catholic missionaries? There was nothing feverish or spasmodic in his resolve: the sacred fire had been quietly kindled in his heart; little was said by him at any time, only much was done.