es, to do with them and direct them as He
pleases. To return to the United States and there arrange things to
His pleasure, or to leave me here. I am indifferent, quiet, entirely
ready either not to act or to act."

And so in October, 1875, Father Hecker was again in New York. He
begged the Fathers to allow him to stay with his brother for the
present, "for my nerves could not stand the noise, the routine, and
the excitement of the house in Fifty-ninth Street." And when he did
return to the convent to live, which was four years afterwards, he
was quite sure that his end was at hand, though it did not come till
nine years later.

During all the thirteen years between Father Hecker's return to
America and his death, his daily order of life was pretty much the
same as he described it in one of his letters from Europe, already
given to the reader. He did not resort any longer to change of place
or climate as a means of recovery; he had tried that long enough. His
physician, the one who served the community, assisted him constantly
with advice and remedies, and once or twice he tried a sanitarium; he
was apt to try anything suggested, being credulous about such
matters. But his strength of body slowly faded away. He was more
disturbed than surprised at this, and fought for life every inch of
the way.

"If I were a Celt," he once said with a smile, "I should more readily
resign myself to die, but I am of a race that clings fast to the
earth." His persistent struggle was sometimes calm, but was generally
sharpened by a horrible dread of death, which fastened on his soul
like a vampire, and gave a stern aspect to his self-defence. His
patience in suffering was most admirable, though seldom clothed in
the usual formalities. "Perhaps, after all," he would sometimes say,
"God will give me back my health, for I have a work to do."

Though anything but an ill-tempered man, Father Hecker was yet by
nature ardent and irascible and quickly provoked by opposition, but
God gave him such a horror of dissension that he would not quarrel,
though it was often plain that his peaceful words cost him a hard
struggle. Occasionally he lost his temper for a little while, and
this was when compelled to attend to business under stress of great
bodily or mental pain. We do not think that he was ever known to
attempt to move men by anger, or even sternness. "If you ever tell
any one about me," he said, "say that I believed in praising men more
t