raised me up to the pinnacle, whereas I should have been in neither place.”  On another occasion he told how the change of prayer had happened:  “I was on my knees one day after Communion, making a regular thanksgiving, when suddenly God stopped me, and I was told not to pray that way any more.  Question:  How were you told—­what words were spoken to you?  Answer:  Cease your activity.  I have no need of your words when I possess your will.  ’Tis I, not you, who should act.  My action in you is more important than your thanks.  I cease to act when you begin, and begin to act when you cease.  Be still—­tranquil—­ listen—­suffer me to act.  Abandon yourself to me, and I will take care of you.”

When in Rome, in the winter of 1857-8, he was compelled by circumstances, which will be told in their place, to make a written summary of his spiritual experience.  In it he says:  “My novitiate was one of sore trials, for the master of novices seemed not to understand me, and the manifestation of my interior to him was a source of the greatest pain.  After about nine or ten months he appeared to recognize the hand of God in my direction in a special manner, conceived a great esteem (for me), and placed unusual confidence in me, and allowed me without asking it, though greatly desired, daily Communion.  During my whole novitiate no amount of austerity could appease my desire for mortification, and several gifts in the way of prayer were bestowed on me.”

On March 6, 1886, while in a state of almost utter physical prostration, he communicated to the writer the following:  “Forty years ago, in my novitiate, God told me that I was to suffer in every fibre of my being.”  “Perhaps,” was remarked, “you have not suffered all yet.”  Answer:  “Perhaps not, but God has kept His promise in every limb, member, and function of my body.”  It may become necessary to refer again to these interior experiences.  We leave them with the remark that his novitiate was characterized by a continuance of Divine interferences similar to those which had occurred at intervals from the time he was driven from home and business to seek the fulfilment of his aspirations.

The following is the record of a brave soul’s failure to become a Redemptorist.  It is given in a letter dated September 14, 1846:  “Brother McMaster, who returns to the U.S., gives me the opportunity of writing a few lines to you,” etc.  It was a profound disappointment for Mr. McMaster to be obliged to return home a layman, and it shocked his companions.  It is a little singular that Father Othmann told him that his vocation was not to be a religious, but an editor.  He carried with him Brother Hecker’s messages of affection to his friends and relatives, and rosaries of Isaac’s own making for his mother and his brother George.