ld 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.

The following memorandum, taken over two years before his death,
tells of a relief which he hoped would be permanent; but such was not
to be the case:

"Father Hecker said to-day: 'Only within the last three days has God
released me from the sensation that I might die any instant. Oh! how
I have suffered from that feeling for ten years. I did not kn