“Indeed, if one could have gone to Ripley, at any time in his later years, and said, ‘You will never return again to the society of men,’ and persuaded him it was true, he would have said at once, ’Send for Father Hecker or some other Catholic priest.’  I am persuaded that the fear of facing his friends hindered George Ripley from becoming a Catholic.  He sent for me when taken down by his last illness, but his message was not delivered.  As soon as I heard that he was ill I hastened to his bedside, but his mind was gone and I could do nothing for him.”

And now, having given so fully such of his own impressions as remain of the persons and places which helped to shape Father Hecker in early manhood, we will terminate the record of this period with two letters, one from each community, which were written him soon after his return to New York.  No words of our own could show so well the hearty affection and implicit trust which he awakened and returned: 

“Brook Farm, September 18, 1843.—­MY DEAR FRIEND:  I was rejoiced to hear from you, though you wrote too short a letter.  Your beautiful fruit, enough to convert the direst sceptic to Grahamism, together with the pearled wheat, arrived safely, although a few days too late to be in perfectly good order.  We distributed them to all and singular, men, women, and children, who discussed them with great interest, I assure you; many, no doubt, with silent wishes that no good or beautiful thing might ever be wanting to you.  I am glad to learn that you are so happy in New York, that you find so much in your own mind to compensate for the evils of a city environment, and that your aspirations are not quenched by the sight of the huge disorders that daily surround you.  I hardly dare to think that my own faith or hope would be strong enough to reconcile me to a return to common society.  I should pine like an imprisoned bird, and I fear I should grow blind to the visions of loveliness and glory which the future promises to humanity.  I long for action which shall realize the prophecies, fulfil the Apocalypse, bring the new Jerusalem down from heaven to earth, and collect the faithful into a true and holy brotherhood.  To attain this consummation so devoutly to be wished, I would eat no flesh, I would drink no wine while the world lasted.  I would become as devoted an ascetic as yourself, my dear Isaac.  But to what end is all speculation, all dreaming, all questioning, but to advance humanity, to bring forward the manifestation of the Son of God?  Oh, for men who feel this idea burning into their bones!  When shall we see them?  And without them, what will be phalanxes, groups and series, attractive industry, and all the sublime words of modern reforms?