Hecker walking rapidly up and down in
the secluded little dell that served him as a retreat. He was wringing
his hands and sobbing so violently that we two scared children stole
away, awed and mystified. Intruders on a scene that should not have been
witnessed, we said nothing about it at the time, and I have never
mentioned it until now.
Not long after this strange happening, Henry D. Thoreau came to the
Farm, and Mr. Hecker found in him a sympathetic companion. Presently the
two went away together, for the purpose, I think, of determining by
experiment the minimum amount of nourishment actually required to
sustain life. They never came back. Thoreau took to the solitude of
Walden, I suppose, and our baker found himself attracted to the Catholic
Church, eventually going abroad to study for the priesthood. On taking
orders he returned to New York, and during the rest of his life was an
earnest and influential, though somewhat independent toiler in the
vineyard of Rome; gaining, unsought, fame as Father Hecker.
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