his wife and children, he loved his brother Isaac, with an absorbing devotedness, and these loves were blended and mingled into one with the love of God.  His charities are known to the reader, but they should be understood as the result not merely of affection for his brother, or even of faith in his apostolate, but also from his own perception of the intrinsic worth of the undertakings themselves.  We know not what quality could be added to George Hecker to make him a model Christian of our day.

His death had a serious effect on Father Hecker’s state of body and mind.  But from the previous autumn and during the winter following he had failed rapidly.  In fact, he had requested and received the last Sacraments from Father Hewit on September 15, 1887; but this was on account of an alarming irregularity of the heart’s action, which was but temporary.  He had no long distance to drop at any time to get to the bottom, and it became evident in the summer of 1888 that the end was not far off.  He could not stand the strong air of Lake George that summer, and came home after being there but a couple of weeks.  He tried the sea-side with even worse success; and the short journeys he made were extremely painful.  The paroxysms of angina pectoris became more frequent and daily left their victim less able to rally.  Patience strained to the uttermost by physical suffering, the mind distressed, fits of despondency and of indescribable gloom, the weight of a body of death—­all this he had borne for sixteen years, with only occasional intervals of peace.  There was little left to suffer except death.  His bodily resistance grew weaker towards the end of his last summer on earth, and he lost flesh rapidly.  The fulness of his face was gone by autumn, and a wan look, as of decaying force, was stamped upon it.  He suffered in literally every member of his body, by turns or simultaneously.  We find the following memorandum: 

“Question: What’s the matter with the back of your head? [he was rubbing it with extract of witch hazel]. Answer: It is sore, it hurts me. Q. Well!  As soon as one part is better another gets out of order? etc. A. Do you know it was all revealed to me and foretold [beginning to weep]. Q. When?  In your novitiate? A. Yes. Q. But not all the details of your sufferings?  A. Yes, all the details.  But I will not say another word about it. Q. But you ought to, etc. [He refused to say more.]”

Little by little during the latter years Father Hecker’s visitors had become very few.  An occasional call was received from an old friend, lay or cleric, and this was not apt to be repeated, so painful was the contrast between the former Father Hecker and the present one.  Instead of the active and powerful man, of contagious courage and hopefulness, they saw a tall, wan old man bending with the weight of years and of suffering, but still majestic in his look and bearing, with a white beard, and soft, attractive eyes.  The quick movement, the joyous greeting, even the smiling serenity, had passed away, and instead an air of sadness had come, or of enforced cheerfulness.