There was a physician on board of the name of Dr. Evans, a distinguished scientist who was making the voyage in the interests of the Smithsonian Institution. He did everything in his power to allay the plague. Father De Smet was too ill to do anything, but Father Hoecken worked incessantly, caring for the sick and watching over their spiritual needs. This heroic priest won the hearts of the passengers by his untiring labors in their behalf; but he so completely exhausted himself that he had no reserve strength to combat the disease if it should attack himself. He seemed everywhere at once, like a ministering angel, and Father De Smet earnestly besought him to spare himself somewhat or he would not hold out. Father De Smet’s condition was so serious that he had asked Father Hoecken to receive his confession; but the latter did not think his brother in immediate danger, and hastened to the bedsides of those who were in a more precarious condition. In the midst of his unselfish labors the zealous missionary was himself stricken. Father De Smet thus records the sad story of his death: [Sidenote: DEATH OF FATHER HOECKEN.] “Between one and two o’clock at night, when all on board was calm and silent, and the sick in their wakefulness heard naught but the sighs and moans of their fellow-sufferers, the voice of Father Hoecken was suddenly heard. He was calling me to his assistance. Awaking from a deep sleep, I recognized his voice, and dragged myself to his pillow. Ah, me! I found him ill and even in extremity. He asked me to hear his confession: I at once acquiesced in his desire. Dr. Evans, a physician of great experience and remarkable charity, endeavored to relieve him, and watched by him, but his care and remedies proved fruitless. I administered extreme unction; he responded to all the prayers with a recollection and piety which increased the esteem that all on board had conceived for him. I could see him sinking. As I was myself in so alarming a state, and fearing that I might be taken away at any moment, and thus share his last abode in this land of pilgrimage and exile, I besought him to hear my confession, if he were yet capable of listening to me. I knelt, bathed in tears, by the dying couch of my brother in Christ--of my faithful friend--of my sole companion in the lonely desert. To him in his agony, I, sick and almost dying, made my confession! Strength forsook him; soon, also, he lost the power of speech, although he remained sensible to what was passing around him. Resigning myself to God’s holy will, I recited the prayers of the agonizing with the formula of the plenary indulgence, which Christ grants at the hour of death. Father Hoecken, ripe for heaven, surrendered his pure soul into the hands of his Divine Redeemer on the 19th of June, 1851, twelve days after our departure from St. Louis.