{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_16958/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_16958","id":"gutenberg_16958","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16958","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Novels","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Catholics -- United States -- Fiction","Irish Americans -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Graeme Mackreth and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttps://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images\nproduced by the Wright American Fiction Project.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nCROSS AND THE SHAMROCK,\n\nOR,\n\nHOW TO DEFEND THE FAITH.\n\nAN\n\nIRISH-AMERICAN CATHOLIC TALE\n\nOF REAL LIFE,\n\nDESCRIPTIVE OF THE\n\nTEMPTATIONS, SUFFERINGS, TRIALS, AND TRIUMPHS\n\nOF THE\n\nCHILDREN OF ST. PATRICK\n\nIN THE\n\nGREAT REPUBLIC OF WASHINGTON.\n\nA BOOK\n\nFOR THE ENTERTAINMENT AND SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS OF\n\nTHE CATHOLIC MALE AND FEMALE SERVANTS OF THE\nUNITED STATES.\n\n\nWRITTEN BY\n\nA MISSIONARY PRIEST.\n\n[Transcriber's Note: a pseudonym for Hugh Quigley.]\n\nBOSTON:\n\nPATRICK DONAHOE,\n\n3 FRANKLIN STREET.\n\n1853.\n\nEntered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by\n\nPATRICK DONAHOE,\n\nIn the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of\nMassachusetts.\n\nSTEREOTYPED AT THE\nBOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.\n\n\n\n\nDEDICATION.\n\n\nTo the faithful Irish-American Catholic citizens\nof the whole Union, and especially to the working\nportion of them, on account of their piety,\ntheir liberality, their patriotism, and their steady\nloyalty to the virtues symbolized by the \"Cross\nand the Shamrock,\"--on account of their attachment\nto the land of St. Patrick, and to the\nreligion of her patriot princes and martyrs,--this\nwork, written for their encouragement and instruction,\nis respectfully inscribed by\n\nTheir humble servant,\n  And devoted friend and fellow-citizen,\n      THE AUTHOR.\n\nSeptember, 1853.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\n\"There are moments when every citizen who feels that he can say\nsomething promotive of the welfare of his countrymen and of advantage to\nhis country is authorized to give _public_ utterance to his sentiments,\nhow humble soever he may be.\"--_Letter of Archbishop Hughes on the\nMadiai_, February, 1853.\n\n\"There may be, in public opinion, an Inquisition a thousand times more\ngalling to the soul than the gloomy prison or the weight of\nchains.\"--_National Democrat_, March, 1853.\n\n1st. The above extracts, from different but respectable sources,\ncomprise the author's chief motives in the publication of the following\nwork. It is a well-known fact, that thousands of our fellow-Christians,\nin all parts of this vast _free country_, are continually subjected to a\nmost trying ordeal of temptation and persecution on account of their\nreligion, and that the wonderful progress of Catholicity and renewed\npower of the church only add to the malice, if not to the influence, of\nsectarians, in their efforts to make use of this odious persecution of\nservant boys and servant girls, of widows and orphans, to build up their\nown tottering conventicles, and to circumscribe the giant strides of\nwhat they call \"the man of sin.\"\n\nA very intelligent American lawyer lately remarked to the writer of\nthis, \"that, about twenty-five years ago, the parsons fulminated all\ntheir eloquence against Satan; but they seem to have formed a league\nwith him now, for all their vengeance is directed against the pope, who,\nthey say, is far more dangerous than Old Harry.\"\n\nWhen we know this to be literally true, and find our poor, neglected,\nand uninstructed brethren in danger accordingly, how can any thing that\ncan be said, written, or done, to alleviate their condition, or to\nremove prejudice from the public mind, be counted a work of\nsupererogation?\n\n2d. The corruption of the cheap trash literature, that is now ordinarily\nsupplied for the amusement and instruction of the American people,--and\nthat threatens to uproot and annihilate all the notions of virtue and\nmorals that remain, in spite of sectarianism,--calls for some antidote,\nsome remedy. In every rail car, omnibus, stage coach, steamboat, or\ncanal packet, publications, containing the most poisonous principles and\ndestructive errors, are presented to, and are purchased by, passengers\nof both sexes, whose minds, like the appetites of hungry animals, will\ntake to eating the filthiest stuff, rather than want food for\nrumination. It is for the philanthropists of the present day, and for\nthose who are paid for making such inquiries, to trace the connection\nbetween the _roues_ of your cities, your Bloomer women, your spiritual\nrappers, and other countless extravagances of a diseased public mind,\nand between the abominable publications to which we allude.\n\n3d. Our people are not generally great readers of the trashy newspapers\nof the day; and in this respect they show their good sense, or at least\nhave happened on good luck: it is therefore our duty to supply them with\ncheap and amusing literature, to entertain them during the few hours\nthey are disengaged from work. And what reading can afford the Irish\nCatholic greater pleasure than any work, however imperfect, having for\nits end the exaltation and defence of his glorious old faith, and the\nvindication of his native land--his beloved \"Erin-go-bragh\"? Impress on\nhis susceptible mind the honor and advantage of defence and fidelity to\nthe CROSS and the SHAMROCK, and you give him two ideas that will come to\nhis aid in most of his actions through life. We are ashamed here of the\ncross of Christ, when we see it continually dishonored and trampled on\nby heretics and modern pagans, in their scramble for money and pleasures.\nOn the other hand, the poverty, humiliation, and rags of old Erin, of\nthe kings, saints, and martyrs, scandalize us; and from these two false\nnotions the degradation and apostasy of many Irishmen commence. Hence they\nno sooner land on the shores of America than they endeavor to clip the\nmusical and rich brogue of fatherland, to make room for the bastard\nbarbarisms and vulgar slang of Yankeedom. The remainder of the course of\nthe apostate is easily traced, till, ashamed of creed and country, he ends\nby being ashamed of his Creator and Redeemer, and barters the inheritance\nof heaven for the miserable and short enjoyments of this earth.\n\nA _fourth_, and a leading motive in the publication of this work, is to\nrecord the manly defences which the people among whom the author lives\nhave made of the creed of their fathers, and to enable them to refute,\nin a simple, practical manner, for the edification of their opponents,\nthe many objections proposed to them about the faith. By placing a copy\nof this work in the hands of every head of a family in the congregation\nin which he presides, the author thinks he will have done something\ntowards the salvation of that parent and his house, by showing him how\nhe may educate his children, and save them from those subtle snares laid\nto rob them and him of happiness here and hereafter; for, without true\nreligion and virtue, there is neither enjoyment nor happiness even in\nthis world.\n\nBut are the principles sound, and the estimate he has formed of American\ncharacter and the conduct and motives of the sectarian parsons correct?\nThere may be, and undoubtedly there is, great variety in American\ncharacter; and, so far, what may be true of the people of one state or\ncounty, may not at all be applicable to those of the rest; but as far as\nregards sectarianism and its slanders of the church, and the low\ncharacter, intellectually and morally, of the parsons, ministers,\ndominies, and preachers, with few honorable exceptions, it may be said,\nin the words of the poet,--\n\n\"Ex uno disce omnes.\"\n\n\"They are all chips of the same block;\" and the description in the\nfollowing pages of their attempts to proselytize, seduce, and corrupt,\nis not at all exaggerated, as thousands of candid American Protestants\ncan testify. Perhaps the sectarian dominies do not see the sad\nconsequences that are infallibly produced on the minds of their hearers,\nafter they come to detect the frauds and falsehoods which the parsons\ninculcate on them when children; but they are in _the cause_, and\nmorally responsible for that doubt, irreligion, and downright infidelity\nwhich are the well-known characteristics of the male and female youth\nof our great country, and which threaten such disastrous consequences to\nsociety.\n\nYes, dominies, you are responsible for all the extravagances of modern\ntimes, for the irreparable loss to virtue and society of the noble youth\nof your country. You hate the church of God because she is a witness\nagainst you. The priest, the nun, and the recluse are objects of your\nmalice; for they are living examples of what you call impossible morals,\nand refuters of the code of low virtue you practise and preach. The\nfaith of the Catholic laity, too, you endeavor to destroy, in order more\nsecurely to deceive your hearers, and to secure your children, your\nwives, and yourselves, that bread which you eat by the dissemination of\nerror, contradiction, and contention, and which you are too lazy to\n\"earn by the sweat of your brow.\"\n\n_Finally._ This work is submitted to the reader by one who will be well\npleased if it affords the former any pleasure or amusement during one or\ntwo of such few hours of leisure as it took the latter to write it.\nRegarding style, method, and arrangement of the matter, the author has\nno apology to offer, except that the work has been written in great\nhaste, and by one who, in five years, has not had a single entire day\nfor recreation or unoccupied by severe missionary duty. Let not the\ncritics forget this.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                        PAGE\nCHAPTER I.\nA DEATH BED SCENE,                                        13\n\nCHAPTER II.\nGETTING THE MOTHER'S BLESSING,                            23\n\nCHAPTER III.\nAN OFFICIAL,                                              32\n\nCHAPTER IV.\nTHE POORHOUSE,                                            41\n\nCHAPTER V.\nTHE O'CLERYS,                                             52\n\nCHAPTER VI.\nTHE COUNCIL,                                              60\n\nCHAPTER VII.\nA RUDE LOVER OF NATURE,                                   69\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\nTHE ORPHANS IN THEIR NEW HOME,                            77\n\nCHAPTER IX.\nTHE PRYING FAMILY,                                        87\n\nCHAPTER X.\nA RAY OF HOPE,                                            97\n\nCHAPTER XI.\nVAN STINGEY AGAIN.--HOW HE GETS RICH AND ENDS,            106\n\nCHAPTER XII.\nMASS IN A SHANTY,                                        117\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\nTHE TEMPTER AT THE WOMAN,                                129\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\nTHE FRUITS OF THE CROSS,                                 136\n\nCHAPTER XV.\nTHE CONVERSION,                                          145\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\nTHE ENLIGHTENED CITIZENS,                                155\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\"HE AND HIS WHOLE HOUSE BELIEVED,\"                       164\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\"TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION,\"                           178\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\nWHAT HAPPENED TO LITTLE EUGENE O'CLERY,                  187\n\nCHAPTER XX.\nTHE SAME, CONTINUED,                                     201\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\nCHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS,                                    213\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\nTHE DESERTED HOME OF THE ORPHANS,                        223\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\nIN WHICH THE SCENE OF OUR TALE IS CHANGED,               240\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\nSHOWS HOW THE CROSS AND SHAMROCK WERE PERMANENTLY\nUNITED AFTER A LONG SEPARATION,                          251\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\nCONCLUSION,                                              260\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nA DEATH-BED SCENE.\n\n\nA cold evening in the month of January, a drizzling rain storm blowing\nfrom the south-west, a cheerless sky, a dull, threatening atmosphere,\ntogether with almost impassable roads,--these are the chilling and\nuninviting circumstances with which, if we pay regard to truth, we must\nintroduce our narrative to our readers. It is usual, with writers of\nfiction and romance, to preface their literary exhibitions with\nhigh-wrought and dazzling descriptions of natural and artificial\nobjects--the sun, moon, and stars; the clouds, meteors, and other\nfantastic creations of the atmosphere; the seas, rivers, and lakes; the\nmountains, fields, and gardens; the birds, fishes, and the inhabitants\nof the savage forests, as well as the forests, groves, and woods\nthemselves,--in a word, all nature seems as if conscious of the effects\nlikely to result to the morals, habits, and projects of men, while some\nof your modern novelists are arranging their matter, sharpening their\nscissors, preparing pen, ink, and paper, and taking indigestible suppers\nto make way into the world for the offspring of their creative fancies.\nOurs being a tale of truth,--yes, of bare, unvarnished truth, yet of\ntruth more interesting, if not \"stranger, than fiction,\"--it is not to\nbe wondered that, when we acknowledge the homely dame, and her alone, as\nour guide, inspirer, and preceptor, we lack the advantage of romancers,\nand cannot command \"a special sunset,\" or a storm made to order, or\nother enchanting scenery, to introduce us to our patrons.\n\nWe must take things as we find them; and this is why cold, rain, and\nfrost, the whistling of merciless winds, together with false and\npitiless ice, constitute the principal features of our introductory\nchapter. The merry chimes of sleigh bells, as if to add gloom to the\nscene, were silent, no snow having fallen this winter, and the ice being\nirregular and lumpy. The streets of the city of T---- were almost\nentirely deserted of foot passengers, owing to the danger of walking\nover the slippery pavement; while cabmen and omnibus conductors had\ncautiously driven their teams to the stable or smithy, to have them\n\"sharpened\" for the frozen coat of mail which enveloped the earth. When\nabout dusk, an aged gentleman, in a cloak, with a sharp-pointed cane in\nhis hand, might be observed moving along the gutter of a narrow street.\nOccasionally he would slip so as to come on one knee, and now he would\nsteer himself along by taking hold of the sills of windows, and of the\nrailings which here and there were erected in front of a few houses on\nthe retired and deserted street on which he crept along.\n\nAt length he approaches an old three-story, red, frame-built house,\nwhich, from its shattered and dilapidated windows, at first seemed to\nbe deserted, but which, from the description left by a messenger with\nhis domestic in the forenoon, he could not doubt was the place where he\nheard the emigrant widow lay at the point of death.\n\n\"Is this where the sick woman is?\" said he to an old woman who opened\nthe door.\n\n\"Yes, your reverence,\" answered Mrs. Doherty, at once recognizing the\npriest; \"and thank God you are come. The Lord never deserts his own,\npraise be to his holy name.\"\n\n\"Is she very ill?\" said Father O'Shane; for thus was named the sole\npastor of the city of T---- in those days.\n\n\"That she is, your reverence, and callin' for the priest this three\ndays; but as we heard your reverence say that you would be in the\ncountry till this day, we thought it no use to give in the sick call\nsooner. I myself gave it in this morning afore my poor, sick old man got\nup.\"\n\n\"God help the poor!\" muttered the tender-hearted priest, as he ascended\nto the third floor, where the dying woman lay.\n\n\"Amen!\" answered Mrs. Doherty, aloud. \"You would pity her, your\nreverence, if you seen the misery they are in this two months; and it is\neasily telling they saw better days in the ould country. It is easily\nknowing _that_, by the _dacent_, mannerly children she has around her,\nGod help 'em.\"\n\n\"Pax huic domui, et omnibus habitantibus in ea\"--\"Peace to this house,\nand all that dwell therein,\" uttered the priest of God, as he opened\nthe latchless door of the room on the third story of the old \"Oil Mill\nHouse,\" where the patient was extended on her \"pallet of straw.\" For a\nmoment he stood on the threshold, for within an unusual and solemn sight\npresented itself to his view. A woman of fair and comely features,\nbetween about thirty and forty years of age, lay as described on the\nfloor, with four children kneeling around her. The eldest, a lad of\nabout fifteen years, read aloud the litanies and prayers of the church\nfor the dying, while the three younger children repeated the responses\nin fervent but trembling accents.\n\n\"Lord, have mercy on her,\" cried Paul, the eldest boy.\n\n\"Christ, have mercy on her,\" answered the younger children.\n\n\"Holy Mary.\" _R._ \"Pray for her.\"\n\n\"All ye holy angels and archangels.\" _R._ \"Pray for her.\"\n\n\"All ye choirs of the just.\" _R._ \"Pray for her.\"\n\n\"All ye saints of God.\" _R._ \"Make intercession for her.\"\n\n\"From thy anger, from an unhappy death, from the pains of hell.\" _R._\n\"Deliver her, O Lord.\"\n\n\"By thy cross and passion, by thy death and burial, by thy glorious\nresurrection, in the day of judgment.\" _R._ \"Deliver her, O Lord.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant from all danger of hell, and\nfrom all pain and tribulation.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Enoch\nand Elias from the common death of the world.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Noah from\nthe flood.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Abraham\nfrom the midst of the Chaldeans.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Job from\nall his afflictions.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Isaac\nfrom being sacrificed by his father.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Lot from\nSodom and the flames of fire.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Moses\nfrom the hands of Pharaoh, King of Egypt.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Daniel\nfrom the lions' den.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst the three\nchildren from the fiery furnace and from the hands of an unmerciful\nking.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Susanna\nfrom her false accusers.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst David\nfrom the hands of Goliah and Saul.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Peter\nand Paul out of prison.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"And as thou deliveredst that blessed virgin and martyr, St. Thecla,\nfrom most cruel torments, so vouchsafe, O Lord, to deliver the soul of\nthis thy servant, and bring it to the participation of thy heavenly\njoys.\" _R._ \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Depart, Christian soul, out of this world, in the name of God, the\nFather Almighty, who created thee; in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of\nthe living God, who suffered for thee; in the name of the Holy Ghost,\nwho sanctified thee; in the name of the angels, archangels, thrones and\ndominations, cherubims and seraphims; in the name of the patriarchs and\nprophets, of the holy martyrs and confessors, of the holy monks and\nhermits, of the holy virgins, and of all the saints of God. Let thy\nplace be this day in peace, and thy abode in _Sion_, through Christ, our\nLord.\" _R_. \"Amen.\"\n\nThe offering up of this most beautiful prayer by the children for their\ndying parent was not unattended with several breaks and pauses, caused\nby the overwhelming grief of the poor orphans. They \"gave out\" the short\nprayers of the litany very well, and without much interruption; but when\nthey came to the more solemn portion of that beautiful service, the\n\"recommendation of a departing soul,\" they could no longer restrain\ntheir tears or suppress their lamentations.\n\nSmall blame to the poor children for this manifestation of grief, since\nwe have known instances of the most hardened hearts being touched, and\nthe most manly eyes yielding their tribute of tears, at the bare recital\nof the most beautiful form of prayer for the \"soul departing.\" We have\nourselves read this service a thousand times, at least, by the death\nbedsides of many \"departing souls;\" and never could we once go through\nthe form of it entire without yielding to the weakness of nature, and\nbecoming speechless by the violence of our tears. Let the most obstinate\nunbeliever attend but a few times by the bedside of a dying Catholic,\nand observe the piety and faith of the priest and people around the bed\nof the \"soul departing;\" and if he be not an atheist or a blasphemer of\nGod's providence, it is impossible for him not to perceive the\nsuperiority of the Catholic religion to all other forms of worship that\never existed. But to be present at the death hour of a Christian is a\nprivilege which Protestants and unbelievers seldom or never enjoy; their\nlevity and want of devotion, with their impiety and irreverence, being\nsufficiently powerful obstacles to their admittance into such sacred\nplaces as the chamber in which the sacred offices of religion are\nadministered to the \"departing soul.\" It is only the true believers, and\nnot \"those outside,\" who have the privilege of hearing the \"prayer of\nfaith\" that saves the sick man--it is only they who enjoy occasionally\nthe consolation from the inspiring words of the church to join their\ntears, and unite their sighs, sobs, and sorrows with those of their\npastors and fellow-Christians, for the happy passage and merciful\njudgment for their departing brother. Such were the tears and sadness\nthat Paul O'Clery and his little attendants shed around the bed of\ntheir dying mother.\n\n\"Paul, my child, why do you act so?\" said she, gently chiding him.\n\n\"O mother! mother! how can I help it? Stop ye your crying there,\" said\nhe, taking courage, and turning to his younger associates. \"Silence\nBridget, Patrick, and Eugene. Answer me distinctly, and hold your grief.\nIt will vex mother.\" And he continued the prayer from where he left off\nwith as good grace as he could.\n\nThe venerable priest, though inside the door, was unperceived during\nthis affecting scene; and the heavy tears might be seen stealing down\nhis furrowed cheeks as he surveyed the group before him.\n\n\"O, faith of my Lord, O, best gift of God, how precious thou art! Thou\ncanst change men into angels, earth into paradise, and convert the\nmisery and poverty of the poor emigrant into a picture like this, that\nheaven itself must delight to gaze on. That's right, my darling son,\"\nsaid he, \"you have finished well; you have done your duty towards your\nmother, for which God will bless you, and I bless you in his name. In\nnomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.\"\n\n\"The priest, mother!\" whispered Bridget. \"I know him by his cloak.\"\n\n\"Glory, honor, and praise be to the Almighty,\" said the calm and now\nrejoicing widow, as she saw the face of the venerable minister of\nreligion. \"The Lord is too good to me, not to let me die in a strange\nland, without the consolations of my holy religion,\" she continued,\nkissing the silver crucifix of her beads.\n\nThe heart of the good man was too full to give utterance to many words;\nand seeing that Death was at hand, that already he was master of all but\nthe heart,--for the extremes were cold and without feeling,--he ordered\nthe children down to Mrs. Doherty's, while he heard the short and humble\nconfession of the poor departing soul, administered the most holy\nviaticum, with extreme unction, and read the last benediction of the\nchurch--\"In articulo mortis.\"\n\nHe then strengthened her soul with a few words of exhortation, and\nhaving prescribed a few short, ejaculatory prayers, bidding her to have\nthe name, as well as the image, of Jesus ever in her heart and lips, he\ndeparted, promising to call again as soon as possible, taking the\nprecaution to leave two dollars in silver and a three dollar bill on the\nlittle stool that stood by her bed. He had now, he said, to go about\nforty miles into the country; and he would, after his return, call to\nsee how she was, and to comply with her request about the children.\n\n\"I commend you now to the care of God and his angel. God bless you,\"\nsaid he, departing.\n\n\"Into thy hands I commend my spirit. O Lord, receive my soul. Jesus,\nJesus, Jesus, have mercy on me. O God of love, goodness, and mercy,\naccept my imperfect thanksgiving; save my soul, redeemed by thy precious\nblood, and make me worthy to see thy glory. I believe in thee, O Lord,\nI hope in thee, and I love thee. O my God and my Lord, who am I that\nthou shouldst visit me!\"\n\nWith these and other fervent aspirations, this pure and exalted soul\nprepared for the manifestation of the glory of her Lord, and sighed to\nbe dissolved, and to fly to the beatific vision that faith promised her,\nand through the merits of Christ she expected to obtain. After this, the\nsymptoms of her disease became sensibly less dangerous than before the\nvisit of the priest; but this calm, this seeming relief, was only\ntemporary. Presently the impress of pale death was unmistakably settled\non her calm brow.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nGETTING THE MOTHER'S BLESSING.\n\n\nWhen the priest departed from the precincts of \"Oil Mill House,\" in\ncompany with the impatient messenger that required his services in the\ncountry, after a few words of encouragement and advice spoken to Paul,\nBridget, Patrick, and Eugene,--for so were widow O'Clery's children\nnamed,--they returned to the bedside of their dying mother. Little\nBridget was the first to observe on the small bench by the bedside the\nmoney left there by Father O'Shane.\n\n\"Paul,\" she whispered, \"look here! This is money left, I suppose, by the\npriest.\" Paul, who was acquainted with American coin, took up the eight\npieces, or quarters, in silver, and the bill, and examining them by the\ncandle, said, \"O Bid, see how good the priest is! He has left us five\ndollars, or one pound, without saying a word about it. Mother, how do\nyou feel? Look! the priest left us a deal of money here quietly.\"\n\n\"God reward him for it,\" answered she, with a hoarse and broken voice.\n\"Paul, darling, go on your knees, you and your sister and brothers, till\nI give ye my blessing before I die. Quick, children, quick, while I have\nstrength.\"\n\n\"O mother! mother! sure you aren't going to leave us orphans? May be\nyou will get better now, after extreme unction.\"\n\n\"Kneel down here by my side, my children,\" said she, feeling that her\ntime was now short. \"Paul, do you promise me you will be a good boy,\nlove God, and keep his commandments?\"\n\n\"Yes, mother, with God's help. O woe!\"\n\n\"Will you watch over your brothers, and sister Bridget, and go with them\nto the priest, telling him not to forget that I gave ye all up to his\ncare, and the care of God and his blessed mother?\"\n\n\"O, I will.\"\n\n\"Bridget, Patrick, and Eugene, will ye obey, and be said by Paul, who is\nthe oldest?\"\n\n\"Yes, mother, please God,\" they answered, amidst sobbing and tears that\nhalf choked them.\n\n\"God bless ye, and guard ye, and save ye from all dangers of soul and\nbody. I give ye up to God. I place ye under the holy care of the\nblessed mother of God. I pray that ye may preserve pure the faith\nof Saint Patrick. I bless ye. O, pray for me. Jesus, into thy\nhands--Jesus--Mary--Jesus----.\" There was a sigh, and by a single effort\nthe soul extricated itself from its prison of clay to join the ranks of\nits kindred spirits. The widow O'Clery is no more, and Paul and his\nbrethren are orphans indeed.\n\nFor a few minutes there was a deep silence in that chamber of death, and\nPaul repeated the \"De Profundis,\" in English, out of his Prayer Book;\nbut when the cold and ghastly form of death was perceived by this poor\ncompany to be all that was left of their darling and affectionate\nmother, loud and mournful were their lamentations. Then, and not till\nthen, did the forlorn state to which they were reduced reveal itself\neven to their juvenile minds. There they were, helpless and destitute,\nwithout father or mother, friend or relation; on every side strangers,\ncold, hunger, and want. The mysterious hand of Providence conducted them\nfrom comparative comfort, if not luxury, through several stages of\ntrial, danger, and trouble, till they were now entirely stripped, like\nJob, of all but an existence to which death was preferable. Many are the\nphases of misery and crosses with which the life of man is surrounded in\nthis vale of tears; but we think the condition of the orphan, deprived\nof both parents, and thrown for support or existence on a strange and\nselfish world, the most desolate of all. A policeman was the first who\nwas attracted to the house of mourning by the wailing and cries of those\nwhom this night saw alone and desolate. Mrs. Doherty, attended by an\nIrish servant maid from a neighboring house, were the next visitors;\nand, after piously kneeling around the corpse to offer their fervent\nprayers for the soul, they prepared to \"lay out\" the body. This\nconsists, as all are probably aware, of washing the corpse, clothing it\nin clean linen, extending it on a table or bed, and putting up such\ntemporary fixtures as would deprive the room in which it lies of the\ngloom and repulsiveness attendant on such an event. After arranging all\nthings so that she looked \"a decent corpse,\" with the _religious habit_\naround her, Mrs. Doherty hung up the crucifix, pinned to a white linen\nsheet at the head of where she lay, placed her \"Ursuline Manual\" on her\nbreast, and her beads on her arms, crossed on the body.\n\n\"She was a handsome, fine woman, in her day, God bless her,\" said Mrs.\nDoherty.\n\n\"Yes, any body can tell that,\" answered Norry. \"I wonder how they came\nhere at all.\"\n\n\"I know it well,\" answered old Peggy Doherty. \"She telled me all about\nit afore she took bad entirely. Her man was well off, and had a brother\nnext to the bishop in the church, in the county of C----. When landlords\nbegan to root out the people from their homes, the brother of Mr.\nO'Clery, her husband, wrote letters in the newspapers about the cruelty\nof the landlord, who was called 'Lord Mandemon;' and on that account,\nand because the priest took part with the poor,--as they always do, God\nbless 'em!--the landlord came down on Mr. O'Clery, sold out his sixty\nmilch cows, after being twenty-one days in pound; and though the cows\nwere worth ten pounds each, Lord Mandemon's agent sold them by auction,\nand he bought them back himself for two pounds each; and so the poor\nfamily was ruined. After that, O'Clery sold out another farm he had;\nand, collecting all that was due to him, he came to America, against the\nadvice of the priest, his brother. He thought, he said, to live with his\nfamily in 'a free country,' where there were no landlords or tyrants,\nand, while he had some means, to buy a farm which he could call his own.\nBut he took the cholera when within sight of land, and he only lived a\nfew days. God rest his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed.\nAnd God help those poor orphans,\" she said, piously, looking to where\nthe little group, wearied from grief and crying, lay asleep on a straw\nbed.\n\n\"I do really pity the poor creatures,\" said Norry. \"I suppose they will\nhave to go to the poorhouse.\"\n\n\"I hope not; God forbid, _asthore_, the poorhouse is such a dangerous\nplace for Catholics. I heard the priest say he would call to-morrow; and\nmay be he will _do for_ the little dears.\"\n\n\"'Tis hard for him to provide for all that are in distress,\" said Norry.\n\n\"I know it; but it would be a murther to let such well-reared and decent\nchildren into the hands of those poormasters, but especially that Van\nStingey, whose great delight is, they say, to convart the children of\nCatholics to his own sect. See what he done to the little Cronin\nchildren, whose father and mother died lately.\"\n\n\"I heard of that; but I am afraid the priest won't be able to call on\nto-morrow, as he promised, if it continue to snow so.\"\n\n\"_O yea_, God forbid; but it is a terrible night. Do ye hear how it\nblows? _O Heirna Dioa._\"\n\n\"Yes, and the snow is falling in mountains; the roads will be blocked\nup, and hills and hollows will be on a level in the morning.\"\n\n\"God help every poor Christian that is out to-night,\" said Mrs. Doherty.\n\"I hope the Lord will save his reverence from all harm.\"\n\n\"Amen!\" answered Norry. \"He will have a hard night of it. Had he far to\ngo?\"\n\n\"He had, _agra_, forty miles out in Vermont; but sure he could not\nrefuse going. The woman is just dying; and besides, she is a Protestant,\nwho wants to die in the faith.\"\n\n\"Happy for her,\" said Norry, \"if he overtakes her alive. How good the\npriests are to these Yankees, although they are always ridiculing the\nclergy; yet, if one of them is going to die, the priest not only\nforgives them, but is willing to travel any distance to do them a\nservice.\"\n\n\"Sure that's the orders of God and the church,\" said Mrs. Doherty. \"It\nis not for them alone they are working, but for God, you know.\"\n\n\"That's true,\" said Norry. \"But still and all, when one hears how they\nare always ridiculing priests and nuns, and sees how they hate our\nreligion, it is very hard, I think, to forgive them.\"\n\n\"Yes, _agra_,\" said Peggy, who was better informed than Norry; \"so it is\nhard for flesh and blood to forgive the heretics; but, unless we forgive\nthem, God won't forgive us. The priest knows this well; and so, if there\nwere two sick calls to come at one time to him, as happened lately, one\na Protestant and the other a Catholic, he would go to the Protestant\nfirst.\"\n\n\"That beats all,\" said Norry, \"and is more than I would do, if I were\nthe priest; for I know well all that is said of him behind his back.\"\n\n\"What harm will all that scandalous talk do the priest?\" said Peggy. \"It\nonly does him good; and he has a blessing for being 'spoken evil of'\nlike our Lord. He forgives all those whom God forgives; and so, if his\nenemy, the Protestant, falls sick, and wants his services, he goes to\nhim _first_, in order that he may be brought into the church, where\nalone he can be saved.\"\n\n\"Thanks be to God,\" said Norry. \"Is not it a wonder the Protestants\ndon't understand this, and look on the priests and the church as their\nbest friends, seeing that the priests are as ready, and readier, to\nattend to them than to the Catholics themselves?\"\n\n\"How can they understand it when they are blinded by love of money,\nimpurity, and the hatred that the ministers excite against the church in\nthe minds of their hearers? Wasn't our Lord himself hated by those whom\nhe most loved, and put to death by them? It is so with every priest who\nfollows his steps, now as well as then. The world will always hate\ngood.\"\n\nThis Christian philosophy was a little too sublime for poor Norry's\nmind, who was a long time among the Yankees, sufficiently instructed in\nthe customs of this \"free country\" to be ready to observe the law of\n\"Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, and life for life;\" and who, besides, had\nher naturally warm temper rather spoiled from her continual rencontres\nwith her mistress on such subjects as confession, priests' celibacy,\npurgatory, and other subjects too profound for the understanding of her\nmistress to know any thing about them, and too sacred in the eyes of\nNorry to allow them to be irreverently handled without saying something\nin their defence. It requires not only a perfect acquaintance with the\nsublime and heavenly tenets of Catholicity to speak of them with\nprecision and propriety, but, in addition to a deep study of the truths\nof true religion, the _practice of her precepts_, and the frequent\nreception of the sacraments, are necessary to imbue the mind with the\ntrue Christian notions regarding her high commands.\n\nPoor Norry \"had not a chance,\" she said, of going to her duties for\nseveral years; and that is why she considered \"Peggy Doherty's\" talk\nabout forgiveness so strange and unaccountable.\n\n\"Yes, a _Greffour_,\" resumed \"old Peggy,\" \"we must forgive all the\nworld; and myself would forgive any thing sooner than kidnappin' or\nstealing away the children of Catholics, which these Yankee parsons are\nso fond of doing.\"\n\n\"O, so they are, the villains,\" said Norry. \"Did they take away or steal\nany of this poor woman's children? 'Tis a wonder if they didn't.\"\n\n\"Well, besides the four children you see here, _asthore_, she had\nanother neat child, one year old, named Aloysia, whom a lady up town\ntook with her, two months since, to rear her up along with her own\nchildren; and it was only about ten days since she got news of her\ndeath. When the poor woman heard this, the heart broke entirely within\nher, especially as she could not be present at the child's death bed or\nat the funeral.\"\n\n\"Why, that's rather strange,\" said Norry. \"Did they send her word that\nshe was sick?\"\n\n\"Not a word. It was only when I went up to Mrs. Sillerman's, the other\nday, to inquire about the child, she comes out and tells me the child\ndied, and was decently interred. When I told the mother, she cried out,\n'O Aloysia, Aloysia, my darling! are you, too, gone?' And she was not\nherself since.\"\n\n\"I do think there must be something wrong in the matter,\" said Norry.\n\"Did you tell the priest?\"\n\n\"No, I did not, for I had not time,\" said Mrs. Doherty. \"God forgive me.\nI have a doubt in my own mind that the lady of the house (I renounce\njudging her) was not honest when she told me of the child's death.\n'Perhaps,' says I to myself, 'she is kidnapped.' And she was such a\npurty angel, with a face you would delight looking on; and on her right\nhand,--the Lord save us!--a circle like a ring was on her middle finger.\nShe was too good to live; and was made for heaven, I suppose. Glory be\nto God.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nAN OFFICIAL.\n\n\nOur poormaster, Van Stingey, was a very conscientious officer. He never\nsquandered what he called the people's property, the commonwealth. He\nwas none of your vulgar, ordinary poormasters. He did not want the\noffice; they only forced it on to him. Like some of your great\nstatesmen, he acted for _man_, as he emphatically said; not for poor\nwidows and orphans, taken one by one; that was only a secondary\nconsideration. His whole duty, his very existence, seemed to be needed\nfor the good of man, or humanity in general. The question with him was,\nnot how to relieve this or that poor man or woman. _That_ might engage\nthe attention of a man of no intelligence, no education, or no\nphilosophy: what he aspired to was, always to act by principle; to act\nso that the state, or the people who owned _real estate_, and who\nelected him against his will, to see that their interests were attended\nto, whatever became of the poor. Accordingly, when he heard of any case\nof particular distress, such as that a poor emigrant died of misery in a\ncold, deserted house, our poormaster regretted it, as an individual;\nbut, as an officer, he said, he acted according to principle. He could\nnot betray his constituents, who elected him against his will, by any\nact of extravagance; and the good of the many must be consulted. \"Even\nthe Lord,\" he used to say,--for he was a religious man,--\"when he\ncreated the sun, left spots in it.\" The best statesman must sometimes do\nwhat may be cruel to the few; but, in the end, it would turn out for the\ngood of man. This district, since his election, now twice successively,\nhad made a saving of some two hundred a year since he became its\nofficer; and that would, in time, open the eyes of the people as to who\nwere proper candidates for office, tend to diminish taxes, and, in fact,\nbe a work for man--progress and virtue. Besides this, Mr. Poormaster Van\nStingey had \"got religion,\" by which he was wonderfully enlightened,\nhaving been so lucky as to gain that valuable accomplishment just six\nmonths, and only six months, before his election, at a camp meeting held\nnear the village of M----ville.\n\n\"I tell you what, the fact of the matter is, Mr. Knicks,\" said he,\n\"there is nothin' like religion. Before I got religion, and jined the\nchurch, I didn't have any knowledge of God. I used to pity these\nemigrants, seeing them poor and pale looking as death; but now, sir, I\nreads my Bible, and finds that the Lord must not regard nor love these\nPapists, wher'n he lets them run down so. The word of life is great.\"\n\n\"Wal, I do not know. I care not a straw about any church; but my old\nmother used to teach us, when children, that poverty and crosses were no\nsign of the Lord's displeasure; as witness holy Job and Christ himself,\nwho were poor. In fact, she never stopped telling us, when boys, that\nriches were dangerous, the love of money the root of all evil, and that\n'whom he chastiseth the Lord loveth.'\"\n\n\"O, but your mother was a stiff Papist, you know, and did not understand\nthe word of God.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir-ee, she did that; for I well recollect that, in the many\narguments she had with father, she always had the best of it. That she\nhad.\"\n\n\"She may argue from Jesuit books and the like; but the Bible she durst\nnot look at, you know, Knicks.\"\n\n\"I know better, Van. Don't you talk so. I have got the very Bible she\nused and read every day--a great large one, printed in London. Mother\nwas English, and herself a convert to the church of Rome, though father\nwas Dutch.\"\n\n\"Why, I never knowed that, Knicks. That was a great misfortune. These\npriests, by the arts of Antichrist, will come round simple folks so,\nthat they often succeed in leading them down to destruction.\"\n\n\"Well, sir,\" said Knicks, \"I can tell you I never met a Christian but my\nmother; and I cannot believe or listen to you say she went to\ndestruction, but to heaven, if there is such a place. And again: if I\nwere to embrace any religion, it would be the Roman Catholic religion;\nfor it is the only _honest religion_ there is. Father often brought\nMethodist and Presbyterian ministers to make mother give up her'n; but\nit was no go. She always treated them civil; but they had the worst of\nthe argument, I can tell you. They brought their Bibles, and she her'n;\nand then they would set to, and be at it, till at last they were obliged\nto give up. The only difference between her Bible and theirs is, that\nher'n contained some fourteen or fifteen books more than the Protestant\nBible. The end of it was, that father turned with mother, and had the\nIrish priest O'Shane to attent him afore he died. Mother got us all\nbaptized too.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" carelessly ejaculated our official. \"I must call and see that\nBible of yours some day.\"\n\nThis conversation--which happened a few days before the death of our\nemigrant widow--between his neighbor \"Knicks\" and our official shows\nwhat an _enlightened gentleman_ he was. Since his elevation to office,\nhe also got promotion to another situation, which, though not so\nlucrative as that of poormaster, in the course of time, by proper\nmanagement, promised to come to something. In a certain school house in\nhis vicinity, where the faithful were too poor, too irreligious, or too\npernicious to hire a preacher, our official held forth every Sunday, and\nseveral evenings on the week days, at prayer meetings, protracted\nmeetings, and other roaring exercises. And to do him credit, his nasal\naccent and piercing shrill voice made him a capital substitute for the\n_hired_ regular Methodist preacher. He could be heard for nearly a mile\ndistant calling on the _brethern_ and _sistern_ to come to heaven.\n\n\"O, let us come!\" he would cry; \"we were made and intended for heaven. I\nsee the shining seats, I see the crystal fountains, I see the Lord\nsitting on the throne. Come, sisters, come! I could embrace ye all for\nthe Lord's sake. I could hide ye in my bosom. O! O!\"\n\nThere were some whose faith was not strong enough to place implicit\nreliance on the veracity of this very enlightened \"minister of the\nword;\" but the great majority believed, or pretended to believe, and\nexpressed their faith by crying out, \"Glory! glo-ry! glo-r-y!\"\n\nIf a more particular or personal description of our official is\nrequired, we can state, from minute observation, that Mr. Van Stingey\nwas of the middle size, of thin, cadaverous appearance, short neck,\nsnake head, with lank, sandy hair, nose flat and simex-like, small eyes,\none of which he kept continually shut, as if he supposed himself a match\nfor the poor whom he had to deal with by keeping one \"eye skinned,\"\nreserving the other for some important office in church or state, to\nwhich he unquestionably aspired. Several times during the two months the\ndestitute widow and her family were reduced to penury and sickness. Our\nworthy master was apprised of their condition by the neighbors; but he\nalways answered that the law did not allow him to spend any more, just\nnow; that these emigrants ought to remain at home; that they had no\nright to this country; that he heard a very godly minister foretell last\nyear, at camp meeting, that the Romanists would yet have this country;\nthat too many were coming by millions; that he feared that they could\nnot be converted as fast as they were arriving; that they ought to be\nmade pay a heavy sum, or sent back. \"In short,\" said he one day to poor\nMrs. Doherty, \"I was not elected by them Irish paupers, and I never\nexpect to be.\"\n\n\"If every thing you say was as true as that last word, I think you would\nbe an honest man for wonst,\" said Mrs. Doherty; \"for there is no fear\nthat an Irishman's or a Christian's vote will ever elect the like of\nyou. God forgive you this day!\"\n\nTo suppose that any man could display such _bona fide_ ignorance as this\nofficial did in the foregoing, would be to form an incorrect and\ninadequate estimate of the human mind. The fact was that Van Stingey was\na false, low, cruel man, whose soul, steeped in the sensuality of his\npast life, had lost all that was divine in its nature. His circumstances\nwere so reduced by his crimes and dissipation, that, being \"too lazy to\nwork, and ashamed to beg,\" he assumed first the guise of religion to\ngain popularity; and when he had \"got religion,\" then the teachers of\nthe stuff which they call by that noble name, to keep it respectable,\nprocured him this office as a reward for his hypocrisy.\n\nThis was the official who startled the inmates of our house of mourning\nabout five o'clock in the morning, when, thrusting his head inside the\ndoor, he cried out, \"A corpse there, eh?\"\n\n\"The Lord save us! Who are you, or what brings you here this hour o'\nnight?\" said old granny Doherty, suspecting him as \"nothing good.\"\n\n\"Like you Irish, allers asking questions,\" said he, discharging a mass\nof tobacco almost in her face. \"I am the poormaster; and, having\nreceived a report that there was a dead pauper here, thought I would\nhave it put out of the way early, before the folks would get up.\"\n\n\"You are a very polite gintleman, God bless you. I hope she won't be\nburied so soon. This is not the custom in any Christian country. After\nto-morrow will be soon enough. You need not be in a hurry. We expect the\npriest here to see to the children, as he has already left some help,\nGod bless him.\"\n\n\"She must be enterred this morning, having died with the ship fever, I\nsuppose. The citizens expect me to do my _dooty_; and that I will do, if\nthe Lord spares me.\"\n\n\"The dickens a ship fever nor no other fever she had; but the poor\nwoman's heart broke, seeing what she had come to in a strange country,\"\nsaid Mrs. Doherty, pityingly.\n\n\"Wal, wal, if she had trusted in the Lord, and knew the word of God, he\nwould not have deserted her as he has,\" hypocritically answered the\nofficial.\n\n\"I beg your pardon, sir, don't judge rashly. She was not deserted by\nGod, but died content and happy, after all the rites of her holy\nreligion were administered to her,\" was the prompt reply.\n\n\"You think so; but I want to know how she could love God without the\nBible; and you Roman Catholics are not allowed its use.\"\n\n\"God help those that can't read so,\" said Mrs. Doherty. \"There is no\nchance for me or my old man, for neither of us can read it; but not so\nMrs. O'Clery, God be good to her. She had her Bible, and many more good\nbooks.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" said Paul, joining in the dialogue. \"We have always had the\ntrue Catholic Bible, and mother always read it on her knees.\"\n\n\"Wal, my good lad, you are _pooty_ smart; and now get you ready, with\nthe rest of you little critters, and come on the sleigh I will send for\nyou. Let's see how many of you there are. One, two, three, four--a great\nlot of ye. As I was saying, be ready to come up to the county house till\nI can get some folks to take ye in to keep till ye are of age.\"\n\n\"The priest, sir,\" said Paul, \"promised to call to-day; and as he\nalready has left us a good sum of money, I know the good man will\nprovide for us till he writes to my uncle, who would be very sorry to\nhear of our going to the poorhouse or the county house, though it may be\na better place.\"\n\n\"My young lad, you will be provided for by law, and don't fail to be\nready by ten o'clock,\" said the official, sternly, as he left the room.\n\nIn a few hours after, the body of the widow O'Clery was deposited in a\nrough, unplaned pine coffin, and placed on board a two-horse, open\nsleigh. The four orphans were stowed around in the same vehicle, and, in\ncare of a constable, the _cortege_ drove off at full speed to the\ncemetery. By half past eleven, the remains of the widow were consigned\nto their kindred earth, the few lumps of hard frozen clay on the surface\nher only monument--the sobs, sighs, and prayers of her own dear children\nthe only requiem uttered over her lowly and soon-to-be-forgotten tomb.\n\"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from henceforth now, saith the\nSpirit, that they may rest from their labors.\" (Apoc. xiv. 13.)\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE POORHOUSE.\n\n\nWhen Father O'Shane left for the village of B----, in Vermont, to\nadminister the rites of Christian unction to a departing soul, the roads\nwere very hard to travel, and his progress, in company with his faithful\nguide, was tedious and slow in the extreme. The call was to a sick woman\nnamed Finmore, who was in the last stage of consumption, and who had\noften, during her illness, expressed a desire that she should be\nattended by a priest before she would die. Her husband did not oppose\nher wish, but was yet either too indifferent on the subject, or too\nlazy, to go such a journey as to the city of T---- in search of a\npersonage of whom he stood in such awe, and knew so little of, as the\nCatholic priest. A neighboring Irish farmer, named O'Leary, hearing of\nthe wish of the dying woman, volunteered to bring the priest, if \"there\nwas one to be found in all America,\" he said, \"provided he got a horse\nand wagon from the stable of the rich Yankee.\" And it was in company\nwith this simple but brave and faithful man that Father O'Shane set out\non the evening of the widow's death. They had not advanced many miles,\nhowever, when the wind veered round to the north-west, and a most\nviolent snow storm blew quite in their face. Slow and unpleasant was\ntheir progress over the hard, icy road; but in the course of a few hours\ntheir farther advance became an utter impossibility with a wagon. They\nhad, therefore, to stop at a tavern; and after a good deal of entreaty,\nand after having fed their horse, they succeeded in hiring from the boss\nthe use of a sleigh to carry them along to Vermont.\n\n\"Ye can't travel nohow to-night,\" said the boss; \"the roads will be\nblocked up, chuck full.\"\n\n\"We'll have to travel, sir,\" said the Irishman, \"or die in the attempt;\nso let us have the cutter. Charge what you have a mind to.\"\n\n\"Why, what in the world can be the matter? Ye ain't subpoenaed, or going\nto arrest somebody?\" said the jolly boss.\n\n\"Ah, no such thing, man,\" said the farmer; \"but there is a woman\ndangerously ill, and yon gentleman in the sitting room is a doctor,\ngoing to visit her. Cost what it may, we must go ahead.\"\n\n\"O, that alters the case. Why did you not say so at first? and you\nshould have had it and welcome. It will be ready in no time. Hitch on to\nthat new, light cutter in the shed, Sam,\" said he to the hostler.\n\n\"Ya, ya,\" said Sam; and in five minutes the priest and his guide were\nagain proceeding on their charitable mission. They reached their\ndestination about two o'clock in the night, just one hour before the\ndeath of her on whose account they had come such a journey. Father\nO'Shane--poor old gentleman!--suffered terribly; had his ears\nfrostbitten, and two of his fingers frozen. But no matter; a soul was to\nbe saved, and that consideration alleviated all his sufferings, and\nrendered him dead to every thing--cold, pain, watchings, hunger, thirst,\nand weariness; nay, even death itself was but a trivial, inadequate\nprice to be paid by a mortal man to gain an immortal soul to Christ and\neternal happiness.\n\n\"'Tis an awful night, reverend sir,\" said O'Leary. \"I fear we can't go\nahead.\"\n\n\"What matter, O'Leary,\" said Father O'Shane, \"as we reached in time?\nWhat is this night and all its violence compared with the sufferings of\na poor soul in the next world? All I regret is that you did not send me\nin the sick call sooner. All is well, however; she was perfectly\nconscious, and, I hope, worthily received all the rites of religion.\nHold up! you will rest well to-night, your conscience at ease, after\nhaving been engaged in such a meritorious act of charity.\"\n\nIn nothing does the church of God manifest the divinity of her origin\nand mission more than in the care which she bestows on her children, the\nadopted brethren of Jesus Christ, at the awful hour of death. She\nreserves all her good things for this her last service to her children.\nShe sends her keys there, to the bedside of the dying man, to open to\nhim the gate to the calm and peaceful walks of justification. She sends\nher oils thither, too, to anoint the Christian gladiator for his last\nand final struggle with his powerful enemies. She sends her divine\nmanna, to strengthen him and sustain him for the trying and unknown\njourney; and she sends the music of her sweet hymns and litanies to\ncheer him on, and the light of indulgences and benedictions to guide his\nsoul, illumine his understanding, and shed the rays of their heavenly\nreflection on the difficult passage that he has to traverse. And this\nfood, these blessings, gifts, and graces, she has ready for all\nrepentant sinners without exception, be they the inmates of the true\nfold, or straying without the boundaries of the city of God; be they the\ntimorous souls who are already washed, or the negligent, who have\nfollowed the hard ways of the world. If, in her other functions, the\nspouse of Christ is \"terrible as an army set in array,\" \"fair as the\nmoon, and beautiful as the setting sun,\" in this, her last office at the\ndeath bedside, she is all mercy, tenderness, and goodness. O, how cold,\nselfish, and intolerable would life be, if the Catholic church was not\npresent, on all occasions, with the graces, blessings, and consolations\nof Christ!\n\n\"O Lord, if it be thy will, deprive us of every thing--riches, health,\nrenown, pleasure; but never leave thy creatures, thy inheritance, thy\nchildren, without the consolations of thy church! O Lord, the many sheep\nthat are here not of thy fold gather and bring in speedily, that there\nmay be but one fold and one Shepherd, as thou thyself hast foretold.\"\nThus prayed this pious priest of God, after having added another strayed\nsheep to the fold of his divine Master; and his soul was at peace.\n\nFor two days the storm continued unabated, the whole country becoming\nlike an undulating ocean of snow. Drift snow, mountain high, was\naccumulated in the valleys between hills; whole herds of sheep and\ncattle were suffocated; and the bodies of several teamsters, whose teams\nwere overset, were dug out lifeless from under the drifts by the men who\nhad assembled with their ox teams and shovels to open the interrupted\ncommunication with the city.\n\nFather O'Shane bemoaned his fate in doleful terms; the more so as Sunday\nwas approaching, when he feared he should be absent from his\ncongregation; and he also regretted that he had it not in his power,\naccording to his promise to the widow O'Clery, to visit her next day,\nand provide for her poor orphans among the benevolent of his flock. And,\nwell aware of the character of the hard-hearted Van Stingey, he\nshuddered for the fate of the children.\n\nThe apprehensions of the good priest were not groundless; for no sooner\nwas the body of Mrs. O'Clery consigned to its narrow, cold habitation,\nthan the official, assisting the children into the sleigh that had borne\ntheir mother's body to the tomb, drove off in a rapid trot towards the\npoorhouse.\n\n\"Have we far to go yet, sir?\" said Paul, thinking that the \"county\nhouse\" was something different from the much dreaded poorhouse. \"I am\nafraid Bridget will perish with cold, sir.\"\n\n\"No fears of her; she's hardy, I guess.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, but her dress is so very light.\"\n\n\"Well, she can pull that ere buffalo around her.\"\n\n\"Ou, hou, hou!\" cried Bridget, breathing on her little bare hands, which\nshe kept pressed to her lips.\n\n\"I hope, sir, you are not going to take us to the poorhouse,\" said Paul;\n\"we don't want to go there. The priest that attended my mother--God rest\nher soul!--told us he would provide for us.\"\n\n\"Indeed! How can he do so?\" said Van Stingey.\n\n\"Why, sir, I don't know; but perhaps he will write to my uncle, who is a\nvicar general in Ireland, and he will send us money to take us back\nhome.\"\n\n\"Is your uncle in the British sarvice, then, and a general in the army?\"\n\n\"No, sir, but he is a priest next to the bishop in station in the\nchurch.\"\n\n\"That's it, eh? Wal, I guess you better not talk of going back, any how.\nYou must live here in this free country, and learn to be a man and a\nChristian--a thing you could not be at home, in the old country.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon, sir,\" replied Paul; \"the very best Christians are in\nIreland, which was once called the 'Isle of Saints,' when all the people\nwere Catholics; and where I came from, even now, they are all mostly\nCatholics. There are in the whole parish but two _peelers_, the minister\nand his wife, and the tithe proctor, or collector of tithes; in all,\nfive Protestants.\"\n\n\"You are a lad, I see,\" said the official, as he dismounted from the\nsleigh and ordered the children to enter their new home.\n\n\"O, woe, woe, woe!\" cried they, as they found themselves admitted as\n_paupers_, and enclosed within the precincts of the terrible poorhouse.\n\"O Lord, what will we do?\" cried they. \"O sir, don't keep us here, or\nsend word to the priest first. I will go to his house, myself,\" said\nPaul.\n\n\"Shet up, ye little fools!\" said the official; \"this is a better place\nnor ye think. Ye ain't going to get no potatoes, nohow, but something\nbetter than ye ever were used to. Take these young 'uns to the stove in\nthe kitchen,\" said he to an under official. And the sobs and groans of\nthe destitute orphans were drowned in the uproarious rumbling of the\ngong that called the officers of the establishment to dinner, it being\nnow noon.\n\nThe repugnance of the Irishman to the poorhouse is proverbial. Neither\nprison, dungeon, nor death is invested with greater horror, in the minds\nof the peasantry of Ireland, than this institution. Solely founded, as\nthey are told, for their special use and benefit, there are instances,\ncountless, on record, where the affectionate mother has thanked Heaven,\nwhen by fever, plague, or hunger it deprived her of her darling infant,\nrather than that it should become an inmate of the poorhouse!\n\n\"Is not this prejudice unreasonable and strange?\" it will be asked. \"And\nwhy is it that the Irishman shuns and abhors an institution which his\nEnglish neighbor enjoys and petitions to enter?\" The reasons are\nnumerous, and the difference in the feelings of both obvious and\npalpable. It must be first remarked, that the Irish are a traditional\npeople, and remarkably conservative of the customs and usages of their\nancestors. They look back into the history of their country, or consult\ntheir fathers and grandfathers, and in vain look back for the existence\nof a poorhouse, or any necessity for its existence, before the advent of\nthe \"godly reformation\" and the established church in their midst. They\nheard of such establishments as the ancient \"_beataghs_,\" or houses of\nhospitality, which were provided for the stranger and destitute in every\ntownland, the doors of which were open day and night, and on the boards\nof which cooked victuals for scores of men were continually ready. These\nwere the substitute for the poorhouse in the days when England and all\nEurope sent their poor scholars to receive a gratuitous education among\nthe inhabitants of the Island of Saints. There the poor and the hungry\ncould come in and eat, and be filled, and go his way, without being\nquestioned who he was, without being asked for a _pauper ticket_ to\nadmit him, without being obliged or compelled to lead a life of\ncelibacy, or running the risk of his soul's salvation, to keep his body\nfrom perishing of hunger.\n\nIn a word, when Brian Boru expelled the Danes from Ireland, when Hugh\nO'Niel triumphed over the troops of Elizabeth, as well as when Dathi\nheld the sceptre, or Nial of the hostages planted his colors on the\nAlps, there was enough to feed the poor of Ireland. There was no\nnecessity for a poorhouse; and there is no need of it now, says the\nIrish peasant, if justice was done to Ireland. \"Give us back our\nmonasteries and abbeys, and we will bestow you the poorhouses.\"\n\nBesides these considerations, the English poorhouse has this advantage\nover the Irish one--that the former is conducted and presided over by\nEnglishmen, who have a sympathy for, or at least are of, the same blood,\nreligion, and race with its inmates. But in Ireland the case is\ndifferent. The poorhouses, prison-like edifices, in Elizabethan style of\narchitecture, presided over by Englishmen, generally, and nominees of\nthe crown, are a monument of conquest and tyranny.\n\nThe inmates being principally \"mere Irish,\" and the cost of their\nsupport derived chiefly from the land, the landlords consider their\nhealth, comfort, or life of only secondary importance. Hence we find the\nnumber of deaths in these charnel houses averaging that of years of\nplague; and each pauper is allowed far less weekly for his support than\nthe lord of the soil allows the meanest dog in his kennel. Add to these\nthe separation of man and wife, the isolation of members of the same\nfamily, the dangers of perversion and proselytism to the thinning ranks\nof the \"law church;\" and then, if you can, blame the poor Irishman for\nhis horror of the dreadful poorhouse of England. He saw hundreds of his\nneighbors enter the gates of the poorhouse, but he never saw one return\nback. Less active imaginations than that of the Irish peasant would be\nworked on so as to conclude that some means more _active_ than sickness\nor old age were had recourse to, for the purpose of lessening the taxes\non land, by getting rid of the poor.\n\nIn truth, the British poorhouse is a great government establishment,\nwhere the sons of the low squirearchy are provided for--a terrible mill,\nwhere the bodies and souls of Irishmen and women are ground up and\nannihilated--a labor-saving machine of political economy, introduced\ninto the world by the robbers of the reformation, in order to get rid of\nsurplus population, and in order that the Lazaruses of society might not\ndisturb the false repose of their hypocrisy, by begging the crums that\nfall from their plunder-burdened tables!\n\nThe American poorhouse, however, is of quite a different description,\nand the promptitude and unanimity of the public mind regarding the\nnecessity of a law to provide for the support of the poor are among the\nmost laudable traits in the American character. In America, the\npatrimony of the poor was never wrested from the church, to which God\ncommitted their care; the charities and bequests of ages were not\nplundered and squandered by the vilest of the human race, as in Britain;\nhospitals, churches, abbeys, monasteries, convents, and other endowed\nprovisions for the poor, were not robbed and confiscated by the\nsectarians of the new world, (probably because they did not exist\nthere;) and hence the essential difference between the English and\nAmerican poorhouse. There is no part of the Scripture the reformation\npeople so rigidly adhered to, or now pretend to adhere to, as the\nadvice of Judas, \"Let this be sold and given to the poor.\" They made the\nsale, but the poor they left unprovided for, till their numbers\nincreased so as to threaten the ill-gotten goods of the plunderers, who\nat length passed laws compelling the poor to support the poor. And this\nwas the origin of poorhouses--a true Protestant creation.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE O'CLERYS.\n\n\nThe O'Clery family was an ancient and honored one in Ireland. Princes,\nchieftains, and warriors of the name were renowned before Charlemagne or\nAlfred ascended the throne, or before any of the petty princes of the\nheptarchy ruled over the barbarous Saxons. Like all the royal and noble\nhouses of Europe, the O'Clerys, after ages of glory and prosperity, had\ntheir hour of decline and decay also. But it was a question whether the\nvirtues of this renowned house were more brilliant or conspicuous in the\nzenith of its glory, or in its fallen or humbled state. The Irish church\nfounded by Saint Patrick never wanted an O'Clery to adorn her sanctuary\nor to record her victories. The annals of the Four Masters will stand to\nthe end of the world as a proud monument of the services rendered to the\nIrish church and to history by these illustrious annalists; and when the\ndeeds of the most renowned knights and chieftains of this royal house\nshall have been obliterated by the merciless chisel of time, the authors\nof the Four Masters' Annals will become only brighter among the shining\nstars that adorn the literary firmament of old Ireland.\n\nThe martyrology of the Irish church can attest the virtues of constancy\nand patriotism with which the O'Clerys bore their share of the wrongs of\nErin and of her faithful sons. Whether or not the subjects of our\nnarrative, the poor emigrant orphans, had any of this royal and noble\nblood flowing in their veins, is a thing that we cannot genealogically\nvouch. But that they were not degenerate sons of Erin, or faithless to\ntheir allegiance to the glorious old church of their fathers, we trust\nthis history will amply demonstrate. At all events, the uncle of our\nhero, Paul O'Clery, held a very high station in the Irish hierarchy.\nHaving, with eclat, finished his ecclesiastical and literary primary\nstudies in the colleges of his native land, he subsequently repaired to\nRome, where he won with distinction the title of \"doctor in divinity and\ncanon law,\" and carried the first premium from many French, German, and\neven Italian competitors. Hence, soon after his return from abroad, on\naccount of his learning, as well as his tried virtues, he was appointed\nthe vicar general of the diocese of Kil----, a promotion which, far from\nexciting the envy, gained the unanimous approval, of the diocesan\nclergy. During the horrors of the general landlord persecution of the\nIrish Catholics, (for it is nothing else than a persecution of\nCatholics,) the O'Clerys found their name on the roll of the proscribed,\nand got notice to quit the homestead of their fathers. The principal\ncause for this proscription by the landlord was, that Dr. O'Clery, in\nthe newspapers, exposed the system of cruel and barbarous extermination\nwhich took place on the extensive estates of Lord Mandemon--a gentleman\nwho said he thought it far more honorable, as well as profitable, to\nhave his princely estates in Munster tenanted by fat cattle than by\nIrish Papists. His lordship had also the mortification to learn that all\nthe meat, money, and clothing he had employed for the last five years\ncould not make one single sincere convert to his rich \"law\nestablishment.\" When the \"praties\" were dear, and the crops failed,\nthere were a few, to be sure, who would profess themselves ready to \"ate\nthe mate\" on Friday; but as soon as plenty returned, the \"new lights\"\nwent out, or returned to ask pardon of God, the priest, and the people;\nand Lord Mandemon and his soup were pitched to the \"seventy-nine\ndevils.\" This failure, this result, so often before seen and felt, and\nso certain to follow, was, in his zeal for proselytism, attributed by\nhis lordship to Dr. O'Clery's zeal and learning. For, whenever or\nwherever he went among the peasantry to preach to them in their own\nsweet and loved dialect, the \"jumpers, the new lights, and the soupers\"\ndisappeared like the locusts from Egypt when exorcised by the magic rod\nof Moses. Hence the hatred with which the O'Clerys were persecuted.\nHence, also, the oath of Lord Mandemon, that he would never return to\nhis home in England till every Papist on his estates was rooted out.\nThis oath was kept by his lordship, probably the only true one he ever\nswore; for in less than a fortnight he fell a victim to the cholera, and\nexpired on board the Princess Royal steamboat on her return to\nLiverpool.\n\nArthur O'Clery, father to the subject of our tale, sold out a second\nfarm he held near Limerick, turned all his effects into money, bade\nadieu to his beloved brother, Dr. O'Clery, who was averse to his\nemigration, and, in the autumn, set sail from Liverpool for New York, in\nthe ship Hottinguer. He had all his family with him: they were\ncomfortably provided with all necessaries, and, besides, had one\nthousand pounds, in hard cash, to start with in the new world. They were\nnot long out at sea, when, owing to the crowd on board, the lack of\nproper arrangements, and room, or ventillation, as well as on account of\nthe cruelly of the inhuman captain, ship fever and cholera broke out on\nboard.\n\nThe number of bodies consigned to the ocean from that unlucky vessel was\nfrom five to ten daily, and among the victims of the plague was Arthur\nO'Clery. He was the only one of the cabin passengers who was attacked by\nthe epidemic, which, in the ardor of his charity, he contracted while\nattending on, and ministering to, the wants of the poor steerage\npassengers.\n\nSad and impressive was the scene when the Rev. H. O'Q----, a young Irish\npriest on board, in the middle hold of the ship, where O'Clery had been\nremoved by order of the captain, called on the six hundred surviving\npassengers to kneel while he was administering the rites of the church\nto the benefactor of them all. Never was a call on the piety and faith\nof any number of men more cheerfully obeyed. Instantaneously that mixed,\nnondescript crowd--Irish, English, Scotch, Welsh, Dutch--Catholic,\nProtestant, infidel--fell on their knees, and, if they did not pray,\nthey paid that _outward homage_ to Religion which sometimes the most\nindifferent and irreligious cannot resist paying her. Infidelity is a\ngreat coward, as well as a false guide. In her hour of ease and satiety,\nshe pretends to scorn the threats and judgments of the Most High, and,\nlike Satan in his pandemonium, to make war on Heaven; but no sooner does\nthe roaring of the thunderbolt shake the earth, or the vast abyss open\nits devouring throat to swallow her unhappy victims, than she hides her\nhead in the caves of the earth, or, flying to some secure place,\nabandons her votaries to the forlorn hope of trusting to the weakness of\ntheir own minds for resources to extricate themselves from the evils\nthat threaten them. It was so on board the ill-fated Hottinguer. Those\nwho, under the influence of the security offered by the prosperous\nsailing of the few first days, were bold, independent, and defiant of\ndanger, no sooner did they see their comrades thrown overboard, after a\nfew hours' sickness, than their hearts failed within them, their tone of\ndefiance was turned into despair, their mockery of religion ceased, and\nthat priest of God, whom they ridiculed, insulted, and despised for the\nfirst few days, was now respected, confided in, and regarded by them\nwith sentiments bordering on religious homage.\n\nFervently did that priest, who thanked God that he was on hand, pray,\nnot that God would restore him to his wife and children,--for all hope\nof recovery was now gone,--but that, in accordance with the anxious\ndesire of the dying man, he should have the privilege of burial in a\nChristian, consecrated tomb.\n\n\"Pray, father,\" said he, \"that, if it be God's holy will, I may be\nburied in a consecrated soil. It seems to me a sort of profanation, that\nthe cruel fishes and those monsters of the deep, which we see leaping\naround the vessel, should devour my flesh, united with, and I hope\nsanctified now by, the flesh and blood of my Lord.\"\n\nThe priest did pray, and the people joined in that impulsive prayer of\nfaith, and that prayer was heard; for, though O'Clery breathed his last\non board, and, by the captain's orders, the sailors--poor fellows!--were\nstanding around his berth, prepared, as soon as the last breath left\nhim, to throw him overboard, yet he lingered for three days after; and\nthey reached quarantine before that pure soul quitted its tenement of\nclay and winged its flight to heaven. The wife and her children had the\nbody conveyed to shore and interred in the Catholic cemetery of New\nYork, where a neat marble monument could be seen with these words\ninscribed:--\n\n_\"Pray for the soul of Arthur O'Clery, whose body lies underneath.\nRequiescat in pace. Amen.\"_\n\nIt was thus that the O'Clerys were deprived of their good and virtuous\nfather, and the widow of her husband; but this, as already has been\npartly seen, was but the beginning of their woes; for, after their\narrival in New York, an individual, who, during the voyage, ingratiated\nhimself with the family by his attention around the sick man's bed,\njoined them at their lodgings. But in a few days they found him gone one\nmorning, after their return from mass at Barclay Street Church, and with\nhim the canvas bag, containing the thousand pounds in gold and Bank of\nEngland notes left by them in a trunk. Thus were six persons, strangers\nand destitute in a great city, reduced from competency to poverty at\n\"one fell swoop\" by the villany of a pretended friend and associate.\n\n\"O Lord, pity me! One misfortune never comes alone,\" groaned the now\npoor and afflicted widow O'Clery, when she was informed by little\nBridget that the \"trunk was broke open,\" and all the things ransacked\n\"through and fro.\"\n\nShe soon saw that all she had was gone, and concluded that Cunningham,\nas he was absent from breakfast contrary to his wont, must be the thief.\nThe police got immediate notice; advertisements were issued, and rewards\noffered, and in a day or two after Cunningham was arrested; but as none\nof the money was found on his person, and as there was no direct\nevidence of his guilt, the magistrate discharged him. The articles of\ndress in her well-supplied wardrobe were detained, in payment of her\nboard bill, by the hotel keeper where she lodged in New York; and with\nthe few shillings that remained in her purse, she, with her children,\ntook passage on one of the Hudson River boats, hoping to make out\ncertain acquaintances of her husband, whom she heard were settled in the\nvicinity of T----. The rest has been already told--namely, how she took\nsick and died after great sufferings; how her children were left\ndestitute, and next to naked; how they were now reduced to the rank of\npaupers, and secured within the precincts of the county house.\n\n\"Of all the things which we brought from home with us, we have nothing\nof value now left, Bridget,\" said Paul, \"but this silver crucifix, which\nbelonged to my grandfather. Glory be to God. Let us be glad that this\nhas been left,\" said he, kissing it with religious affection. \"This is\nall we have now left. Let us defend it.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE COUNCIL.\n\n\nFather O'Shane was now several days weather bound and laid up sick in\nVermont, where, with great anxiety, he waited the first opportunity to\nreturn home to his mission; and the orphans were safely lodged in the\npoorhouse, where our friend Paul, to calm the anxiety and dispel the\ngrief of his younger companions, began to contrast, with an air of\nsatisfaction, the aspect of things here with what he had heard of the\nhorrors of the Irish poorhouse.\n\n\"What nice men we have in America over the poorhouse,\" said he; \"they\nare very kind to us.\"\n\n\"Yes; but I don't like that man with the great beard,\" said Bridget; \"he\nfrightens me when I meet him. O, such a _feesage_; a robin redbreast\ncould make her nest in it,\" said she, smiling.\n\n\"He might be a nice man for all that, Bid. Most people here don't shave\nat all, you know, as we saw in New York. And did you notice that sailor\nthat saved the boy who fell overboard, what a long beard he had? And he\nmust be a brave, good man, to risk his own life to save another's.\"\n\n\"Yes, Paul; but he was a Catholic, and from Ireland, too; for he made\nthe sign of the cross on himself in Irish before he leaped out, for I\nwas near him; and besides, I saw him going to confession to the same\npriest we went to the day after we landed.\"\n\n\"And are not they all Catholics here, Paul?\" said Patsy. \"I seen crosses\non three churches, the time I went with Mrs. Doherty for the priest for\nmother, God be good to her.\"\n\n\"No, Patsy, they are not; for if they were, there would be more than one\npriest for this large town; and you heard Father O'Shane say that there\nwas only himself for all the city and a great part of the country,\" said\nPaul.\n\n\"I hope somebody will take us to mass on Sunday,\" said little Patrick;\n\"and, Paul, will you ask the priest to allow me to answer mass? You know\nFather Doyle told us never to forget the lessons we learned of him.\"\n\n\"I'd know are there any nuns here,\" said Bridget. \"O, how beautiful the\nconvent chapel in Limerick was! I hope I have not lost my beautiful\nlittle silver medals and crucifix they gave me when I was coming away.\nNo; here they are, and my Agnus Dei, too,\" she said, kissing them. \"God\nrest mother's soul, how glad she was when I got these from the holy\nnuns!\" And the tears streamed down her fair cheeks in floods.\n\n\"Hold your tongue, Bridget, again,\" said Paul, with emphasis. \"Don't you\nknow that mother told us not to grieve, but pray for her soul? And\nbesides, in the 'Imitation of Christ,' which I read for you this morning\nand last night, it is said that grief kills devotion, and excessive,\nsorrow is a sin. You can serve mother, or rejoice her soul, by praying,\nbut not by crying, Bridget.\"\n\n\"O, how can I help it? 'Tis against me will, Paul,\" said she, wiping her\neyes.\n\n\"Always look attentively at that crucifix,\" said Paul, \"and you need\nnever grieve for any thing except sin. This is what Father Doyle used to\nsay.\"\n\n\"O Paul, we have no father or mother now.\"\n\n\"Yes we have, Bridget--our Father in heaven, and the blessed virgin\nmother of God, our mother also,\" said the young preacher.\n\n\"How well the priest did not call as he said he would.\"\n\n\"May be he could not help it; he had to go far into the country, and the\nsnow might stop him. You know he will find us out. The priest always\nvisits the poorhouse in Ireland.\"\n\nWhile this conversation was going on between the members of this poor\norphan family, Paul acting the meritorious part of a comforter, (I say\nacting, for his own noble soul was almost crushed with grief, which he\nthought it better to disguise than to have his little charge rendered\nquite stupid and almost dead from crying and sobbing;) while this was\nthe way Paul entertained his little charge, in another part of the\npoorhouse, in a well-furnished room, were seated around a table\ncontaining the \"_reliquiae\"_ or remnants of a good dinner, five persons,\nengaged in earnest chat about the late importation of orphans.\n\n\"Really they are likely young 'uns, and no mistake,\" said Mr. Van\nStingey, wiping his mouth with the corner of the tablecloth.\n\n\"Dear me!\" said a lady who formed one of the council. \"Charles, if you\nsaw them, they are perfect beauties, you would say. The oldest boy is as\nnoble-looking a lad as ever you did see--Roman nose, raven hair,\ndelightfully-carved mouth, and lips, and eyes, and eyelashes quite\nindescribable, so beautiful are they. The little girl is a perfect\nVenus; while the two younger children, Patrick and Eugene, are as if\nthey came from the chisel of Powers, or some renowned artist of\nantiquity.\"\n\n\"Why, my love,\" said Parson Burly, \"you are quite classical in your\ndescription; whether or not it is a correct one, is another thing.\"\n\n\"I assure you, Mr. Burly,\" said Van Stingey, \"that your lady has not\ndescribed them beyond what is true. They are almighty fine young 'uns.\"\n\n\"I want you to adopt that eldest one, Mr. Burly,\" said the parson's\nwife, who was president of the council. \"He would make such an elegant\npreacher, I am sure. You must also change the name of the second boy\nfrom Patrick, which is so Irish, to Ebenezer, Zerubabbel, or some\nScripture name, or even classical one.\"\n\n\"Why, madam, I am beginning to get jealous, and to think you don't\nsufficiently admire my powers of oratory,\" said her husband.\n\n\"Well, my dear, putting aside jokes,\" she solemnly remarked, \"you know\nhow much we need Irish ministers to preach to the Irish amongst us, who\nare the best church attenders on earth, I believe. And it is notorious,\nthat those whom we can take out from the ranks of Papacy while young\nbecome the greatest ornaments to our denomination. Witness Kirvoin,\nMaclown, Moffat, and several others.\"\n\n\"Well, well, my fair refuter,\" said the parson, who really feared his\nwife would rivet her affections on the young orphan if adopted; \"you\nknow it would never do to keep that little fellow with us. How old did\nyou say he was--about fifteen? Well, fifteen or sixteen--ya--you\nrecollect how that old priest acted last July, at the village of Scurvy?\nA little girl I sent out to Brother Prim this priest smelt and hunted\nout; and actually broke in the room door where she was confined, and\ntook her off by physical force to a Roman Catholic orphan house. These\npriests are terrible fellows; and your young fancy orphan, Paul, would\nsoon find out the priest, and have his grievance redressed. And what is\nworse, this priest got Americans--ay, members of my own church--to\napplaud his conduct, and defend him from prosecution! The Irish are\ngetting so powerful in this country,\" said the parson, after a pause,\n\"from their admirable union of purpose and the perfect organization of\ntheir church, that I dread their influence. In fact, 'you catch a\nTartar' when you get one of them into your family. Ten to one, instead\nof converting this young Papist, he would convert our whole family to\nhis own creed.\"\n\n\"O Burly,\" said the disappointed wife, \"you are always a prophet of\nevils. I tell you, I must have that young lad, for I want him.\"\n\n\"You do? Cynthia, my dear,\" said the parson, \"we cannot have the lad in\nour family. We _dare not_, without the consent of the trustees, who pay\nus our salary. Do you understand _that_, my fair disputant?\" said he,\ntriumphantly.\n\n\"Well, Burly, as soon as I recover the means my father willed me, I\nshall have that young man--already almost fully educated, as you can\nperceive--brought up for the church.\"\n\n\"O, _then_ you can try it, madam,\" said the man in white neckcloth, in a\nsharp, sarcastic style; \"but as for me, and I think my opinion is of\nsome weight, I tell you much can never be made out of that shrewd boy.\"\nThere was a solemn, ominous silence, for a moment, in the company. \"Did\nyou remark the sort of dignified and independent motions of the fellow,\"\ncontinued he, \"when you had him here just now?\"\n\n\"Fellow!\" said his wife, looking at her husband, in anger. \"Is that a\nproper term to apply to the child?\"\n\n\"It is not an improper or inappropriate one, not more so than calling\nhim 'child,'\" said he. \"I was just going to remark the coolness of his\nreply when you introduced my name as the parish clergyman. 'A Catholic\nclergyman, I hope, sir,' said he; 'as such, I am very glad to see you.'\nDid you observe how sad and demure he looked when told he was to be sent\nto school, where he could read the Bible, and become acquainted with the\nword of God?' O sir,' said he, 'much obliged to you; I have got a Bible\nalready, and other good books of devotion, which we brought from home. I\nshould be very glad to learn what is good,' said he; 'but I trust I have\ngot my catechism well committed to memory; and having made my first\ncommunion and been confirmed, I was discharged from class, and appointed\na Sunday school teacher, by our good priest, Father Doyle.' And on my\ntelling him that he could be a teacher here of a better religion than\nthat of his country, he shook his head, declining the honor of the post\noffered, and remarking that 'it was impossible to have a better religion\nthan that which had God for its author--the Catholic religion.' With\nthis bit he retired (ye all saw him, I need not repeat more) from our\npresence, a blush of mental triumph playing on his smooth cheek.\"\n\n\"Sartain there was such a feelin',\" said an old gray-headed Yankee, who\nsat at the head of the table, and who was guardian of the establishment.\n\"You can't do nothin' with these Papists,\" continued he. \"I have seed\nthe attempts made time and agin, but allers fail. The very children,\nonly five years of age, of that ere religion, refuse to eat flesh on\nFriday, or to disobey such other darned ceremonies of their church as\nthey are brought up to.\"\n\n\"Wal, Mr. Burly, madam, and my esteemed brother Valentine, my plan is\nthis,\" said Van Stingey: \"send them, separate or in couples, here and\nthere, into the country, and there, with the farmers, they will soon get\nused to our church ways, and be gradually broke in.\"\n\n\"That you can't do safe, neither, Van,\" said the boss of the house,\n\"for they would raise such a dust as would bring half the city around\nus; and you know the people would never consent to any thing like\ncruelty towards one so young and interesting as these here are.\"\n\n\"You say the truth there, sir,\" said the parson.\n\n\"It would be cruel to separate the dear ones,\" said the wife; \"wherever\nthey are sent, let them go together. I could pledge my watch and wedding\ndiamond ring to help to raise such beauties,\" said she, passionately.\n\"Surely they cannot be Irish, or they must belong to some race different\nfrom the Celtic half savages which we have read inhabit Ireland.\"\n\n\"You mistake, Cynthia, my dear,\" said the parson; \"these are Irish, and\ngenuine Celts, too, as one can tell from the hair and nose. I think,\nhowever, you exaggerate their beauty. Have you not read the European\nletters of Thurlow W---- and Horace G----, which described the middle\nand upper classes of the Irish as the most beautiful complexioned and\ndignified people in Europe or the world? Now, this is my mind, that you\nmust get some farmers in a good Protestant neighborhood to adopt these\nchildren, so that they may all live in the same vicinity, if not in the\nsame family; and by this means all unpleasant consequences will be\nobviated.\"\n\n\"I say ditto to that,\" said the Nestor of the council, old Valentine;\n\"but you must lose no time, for the eldest lad told me the priest\npromised to call for them; and if that gentleman gets them into his\nhands, I'll warrant all your plans will be frustrated.\"\n\n\"That's just it. You have hit the nail on the head, friend Valentine,\"\nsaid Van Stingey. \"I will take charge on them, and take them to that\ngentleman's house, in W---- county, who was here last week looking for a\nboy and a girl to raise; and _mebbee_ I will scare up somewhere else for\nthe other two young critters.\"\n\n\"Take 'em along, then, and see that you get your pay,\" said the boss,\nrising.\n\n\"O, never mind, leave that to me,\" said the vile, wily knave, as he went\nto see to his arrangements for carrying the orphans to parts unknown.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nA RUDE LOVER OF NATURE.\n\n\nFather O'Shane, who had suffered severely from the effects of exposure\nto the late violent storm, no sooner found himself a little recruited,\nand the roads passable, than he prepared to return to his residence in\nthe city. He had, as conductor, a green young Irishman, lately arrived,\nwho felt almost inspired by the unusual luxury, presented for the first\ntime to his view, of a North American snowfall, and petitioned earnestly\nto accompany his reverence back to the city to enjoy the \"glorious\nsport,\" as he called it, of a sleigh ride. The enthusiasm of the young\nnative of the perennial green fields of Munster did not escape the\nnotice of Father O'Shane, who himself was once not less enthusiastic,\nand now not altogether insensible, to the chaste and almost sublime\nbeauty of Nature, when arrayed in her bridal robes of white on the\nadvent of spring.\n\n\"Well, Murty, how do you like this manner of travelling?\"\n\n\"Be gonnies, your reverence, there is nothing I like better. What a fine\ntime it would be for tracking the hare, or hunting the fox!\"\n\n\"You are fond of sport, I perceive.\"\n\n\"Bedad, sir, I would rather be out such a day as this, with dog and\ngun, than eating bread and honey. I wonder if they would put you to jail\nor transport you here, as they would at home, for fowling a bit in these\nwoods?\"\n\n\"No, Murty, I believe not.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Murty, doubtingly. \"You don't tell me so, your reverence?\"\n\n\"I tell you that there are no game laws, or only very nominal ones; so\nthat, when you come back, if you and your dog traverse yonder mountain\nfrom top to bottom, you need not be afraid of the rifle of the\ngamekeeper, or of a sentence to a free passage to Van Diemen's Land.\"\n\n\"Murther! Must not they be very fine gentlemen here, to be so liberal?\nSigns by I shall, please God, one of these days, visit that old, grand\nmountain with the white head; and if there be a hare's form in his rough\nsides or his curly beard, I will ferret it out, and soon have pussy by\nthe hind legs.\"\n\n\"I can see, Murty, you are growing poetical in your description of old\nMount Antoine,\" said the priest.\n\n\"Your reverence, did you ever see such a grand sight? I can't help\ncomparing that grand mountain there to the king of yon wild regions. The\nsnow on the trees, on the summit, causes them to look like gray locks;\nand, looking down on the smaller mountains on every side, they appear\nlike his subjects or his sons, which, in time, are to grow big like\nhimself, affording shelter and refuge from the snares of the hunter to\nthe wild animals of nature. O, how I like America!\" said he, his\nenthusiasm still rising.\n\n\"That's right, Murty; I am glad you do like it. Wait till summer or\nautumn, and then how beautiful these bleak hills will appear during\nthese delightful seasons!\"\n\n\"O sir, it is a great, grand country! No tyrants, no landlords, no\npoverty.\"\n\n\"No poverty, Murty, except what is purely accidental, or brought on by\nthe improvidence of individuals. In the very best regulated society\nthere must, of necessity, be poverty less or more,\" said the priest, by\nway of qualification.\n\n\"Every thing is free, and there is liberty for all. The very fences, you\nsee, sir, unlike our stone walls at home, give liberty to the winds and\nstorms to blow through them. The mountains are free to the huntsman; the\nvery snow is free to blow and form itself into those beautiful banks,\nand little mountains, and castles, and stacks, and curtains, and drapery\nthat we see on every side of us as we glide along.\"\n\nThe priest listened with astonishment.\n\n\"Was there ever seen any thing so _purty_,\" continued the peasant, \"as\nthose ridges and mounds of snow? I have seen the grandest buildings in\nIreland,--Marlborough Street Church, in Dublin, the stone carving and\nceiling in Cashel of the Kings, the stucco work on the old Parliament\nHouse in College Green,--but I think I see work in these fantastic snow\nbanks that beats them all hollow. And--glory be to God!--all this\nbeauty, so dazzling, so chaste, was created by a storm, when all nature\nwas in a rage, and men shut themselves up in houses from its violence! I\nam glad now,\" said he, \"our landlord turned us out. I now forgive him\nfor being the cause of our coming to this country of the brave and the\nfree.\"\n\n\"Was it a landlord who has been the occasion of so much enjoyment to\nyou, Murty?\" said Father O'Shane, drawing him out.\n\n\"Yes, sir. It vexes me to think of it, much more to speak of it,\" said\nthe simple youth, with a tear full created in his eye. \"We, and our\nforefathers before us, had the farm of Lapardawn for more than three\nhundred years. A new landlord coming in possession of the estate, we got\nnotice to quit, in the middle of winter. My father refused to yield the\nhearth of his forefathers without a struggle, and locked himself and\nfamily up. My mother was just after her confinement, and becoming short\nof provisions and even of water, she begged of the police who kept guard\nto hand her in a drink. They refused. She then begged, for God's sake,\nto have a messenger go for the priest. For two days, the police refused\nto let any body out of the house, unless we surrendered. My father, who\nhad cut a hole in the roof of the house to catch at rain water for my\ndying mother, made his escape through it. A neighbor, who handed me a\ndrink of water through a broken pane in a window, had his hand cut off\nby a stroke from the police sergeant's sabre. My poor mother died before\nthe priest arrived. My oldest brother, seeing his mother dead, and that\nwe had nothing now to guard, surrendered. We were all lodged in jail\nthat night, and all our means were sold at auction. It was lucky for us\nwe were put into jail; for, one week from that day, the landlord that\nwas the cause of all our misery and of my mother's death was shot dead\non the road from our farm to the town of Ennis. If we were out of jail,\nwe would all have been accused of the cruel landlord's murder, and\nhanged; but we were, after one year in prison for the crime of defending\nour homestead, liberated, and came out in a body to America. And now I\nam glad of it, for two signs of tyranny I find wanting here--landlords\nand game laws. The absence of one allows me to trace the steps of the\nwild quadruped; and of the other, to trace my title to the soil which I\nshall possess, down to the middle of the earth and up to the sky,\nunfrowned on, or unawed by the landlord's tyranny or the 'peeler's'\ncruelty. This is partly why I like to see these mountains of snow,\" said\nhe, \"for I think that neither landlords nor 'peelers' could exist here.\nThey would become buried under these snow banks, for it is by night that\nthey are generally patrolling the highways, and plotting against the\npeace of innocent families; and such a storm as the late one could not\nbut be fatal to the villains.\"\n\nThese and the like sentiments are those which generally pervade the\nbosom of the Irish emigrant after landing on this enfranchised land.\nWonder not, then, you natives of this God-provided country, that the\nforeigner is likely to become more republican than yourselves, and that\nhis is a keener sense of enjoyment than yours, from the evils of his\nantecedent life. Do not, therefore, become jealous of his purer and more\nardent love for this republic, the inheritance of the oppressed; but,\ninstead of envying his growing influence in this country of his choice\nand adoption, receive him with open arms, and make him a participator\nwith yourselves in the good things which you and your fathers have\nenjoyed for ages, and your claims to which are grounded on no better\ntitle than that of the emigrant; and which title is founded on the\nadventitious discovery of this continent by a Catholic and a foreigner,\nand on oppressions undergone by your fathers in their native lands.\nWonder not, then, that the Irish Catholic is the best lover of this\ncountry, and that he feels himself at home here; for his sufferings in\nthe cause of liberty and of conscience have been such as to give him the\nstrongest title deed to the liberties and privileges, if not to the\nenjoyments and comforts, of this favored land. Every prejudice is\nunreasonable, but none more irrational than that which would throw\nobstacles in the way of the gallant emigrant towards procuring a home\nand a sanctuary in this land of refuge and freedom.\n\nThe land is wild and uncultivated, with its womb groaning under the\nburden of plenty and fertility that have been dormant for ages upon\nages, and that must remain so for ages to come, unless the thrifty hand\nof husbandry assist them into birth; and where are we to find, or when\nwill the \"nativists\" be able to procure, as busy hands and stalwart\narms, sufficiently numerous to bring into cultivation the millions of\nacres within the extent of our country, if the emigrant and foreigner\nare to be discouraged, and the mad clamor of the \"nativists\" is to\nprevail? It was not all native blood that was spilled in the\nestablishment of the republic. It was not native genius alone that\ncreated the constitution, laws, and institutions of our country. It was\nnot \"natives,\" of course, that first discovered, settled, or established\nthe several states that form the grand Union. It was by emigrants, by\n\"furriners,\" that all these things were done. What, therefore, can be\nmore ungrateful, if not more unjust, in the \"nativists,\" than to attempt\nto rob the poor emigrant of the rewards of his labor and merit, in order\nthat they may enjoy all the fruit of the latter's toil? This is the\nheight of ingratitude and injustice; a far more glaring instance of both\nthan that of the _reputed_ forefathers of these \"nativists\" when they\nrobbed the old Britons of their homes and of those liberties which they\nwere _hired_ to defend. What models of honesty, justice, and truth you\nare, most distinguished \"nativists\"! The foreigner built your house,\nafter having first procured the site or the lot; they furnish the house\nwith all useful, and necessary, and ornamental furniture; and these very\nemigrants are yet necessary to keep the house in order; and you come and\nthreaten to turn them out, telling them you can now dispense with their\nservices, and that they are \"furriners\"! And, what is more inconsistent\nand unjust still, by this policy of yours, if it could prevail, you\nwould be doing the most effectual thing to annihilate yourselves, both\nphysically, politically, morally, and socially. For, if you turned off\nall the \"furriners,\" not only would you sink in wealth and\nresources,--your ships unmanned, your factories unworked, your canals\nand railroads undug, and your battles unfought,--but your very blood\nwould corrupt, and turn into water! Your physical stature would soon be\nreduced to the standard of the Aztecs; and, what is worse, following the\nnatural channel of your Anglo-Saxon instincts, you would become a\ngodless race of Liliputians! Yes, followers of Mormon Smith, Joe Miller,\nTheodore Parker, and spiritual raps. O nativists, to what an abyss your\nmental intoxication was hurrying you, in your blind zeal against the\nemigrant and the foreigner!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE ORPHANS IN THEIR NEW HOME.\n\n\nAfter the arrival in the city of the wearied missionary, his first visit\nwas to the scene of his late visit to the dying widow; and learning all\nthe particulars there that came under the cognizance of Mrs. Doherty, he\nnext drove rapidly to the poorhouse, where, as we have already stated,\nthe _pious_ officials had arranged the details so as to disappoint the\nPopish priest of his benevolent designs, and to secure, if possible, the\nadhesion of the young and interesting orphans to what they called \"Bible\nreligion.\"\n\nWhen Father O'Shane called at the county house, he learned from an under\nofficial that the boss \"_warn't to home_; and,\" said he, \"the children\nhadn't been here mor'n a few hours, when a highly-respec'able farmer had\ntaken them with him to bring up.\" He couldn't \"tell nothin' about who\nthe farmer was, or where he was from; but the children wor well done\nfor, that's all.\" It was in vain the priest represented that the\nchildren were no paupers, but of highly-respectable connections, who\nwere able and willing to provide for them. He didn't \"know nothin' about\nthat; but he knowed papers were signed, (as he was directed falsely to\nassert,) and that sartain the children could not now be claimed by any\npersons except their parents. They were now under the care of\nguardians.\" After repeated visits, continued for weeks and months, to\nthe same establishment, Father O'Shane could gain no more satisfactory\nknowledge of the fate of the orphans. He was obliged to relinquish his\nsearch in despair, concluding that the children were kidnapped, and\nthat, except by God's mercy, their faith and morals were doomed, under\nthe influence of cold, contradictory infidelity or heresy. He mentioned\nthe case to his congregation, earnestly soliciting their prayers for\nthese poor orphans of Christ; and he oftentimes offered the holy\nsacrifice, to enlist the influence of heaven in their regard.\n\nLet it not be said we exaggerate this account of the conduct of the\npoorhouse officials; and from the improbability of such an instance of\ninjustice and cruelty happening in our day, let not our readers conclude\nthat such a case, and many such cases, happened not in times gone by.\nThen the Irish Catholic population of the state was not much more than\nwhat that of one county is now. Then an Irish Catholic could not get the\noffice of constable or bailiff; now we have Catholic cabinet ministers,\njudges, senators, legislators, and aldermen.\n\nThen the ballot box was surrounded but by a few Irish naturalized\ncitizens, and these not of such importance as to influence the election\nof a constable or poormaster; now the Irish adopted citizen, by the\npower he exercises in his vote, is solicited by candidates, from a town\nofficer to the president; and whoever would attempt to reenact the\nkidnapping of Van Stingey, and many other officials of his class, in\ntheir days of petty power, would be sure to be compelled to retire\nforever from public life, and pass into the gloom and infamy of his\ndepraved private circle. There were many exposures and wailings of the\nchildren of Israel on the waters of the river of Egypt, before Moses;\nand there was many an instance of the kidnapping of Irish Catholic\nchildren from their parents, or natural guardians, by the jealous\nPharaohs of sectarianism, before the attempt made by Mr. Van Stingey to\nkidnap Paul O'Clery and his brethren.\n\nIn their new home, however, up to this time, Paul and his little charge\nwere well treated, as far as meat and clothing were concerned. Even in\nregard to religion, and the devotional exercises prescribed by its\nprecepts, there was no obstacle thrown in their way; although the\nfidelity of Paul and his sister Bridget to their morning and night\nprayers was quite astonishing to their patrons. A few indirect, covert\nattacks were all that, for many months, it was thought prudent they\nshould have to encounter from the family, named Prying, with whom they\nstaid. The truth was, that Paul, the eldest of the children, was such a\nsmart, watchful, prudent young lad, his younger brothers and sister were\nso accustomed to obey him, and he exercised such emphatic authority over\nthem, that it was the advice of the most prudent of the preachers who\ninterested themselves in his case, to let him alone for the present. The\nchange intended to be brought about was to be left to time,\nconversation, and the influence of common school education to\naccomplish. His education, in Ireland, was principally religious and\nclassical, rather than commercial; and he was just now acquiring, in his\npresent trying noviceship, what was precisely wanting to his previous\ncourse. He and his brothers, who lived in the next farmer's house,\ntogether with Bridget, his sister, who was under the same roof with\nhimself, obstinately refused to attend the Sunday school, the meeting\nhouse, or to join in the prayer with which school was daily opened.\nHence they were more than once publicly prayed for by the fanatical\nPresbyterian minister, the Rev. Mr. Gulmore, at whose church the Prying\nfamily attended. There was a sufficiency of prayers now \"put up,\" in Mr.\nGulmore's opinion, to begin the work of more practical conversion.\nAccordingly, a \"big dinner\" was prepared, a turkey cooked, and Friday\nfixed upon--the appetite being chosen, after a very ancient pattern in\nparadise, as the channel through which to \"open the eyes\" of these blind\nyoung Papists! Some neighboring ministers were of opinion that it was\ntoo soon to begin; but they were but Methodist, Universalist, and other\npreachers, who were jealous of the influence and of the salary of Mr.\nGulmore, and who, besides, did not think it exactly fair that all the\nchildren should be converted to Presbyterianism, while there were a\ndozen as good denominations around, \"and better too.\" But the\ngood-salaried disciple of John Calvin had no respect for such opinion;\nso \"forthwith the good work must begin,\" as he authoritatively said. He\nshould not be trifled with any longer, or have it said that, after all\nthe prayers \"put up,\" and pains taken, \"they should still be left\nwallowing in the mire of Popery.\"\n\n\"It should not be! It could not be! The power of the Lord must be made\nmanifest. He could not any longer allow the light to remain under a\nbushel. It should shine, and he should then and there convert those\nobstinate young things to vital religion.\"\n\n\"Some turkey, Paul, my dear?\" said Gulmore, after having first served\nthe ladies and senior members of the family.\n\n\"Not any, sir, thank you,\" said Paul.\n\n\"Not any!\" repeated the parson, frowning. \"Why so? That's not good\nmanners, my lad.\"\n\n\"If it be not, I am sorry, sir,\" said Paul. \"I cannot be expected to be\nvery polite, or to know the usages of this country, as yet. So I beg to\nbe excused.\"\n\n\"You should not refuse the gifts of God when offered you,\" replied _his\nreverence_.\n\n\"But I do not think it would be good for me to use these gifts of God in\nthe present instance.\"\n\n\"You must eat meat, Paul, and use the good things of our glorious\ncountry, or you will fail and die.\"\n\n\"I know I will die,\" said Paul; \"and I guess eating turkey won't make me\nimmortal.\"\n\nA loud laugh followed this remark from all but the parson and a female\nmember of the family. This \"raised his dander a _leetle_,\" as old uncle\nJacob afterwards used to say.\n\n\"That is more unmannerly still, Paul,\" said the parson.\n\n\"You think you are smart; but I tell you, child, you are ignorant, and\nimpudent to boot.\"\n\n\"I should be sorry to make a saucy or impudent answer to any body, much\nmore to a clergyman of any church; but I thought you were aware that it\nis counted very insulting to Catholics to offer them meat on Fridays, as\nif they were apostates who would sell their souls for a 'mess of\npottage;' and I thought you were aware that we are Catholics, and that\nour religion forbids us to eat flesh on Friday.\"\n\n\"I know, sir, the Romish faith forbids her votaries the use of meat;\nbut, Paul, I thought you were now thoroughly weaned from such notions,\nfrom what you have seen since you came to this free and Protestant\ncountry.\"\n\n\"All I have seen since I was unfortunately compelled to come to these\nparts, only confirms me in my attachment to the religion of our\nancestors,\" said Paul.\n\n\"My child, I love you,\" said the parson, seeing he had been committed by\nhis temper, and now changing his air of haughtiness into that of\naffected kindness; \"I love you in my soul, and that is why I want to\nteach you to know Jesus, and to cause you to give up the fooleries of\nPopery. What can be more foolish than to abstain from what God has given\nfor man's use?\"\n\n\"I hope I appreciate that _love_, sir,\" said Paul; \"but if you wish not\nto insult me, and if you do not want to cause me to doubt the sincerity\nof your love, you won't call any prescription of the church of Christ\nfoolish. The Scriptures tell us that we may lawfully and meritoriously\nabstain from many good and useful gifts of God--as Samson abstained\nfrom wine; St. John the Baptist from flesh and the luxury of apparel;\nSt. Paul fasted and chastised his body; the Jews were commanded to\nabstain from the use of pork and other meats. Finally, our Savior\npromises to reward those publicly who will fast or abstain from food.\"\n\n\"Ah, poor, lost, ignorant one,\" exclaimed the parson, \"you are in error;\nsunk in superstition!\"\n\n\"I hope your assertions do not prove me so.\"\n\n\"Paul, child, don't you speak so to the minister,\" interrupted old Mrs.\nPrying. \"He is for your good, and desires to make you a Christian.\"\n\n\"Ma'am, I don't wish to insult any body, as I said before; but I can't\nhear my religion run down and misrepresented while I know the contrary\nto be the fact.\"\n\n\"Well, madam, let me alone; I will soon catch the lad in his own Jesuit\nnet. Paul, you _know_ the Bible, you think; where in the Bible do you\nfind it ordered to fast from flesh on Fridays?\"\n\n\"Where in the Bible,\" said Paul, \"do you find it ordered to keep Sunday\nholy instead of Saturday, the Sabbath? where are you ordered to build\nchurches? where do you find authority for establishing feasts and fasts?\nwhere to hold synods or assemblies? where to baptize infants?\"\n\n\"O Paul, the Bible does not order these things expressly; but the\nChristian church does.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Paul, \"it is only our church that forbids her children the\nuse of flesh on Friday; and 'he that does not hear the church, let him\nbe to thee as the heathen and publican.'\"\n\n\"But you ought not to obey the church in what is evidently wrong; and it\nmust be wrong to forbid the use of meat made for man's use.\"\n\n\"If it was wrong, God would not have forbidden the Jews the use of meat\nthat we now use as a gift of God.\"\n\n\"That was in the old law. You cannot find any such prohibition in the\ngospel.\"\n\n\"I can. In the Acts of the Apostles, xv. 29, the use of blood and\nstrangled meat is forbidden. Besides, our Lord fasted forty days from\nthe use of all the good gifts of God in the shape of food. The\nIsraelites fasted from flesh in the desert, and were terribly punished\nfor asking for it; over seventy thousand of them having died as a\npunishment for their carnal desires.\"\n\n\"Paul, I fear the Lord has deserted thee,\" said this ignorant hypocrite,\nwhen he saw himself refuted by this young boy. \"Don't we read from the\nmouth of truth itself, that 'what entereth into the mouth defileth\nnot'?\"\n\n\"I think I heard the teetotal lecturer on the road there say that a\nglass of brandy defiled a man; and I am sure a quart or two of it would\ncause a man to sin, and thus defile him. And as the apple in the garden\ndefiled Eve, not by its nature, but by reason of the prohibition of God,\nso the meat on Friday does not defile of itself, but by reason of the\nprohibition of the church.\"\n\n\"You should not obey the church, Paul, in all these things. It is\nslavery the most vile, so it is.\"\n\n\"Is it slavery in one to obey his parents in what is good and useful?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Well, then, the church is my mother; and when she prohibits an\nindifferent thing, I, as a good child, am bound to obey her,\nparticularly when I have the promise of Christ that she can never\nerr--that 'the gates of hell can never prevail against her.' We have an\ninstance in this very county,\" said Paul, now warming into the argument,\n\"of the effects of a prohibitory law. A few years ago it was no harm to\nfish for pickerel in the lakes and brooks of this county; but some of\nthe people petitioned the legislature, and got a law passed forbidding\nthe fishing for such fish for twenty years; and now, whoever is detected\nin violating the law is fined or imprisoned. So it was no sin to eat\nmeat on Friday; but the church, for wise reasons, and to encourage\nmortification, has forbidden its use; and so now, after the prohibition,\njust as after the passage of the law in regard to fishing, whoever\nknowingly violates the law disobeys the church; and he who disobeys the\nchurch, or his parents, offends God, and will be punished by\nimprisonment, death, or eternal condemnation.\"\n\n\"That boy will never do any good, and is a dangerous viper in a family,\"\nsaid the parson, abruptly rising, and taking his hat.\n\n\"Well done, my young paddy,\" said uncle Jacob, as he saw the dominie\nretire; \"you have beaten the minister holler. Ha! ha! ha! I am really\nglad you silenced his gab, for he is 'tarnally blabbing about his\nreligion; though I think he hain't much of it himself, except\ncounterfeit stuff, like a bad bill,--ha! ha!--that he wants to pass.\"\n\n\"I hope he is not angry,\" said Paul, timidly.\n\n\"Pshaw! And who cares, Paul? Let him cool, if he is mad, the darned\nfool,\" said uncle Jacob. \"I am glad to have the house shet of him.\"\n\nPaul and uncle Jacob, with whom he was of late becoming a great\nfavorite, retired for the evening to the latter's bed room, where Paul\nwas accustomed to read aloud for him out of his Catholic books of\ninstruction.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTHE PRYING FAMILY.\n\n\nThe farms of the brothers Prying were situated in a beautiful valley. On\nthe one side were the Vermont snow-crowned and cloud-capped mountains,\nrising up like eternal ramparts against all eastern hostile incursions\nof the elements. On the other, or the western side, were the pleasant\nhills of York State, which, in contrast with the mountains of Vermont,\nlooked like so many tumuli of the deceased Indian giants of ages gone\nby. In the centre between, in a southerly course, ran a clear, silver\nbrook, well stocked with an abundance of trout and other species of the\nfinny tribe. On both sides of this stream were situated the extensive\nfarms of the Pryings. They had abundance of woods from the elevated\nextremes on either side. The rivulet constituted a cooling retreat for\ncattle in summer, and in spring afforded an abundant source of\nirrigation to the rich meadows on both sides.\n\nEphraim's family, where Paul and Bridget remained, consisted of Mrs.\nPrying, Amanda, the senior daughter, Melinda, and Mary, called after her\ngrandmother, who was Irish. There were besides, Calvin, Wesley, Cassius,\nand Cyrus, younger members of the family, together with old uncle\nJacob, an unmarried brother of Ephraim, the head of this family. We may\nas well here remark that Mr. Prying was, from the beginning, averse to\nreceive these orphans into his house, seeing, as he said, \"that he\nwanted no more such hands as they were;\" but Amanda persuaded him, in\norder to have the glory of being instrumental in the conversion of the\n\"interesting orphans,\" as they were called.\n\nThere were frequent friendly contentions in the family to see who would\nhave the special care of the new comers. Little Mary insisted on having\nBridget to sleep with herself instead of her sister Melinda, whom she\nwanted to dispossess. Wesley, Calvin, and Cassius wanted to monopolize\nPaul, especially on Sundays, when each of them were about to separate\nfor their respective meetings to hear the preacher.\n\n\"Father,\" said Calvin, \"won't Paul come with me? Our minister, Mr.\nGulmore, is such a clever preacher, and our Sunday school the best and\nthe largest.\"\n\n\"I say he shan't, now, Calvin,\" replied Wesley. \"Your minister, the old\nfeller, is nothing, compared with ours, Mr. Barker.\"\n\n\"Well, brothers,\" said Cassius, \"I don't see the use of your jawing\nabout it. But I say Paul had better come to our meeting--the very name,\nUniversalist, signifying the same with Catholic, as I was telling Paul\nyesterday, while a-fishing, and as our minister said.\"\n\n\"Well, boys,\" said uncle Jacob, laughing, \"my advice to you is; to see\nfirst whether Paul is willing to go with any of ye to yer meetings. I\nthink his mind is made up to stay at home, like myself.\"\n\nAmanda now stepped forward to inform this conference that Paul had been\nspoiled by their example; that he cried when told he must go to meeting;\nand that it was better now not to urge the matter further. In future,\nshe intended to instruct Paul and Bridget herself; and she was resolved\nto cut off all intercourse between them and the younger members of the\nfamily.\n\nOur readers are aware that Amanda was the Miss Prying, a child of her\nfather by a former marriage; and besides this, she was an old maid. In\naddition to the foregoing circumstances, she became pious, attended camp\nmeetings, donation parties, and _quilting matches_ at young ministers'\nhouses, who were just preparing to get a _rib_. And though she was\npraised as the best needle lady in the town, her epistles on love to\nyoung preachers were the most admirable mixture of classical and\nbiblical composition that could be found. Though she had a good pair of\nhands at making pies, puddings, and other culinary preparations, though\nshe was praised, flattered, and admired, yet nobody ever yet went beyond\nthis. All was admiration, praise, flattery, no more. Again: Amanda,\nthough a strict old school Presbyterian, in order to exhibit her\nliberality and prove that she had no objection to a partner from any of\nthe other countless sects of Protestantism, be he Baptist, Methodist, or\nUnitarian--in order to prove her liberality, she attended the donations\nof the six ministers of her village, and each of the dominies received\nfrom her a neatly-worked handkerchief for pulpit use. Yet, though she\nwas at once liberal and strict, pious and politic; though she induced\none Sally Dwyer to join her church and declare she \"got the change of\nheart;\" though she was eternally working and planning to bring others to\nher way of thinking, and had some success in her proselyting\nefforts,--she never could, with all her art, biblical lore, and policy,\nsucceed in causing any body to say, \"I take thee, Amanda, to my wedded\nwife.\" This was the chief point; and here is just where she failed. What\nwas the cause of it? She was not too old--not near so old as Miss\nLongface, whom the youthful parson Barker lately wedded. \"And besides,\"\nsaid she, in a soliloquy, \"when I was young, it was just the same bad\nluck. Is it that men are less numerous than ladies? There might be\nsomething in that, for she had seen it stated in their newspaper, 'The\nHome Journal,' that female births exceeded that of males by forty\nthousand annually in certain European kingdoms. The number of Popish\npriests also,\" she said, \"who remain unmarried, adds greatly to the\nsuperfluity of the female sex. Hence there is no part of the wicked\nPopish system I regard so much contrary to God's holy word as celibacy.\nCelibacy!\" she cried aloud; \"one of the doctrines of devils, as any one\ncan tell, who has been these twenty years in search of a mate, and could\nnever yet find one! O horrid thought!\" She had consulted the famous\nfortune teller at the state fair of Vermont, and, after having paid that\n\"seer of future events\" a fee of ten dollars, she found his prediction\nwas false. For she was told she would be married within two years, and\nto a neighboring minister; but now it was twenty-six months since, and\nthe only single minister around lately got married to Miss Longface, a\nvery ignorant and unamiable person. But there was no taste, or judgment,\nor discernment nowadays in men, as this fact clearly proved.\n\"Thunderation on them!\" said she, in a rage.\n\nSuch were the ideas that were passing through the brain of Amanda one\nSunday morning, as she lounged on the sofa of her sitting room, when,\nupon her looking out towards the lawn in front, she perceived Paul and\nBridget kneeling by a seat, at the foot of a large wild plum tree that\nstood at the end of the green plot in front of the house, and that had\nits branches bent within a few feet of the ground by the embraces of a\nrich grape vine that for years had grown around it and impeded its\ndevelopment. For a few moments she watched the movements of the orphans\nas they smote their breasts at the \"Confiteor,\" or bowed their heads at\nthe \"Sanctus,\" accompanying the priests who, they knew, in thousands of\nchurches, were engaged in offering sacrifice to God; and reading the\n\"Prayers at Mass\" out of the Key of Heaven manual of devotion.\n\nInstead of admiring this sincerity of devotion, or giving thanks to God\nfor the grace of fidelity and piety that his mercy had vouchsafed to\nthese children of grace, Amanda, as if she could not endure the sight of\nsuch happiness, or mortified at the miscarriage of her vain attempts to\nrob these innocent hearts of the treasure of true faith and piety which\nthey possessed, still pale with rage in consequence of her ruminations\nabout her own misfortune, the ill-tempered old maid there and then\nresolved to try another and a severer plan to effect her purpose of\nproselytism.\n\n\"Confound yer impudence, ye little Popish paupers!\" she said to herself.\n\"I shall soon make ye give up these superstitious practices. Paul, Paul,\ndear,\" she said, tapping at the window, \"come in out of that, come in\nBridget, ye little fools; the sun will spoil yer features, cover ye with\ntan.\"\n\n\"Yes, miss, in a few minutes; we are just finishing,\" said Paul.\n\nEver since Paul came to this house, in obedience to the advice of his\nmother, as well as in accordance with the prescriptions of the excellent\nreligious education he received at home in the diocesan seminary, he\nalways read the \"Prayers at Mass,\" accompanied by his sister Bridget,\nfirst; and after having read them with her at home, he went across the\nbrook to Reuben Prying's, where his brothers lived, and taking them into\nthe fields, or to the barn if the weather did not answer, he read for\nthem the same devotions, causing them to answer \"Amen\" after the end of\neach prayer, and reading to them a chapter of the catechism for\ncommittal to memory. And to do justice to Reuben, whose wife was a\nsouthern lady, there was no obstacle thrown in the way of the children\nto prevent them from discharging their duties to their religion. On the\ncontrary, the fidelity of Paul, and his watchfulness over the faith and\nmorals of his younger brothers Patrick and Eugene, commanded the\nhighest approbation of Mrs. Reuben Prying. And such was her horror of\nany thing like the domestic tyranny or intolerance of Amanda, that Mrs.\nReuben always allowed the two young lads to say their own prayers in\nprivate, notwithstanding the advice of the ministers to the contrary.\nThe only times that Pat and Eugene were ever asked into the parlor to\npray was on some rare occasions, when Mrs. Reuben, through a laudable\ncuriosity, and to serve as an example to her own children, caused the\norphans to say their prayers aloud before retiring to bed. The two\nlittle fellows, one five and the other eight years of age, joining their\nhands before their breasts, repeated the Lord's Prayer, Hail Mary, the\nApostles' Creed, the General Confession, the Acts of Faith, Hope, and\nCharity, the Litany of the Blessed Virgin, the Prayer of the Angel\nGuardian and Patron Saint, and Prayers for the Dead: these they repeated\naloud, and correctly, to the astonishment of the other children and the\nedification of the mistress.\n\n\"Ah, Reub, Ben, and Will,\" she said, \"when will you be such good boys as\nPatsy and Geny? You can't say the Lord's Prayer yet.\"\n\n\"I can tell,\" said Reub, blushing, \"more than Pat can. I know how old\nMathusalem was, who was the wife of Abraham, and who was the mother of\nSolomon, and the wife of Putiphar.\"\n\n\"I don't know how to say so many prayers,\" said Ben, contemptuously;\n\"but I can tell how many cents in ten dollars, how many states in the\nUnion, and how large England is.\"\n\n\"I can sing a hymn,\" said Will, \"which I heard in the choir in the\nMethodist meeting house when I went there with cousin.\"\n\n\"Let us hear you, Will,\" said his mother.\n\n\"Mother, I have only a little of it,\" said Will.\n\n\"Say all you remember,\" said she, \"and sing it.\"\n\n\"The ladies first said, ma,\" said he, commencing,--\n\n    'O for a man--O for a man--O for a mansion in the skies.'\n\n\"The men answered,--\n\n    'Send down sal--send down sal--\n      Send down salvation to our souls.'\"\n\nAt this specimen of ludicrous poetical composition the mother burst out\na-laughing, in which she was joined by the two arch Irish lads; and\nWill, discouraged, blushed and stopped.\n\n\"I would rather not have any prayer than have that foolish hymn,\" said\nBen. \"O Will! O, you goose!\"\n\n\"Silence, boys!\" said Mrs. Prying. \"Pat and Eugene, can you not sing?\nCome, let us hear how you can sing. Commence. Don't be ashamed.\"\n\n\"Will we sing, ma'am, what the Christian brothers taught us?\"\n\n\"Yes, Pat, any thing; don't be shy,\" said the lady. The lads began thus,\nwith joined hands and uplifted eyes:--\n\n    \"Ave Maria! hear the prayer\n      Of thy poor helpless child!\n    Beneath thy sweet maternal care\n      Preserve me undefiled.\n\n    \"Ave Maria! do I sigh\n      In deep affliction's hour.\n    Nor to a suppliant heart deny\n      Thy mediative power.\n\n    \"Ave Maria! for to thee,\n      Whom God was pleased to choose\n    The mother of his Son to be,\n      No prayer will he refuse.\n\n    \"Ave Maria! then implore\n      One only grace for me--\n    This heart to give forevermore\n      To God alone and thee.\"\n\n\"To bed, children, with you all,\" said the good lady, covering her face\nwith her handkerchief, for the tears started from their source in her\nnoble soul on hearing this delightful hymn sung by the poor orphans,\nwhose countenances looked like those of angels' while chanting it. \"God\nforgive those,\" she said to herself, in a half-audible tone, \"that would\nrob these poor children of that divine religion that teaches her\nchildren such heavenly hymns.\"\n\nThis incident recalled to her mind vividly the days of her girlhood,\nwhen, in the \"sunny south,\" she heard Catholic hymns sung and Catholic\ndevotion practised in the convent where she, though a Protestant,\nreceived her education. And probably her conscience, too, reproached her\nfor the neglect of the good resolutions she formed while there.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nA RAY OF HOPE.\n\n\nMany times during what we shall call his captivity within the gates of\nthe strangers Paul had contrived to write letters to Father O'Shane in\nthe city of T----, as well as to his uncle in Ireland; but from some\ncause or other, to his innocent mind inexplicable, the letters never\nreached their destination, nor were they ever after heard of. The\npostmaster of S----, not generally supposed to be a very exact man,\nparticularly when remitting money in letters for farmers' boys to their\nIrish friends in eastern or western parts, was ever ready to oblige, and\nwith hearty good will entered into the views of, Parson Gulmore, when he\ncalled on him, according to the advice of Amanda, \"to have Paul's\nletters seen to.\" And never mind they were \"seen to\" and secured.\n\nThis disgraceful proceeding, so disreputable to all concerned, and so\ncharacteristic of the fidelity with which the business of \"Uncle Sam\" is\nmanaged, was not confined to the detention and destruction of the poor\norphan's letters, but to the piracy of their contents too.\n\nThere is no department of the public service in the United States so\nbadly managed as the post-office department. Not only do robber\npostmasters continue in office after their exposure and their plunder of\nmoney letters, but they can be bribed to convey the epistles of\nindividuals to interested parties, who would come at their secrets; and\nthus the most sacred and secret concerns of life are liable to exposure,\nand to be sold for gain. We knew a postmaster who for years continued to\nrob with impunity the letters that were deposited in his \"den of\nthieves;\" and when he was exposed and disgraced through the\ninstrumentality of the writer of this tale, whole bushels of letters,\ndirected to Ireland by poor emigrants to their fathers, wives, and sons,\nwere found thrown aside in a nook of his office; the sole motive for\nthis scandalous robbery being the plunder of the twenty-four cents paid\non the letters to free them to Europe.\n\nSadly did the mysterious miscarriage of his letters puzzle the ingenuous\nheart of poor Paul; though he had reason to suspect, from certain hints\nthrown out by Amanda, that she, somehow or other, was in possession of\ntheir contents. On a certain day, however, a circumstance convinced Paul\nthat he could not now expect an answer from his letters to Father\nO'Shane; for Miss Amanda had just pointed out to him a paragraph in the\nnewspaper stating that the Catholic priest of T---- had died of ship\nfever, taken by him in the discharge of his duties among the sick of his\nflock.\n\n\"God rest his soul,\" said Paul, raising his eyes to heaven; \"he was a\ngood friend to us in our hour of need.\"\n\n\"What's that you say, Paul?\" said Amanda, with a frown. \"Did I not tell\nyou repeatedly, Paul, that it was useless to pray for the dead?\"\n\n\"I know _you told_ me that often, 'Mandy; but am I bound to believe you,\nwhen I know the church teaches me the contrary? In fact, the Bible says\nit is 'a holy and a wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they\nmay be loosed from their sins.'\" (Mac. xii. 42.)\n\n\"Don't you call me 'Mandy, Paul,\" said the vain old maid; \"my name is\nMiss A-man-day.\"\n\n\"A-man-a-day,\" said Paul, with a sarcastic smile. \"I beg pardon,\" said\nhe, \"miss; I must guard against that blunder in future, and say\n_A-man-a-day_.\"\n\n\"Ah, you naughty boy!\" she said, catching him by the hand. \"Come here to\nme till I teach you the knowledge of God's word. Now, Paul, that passage\nyou quoted I do not find in my Bible.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Paul, \"for your Bible is no other than an imperfect,\nmutilated Bible, corrupted by the men who made your religion. The\nCatholic church, from which the Protestants stole their piecemeal Bible,\nalways regarded the book of Machabeus as the inspired word of God.\"\n\n\"But, Paul, it is so foolish, this 'half-way house.'\"\n\n\"Then, miss, you must blame God, who created it, for the folly of his\nnot consulting with some Protestant philosopher before he created such a\n'half way.' For most certainly there was always, since the dawn of\ncreation, a third place; as, for example, the place where the souls of\nthe just were confined before Christ, who was the first to ascend into\nheaven, as himself says in his gospel. Now, the Bible does not say that\nthis half way was 'foolish,' or abolished either. Besides, it is but\nreasonable that there should be a place to purify the frail and\nimperfect soul before admitting her to God's holy presence.\"\n\n\"Where the tree falleth, there it lieth,\" said she.\n\n\"Yes, fallen,\" said Paul, \"it lieth there till it is taken away to\nanother place. Where the soul falleth,--that is, whether in a state of\ngrace or in sin,--there it will lie forever; but those who go to\npurgatory die in a state of grace, and so their eternal destiny is\nheaven--like those just souls who died before Christ; yet they are not\nfit for heaven immediately, for 'nothing defiled can enter therein.'\"\n\n\"You wrote to the priest, didn't you, to say masses for your mother's\nsoul in purgatory? How do you know she is there?\" said Amanda,\nunguardedly.\n\n\"I hope she is in no worse place,\" said Paul, the fire kindling in his\ndark Celtic eye; \"and whether in heaven or in hell,--which God\nforbid!--the mass can do no harm, but tend to the honor and glory of\nGod, and I hope procure me and the celebrant merit. But, Amanda, how do\nyou know that I wrote any such request to the priest? I know you are\nabove reading my letters, though I should leave them open under your\neye; but I am afraid that hypocritical-looking postmaster may have kept\nmy letters, and given them to somebody. In Ireland, that crime deserved\nhanging as a punishment; and I do not know what I would do to any body I\nwould detect in opening my letters, and pilfering my secrets,\" said he,\nraising himself up.\n\n\"O, my dear Paul,\" said the old maid, perceiving her imprudence, \"I only\nguessed at the contents of your letters. We Yankees are great at\nguessing, you know. Be silent; shut up, my good fellow,\" she added,\ngoing over to the window. \"What crowd is that there below on the road?\"\n\nAn unusual sight in that part of the country now presented itself to\nview. Slowly moving along the road was a crowd of men and women--the\nmen, as they came up, taking off their hats, and the women courtesying,\nin that way that only Catholics can courtesy, to a young gentleman, who,\nseated in a one-horse carriage, the top lowered down, seemed to be\nengaged, as he was, in earnest conversation about some subject of an\nabsorbing interest to those around him. In truth, any body, even Amanda,\nwho never saw one, could have guessed that this personage, surrounded by\nso many of the Irish railroad laborers lately settled in the vicinity,\nwas no other than the Catholic priest. Paul's eye, so lately kindled\ninto passion from the hints dropped by Amanda about the foul play\nregarding his letters, became immediately subdued into composure, and,\ntaking out a small miniature reliquary and silver crucifix which he ever\nwore on his breast, he pressed them to his lips, saying to himself,\n\"Glory be to God; and Mary, his virgin mother, be ever blessed. I see\nthe priest, if he is alive.\" And instantly he was over the fence and on\nthe road.\n\n\"There is one of 'em,\" said Mrs. Murphy, \"your reverence; and it would\nbe a charity to do something for the poor children, for they were well\nreared.\"\n\nPaul could not, owing to the tears that rushed on him in floods, dare\nfor some time to join the crowd to offer his respects to the\nrepresentative of religion; and it was a full quarter of an hour before\nhe could say, \"Welcome to these parts, your reverence.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my child,\" said the priest, reaching him his hand.\n\n\"Forgive me, sir,\" said the poor youth; \"I can't but weep, 'tis so long\nsince I saw a priest or heard mass.\"\n\nThere was not a dry eye in the crowd as the young lad clung to the\npriest's hand, embracing it, and crying aloud, \"O my uncle! my uncle!\"\n\n\"Take him into the shanty and calm him a little,\" said the stalwart\nmissionary. \"Poor little fellow! poor child! poor child!\"\n\n\"O, God help the orphan!\" said Mrs. Murphy again, fearing she had not\ntouched his reverence's heart. \"It would be the charity of God to do\nsomething for them. The men would be all willing to subscribe.\"\n\n\"We will do all we can,\" said his reverence. \"God will provide for them,\nif they be what you represent. Meet me here to-morrow, at six o'clock.\nWe will have mass and confessions here in the shanty, as we could\nprocure no better place. Give word around through the entire\nneighborhood. Good by for the present,\" said he, moving along towards\nthe village of S----.\n\n\"God speed your reverence,\" answered a hundred voices, as they returned\nthe adieu.\n\nThis was the first night since the death of his beloved mother, and that\nwas over two years, that the slightest ray of hope penetrated the\nburdened but confiding soul of Paul. For himself he did not much care.\nHe could have escaped any day, and repudiated the iniquitous contract by\nwhich the villanous poormaster had sold him and his brethren; but what\nwas to become of his younger sister and brothers? He knew how to plough,\nmow, cradle, and farm it, as well as any body of his age. He knew how to\nread, count, write, and even defend his religion, against all opponents,\nas he did last winter at the Lyceum; but what was to become of Bridget,\nPatrick, and little Eugene, who had yet many years to serve? This was\nwhat puzzled him. But now the priest had come for the first time to this\nremote region, and _he_ knew what to do, and would not desert the\norphan, for no priest ever had done so. He felt there was to be now a\nchange, and he felt assured that it would be for his good. \"Thank God,\"\nsaid he, \"I saw the priest at last. I return thee thanks, my God, and\nthee, my mother in heaven, now my only mother, and I thank all the\nheavenly citizens and all heaven, for this dawn of hope that I feel in\nmy soul. O Lord, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.\"\n\nFervent and pious were the prayers offered to God on this night by Paul,\nas he thanked him for having seen one in whom he could confide as a\nfriend, as well as because he was preparing to go to his religious\nduties on the morrow. Let it not be said that it was superstition in\nPaul to thank God so fervently for having permitted him once more to\nconverse with his priest. What can be imagined a more worthy cause for\nthanksgiving than the meeting with a true friend? What better gift can\nwe receive from God than a friend? And who ever, in need, has failed to\nfind the good priest a friend in all emergencies?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nVAN STINGEY AGAIN.--HOW HE GETS RICH AND ENDS.\n\n\nAfter a year or two in office, our friend Van Stingey found Fortune\nrather adverse to him, a thing not unusual with the worshippers of that\nfickle goddess; for not only was he put out of office by the influence\nof the \"furren\" vote thrown against him, but his farther promotion even\nin the church became almost problematical. His was now a rather\nunpleasant situation. He was not only defeated at the ballot box by the\n\"Irish element,\" according as Mrs. Doherty foretold, but he was in\ndisgrace with many of his regular church-going brethren. This latter\ntrial was caused by the well-known fact that a negro girl, who was put\nunder this _religious_ man's care by the abolitionists, and who was now\ntwo years in his family, had just given birth to a young mulatto child\nin his house. Yes, and worse; the miserable yellow thing not only was\nborn, and in health, under the roof of this _religious teacher_, but he\nwas mortified to find that it had his very nose on its face, and could\nnot by any possibility be fathered on any body else. Thus were the\nprospects of this pious gentleman blasted in one day. He got religion,\nbut now it failed him. He was of the true nativist stamp in politics;\nbut here again his defeat was signal and complete, and all through the\nsuffrages of foreigners.\n\nWhat was he to do for a living? He must give up religion and politics,\nand take to some other pursuit. Loafing or living on his neighbors was\nnow impossible, as he was in disgrace with many; and besides, he had a\nwife and family to support. Peddling was so common, that nothing could\nnow be made in that line; and besides, it took some capital to start\nwith--a thing that was out of the question in our ex-official's case.\n\nThe only chance now open for him was the railroad, and to the railroads\nhe said he would betake himself as soon as he could. On the railroad he\nsaw men of little talent, of less honesty, and of no capital, amass not\nonly a competency, but wealth, in a few years; and our official was very\nanxious to try his luck in that line of business. Accordingly, when the\nNorthern Railroad was about to be let, Van Stingey, in company with four\nothers, put in their estimate, which was the very lowest, and they thus\nsucceeded in getting ten miles of the road. The partners of Van Stingey\nwere one Purse, one Mr. Kitchins, one Timens, generally called Blind\nBill, one Whinny, together with Mr. Lofin, an Irishman. They had the job\nnow, but had neither horses, carts, shovels, nor any of the various\nimplements necessary to carry on the work. A council was held among\nthese five worthies to see what was to be done. They had neither money,\nnor means, nor credit to begin with, and how were they to fulfil their\ncontract? Most of them were novices in this sort of business; but there\nwas Mr. P. Lofin, whose experience was something, and who suggested a\nplan which could not but succeed, if his advice was followed. The plan\nwas, that they should advertise for three thousand men and several\nhundred horses, and on the strength of their advertisements, and their\ncertificate of having obtained such a respectable contract, try to\nborrow some provisions on three months' credit.\n\nIn a few days, the public places of the cities of T---- and A---- were\nposted up with large placards, and advertisements were inserted in all\nthe daily papers, which read thus:--\n\n  WANTED.\n\n  Three thousand men to work on the Northern Railroad at one dollar\n  a day of twelve hours. Men who wish to work extra time will\n  receive extra wages.\n\n  Wanted, also, six hundred horses to hire, at three dollars a day\n  for every team, on the same work.\n\n  P. LOFIN,\n  VAN STINGEY,\n  KITCHINS, & CO.\n\nIn a few days, not only did the three thousand men make their\nappearance, but twice that number were now located on the site of the\nproposed line. But how were so many men to live? There was some delay in\nproceeding with the works, and Van Stingey and Co., having represented\nthemselves as very independent and wealthy contractors, said that, as\nthey did not like to be hard on the men, they would give them free sites\nfor their shanties, which the men could afterwards have without the\nnecessity of having to pay so much a month for their use, as was the\ncustom with other but less honorable contractors than Van Stingey,\nPurse, Lofin, & Co.\n\nThis bait took \"capitally,\" as Van used to say, and not only were two\nhundred shanties built, but the praise of the \"ginerous contractors\" was\nin every mouth; and \"Hurrah for Lofin, Van Stingey, & Co.,\" became a\nregular toast among the men, as they went to spend a shilling in the\ncompany's grocery store. The shanties were now up, and the horses, three\nhundred in number, all ready for work; but a week, and another, and a\nthird passed on, and not a sod of ground was broke on the ten miles of\nour independent company's contract. Here was now a sad and alarming\nspectacle. Thousands of men, women, and children, seduced into a\nwilderness by the specious promises of these vile knaves; and now, after\nhaving spent every penny they had earned for years, brought to the very\nverge of starvation. Some were obliged to trade off and sell their\nclothes for food; others had to open small retail groceries to keep\nthemselves and their neighbors from starving. The more independent in\ncircumstances were obliged to mortgage their horses and carts for\nprovisions and fodder; and all had, as far as their means went, to\npatronize the new store opened by the contractors, who retailed\nprovisions and groceries, to those who had any thing to lose, at a\nprofit of one hundred and a quarter per cent. on their original cost.\nFor three months this was the state of things on the contract of our\n_honorable_ company. Works not yet commenced, men and horses half\nstarving, occasional murmurs among the most knowing of the hands--which\nmurmurs were, however, soon allayed by the representations of the bosses\nand their countryman Mr. Lofin, who pledged _his honor_ as a \"gintlemon\nthat the whault lied intirely with the directors, and the _faurmuns_,\nwho refused to settle for the right uv way.\" The mystery was soon\ncleared up by the appearance on the ground of Messrs. Van Stingey,\nLofin, & Whinny, with fifteen constables, who laid an injunction on all\nthe shanties, and quietly, revolver in hand, drove off the three hundred\nhorses to the county town, to secure those contractors in their pay for\nthe debt into which they brought all those men whom they got to deal in\ntheir store, or who had any property. This is the way thousands of men\nwere deceived, betrayed, and robbed of all they possessed in the wide\nworld. And this is the way in which Messrs. Van Stingey, Timens,\nKitchins, Whinny, & Lofin supplied themselves with horses, carts,\nshanties, and all other necessaries for carrying on the work according\nto agreement. The plan had so far succeeded; the only question now was,\nhow to deprive these poor men of all legal redress, and have them\nexterminated from the neighborhood. This was not difficult to effect\nwith poor men who were half starved, and who had to look out for work\nsomewhere else for the support of their families. Those men who had the\nmeans left had quitted this cursed ground already, and Mr. P. Lofin\nstruck on an expedient by which others, the more bold, were soon\ncompelled to follow them. He proceeded some eighty or a hundred miles\ninto the State of Massachusetts, where he represented to several hundred\nmen from the part of Ireland to which himself belonged, which was\nConnaught, that several of their countrymen were driven off and ill\ntreated by Munster men and _far-downs_, and that now they had not only a\nchance of defending the _honor_ of the _province_, but, by driving off\ntheir _far-up_ and _far-down_ enemies, they could have a year's job, and\na dollar a day.\n\nThis was enough; one thousand men immediately started for the scene of\naction, breathing vengeance against their fellow-countrymen, and\ndetermined on establishing the \"anshint ghilory of Connaught.\" Every\nunfortunate Munster or Ulster man they met on their route was knocked\ndown, and left senseless on the road; and shouts of victory were heard,\nand shots were fired, in anticipation of the triumph that awaited them.\nLofin, the head mover in all these disgraceful scenes, now drove off to\nthe capital of the state; and--will it be believed?--this vile, low\nwretch, who could neither read nor write, succeeded in getting the loan\nof _one thousand muskets_ out of the state arsenal to enable him to\ncarry out his murderous and swindling scheme! A few days previous to\nthis, Lofin got some few boards on his work set fire to, in order to\nhave a case made out for the authorities, and by this means, and through\nthe influence of political wirepullers, he succeeded in getting the arms\nof the state placed in the hands of his ignorant dupes, for the murder\nof their plundered countrymen. During these troublesome times, the house\nof Father Ugo, the priest of these parts, was literally besieged with\nweeping women and enraged men, stating their grievances, and asking for\nadvice and counsel; for they had no other friend.\n\n\"Surely,\" said his reverence to one Hannohan, whose eight horses were\nseized, and who had used some violence in defending his property,\n\"surely the law will not sanction such barefaced plunder. I am witness\nmyself of the cruelty to which many of you have been subjected by these\nvillanous contractors. I know the decision of the law will be in your\nfavor.\"\n\n\"Law!\" said poor Hannohan. \"God help us if we have to look to _law_ for\njustice; go to law with Old Nick, and the court held in the low\ncountries! Besides, we are going to be attacked and butchered in our\nbeds by night. You know Mr. Lofin's men are all up and armed every\nnight, firing rounds, and shouting till our wives and children are\nalmost scared to death.\"\n\n\"What can I do?\" said the priest. \"You know I have been censured before\nfor interfering when some of the men were on a strike for higher wages;\nand I can't expect to have any influence with such men as you have to\ndeal with. They are a lawless and hardened set of knaves.\"\n\n\"God help us, then, your reverence,\" said Hannohan; \"I and my family may\nas well go into the poorhouse or starve, if you can't influence that Mr.\nLofin, who is a Catholic, to let me have my eight horses and carts, for\nI owe him not one single cent.\"\n\n\"He may call himself a Catholic, Mike,\" said Father Ugo; \"but he cannot\nbe a Catholic, or even a believer in God's justice, if he is guilty of\nall those villanies which are laid to his charge. It would be no use\nfor me to speak to such an abandoned scoundrel and robber as, by all\naccounts, he is.\"\n\nPoor Hannohan got the benefit of law, which resulted in his losing his\neight horses and carts: a warrant was issued for his capture, for\nthreatening the robbers of his property with chastisement. He was taken\nin a few days, and lodged in prison, where he died in a fortnight of the\ninjuries inflicted on him by the drunken constables, who succeeded in\narresting him after a two days' chase through the woods. No doubt _the\ngood Catholic_, Mr. Lofin, rested quiet when he heard of the death of\nthis formidable opponent. And I suppose, by way of appeasing the public\nindignation,--for I do not think he had any dread of the anger of\nHeaven,--his name appeared, a few days after, at the head of a list of\nsubscriptions for the support of an orphanage in the city. And well he\nmight spend a little of his profits in _charitable_ objects, for he and\nhis partners had, by the late manoeuvre got up under Lofin's auspices,\nsaved not less than five thousand nine hundred dollars' worth of\nproperty in horses, carts, harness, and shanties! We have heard of\nrobbers in Italy and Spain, who, after they rob and murder the rich, are\nvery _liberal_ to the poor, although, like your railroad-contract robber\nthe poor Italian brigand has not the chance of having his name published\nin the newspapers, or read out from the pulpit, as a good, charitable,\nand humane gentleman. Of the two charities, I think that of the obscure\nbrigand is the most worthy and laudable.\n\nOne Sunday evening, as Father Ugo was returning from service in the\ncountry, where he officiated every two weeks, he came up with a large\nand enraged crowd of people on both sides of the road on which he\ntravelled. On one side of the way about one hundred carts were placed in\na line, so as to form a rampart and protect some two hundred men, who,\nwith loaded muskets, crouched behind the carts as if watching for an\nobject to fire at. An occasional shot was fired from this rampart, and\nthe volley was returned slowly but deliberately from an old house in\nfront, on which this large body of men were making an assault. While the\npriest stood at a distance, looking on at this horrid contest, he was\nperceived by the people in the house, who at once despatched a messenger\nto inform his reverence of the danger they were in, assailed by so many\nmen resolved on their extermination. At no small risk, leaving the\nmessenger in charge of his horse, he entered between the ranks of the\ncombatants, and, with crucifix in hand uplifted, he implored the\nassailants, in the name of Christ, to desist from their cruel warfare,\nand take some other means and time than the Lord's day for getting\npossession of that old house about which the contention arose. By a\ngreat deal of difficulty, and after a speech of an hour, he succeeded in\nquelling this cruel and disgraceful riot, and before he left the ground\nhe had all the arms secured in one pile, and conveyed to an adjacent\nfarmer's house for security.\n\nAfter this the work went on peacefully. Van Stingey & Co. made money,\nand were now rich; the poor priest had every thing but the thanks of the\ncontractors for his pains, and he concluded, from his experience of\nthis and other railroads and public works in America, that, of all the\nmen living, the railroad and day laborer of this \"free country\" is the\nmost ill treated and oppressed. He has to work from dark to dark; he has\nto take _store pay_ for his wages; and he has to obey the nod, look, and\narbitrary commands of the lowest, cruellest, and most brutal class of\nmen on earth. I ask any man, Is not this slavery? Van Stingey was now\nrich--had horses, wagons, and a splendid mansion. He took another, and a\nthird contract, in which he was very successful. One day, however, he\nwas on his work, and a blast having failed to go off, Van ordered his\nmen to return to the dump. They refused. He stamped and swore, and then\nand there discharged all the \"darned paddies,\" who were not fools enough\nto get killed. So himself and his nephew, who bossed for him, returned\nto the \"cut,\" where they were no sooner arrived than the blast went off,\nand poor Van Stingey was blown into atoms.\n\nThus perished, at the height of his success and of his guilt, the\nmeanest and most worthless of the human race--the mocker and robber of\nthe poor, the persecutor and kidnapper of Paul O'Clery and his brethren,\nthe merciless swindler and defrauder of the laborer's wages, and,\nfinally, the hypocritical sensualist and drunkard. We boast of our\nprogress, and advertise, as proof of it, the number of railroads in\noperation, their extent, and the rapidity of the motion over their iron\nsurface; but the trials, tears, labors, sufferings, and injustice which\nour indifference or avarice has inflicted on those thousands of our\nfellow-creatures whose hands have built them never occur to our minds or\ncause us a single regret, while glorying in the advancement of our\n\"great country.\" \"How can we help _that_?\" answers Uncle Sam. \"It is the\ncontractors that are unjust and cruel, and the men themselves that are\nnot 'wide awake enough' in allowing themselves to be so imposed upon.\"\n\nThe whole fault is yours, \"Uncle,\" and lies at the doors of the people,\nwho, having the power to protect the laborer by law, neglect to exercise\nthat power, and, by this their neglect of duty, create your Van\nStingeys, your Lofins, your Blind Bill Timenses, your Whinnys, and other\nvillains, who are a disgrace to our country, and whose crimes,\nencouraged by our silence and tolerance, will ultimately bring the\nvengeance of Heaven on us and our children. _Quod avertat Deus_.\n\nIt has been remarked by some, that if the tears shed by emigrants on the\nbosom and on the banks of the great Father of Waters, the Mississippi,\nwere preserved in a great reservoir, they would form a lake many fathoms\nin depth and many miles in circumference. With less exaggeration can it\nbe stated, if the number of men killed, murdered, and otherwise cut off,\non the railroads of the Union, by the ill treatment, neglect, cruelty,\navarice, and malice of contractors, storekeepers, overseers, and\nbosses,--if all these men's dead bodies were placed within three feet of\none another, or even side by side, they would cover, from end to end,\nthe ten thousand miles of railroad that are within the United States.\nAnd if the tears shed on the Mississippi would make a lake the size of\nthe Lakes of Killarney, the tears shed on the railroads would form a\nbody of salt, burning water, as great in bulk as Lakes Superior and\nOntario together. If there be any irresponsible, cruel, barbarous\ndespotism on earth, in savage or civilized life, it is emphatically in\nthe discipline that prevails on the railroad _regime_. There is no man\ndaring enough to speak a word in favor of the cruelly-oppressed railroad\nman, except an odd priest here and there; and even he has often to do it\nat the risk of having a revolver presented at him, or having his\ncharacter maligned by the slanders of the moneyed ruffians whose crimes\nand excesses he may feel it his duty to reprimand. Father Ugo was not\nthe man to wink at the cruel treatment to which, in the part of the\nrailroad that ran through his mission, his poor fellow-men and\nfellow-Christians were submitted; and he had, consequently, often to\nexperience no small share of the malice, and a _tolerable_ share of\noutrage, in the shape of threats and insulting language, from our\nindependent company, Lofin, Van Stingey, Whinny, & Co.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nMASS IN A SHANTY.\n\n\nThere was great bustle and preparation in the valley of R---- Creek, on\nAscension Thursday. Hired men were up at _three_ o'clock that morning to\ndo \"chores,\" and hired girls were busy the night before in arranging the\nhousehold, so that the female _bosses_ of the several farm-houses would\nbe able to find all things in order. Many and violent also were the\narguments that passed between Catholic servants and their heretical\nmasters and mistresses, on one hand to ignore, and on the other to\nassert, the right to worship according to one's conscience. Yes, to\ntheir shame be it told, the Protestant sects in America, as they do in\nall countries where they have sway or are tolerated, practically deny\nthat article of the federal constitution that guarantees the right to\nevery citizen to worship God according to the dictates of conscience or\nindividual judgment. With the word _liberty_ ever on their lips, like\nthe lion's skin on the ass, to deceive, the sects, great and small, from\nthe Church of England down, down, down to the Mormons or\nTranscendentalists, through the grades of Presbyterian, Methodist,\nBaptist, all play the tyrant in their own way. All act the despot, and\nwould exercise spiritual tyranny, if in their power. For proof of this,\nthe history of the \"Blue Laws\" in the land of the Pilgrims is only to be\nconsulted on this side of the Atlantic; and at the other side, modern as\nwell as by-gone records show, that, wherever Protestantism had the\npower, _there_ the few were oppressed by the many. Every sovereign, from\nElizabeth down to Victoria, acted the tyrant over the Catholics; and in\nSweden, Denmark, Prussia, and the Protestant Swiss cantons, persecution\nis now a part of the laws of these several states. Persecution is not\nsanctioned by the laws of the United States, if we except the\nprescriptive code of New Hampshire, which comes under that genus; but if\nit be not legalized, we are not to thank Protestantism for that.\nWherever it has sway in the family, in the town council, or the\nassembly, there the cloven foot of intolerance and persecution is seen\nfrom under the sanctimonious gown it puts on. Indeed, although the\ncompulsion of the conscience is not enforced by State laws, it is\nattempted, as far as practicable, where its effects are more galling,\nand its existence more intolerable,--namely, in the family at home, or\nin the camp or barrack abroad. Catholic servants are not only denied the\nright to attend their duties in many families, but actually forced to\nhear the disgusting ranting or ludicrous prayer of any impostor who may\ntake on himself the office of preacher. And Catholic soldiers are\npunished by fine and severe corporal chastisements for refusing to\nattend the service of an heretical chaplain. And no senator, zealous\nfor liberty, raises his voice on behalf of the Catholic soldier, and of\nthe Catholic servant girl, while they are exposed to a persecution such\nas no Catholic government, king, or despot ever attempted to force on\nthe consciences of their dissenting subjects, not even Queen Mary, of\nEngland, excepted; for the so-called persecution by Catholic princes has\nnever been to compel men to adopt a new religion. Protestants in Europe\nand here attempt to compel the adoption of their false tenets by those\nwho are neither desirous nor willing to adopt them, and who already\nprofess a true religion. This is what makes a vast difference between\nthe persecution your \"Madiai\" suffer, and this ten times worse\npersecution which many an otherwise honest and kind-hearted American\nfarmer allows to take place in his family. The Day of Judgment alone\nwill reveal to light what trials, crosses, and real persecution Catholic\nservant men and women have to endure in remote and country places from\nthe bigotry, hypocrisy, and cruelty of ignorant, unfeeling farmers and\ntheir wives, goaded on, no doubt, and urged, by low, base, and brutal\nparsons, who have scarcely enough to eat, and who envy the priest the\ncomparative independence which the liberality and true Catholic charity\nof his flock enable him to maintain.\n\nBy these remarks I am not to be understood as saying that good-nature,\njustice, and even generosity, do not govern the conduct of the American\npeople. I am aware of their kindness, hospitality, and philanthropy; but\nthese fine traits of character are obscured, perverted, and rendered\nabortive, whenever the demon of sectarian influence touches them with\nher black rod. And, like the Jews, while they are persecuting the Holy\nOne of God in his humble members, they think they are doing a service to\nGod. Such is the effect of the poison, in the shape of religious\ninstruction, infused into the minds of this noble people by the lying\nand ignorant teachers that they allow to instruct them. The American\npeople are generally so busy, so intent in making a fortune or a\nlivelihood, that they have not time, as they cannot have the\ninclination, to pay much attention to religious training. Hence it is in\nthe science of the soul and salvation, as in that of medical science,\nthe number of impostors and quacks is infinite.\n\nThe following dialogue between an Irish Catholic servant and her\n_evangelical_ mistress will serve faintly to illustrate what is the\nweekly, if not daily, recurrence in tens of thousands of families all\nover this \"free country\":\n\n\"You can't go, that's the amount of it, Anne,\" said Mrs. Warren to an\nIrish Catholic servant maid of hers, who heard of the priest's being at\nthe shanties on this morning.\n\n\"Why so, ma'am?\" said Anne. \"All the girls of the country around are\nallowed to go; but I never get a Sunday or holy day to myself. It is too\nbad.\"\n\n\"Why don't you come with us to our meeting, where all the decent folks\ngo, and none of your Irish are present?\"\n\n\"Many decent folks go to 'Old Harry!'\" cried Anne, in anger. \"Is that\nthe reason I must go too?\"\n\n\"Anne, your obstinacy in refusing to join our family worship has made me\nresolve not to let you go to hear the old priest. And your refusal to\nattend to the sermon of our preacher, Mr. Scullion, has also displeased\nme much. I mean to punish you according.\"\n\n\"Why should I go hear the old sinner's stuff,\" said Anne, \"when your own\nsons laugh at him and say he is a fool? Besides, I am told he is ever\nabusing the Catholics, and I heartily despise his nonsensical, lying\ncant.\"\n\n\"Well, Anne, I am determined to punish you for it,\" calmly replied the\nmistress. \"So you can't see the priest to-day. That settles it.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon, ma'am; the priest I will see, please God, let what\nwill happen.\"\n\n\"You must leave this house, then.\"\n\n\"Small loss, madam. America is wide, thank God!\" answered Anne.\n\n\"Don't you know Mr. Scullion is a brother of mine?\"\n\n\"I don't care, ma'am, if he was your father. I know he is ignorant or\nmalicious, either one or the other, or maybe both, or he would not speak\nof the Catholic Church as he does. Oh, dear,\" she cried, bursting into\ntears of anger, \"what a 'free country' it is! The Protestants in Ireland\nwere decent. They came, attended by the peelers, to their tenants,\ntelling them they must conform to the will of the landlord, or quit\ntheir homes; but here ye say all religions are equal, and yet ye try to\ncompel us to go to listen to low, ignorant preachers, who know they are\nlying about the Church of Christ. Ye want us to change the religion of\nSt. Patrick and of the martyrs for such ridiculous churches as ye have\nhere. Oh, dear! oh, dear!\" said the poor girl, as she contrasted her\npresent situation with what it was when she was at home at her father's,\nwhere she heard Mass daily, and knew not what it was to suffer\npersecution for conscience' sake.\n\nWhile scenes such as we have here described were taking place in the\nfarmers' houses, and such scenes are not occasional nor unusual, all was\nbusy preparation at the shanties. The largest shanty in the \"patch\" was\ncleared of all sorts of lumber. Forms, chairs, tables, pots, flour and\nbeef barrels, molasses casks, and other necessary stores were all put\noutside doors. The walls, if so we can call them, of the shanty, were\nthen hung round with newspapers, white linen tablecloths, and other\nchoice tapestry, while a good large shawl, spread in front of the altar,\nserved as a carpet on which his reverence was to kneel and stand while\nofficiating. Green boughs were cut in a neighboring wood lot and planted\naround the entrance by the men, while around the altar and over it were\nwreaths of wild flowers and blossoms, gathered by the little girls of\nthe \"patch\" in the adjacent meadows, in order to prepare a decent place\nfor the holy Mass. At an early hour the priest made his appearance, and\nwas very much pleased to see the transformation which the piety of\nthese poor, hard-working people wrought in the appearance of the humble\nshanty. For fifteen miles along the line the crowds were gathering, and\nthe works were suspended for the day. The overseers and contractors, to\ndo them justice, had no objection to this occasional interruption of\ntheir profits. At all events, they knew it was a holy day; and even\nthey, with all their irresponsible control over their men, had ample\nproof that, even in the wild deserts and savage woods of America, the\nIrish Catholic \"remembers\" the Sabbaths and festivals of his God or his\nChurch.\n\nLong before the hour of Mass, the shanty was crowded, and many were the\ncomments and remarks made on the physical powers and other external\naccomplishments of the new priest.\n\nSome remarked that his reverence,--God bless him!--need not be afraid of\ntravelling alone through these lonesome glens, for it would require \"a\ngood man to handle him; that it would.\"\n\n\"That's thrue,\" said another; \"he would be able to 'settle bread' on a\nhalf-dozen Yankees any day; that is, provided they did not use any\nweapon but the arm that God gave 'em.\"\n\n\"But you know,\" said a third, \"these Yankees always carry a _rewolwer_\nor two in their pockets, the treacherous rogues. Look how they killed\nthat Irish peddler, and robbed him, and fired six shots into Michael\nGasty's house the other night, and he in bed quietly sleeping.\"\n\nThis and other such narratives and comments were the order of the day\noutside the door, only where those who were careless or not preparing\nfor their duties were congregated. Inside, a large crowd of women and\nrough-fisted men gathered around the door of the temporary confessional,\nand it was near noon before the priest ascended the temporary altar to\noffer up the \"victim of peace\" for the assembled sons of toil. Upon his\nreverence asking if there was anybody to answer or serve Mass, several\npresented themselves; but he accepted the services of Paul, because he\nhad been accustomed from his childhood to wait round the altar, and he\nwas the most intelligent of those who offered to assist the priest while\ncelebrating.\n\nThe substance of the priest's discourse was, that they should not forget\nthat it was God's will that the holy sacrifice should be offered in\n\"every place, from the rising to the setting of the sun,\" and that\nprobably they were made the instruments which he made use of for the\n_literal_ fulfilment of that famous prophecy; for if they were not here\nemployed on these public works, probably the holy sacrifice would not\nbe, for years and years to come, offered up in such places as this. That\nthey should all regard themselves as missionaries engaged in God's\nservice to spread the knowledge of the true religion in this virgin soil\namong a people who had lost the true mode of God's worship, though a\ngenerous and successful race of men. That they should guard against\ndrunkenness and faction fights, for these crimes brought their proper\npunishment both here and hereafter; and that they should, by pure morals\nand fidelity to their religion, rather than by controversy or\ndisputation, make a favorable impression on, and confute the errors of,\nthose opponents of their faith among whom their lot was cast. In fine,\nthat they should lose no opportunity of receiving the sacraments, for,\nwithout their use, salvation was very difficult, if not absolutely\nimpossible. Let them not regret the loss of this day, or think it too\nmuch to dedicate it to God's service: that was the chief end for which\nthey were created. When population was small, and a livelihood easily\nobtained, and men had to work but little, God had appointed one day in\nthe week to rest and service. Now, when the cares, distractions, and\nlabors of life had increased a thousandfold, it seemed not too much if,\ninstead of one day, two or more days were devoted to rest and worship.\nAnd if the Church had her way unrestricted, she, by her festivals and\nholy days, would do a great deal towards alleviating the present\nhardships of labor, and men would be taught to be content with a\ncompetency, and employers would treat their men with kindness and\njustice combined.\n\n\"You, poor fellows, have to work hard, frequently for years, without\nhaving a chance to frequent the sacraments. Thank God, then, and be\ngrateful for this opportunity, and spend this day as becometh\nChristians. You are exposed to dangers from accidents, and frequently\nfrom the influence of evil-advising men. In Religion and her resources\nalone you can find the only safeguard against the effects of the former,\nand the best security against the wiles of your enemies: keep the\ncommandments, and hear the Church.\"\n\nOn this day no less than ninety-five received, and the effects of this\none visit even were felt by the overseers and employers of these men for\nmonths to come. Even Anne Council, the girl whom we introduced as\ndisputing with her ignorant mistress about \"the freedom of\nworship,\"--and which dispute was then decided in Anne's favor by the\ninterference of the boss, who remonstrated with his wife on her\nimprudence in resolving to discharge her maid in the midst of their\nhurry, while there was no chance of having her place supplied,--even\nAnne, brought to a better sense by the advice of the priest administered\nin confession, when she came home asked her saucy mistress's pardon for\nspeaking back to her this morning.\n\n\"I forgive you, Anne,\" she said; \"though I am sure there is not a _lady_\nin the hollow that would put up with your impudence but myself.\"\n\n\"I know I am hot,\" answered Anne, smothering her anger at this second\nprovocation in being called _impudent_. \"The priest told us to be\nobedient to those even who are not amiable nor kind; to serve them for\nGod's sake, as a punishment for our sins.\"\n\n\"Now,\" said Mr. Warren to his wife, \"you see Anne has rather improved by\nher visit to the priest, which you thought to prevent. Were you and I to\nbe _at her_ for six months, we could not get her to acknowledge as much\nas she now has. The fact is, I am certain those much-abused priests are\nfar ahead of our dominies in knowledge of religion and human nature. It\nis impossible otherwise to account for the influence they exercise over\nthe ungovernable Irish race, and over those millions whom they instruct\nand rule.\"\n\n\"It's all priestcraft,\" said his wife.\n\n\"I don't know, Sarah, what craft it is, but I wish our ministers learned\na little of the same craft; for they are fast losing all influence over\nthe minds of the people, and especially over that of the youth. That we\ncan all see.\"\n\n\"That's because people are daily getting worse,\" said this female\nphilosopher.\n\n\"Worse! Then whose fault is it that they are? What have we ministers\nfor, but to prevent this state of things? There are six of them in the\nsmall village of S----, and it can't be beat in the Union for blacklegs\nand rowdies. Would we have so many wild, irreligious young men, and\nwomen, too, if, instead of six preachers, we had six Catholic priests? I\nwould like to see one of your young ones show such signs of a superior\nmind and training, such manliness and fortitude, as that Irish Catholic\nlad, Paul, down at Prying's. They have had all the ministers within\nfifty miles of you to convert him, but they could no more move him than\nthey could Mount Antoine. In fact, he beat them all to pieces in\nScripture and argument. Take no more pains about religion, wife,\" said\nthe honest Yankee; \"let Anne alone. I won't have her disturbed any more\non the subject. If there be any religion on earth, those very people\nhave it whom you want to bring round to the exact pattern of your\nfavorite minister's manner of doubting. It's ridiculous, wife,\" said\nhe, rising, and calling his men to the fields; \"it's ridiculous to try\nto convert these Catholics, who appear to have some religion, to the\ncountless systems of NO RELIGION that are so numerous on all\nsides around us. I say it's ridiculous,\" said he, departing.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nTHE TEMPTER AT THE WOMAN.\n\n\nIt was arranged among the Pryings and their advisers, one day in August,\nthat, as Amanda said Paul was an incorrigible young man, he should be\nsent off to the State fair of Vermont, and, in the meantime, a certain\n\"true blue\" Presbyterian minister, named Grinoble, should try his hand\nat converting Paul's little sister Bridget. It was, some thought, wrong\nto begin with Paul, as all experience, but especially scriptural\ntestimony, taught that temptation was more likely to succeed when woman\nwas the subject or the instrument. So thought Parson Grinoble; and, with\ntrue serpent wisdom, he concluded that it was through the woman, the\nweaker sex, that, in this instance, Popery was to be conquered. Besides,\nthis old hand at proselytism read somewhat of the epistles of St. Paul,\nand read there of the success of his predecessors in unbelief in\nseducing \"silly women,\" and ensnaring their confiding souls within the\nmeshes of their wily nets. So thought Mr. Grinoble, and he began to act\non it on the day in question, by going into the kitchen and addressing\nhimself to Bridget, as she was peeling apples for cooking, in the\nfollowing manner:\n\n\"Come here, my dear, and shake hands,\" said his dominieship to the girl.\n\nShe walked over shyly, holding the knife in one hand, and stretching\nforward for the other.\n\n\"Sit down here beside me, on the settle, my dear.\"\n\n\"I must do what 'Mandy ordered me, sir,\" she said, excusingly.\n\n\"Oh, don't you fear Amanda,\" he said; \"I will be your security, my\nlittle woman, that she won't be displeased. Dear me, what nice hair and\npurty curls you have! and such beautiful teeth! Don't you think Miss\nAmanda is jealous of your charms? eh? Why do you turn away your head, my\npet?\"\n\n\"I don't like such talk, sir,\" she answered. \"My Prayer Book, in the\n'Table of Sins,' says it is a sin to listen to praise or flattery.\"\n\n\"Well said, my little lady,\" said the tempter. \"You are right, Bridget;\nI was only trying you. I do not wish you to sin. You know I am the\nminister. I love you, and wish to see you a good Christian,\" said he,\ncaressing her.\n\n\"I thank you, sir,\" was her answer.\n\n\"Now, my little good one, I want to tell you some news. I have a message\nfor you,--a letter from a friend.\"\n\n\"Please show it, sir,\" she said, impatiently; \"perhaps it is from my\nuncle, in Ireland, to whom Paul often wrote, but never got an answer\nback.\"\n\n\"No, my dear, it is from your father,\" said the tempter.\n\n\"My father is dead, sir,\" she quickly rejoined. \"It can't be from him,\nanyhow, God rest his soul.\"\n\n\"It is from your Father in heaven,--behold it!\" said he, in a dramatic\naccent, and pulling out of his breast-pocket a small octodecimo Bible.\n\n\"Queer letter carrier, and purty heavy letter,\" grinned a young fellow,\nwho was sitting by, waiting for the return of the boss to employ him.\n\n\"Christ sent you this by me,\" said the dominie, presenting the Bible.\n\"It will teach you the knowledge of the Lord, and the true spirit of his\ngospel.\"\n\n\"Never knew before that the Lord kept a post-office,\" said the young\nCelt; \"but I'm sure he never sent the like of you to be\nletter-carrier,--too slow, too stupid, entirely, entirely; and not very\nhonest, maybe.\"\n\n\"I am not addressing you, sir,\" said the parson, gruffly. \"How do you\nlike that, Bridget?\" said he, plying his arts.\n\n\"It is very nicely bound, sir,\" said she; \"but I dare not take it\nwithout acquainting my brother Paul.\"\n\n\"Now, my little favorite,\" said the representative of the serpent, \"if\nyour uncle at home left you all his property, would you not like to be\nable to read the _will_, or would you wait for Paul's leave to read a\ndocument by which you inherited so much wealth?\"\n\n\"Perhaps not, sir,\" she answered, \"particularly if he did not forbid me\nto do so.\"\n\n\"Very well, this is the will, the testament of God to all men, to me,\nto you. Now, Bridget, learn this will, read it, study its contents,\nwithout consent of priest or brother. Don't you see how proper this\nadvice is?\" said he, thinking he had her little reasoning powers\nconquered.\n\n\"Yes, old fellow,\" said the young man at the table; \"but if that will\nwas disputed, which would you do,--submit it to an able lawyer, or go\ninto court yourself without advice or counsel? You surely would fee a\nlawyer, if money or property was at stake. Well, you '_omadawn_,'\" said\nour young stranger, \"don't you see that, though that Bible is the will,\nthe devil, and his small heretical attorneys--Luther, Calvin,\nWesley--dispute the will, and the Church is the able advocate, and\njudge, too, that will conquer the devil, and put to shame his agents,\nand secure the stake, which is heaven, and the salvation of the soul?\nLet the child alone,\" said he, boldly, \"as you see she doesn't want your\nbiblical pills, or, 'be the tinker that mended _Fion-vic Couls' pot_,' I\nwill turn you out of doors, if I were to hang for it after. Let the\nchild alone this minute,\" said he, firmly.\n\n\"Who are you, sir?\" said the indignant parson, turning to view his\nantagonist. \"How dare you interrupt me when I am not addressing you?\"\n\n\"I am an Irishman and a Catholic,\" said he; \"and furthermore, if you\nwish to know my name, it is, sir, Murty O'Dwyer, Tipperary man and all.\"\n\nThe reader will recollect the rollicking young attendant who drove\nFather O'Shane in the snowdrifts from Vermont, a specimen of whose\noratory we have given in a preceding chapter. The antagonist of Parson\nGrinoble was no other than the same young man. He had rambled up to this\nneighborhood in search of work, and hearing that Mr. Prying was in need\nof a hay hand, he waited his return from the Vermont State fair.\n\nThe minister Grinoble returned to the parlor to report progress to\nAmanda, and to represent the controversial rencontre which he had with\nO'Dwyer, while Murty learned with wonder and indignation from Bridget,\nthat they were the children which cost Father O'Shane so much vain\nsearch, and that they were kept in continual annoyance by all sorts of\nmale and female religious quacks and mountebanks, all bent on the work\nof perversion. \"Oh, thunder and age!\" said he; \"and ye are widow\nO'Clery's children, God rest her soul! What a murthur Father O'Shane\ncould not find ye out before he died! The Lord have mercy on him.\"\n\n\"We have heard he died,\" said Bridget. \"Is it long since, sir?\"\n\n\"Almost two years. He published ye in the Boston _Pilot_, and all the\nnewspapers. He even offered a reward for yer discovery. Oh, _mille\nmurther_! what a pity I did not know ye were so near home!\"\n\n\"I suppose uncle wrote to him, and sent us money to take us home again?\"\nadded pensive Bridget.\n\n\"Money!\" said the disinterested young man; \"what money? I would give all\nI earned since I came to this queer country myself to have ye found\nout. We all thought ye were lost, drowned, or killed on the railroad\ncars. I am glad I have found ye out; ye will have to leave right off. I\nwill take ye away myself to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, sir!\" said Bridget; \"we can't leave this till our time is\nserved out or our board paid,--two dollars a week for nearly three\nyears. The priest, not long since, came here to see if he could get my\nbrother and me off, but they told him they would not let us go. And\nbesides that, they insulted his reverence by telling him, if he dared to\ncome to try to kidnap us, they would tar and feather, or shoot him, the\nLord save us.\"\n\n\"I wish to God I was present,\" said Murty; \"I would settle bread on some\nof them; that I would, and no mistake,\" said he, bringing his clenched\nfist down on the table, \"if I heard them insult the minister of Christ\nin any shape or form. Oh, America! America!\" said he, in an undervoice,\n\"I am deceived in you. I thought you were a second paradise, where all\nwas peace, and comfort, and justice, and prosperity, and true liberty.\nBut alas! I find all my ideas of your character erroneous and false. All\nthe crimes of the old world are not only here, where we thought the very\nsoil was virgin pure and unstained, but here in the most odious forms.\nThe poor at home were naked, and hungry, and ground; but most of them\nwere _innocent_, and _an innocent man is not entirely miserable_. The\npoor here, besides their poverty and wretched slavery, working eighteen\nout of the twenty-four hours, are almost all wicked in addition. The\ncrimes in the old country, that aristocratic institutions kept up in\nthe inaccessible palaces of the rich,--like the panther's den on the\nsummit of yonder mountain,--here are familiar to the lowest and\nvulgarest of the populace. In the old country, the few and the rich were\nunjust, cruel, wicked; it was so in Ireland. Here the vices of the few\nare ingrafted on the many, and, like the small-pox, they do not become\nweaker, but stronger, by universal propagation. I wish I never saw you,\nAmerica,\" said he, musing, his head resting against the wall; \"I wish I\nwas in the grave with my two sisters and mother, rather than here to\nwitness the slavery, corruption, and vice of America.\" The remainder of\nhis musings were lost in the sighs and emotions that proceeded from his\nmanly bosom.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nTHE FRUITS OF THE CROSS.\n\n\nPaul was now a free man, the term of apprenticeship having expired. It\nwas his right now, according to the terms of the implied contract, not\nonly to receive support and clothing, but wages; and Mr. Prying was very\nwilling to keep him in the house and give him a man's wages; but this\nconflicted with Amanda's plan and that of her advisers; consequently,\nPaul was reluctantly obliged to part with the society of his sister\nBridget, who had yet a part of her term to serve, and to look out among\nthe neighboring farmers for a situation. This he soon found in a\ngentleman's family named Clarke, who was very glad to receive such a\nmodest and intelligent young man into his family. This Mr. Clarke was\nnot a farmer by profession, but a lawyer, and editor of a daily journal\nin the capital of Vermont, and only spent a few days in the summer and\nfall with his family at the farm. Paul's chief occupation was to attend\nyoung Master Clarke in his sports of fishing, fowling, and riding on\nhorseback. The duties of his present situation afforded Paul not only\ntime and leisure to keep up his accustomed religious exercises, but, in\naddition, he was able to revise what he had previously studied, and to\nadd considerably to his stock of useful knowledge. The equal terms and\nfamiliarity in which he stood in his relation with his young employer\nafforded him an opportunity of revising Virgil, Sallust, Lucian, and\nother classical authors, the use of which he was so long obliged to\ndiscontinue.\n\nMr. Clarke was delighted when he learned from his son that Paul knew\nGreek and Latin much better than his former teacher in the academy. And\nthis information he knew to be correct, from the fact that he found his\nson had learned more during vacation, in company with Paul, than he did\nduring the whole year before in college. He therefore advanced Paul's\nwages by one-third, and prolonged his son's stay in the country beyond\nthe usual period. This generous and kind-hearted man was also sensibly\naffected when Paul, at his request, related how he came to know Latin;\nhow he was nephew of the grand vicar of Kil----; how he had spent five\nyears in college; how his father was obliged to emigrate with his\nfamily; how he had died on the voyage; how they were robbed of a\nthousand pounds; how his mother sunk under her trials; how he and his\nbrethren were kidnapped out hither; how the priest of T---- had\nadvertised for them; and how, \"I suppose,\" said he, \"they gave us up in\ndespair; thinking, probably, that we were lost in some of the late\nsteamboat disasters; but here we are yet, thank God!\"\n\nMr. Clarke, with the instinct of a true-hearted Yankee, immediately saw\ninto the snare laid for the faith of the young orphans; and he thanked\nhis God mentally that he had come to the knowledge of these facts, for\nhe was the man to expose and reprobate such foul play. \"I now well\nremember, Paul,\" said he, \"the advertisements respecting you and your\nbrothers and sister. I shall see to this business, I promise you. In the\nmeantime, be you and Joe good friends. Don't spend too much time at\nfishing and gunning, but study a good deal. Good-by, Joe, my son.\nGood-by, Paul. I shall soon return again to see you.\"\n\nPaul took every favorable opportunity to visit his sister and brothers,\nto console and strengthen them against the temptations to which he knew\nthey were exposed.\n\n\"Now, Patsy, my boy,\" he said to the elder of his younger brothers,\n\"every time you look at that cross--show it to me--have you lost it?\"\n\n\"No, sir-ee; I never put it off my neck since mother put it on,\" said\nPatrick, pulling it out of his bosom.\n\n\"Every time you look at that crucifix,\" continued Paul, \"think how our\nLord God Himself suffered; how, when he was a boy like you, he was good,\nobeyed his parents, and was subject to them. Now, you have no parents\nhere but one, the Catholic Church; and if you obey not her counsels and\nprecepts, you will not be rewarded by Christ, whose image you wear\naround your neck. Say the Six Precepts of the Church for me, Pat.\"\n\n\"First. I am the Lord thy God--\"\n\n\"Oh, Pat, you are saying the ten commandments of God. Your little\nbrother Eugene can say _them_. I examined you in these before.\"\n\n\"Oh, I forgot. 1st. To hear Mass on Sundays and holy days of obligation.\n2d. To fast and abstain on the days commanded. 3d. To confess our sins\nat least once a year. 4th. To receive communion at Easter. 5th. To\ncontribute to the support of our pastors. 6th. Not to solemnize marriage\nwithin forbidden degrees, nor clandestinely.\"\n\n\"The first precept, Patrick, we cannot keep here, as we are not near the\nchurch. But the second, 'to abstain on the days commanded,' we can keep.\nDo you ever eat meat on Friday, Pat?\"\n\n\"Never but once, through mistake,\" said Pat. \"I thought it was Thursday.\nMr. Prying is always wanting me to eat it every day, and so was a\ngentleman whom he called the _priest_,--sure he is not a right priest,\nis he, Paul?\"\n\n\"Not at all, Pat; he is only a Protestant minister.\"\n\n\"A minister!\" said Pat, in astonishment. \"Why did they call him a\npriest? He wanted me and Eugene to eat meat on Friday; but I said I\ncould not, it would make me sick. Then Mrs. Prying told him to let me\nbe; that she could not allow any interference with our religion; and\nsince that, the minister never returned to our house, or nobody said a\nword about it. I think she is very good. She often cries when she hears\nme and Eugene speaking of father and mother, God rest their souls!\nPaul,\" said Pat, introducing a new subject, \"ain't there a hell to\npunish the wicked, as well as a heaven to reward the good?\"\n\n\"Certainly, Pat; does not the Catechism say so?\"\n\n\"Yes, but yesterday, Cassius Prying tried to persuade me that there was\nno hell. He said all would go to heaven, in the end. I told him it was\nno such thing. He said the minister said so.\"\n\n\"Oh, Patrick, my boy, beware of Cassius; you must not listen to his\ntalk, for it is wicked. God tells us there is a hell, and we must\nbelieve all he teaches us by his church and his word, or we will be\ncondemned to hell forever.\"\n\n\"Oh, the Lord save us! I won't hear to Cassius no more.\"\n\n\"That's a good boy, Patsy; mind to watch Eugene, and make him do as you\ndo. We will all soon be going home to uncle's, please God.\"\n\n\"How soon, Paul? I am tired of being in 'Merica.\"\n\n\"Very soon, please God. Good-by, and be good: learn this, the eighth\nchapter of the Catechism, next.\"\n\n\"I will, Paul, with God's help.\"\n\nThis is the way Paul, our hero, took care of the responsibility God had\nthrown on his tender shoulders at the age of fifteen. Never did\nmissionary or priest labor, by prayer, and prudence, and anxiety, to\nsave souls to Christ, as Paul did to save his brothers. He was to them\nthe true Joseph, who not only kept their bodies from starving, but\npreserved their souls from a worse than Egyptian captivity. And not only\ndid his exertions produce the desired effect on the immediate objects of\nhis solicitude, but God added as the reward of his zeal other souls,\n\"not of this fold.\"\n\nOld uncle Jacob was all but disconsolate at the loss of Paul. He was his\nbed-fellow for years, and every night and morning was witness of his\npiety and punctuality in prayer. And although poor uncle Jacob himself\nhad long since learned to doubt of all forms of faith, he could not be\nindifferent to the example set him by Paul's steady devotion. The poor\nold man, besides, led a very innocent life, and the grace of God had few\nobstacles to contend with in its influx into his empty but innocent\nsoul. He was often heard to say in presence of even Mr. Gulmore, the\nminister, and Amanda, who might be called the female parson, that, if\nany religion was worth having, it was that one which made Paul so\nvictorious in his arguments, and so pure and pious in his conduct. \"That\nwas the young one,\" said uncle, his voice trembling with feeling, for he\nloved Paul as a son, \"that was the child that deserved to be called one;\nthat knowed what he owed to God, and man too.\"\n\n\"He was as cunning as a fox, and as full of the spirit of Popery as an\negg is of meat,\" said Mr. Grinoble bitterly.\n\n\"I know him to be as innocent as a dove,\" said uncle Jacob, warmly, \"and\nbelieve him to be as full of the Spirit of God as Samuel was in the\ntemple. There, now.\"\n\n\"Then, uncle Jacob, I see you are beginning to believe in the Bible,\"\nsarcastically added the parson. \"I am glad to find your mind inclined in\nthat way. I hope you will soon get religion and the change of heart.\"\n\n\"I hope and pray to the Lord,\" said the old man, in a voice little\nremoved from that of one in tears, \"to change my heart, and give me\nreligion, as I now believe there is such a thing on earth. But, Mr.\nGrinoble, your hard and cruel religion, I trust, shall never be mine.\nGod forbid! _It_ will never change my heart.\"\n\n\"Uncle, don't you talk that way,\" said Amanda. \"This is very unpleasant.\nTake no notice of him, sir,\" said she, addressing the parson, who\nappeared to be disconcerted at this pointed attack of uncle Jacob.\n\n\"Amanda, I will talk so, I must talk so,\" said poor uncle, rising. \"How\ncan ye reconcile it to religion, to justice, or to charity, the snares\nand plots laid by you, miss, in company with those _men of God_, to rob\nthat poor child Paul, and his little sister and brothers, of their\nancient, noble, and holy religion? Fie, fie, fie! Is it such conduct you\ncall religion? It is the very reverse. It resembled more the conduct of\nthe serpent in paradise, than that of the meek disciples of Jesus\nChrist. It was more like the religious profession of Herod, to get the\nChild at Bethlehem into his clutches, than anything else we read of,\nyour conduct was. There is more Bible for you, Mr. Grinoble,\" said he,\nslamming the door after him, and retiring to his room.\n\n\"'Tis not much use attempting to convert such an old hardened sinner,\"\nsaid Grinoble, smothering his mortification at the rebuff of uncle\nJacob.\n\n\"That Paul has ruined him,\" said Amanda. \"I would not be a bit\nsurprised if he died a Papist yet.\"\n\n\"Sure you would not let the Popish priest visit him, on any account?\"\nsaid the tolerant parson.\n\n\"I fear pa would, for you know uncle Jacob left him this farm, and more\nthan half what he possesses in money and stock. Come, tea is ready.\"\n\nPoor uncle Prying, as we have said already, was the senior brother of\nEphraim and Reuben Prying, and was now about seventy-two years of age.\nDuring the last twenty years of his life he labored under a slight\nasthmatic affection, which lately increased in violence, and, joined\nwith a disease of the liver, which physicians said he suffered from, now\nseriously endangered his life. Since he was eighteen years old, Mr.\nJacob Prying never went inside a meeting-house or professed any\nreligion; a conclusion which he partly was drove to by the hypocrisy of\na certain minister in his neighborhood, who wanted to have Mr. Jacob\nmarried to a daughter of his, who, two days before the marriage, he\nfound out, accidentally, had been seduced by an ex-senator in Boston.\nThis piece of deception on the part of the religious teacher, and the\ntreachery of the _maid_ herself, so disgusted Jacob Prying, that he\nregistered a vow in heaven that he never again would allow himself to\nbecome the victim of hypocrisy or of female dissimulation. The parsons,\nall round, because he was proof against their transparent baits, to fill\ntheir meeting-houses, cried him down as an infidel, whose heart was\nhardened, and who despised the Bible. Uncle Jacob never attempted to\ndispel the prejudices raised against him by the malice of despised\ndominies; but his heart refuted their lies, for it was open to every\nnoble and humane influence, and, above all, undefiled from the\ncorruption of the world. Hence, in his hour of sickness, in his hour of\ntrial and need, the Almighty rewarded him for his natural good parts,\nand sent His angel to conduct him, by the simple means herein recorded,\nto the bosom of that holy religion, outside which there is nothing but\nbitterness and woe, and without which \"it is impossible to please God.\"\nKnowing the nature of the enemies he had to contend with, poor Mr. Jacob\nPrying was silent on the subject of his religious doubts till the advent\nof Paul to the farm. Like the ancient noble Roman, who, under the garb\nof folly, concealed his profound heroic wisdom, uncle Jacob was content\nto be called an infidel and unbeliever, so that he might preserve his\nheart undefiled, and ready for that precious pearl \"of great price\"\nwhich his heart sighed for, and which he was about now to receive;\nbecoming, in his latter days, a further illustration of the Divine\nnarrative that \"God adds daily to the Church those who are to be saved.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nTHE CONVERSION.\n\n\n\"The Lord be praised; I am glad to hear it,\" said Paul, one day, as he\nsat by the bedside of uncle Jacob, who was now in the last stage of his\ndisease. \"Paul,\" said the dying man, \"while I was robust, and\nindependent in means, I relied too much on these gifts of God, and too\nlittle on the Giver of them. But now, when this frail wall, that shuts\nthe soul in from her world of kindred spirits, is nearly worn down, and\nthe glorious light of eternity shines through the chinks of this earthen\nrampart, in all directions I see the necessity of having the soul\nprepared, thoroughly washed, before she goes into a world of such purity\nand justice; and you have convinced me, or, rather, God has taught me,\nthat it is only in that religion of which God alone is the Author that\nthe means of purification can be found. So, Paul, in God's name, take a\nteam, and go for the priest of God immediately; there is no time to be\nlost. 'Tis consoling to reflect that there is a priest of God now to be\nhad on earth, as well as in the days of the ancient patriarchs. How\nmerciful God was,\" said he, soliloquizing, \"in leaving us on earth a\npriest, a representative of his divine Son, to prepare the soul for the\nterrible voyage of eternity! All eternity is not too long to thank him\nfor this blessing.\"\n\nPaul communicated the wishes of his dying brother to Mr. Ephraim Prying,\nwho answered, \"Certainly, Paul; why not? Go for the priest; take the\nbest team--that black mare, there, is the fastest traveller. O my poor\nbrother, why will you leave us?\" said he, as he rushed up to his\nbrother's bed room.\n\nIt soon went abroad that uncle Jacob was at the point of death; and all\nthe friends and many neighbors were assembled around the bed, and among\nothers Mr. Barker, the Methodist preacher, who thought, as the\nPresbyterian dominie's nostrums were rejected by Jacob, his own, as\nbeing more novel, might have the desired effect. And though these\nseveral ministers were jealous each of the influence of his neighbor,\nyet any thing with them was preferable to the priest. Let uncle Jacob\nturn Turk, Jew, or Heathen, any thing but a Papist, and the six\nsectarian teachers of the village of S---- were content.\n\n\"Now, brother Jacob,\" said his roaring reverence, after a long-winded\nprayer, in which he professed to command great influence with the powers\nabove, \"how do you feel? Tell us your experience, and what you see.\"\n\n\"I am afraid, if I tell ye what I think and feel,\" said the feeble\ninvalid, \"ye may not like to hear it, and I do not wish to give offence.\nI have something else now to occupy my time besides talking for your\nentertainment.\"\n\n\"O, by all means, brother,\" said the reverend roarer, \"tell what you\nexperience; we will not be displeased, but I hope edified. I have\nprayed earnestly to the Lord Jesus for thee, and he has answered me--I\nhave been heard.\"\n\n\"Well, my experience and conviction are, that there is no real religion,\nbut superstition or infidelity, in all the sects that I ever yet knew\naround here. My experience is, that I led a very worthless and careless\nlife, for which I expect God's pardon; but I fear ye parsons will have a\nhard account to settle for the contradiction and confusion ye have\nintroduced into the Christian religion. Ye first attempted to make an\ninfidel of me, by your glaring contradictions and hypocritical\npretensions; and now, on the very brink of eternity, ye would deceive my\nsoul into the delusion that I am fit for glory direct, in the blossom of\nmy sins, 'unhouselled, unanointed, and unannealed.' Retire from my\npresence, ye deceivers, and make way for the minister of God's church,\nwho can absolve me from my sins in the person of Christ, give me his\ntrue body to repair the ruins in my own body and soul, and strengthen\nme, by the oil of faith, against the terrible struggle that I must\nencounter, and the awful journey over which I must pass. O Lord,\" he\ncried, \"forgive these persecutors of my soul; and, O virgin mother of\nJesus, obtain for me to confess my sins and repent ere I die.\"\n\nAll were astonished at the foregoing impassioned speech of uncle Jacob.\nThe parson retired like an evil spirit exorcised by the powerful words\nof holy writ. The room was empty, and the priest was soon after at the\ndying man's bedside. After a full, sincere, and humble confession,\nconditional baptism was administered; and, confirmed by all the rites of\nthe church, purified by penance, strengthened by the holy eucharist, and\nhealed by the holy unction of heaven, that pure soul passed away to God\nin two days after, having become speechless in about an hour after the\nadministration of the sacrament.\n\n\"Now,\" said the priest, addressing Paul, \"did I not tell you God had\nsome mysterious design in view by the succession of trials which he\nenabled you to pass through? But for you, probably, this good soul would\nnot have heard of the Catholic church; but for your mother's death you\ncould not be out here, where the malice of those who wanted to rob you\nof your faith sent you. It is owing to the robbery of the money you\npossessed that your mother died; and, finally, but for the cruelty of\nthe landlord and his injustice, you might be now at home in Ireland, and\nprobably studying in Maynooth College. See how God brings good from\nevil. See how, as he made the hardness of Pharaoh's heart contribute to\nthe glory and miraculous power of Moses and Aaron, he continually makes\nuse of the tyranny of the landlords of Ireland--not inferior to the\ncruelty of Pharaoh or Herod--to contribute to the spread of the faith,\nwithout which there is no salvation, among the generous and naturally\ngood people of this vast country.\"\n\n\"I understand it all now,\" said Paul, \"and thank God for all that has\nhappened to us.\"\n\n\"That's right, my boy; you will be yet a priest, perhaps, yourself. I\nmust now prepare to return.\"\n\nAs Father Ugo passed down stairs, he was met by Mrs. and Mr. Prying,\nwho invited him to the parlor, and by a good deal of persuasion\nprevailed on him to remain there over night, rather than go to the hotel\nsix miles off. Even the bigoted Amanda was very anxious to have an\nargument with a real priest--that mysterious sort of being whom she\nnever saw, but heard so much about.\n\nFather Ugo was a robust, brave-looking man, of unaffected manners,\nbordering on plainness, though highly educated, and accustomed in\nEurope, where he was chaplain to Lord C----d, to the most aristocratic\nsociety. Perhaps it was owing to his knowledge of the vanity of\naristocratic airs that he affected such a plainness of manners, being\nthoroughly tired of the odd, unmeaning ceremonials of fashion. It must\nbe confessed, at any rate, that he entertained no small contempt for the\nmushroom aristocratic imitations that he witnessed in America; and this\nmade him a little sarcastic, and therefore rather rude, in his\nassociation with what he called \"the monkey aristocracy\" of the new\nworld.\n\nSuch being the sentiments of Father Ugo, the reader ought not to be\nsurprised that his reluctance to enter into a theological discussion\nwith Amanda was great, and his answers to that indefatigable _she bore_\nrather curt and ironical. After a good deal of conversation about the\nweather, crops, the telegraph, railroads, thunder storms, electricity,\nand such other subjects as were suggested by the climate and state of\nthe weather, Mr. Prying left the room, wondering where this priest got\nhis knowledge, and how could he be one of that low, canting,\nScripture-phrase class to which all ministers he ever knew belonged, and\nin which he thought the priest must have exceeded the ministers in\ndegree as much as the Green Mountain exceeded the little knoll in front\nof his house.\n\n\"That's a well-read, intelligent fellow,\" said he to his wife.\n\n\"We allers heard they knowed nothing but ignorance and idolatry,\" she\ncarelessly remarked.\n\n\"I guess those who represented the Catholic priests as such are the most\nignorant,\" was the remark of Ephraim.\n\n\"Well, sir,\" said Amanda, who was now alone with the priest in the\nparlor, \"there are many admirable things in your religion; there are\nindeed.\"\n\n\"I am glad you think so; but are not all its institutions admirable and\nperfect?\" said the priest.\n\n\"I can't concede that, by any means,\" she replied, with a consciousness\nof her logical powers. \"For instance, there's celibacy; why don't you\npriests get married? I think this very wrong; the Bible calls it the\n'doctrine of devils' to encourage that institution.\"\n\n\"I am astonished, if you think so, miss,\" said the priest, \"you have not\ngot married yourself before this, for you appear to be of age.\"\n\n\"O, that, perhaps, is my own choice,\" she said, coughing with\nembarrassment.\n\n\"Well, it is my fixed and determined choice,\" rejoined Father Ugo, \"to\nlead a single, unmarried life, free from care and anxiety.\"\n\n\"I think you are mistaken, sir,\" she said; \"the single life is one of\nmuch more care and anxiety than the married. Witness pa and ma; how\nhappy _they_ have lived for thirty-five years in this our homestead.\"\n\n\"Although such may have been _your_ experience, miss,\" said Dr. Ugo, \"I\nmust beg leave to decline accepting it as an authority, particularly\nwhen I have my own experience, though not so venerable as yours, to\nbalance it. Besides, does not the inspired St. Paul tell us that those\nwho are married are divided, and have heavier cares; while those who\nlead a single, chaste life, as he did, would be better able to serve God\nfree from anxiety?\"\n\n\"O, Paul,\" she replied, \"was very poor authority on the subject, being a\nbachelor when he wrote that passage. Probably in after life his opinions\nunderwent a change on the subject. I am aware of his oddity in that\nway.\"\n\n\"Do you joke, miss?\" said the priest, solemnly. \"If you do not joke, I\nhave no hesitation in saying you blaspheme, in thus trifling with the\nwords of the Holy Ghost.\"\n\n\"I am serious, sir,\" she said; \"it is your church that is guilty of\nmisinterpretation of God's word, and, in addition, denies its 'free use'\nto the people.\"\n\n\"I hope my church, miss, will never allow her children to trifle with\nGod's holy word as you have now been guilty of,\" said the priest.\n\n\"What's this? At theology again, Amanda? I think you have met your match\nat last, daughter,\" said Mr. Prying. \"This young lady has taken to the\nstudy of Scripture and theology,\" continued he; \"she and the several\nministers who visit here are ever at controversy, and she seldom comes\noff second best, I tell you.\"\n\n\"Don't you speak so, father,\" she said; \"no, I don't, neither. I have\nbeen arguing with this gentleman about celibacy, and we can't agree\nabout the interpretation of a text; that's all. But this is the\nbirthright of every American citizen, the right to differ; the right to\nread the word of God, and to interpret it each for himself, without let\nor hinderance.\"\n\n\"I have no great desire, nor does it at all accord with my notions of\npropriety, I assure you,\" said the priest, \"to enter into controversial\ndisputations around the fireside, in a family whose hospitality I am\nenjoying, and especially when a lady is my antagonist.\"\n\n\"O you need not be particular,\" said this female bore; \"we are used to\nsuch discussions. I had a few questions to put to you as a Catholic\npriest, of which I had taken notes, and my object is information on\nthose points, as much as the refutation of your church doctrines.\"\n\n\"Any information you require I am ready to afford, if in my power; but I\nhave a horror--I suppose from the invariable habit of my past life--of\nintroducing either political or religious discussions into the fireside\nfamily circle.\"\n\n\"We are always disputing here,\" she said. \"I am a Presbyterian, Cassius\na Universalist, Wesley a Methodist, and Cyrus has taken to the spiritual\nrapping, and is a 'medium.' So you see controversy is no novelty here.\"\n\n\"In Europe, miss,\" said the priest, \"we never introduce----\"\n\n\"In Europe,\" she said, interrupting Father Ugo, \"there is nothing but\ntyranny, despotism, poverty, and superstition. We despise the customs of\nEurope, sir. I am told,\" she added, after a glance at her notes, \"that\npriests in general, and you in particular, forbid Catholics to attend\nthe meetings, or join in the prayers or worship, of other denominations.\nIs this true, or how can you reconcile it with liberty or religion?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said the priest, \"it is our duty to guard the Catholics\nfrom such immoral customs. We do not believe any of the sectarian\ndenominations, into which I regret to learn your family is divided,\nderive their existence or institutions from God, or contain the\n_ordinary means_ of salvation. And while under this belief, in which we\nare joined by millions upon millions of Christians, living and dead, how\ncan we join your prayer or worship, when we know it to be spurious and\nillegitimate?\"\n\n\"I shall, before I am done with you, sir,\" she replied, \"prove your\nchurch idolatrous, and all Papists idolaters; and this is one of the\nproofs, this horrid opinion of yours, sir.\"\n\n\"It is not my _opinion_ at all, miss,\" said he, coolly; \"it is my\n_faith_, and that of God's church in all ages. Now, on the very plea\nthat we all are idolaters, as you call us, for this very reason you\nshould except your hired help from joining in your 'long prayers.' For\nif you have any faith in God, or believe you address him in prayer, why\nshould you insult and mock him by taking an unenlightened, Papistical\nidolater to join your petitions? If you were to go to ask a favor of a\nking, or of the president, would you deem it prudent to take one to\naccompany you who was guilty of high treason? Would not this lead to\nyour certain rejection from the presence of majesty or excellency with\ndisgrace and punishment? Now, Catholics, if they be idolaters, are\nguilty of treason against Heaven. Do not, then, insult heaven and its\ndivine Majesty, by asking them to join in your 'holy prayers.'\"\n\nThis \"nonplussed\" the self-confident and vain Amanda; all she could\nanswer was, that \"that was fine Jesuitism.\"\n\n\"Meditate well on it,\" said the priest, \"and repent, if you have been\nguilty of violating the laws of God, the laws of your country, and the\ndictates of reason, by compelling Catholics to join in your, to them,\nrepulsive and unlawful worship. Forgive me, miss; I must be off. Good\nby. God bless you,\" said he, departing.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nTHE ENLIGHTENED CITIZENS.\n\n\n\"Any news this morning, squire?\" said Mr. Wakely, the tavern keeper, to\nhis _honor_ Squire Wilson, as he entered the bar room with a cigar in\nhis mouth.\n\n\"Wal, nothin' except this report of the turning of old uncle Jacob\nPrying, if we can give credit to such a rumor.\"\n\n\"I seed the priest riding past here two days since,\" said the tavern\nman, \"and his team half dead from driving. There can be little doubt of\nJac's conversion to the Romish faith. I asked that young lad Paul, who\nused to stop at Prying's, and he said it was true.\"\n\n\"'Tis really astonishing,\" said Benjamin Lifford, the Quaker. \"I'd have\nlet him die without a minister, if he did not content himself with the\ninflooence of the speerit. These is how I would sarve thee, Jacob.\"\n\n\"I consider Mr. Prying rather simple to allow such a man as the priest\nto come into his house at all,\" said his _honor_ Squire Wilson, the\nUniversalist.\n\n\"Had it been my brother,\" said old Elder Fussel, \"I would pay no\nattention to the dying request of old uncle Jacob. That would be the way\nto bring him to.\"\n\n\"That would be cruel,\" said High Sheriff Walter, \"seeing that Jacob\nleft him all his property, real and personal. Besides, this is a free\ncountry, and I say a man ought to be allowed to embrace any religion he\nhas a mind to. That's my creed, at all events.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mr. Ebenezer White, the Methodist class leader, \"_pervided_\nthe creed he wanted to jine was the religion of the Bible; otherwise\nnot.\"\n\n\"Do not the Roman Catholics ground their doctrines on the Bible?\" said\nthe sheriff. \"That they do, and their Bible contains many books that\nyours does not contain.\"\n\n\"Nonsense, sheriff!\" said his enlightened _honor_. \"The Papists never\nread the Bible. I have a boy, Thomas Noonan,--you know him,--and he\nneither will read it himself, nor listen to it read. The priest won't\nallow him. No Catholic is allowed to have or read a Bible.\"\n\n\"You state what is not true,\" said a loud, emphatic voice from behind\nthe stove. It was the voice of Murty O'Dwyer.\n\n\"I guess, squire, you are in error there,\" said the sheriff. \"My boy,\nyou know, Patrick, a very strict Catholic, every month at confession\nwith the priest, has a Bible with him in my house, which Bible the\npriest gave him. I have read the book time and again. Nay, I heard the\npriest preach out of our Bible last summer.\"\n\n\"Is it not astonishing,\" began Murty again, \"that, though ye all differ\nin opinion, ye agree in hating and maligning the church of Christ?\nThough ye can't 'join in love,' ye know well how to 'join in hate.' Here\nare unbaptized Quakers, groaning Methodists, blaspheming Presbyterians,\nfaithless Universalists and Unitarians, and humbug spiritual rappers;\nand yet ye not only coincide in hating the pope, but ye are all\nintolerant and cruel save this gentleman here,\" said he, pointing to Mr.\nWalter. \"Now, will any body tell me whence is this hatred?\" said the\nIrishman, pausing. \"Is it grounded on knowledge or well-formed opinion?\nNo; for ye are all grossly ignorant of the principles and facts of\nCatholicity, as ye have shown by your statements about the Bible. In\ntruth, it is impossible to evade the conclusion that ye hate the church\nfor the same cause that the devil envied and hated our first parents;\nnamely, because he saw them the heirs of that bliss which he and his\nrebellious crew had lost.\"\n\n\"Take care what you say, my man; the law does not suffer any person to\ndisparage the Bible so,\" said the squire, threateningly.\n\n\"I am not afraid, sir, to speak my mind, whatever you, as the\nrepresentative of the law, may threaten. 'Tis really amazing that ye\nshould be so busy and troubled about Catholics, take such pains in\nkidnapping Catholic children, and forcing Catholic servants to go to\nlisten to your disgusting prayers and bellowing preachers, when your own\nchildren are beyond your control; go to bed like cattle, without ever\nbending a knee in prayer; and if they go to 'meeting,' as it is properly\ncalled, it is only to mock the 'old fool' who holds forth to them.\"\n\n\"There is some truth in what he says,\" added the sheriff, looking at the\nsquire.\n\n\"Agree among yourselves first,\" said the Irish peasant, \"before you\ncommence to convert Catholics. Convert the rowdies that crowd your\nvillage and city tavern bar rooms before you extend your zeal to those\nwho are in no need of it, or on whom it will be all spent in vain. Agree\nabout the meaning of one single text in your Bible before you hand it to\nus for our study.\"\n\n\"We all agree it's the word of God.\"\n\n\"Well, the word of God cannot contradict itself, and yet the religious\nsystem of each of you contradicts that of his neighbor. One man says\nChrist is God; another denies this; and both quote Scripture in proof.\nThis man says bishops are necessary and divinely appointed; the next man\ndenies this totally. The Quaker denies what the disciple of Calvin or\nKnox believes, while the Universalist ignores what the latter professes;\nand now the Mormons, spiritual rappers, and Transcendentalists explode\nthe Bible altogether. The Catholic church, with those countless millions\nof her children that constitute her body, has been reading the Bible and\nstudying it these nineteen hundred years, and never yet, with all her\nlearning, could find two opposite meanings to one single text; never\nonce contradicted herself.\"\n\n\"You don't say the Catholics are allowed the use of the Bible, do you?\nor that there was any Bible in the world but the one Luther found in the\nmonastery hid, in the year 1517?\" said the elder, who did not well hear,\nas he was somewhat deaf.\n\n\"Do you seriously believe that we Catholics have not leave to use the\nBible? I tell you we have, and always had, the unquestioned right to its\nproper use. Even before the art of printing was discovered by a\nCatholic, and when books were scarce, a Bible, in large, plain writing,\nwas chained to a stand or desk in each parish church in most countries,\nso that all who wished could read. I saw one of these stands, which\nturned on a pivot, in an old Catholic church in Yorkshire, England,\nwhere it remains to this day. And as regards the absurdity that Luther\nfound the only copy of the Bible extant in a monastery or university,\nthat story is refuted by the fact that there were millions of Bibles,\nand countless editions of it, printed before Luther was born. Indeed, I\nhave just read in this Protestant paper, here, that there is a Bible in\nCincinnati, printed in 1470; that is, nearly fifty years before Luther\nbegan to revolt.\"\n\n\"Why, Betsey Darcy, that jined our kirk at the late revivals, told us,\npublic, in the meeting house, that the priests in Ireland would not\nallow any Catholic to read the Bible; and she said that was the first\none she ever saw which I handed to her,\" said the pious elder.\n\n\"Don't you believe her, elder,\" said Murty, \"for I saw that same girl\nhandle a true Protestant Bible in Ireland, when she attempted to father\nher illegitimate child on an honest man, but when she was, instead,\nconvicted of perjury the most gross. She has had two other fatherless\nchildren since she came to 'free America;' and now, after having been\nrejected from the humblest society of Catholics on account of her\nimmoralities, she, of course, takes refuge among the impeccable saints\nof Presbyterianism, where she ranks high in the scale of sanctity.\"\n\n\"Sartin,\" said the sheriff; \"she is a hard one, I do believe. I saw her\ndrunk at the donation visit of dominie Grinoble, last winter.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Murty, \"when you get such a convert as this unfortunate\nreprobate, you boast and write tracts to herald the conquest; but such\nconversions as those of Spencer, Brownson, Wilberforce, Newman, Lords\nCamden, or Freeling, are as nothing in your eyes. You stuff your ears\nwhen you hear of them, cautiously keep them out of hearing of your sons\nand daughters, and these glorious conversions never appear in your\nshabby, lying newspapers. I do really pity the blindness of\nProtestants,\" said he, rising and walking out of doors.\n\nNext day after these events, the funeral of uncle Jacob took place, and\nthese ministers, whom, while he lived, he could not endure, and who\nheartily hated him, came, when he was dead, to offer their services over\nhis remains. If any thing was required to show the meanness and\ninconsistency of Protestantism and its teachers in this country, it is\nthe readiness with which they will officiate over the body of a man\ndead, over whose soul, while living, they could exert not the smallest\ninfluence. We have known several instances where Methodist and\nPresbyterian hirelings, in consideration of the fee of three or five\ndollars paid them, preached long sermons, and opened the gates of _their\nElysium_ to the souls of men who became converted from the sects to\nwhich these hireling parsons belonged. Nay, in cases where the deceased\ncommitted suicide by hanging or poisoning, we heard parsons officiate,\nand promise the friends, for certain, that the soul of the suicide was\nin glory, because sometime ago he happened to get religion, or join the\nSons of Temperance, or conform to some other requirement of fanaticism.\nThus, in the present case of uncle Jacob, Mr. Barker, the Methodist, and\nParson Grinoble, the Presbyterian, and Mr. Gulmore, another style of\nPresbyterianism, all three vied to see who would _be hired_ to do the\nlast service to him whom, while alive, they all despised. Mr. Gulmore,\nhowever, had the best luck, and accordingly mounted the pulpit to pass\nsentence on the departed soul of uncle Jacob. He descanted for a\nconsiderable time on the virtues of the deceased while young, told all\nhe knew of his religious experience, not forgetting the virtues of the\nentire family, and what they had done for religion by circulation of\ntracts, by subscription to Bible societies, by adopting and raising of\ndestitute orphans, and other good deeds, all tending to the honor of\nCalvinism. \"The only instance of any thing like want of belief that\nhappened for a hundred years in the family,\" said he, \"was the seduction\nof our brother to the ranks of Popery. His faith was weak, my friends,\"\nhe continued; \"but if he did not believe strongly, _we believed_, and\nour faith saved him. His soul is in glory, I have no doubt. The faith of\nhis family and all our faith saved him. Glory be to the Lord. Amen.\"\n\nThe conclusion of this discourse was applied to the warning of the\nfaithful against the influence of the Papists; the necessity and\nobligation incumbent on all to compel their Catholic servants to join\ntheir prayer and other meetings; and, above all, to take care that all\nPopish books and publications, should be excluded from their houses. \"We\nare fallen on dangerous times, my friends,\" he said; \"and if the friends\nof the Bible and free religion do not combine their efforts against the\ncommon enemy, our institutions are doomed, and the glory of our country\nis extinguished forever.\"\n\nThe reader is not to imagine that Mr. Gulmore and men of his class are\nso brutally ignorant as some would imagine. When, therefore, we hear\nthem speak of our _institutions_ being in danger, they mean the\n_institutions_ of heresy and sectarianism; namely, parsons, and their\nwives and children, and countless sects and contradictions in\ncreed--institutions that, sure enough, are in imminent danger, and\ndoomed to fall before the irresistible and unerring progress of\nCatholicity. But will this divinely decreed result be injurious to the\nprogress or prosperity of the republic? On the contrary, there can never\nbe a real union among the States till the minds of the people, north and\nsouth, are united in faith and sentiment. And by the annihilation of\nsectarianism and its castes, the people will be freed from a very\nburdensome tax now going to the support of a large and lazy body of men,\nwomen, and children, whose only object in existence seems to be to eat\nand consume, and who, besides, by their idleness and habits, keep up a\nsystem of detraction, jealousy, and discord among otherwise\nwell-disposed citizens, that, like so many cancers, are eating into the\nvery vitals of the public morals. Let not the American citizen,\ntherefore, bewail the certain decline and rapid decay of the\n_institutions_ of sectarianism, but rather pray for the dawn of that\nglorious approaching day when, as we are but a one people and a united\nnation, we may have but one religion, and a country that will know no\nsectional divisions.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\n\"HE AND HIS WHOLE HOUSE BELIEVED.\"\n\n\nPaul, now, though full of anxiety and care on account of his young\ncharge, was comparatively well off. His good fortune removed him from\nthe neighborhood of all that was low, fanatical, and cruel in New York,\nto the capital of Vermont. And he felt the change for the better,\nsensibly, in quitting the birthplace of \"Millerism,\" and going into a\ncomparatively enlightened region. He thought there were, as he said,\nsome gentlemen and ladies here in Vermont; but he could never see one of\neither species, properly so called, where he lately lived. The truth\nwas, Mr. Clarke, his present employer, was a well-bred, full-blooded\nYankee; and though his notions of Catholicity were such as he gleaned\nfrom the rabid discourses of half-educated preachers, and a few\nanti-Popery tracts which he read, his gentle and noble mind could not\nsanction for an instant any thing like persecution on account of\nreligion. Hence, besides the favorable impression which the talents of\nPaul made on him, he considered it time to show him some kindness, to\ncompensate for the ill treatment he underwent under the machinations of\nParson Gulmore and Amanda Prying, and their clerical associates.\n\n\"Paul,\" said Mr. Clarke, on Saturday night, at supper, \"I am glad you\nare beginning to like this part of the country. I will endeavor to\nconvince you that all America is not like your late home in York: all\nparsons are not like Mr. Gulmore, whose conduct in regard to your\nletters I cannot sufficiently condemn; nor are all young ladies of the\nsame temper as Miss Amanda Prying.\"\n\n\"I do not blame Amanda much, sir,\" said the youth, fearing that he might\nbe led to any thing bordering on detraction; \"she was very kind to me in\nall things, except that she wanted to keep me from mass, and tried to\nforce my sister and myself to attend Mr. Gulmore's church.\"\n\n\"That was very wrong of her, Paul. I do not think Miss Martha, here,\nwill be so cruel as to require you to do any thing against your will;\nnor would she interfere with your letters to your friends, as I have no\ndoubt Amanda has interfered. Well, Martha,\" said the good-natured\nfather, looking with pride towards his eldest daughter, a bright girl of\nsixteen, \"are you going to force Paul with you to church; to compel him,\nwhether he likes it or not, to eat flesh meat on days forbidden by his\nchurch? And will you forbid him to write to his uncle, who, I doubt not,\nis a very respectable gentleman in Ireland?\"\n\n\"God forbid, father, that I should be guilty of half that. However, we\nshall be very glad if Paul comes to our meeting house, seeing we often\ngo to hear the priest, Father O'C----, of the Catholic church.\"\n\n\"I should be very sorry to disoblige any body, but especially one so\namiable as yourself, miss,\" said Paul; \"but I do not think I can\nconscientiously go to any church except the Catholic church.\"\n\nMr. and Mrs. Clarke smiled, and a significant glance passed between them\nat the gallantry of this speech.\n\n\"Why, Paul,\" said he, \"I think you are a leetle too particular. It would\ndo you no harm to hear our preacher, Mr. Holdforth; I do not see what\ncan be wrong in it, no more than our going to hear the priest.\"\n\n\"The only difference is,\" said Paul, quickly, \"that our religion and\nservice being right, and yours being wrong, you can attend our service\nwithout scruple, but I could not attend yours without sin. It would be a\nloss of time, a bad way to spend the Sabbath, or Sunday; the sin of\ncuriosity, or the danger of being an encourager of, or countenancing, a\nfalse worship, unauthorized by God or his church.\"\n\n\"Ah, Paul,\" said the editor, \"this is taking a high ground, and rather a\nnew one to me; and besides, this is not very logical, for this is what\nwe want to see. This is just the question in dispute between the Roman\nCatholic church and the Protestant; viz., to which of the two belongs\ntrue and lawful worship.\"\n\n\"You are a lawyer, sir,\" said Paul, \"and you must know well the evidence\nis all in favor of the Catholic church--being that founded by Christ,\nand ruled and guided by the apostles. For, go back to the very apostolic\nages, and you will find the rites and the ceremonies of the church,\nrecorded in the writings of the ancient fathers,--as, for instance, in\nthe works of Tertullian, Ireneus, Ignatius,--to be the very same as\nthose now practised in the Catholic church in this country and all over\nthe world.\"\n\n\"I confess, Paul,\" said he, \"that the external evidences are rather\nfavorable to Catholicity; but we principally depend on internal\nevidence, or the feelings of our minds.\"\n\n\"That,\" said Paul, \"is no evidence at all; for you have to do with\nexternal facts. Institutions, history, monuments, testimony of men,\ncustoms, and habits, are the only evidence you can bring to bear on this\ncontroversy. How would you like to try a criminal by internal\nevidence--to tell a jury that you had 'internal evidence' of the\ninnocence or guilt of the man accused? How could you discover whether or\nnot Caesar lived by the light of internal evidence? Is it by internal\nevidence you learn that such cities as Rome, Paris, or Constantinople\nexist? No, sir; it is by _external_ evidence, which is altogether in\nfavor of our church; and this is more valuable than all the internal\nevidence that ever existed in the minds of fanatics, from Simon Magus to\nJohn Wesley, or from the Gnostics to the spiritual rappers.\"\n\n\"Husband,\" said Mrs. Clarke, \"I am afraid of your reputation in this\nargument about religion.\"\n\n\"Madam, it is not _reputation_ I seek, but truth; and if I can find it\nin the Catholic church, I shall embrace it myself, and all my family.\"\n\n\"You may bid adieu to most of your subscribers, then, after you become a\nRoman Catholic,\" said madam.\n\n\"My dear wife,\" said he, impressively, \"you ought to know me\nsufficiently well to be convinced that not only the success of my\njournal, but even the entire of my means, with my personal feelings,\nwould be willingly sacrificed by me, in order to secure for myself, and\nfor you all, what is infinitely beyond all earthly or temporal\nconsiderations; namely, the salvation of our immortal souls.\"\n\n\"I did not want to insinuate, my dear, for a moment, that you could be\ninfluenced by such a consideration as the success of your journal in a\nmatter of such everlasting importance. I only dropped the remark\ncasually and without reflection,\" said madam.\n\nIn order to explain more fully the seriousness of Mr. Clarke's desire to\nlearn more and more regarding the Catholic church, and to account for\nhis rather too easy concession to the arguments of Paul, we think it\nright to state that he had lately become a member of a literary and\nreligious society established in his native city, under the\npresidentship of a minister of an Episcopal church. The object of this\nsociety, partly religious and partly literary, was to infuse a new\nspirit into the thinning ranks of Episcopalianism, by searching for, and\nbringing to light, in the popular form of lectures and dissertations,\nthe evidences in favor of Protestantism, which, they supposed, were to\nbe found in the writings of the primitive or ante-Nicene sages of the\nchurch. We do not think it would be appropriate to class this society\nunder the appellative \"Puseyite,\" for they had no direct connection or\ncommunication with that now rather celebrated school of schismatics,\nbut undoubtedly the objects of both were analogous. Mr. Clarke's\noccupation was so much confined to the business of his lawyer's office,\nand his time so much engrossed by the attention required of him as an\neditor, that he had very little leisure to attend the regular meetings\nof the society, of which he was elected an honorary member; and hence,\nwhile he was at home and at the table, the whole discourse was on\nreligion; for these were his only leisure hours. Paul he found not only\nwell instructed in his religion, but capable of explaining very\nsatisfactorily to him various points connected with such an important\nmatter as that on which his mind of late turned its attention, and on\nwhich he desired the fullest information.\n\nGreat was the joy and consolation of Paul, after the dialogue given\nabove; and long and fervent were his thanksgivings to God, for choosing\nhim so far to be the instrument in bringing his employer to the\nresolution of _examining_ Catholic doctrines. For who ever seriously\nexamined and did not find the truth? \"No,\" said Paul to himself, \"never\ndid any body examine into or compare the relative claims of the Catholic\nchurch and her countless opponents to be considered divine, that did not\ndecide in favor of the former.\" And well knowing that Mr. Clarke was a\nman not to be turned aside from his resolution by any human motives or\nselfish considerations, Paul wisely concluded that \"he and his whole\nhouse\" would become reconciled to the church. And so they were. Mr.\nClarke was the first member of the \"Literary and Religious Society of\nVermont\" who became a convert. The next was the reverend president of\nthe society; afterward one and another, till the entire society,\nconsisting of some fifty members, submitted themselves to the sweet yoke\nof faith; and now there is a church, a resident priest, in that very\nlocality, and using the very meeting house where the ex-Episcopalian\nminister preached. Under God, all these conversions were owing to the\ntact, prudence, and other admirable virtues, as well as the thorough\nCatholic education, of Paul. To this very day, Mr. Clarke, the Rev. Mr.\nStrongly, and many other members of the society acknowledge that it is\nto the circumstance of Paul's living in Mr. Clarke's family that he owed\nhis conversion, and that the secession of Mr. Clarke from their ranks\nwas what principally hastened the conversion of the whole society. Thus\nGod frequently makes use of what appears to us very inadequate means to\nthe most glorious results. Thus are the weak and humble of his church\nmade use of, like David, to subdue her enemies, and bring them under the\nsalutary sway of her dominion. And while this servant boy and that hired\ngirl are acting the hypocrite in attending this master's meeting, or\njoining his long prayers, or eating meat on Friday, in violation of the\nprecepts of the church, they are becoming stumbling blocks on his way to\nsalvation--resisting the design of God, who wishes all men to be saved,\nas well as ruining their own souls. \"He that despiseth small things\nshall fall by little and little.\"\n\nWhile these events were the order of the day in Vermont, the\nproselytizers in York were not idle. Amanda now, since Paul had not only\nleft the house, but even went away from the neighborhood, thought she,\nand her coadjutors the parsons, would have little difficulty in\nconverting Bridget. But the latter now, besides having once a month an\nopportunity of hearing mass,--the new priest, Father Ugo, having made it\na rule to visit the railroad laborers as often as he could, and being\npretty well grounded in the catechism,--in addition to these very\nimportant aids to combat temptation, Bridget had also Murty O'Dwyer, who\nwas hired in the house, to take up the cudgels for her against Amanda\nand Parson Gulmore.\n\n\"Prepare, Bridget, to come with me this evening to Sabbath school,\" said\nthe persevering Amanda. \"I want to show them how well you can read, and\nalso I want them to admire these nice flowers of your hat, and your\npretty new dress, to see how smart you look.\"\n\n\"Why, miss, if that be all you want, I can't go, for that would be a\nsin. Vanity, you know,\" said the little roguish girl, looking\nsarcastically at Amanda.\n\n\"I am the best judge of that, missy,\" said the old maid. \"Go on and\nprepare: you must come. You are getting very ugly since you got the\nhabit of seeing that old priest of late.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon, miss. It is not for the priest's advice I refuse\njoining your worship, but because God forbids it and the church. Before\nthe priest ever came here, I refused, during more than two years, to go\nto Protestant meetings or Sunday schools, which cost me many a tear and\na scolding; and the priest's advice has not made me more determined than\nI was before never to put my foot inside your ugly meeting house or\nSunday schools.\"\n\n\"If I asked you to go to the priest to pay him a quarter to pardon your\nsins, you naughty Irish girl, you,\" said Amanda, in a passion, \"how\nreadily you would obey me, you naughty thing, you!\"\n\n\"You're welcome to your joke, miss,\" answered Bridget; \"but if you are\nin earnest, I must say that it is not true that Father Ugo, or any other\npriest that ever lived, charged any money for hearing confession.\nConfession was ordained by Christ, our Lord; and those who do not go to\nconfession cannot lead a pure life of virtue, nor preserve the love of\nGod in their souls.\"\n\n\"Indeed, miss!\" said Amanda, with a sneer. \"I see the priest has been\ngiving you a lesson. As if none but Papists knew what purity or virtue\nwas--the low set of Irish that they are!\"\n\n\"Our books of devotion say as much,\" said Bridget; \"and it stands to\nreason, for if Catholics who frequent confession have enough to do to\nkeep themselves undefiled, how much more difficult is it for those who\ndo not confess at all? Besides, by confession restitution is enforced,\nand whatever your neighbor loses by fraud is restored.\"\n\n\"Is it not strange, then, that the Irish Papist who robbed your mother\nof the money does not think of restoring it? And you say he had the\npriest's certificate of confession in his pocket?\"\n\n\"That is not the fault of confession, miss. May be he would make\nrestitution yet, if God give him grace.\"\n\n\"I have been listening to you, miss, this half hour,\" interposed Murty,\nwho now entered from the back kitchen where he was smoking, \"and I am\nreally shocked to find you tamper so with the virtue of this innocent\ngirl. You first attempt to reach her pure soul through her vanity, by\npraising her dress and accomplishments; and she nobly rejects the\ntemptation. Next you attempt to conquer her fortitude, by maligning and\nridiculing the most sacred institutions of her holy religion; and here\nagain you fail. It is the strangest thing in the world, in my mind, that\nyou should continually annoy that poor orphan, and stranger again, that\nher noble fortitude, her piety, her faith, fidelity, and other heroic\nvirtues have not converted you, and those who have been for years\nwitness of them, to something like admiration of them.\"\n\n\"But she is so obstinate, Murt,\" said the old maid.\n\n\"Yes,\" said he, \"and in that she is right. Yourself had an opportunity\nof information on all these subjects, and, I understand, discussed them\nat length with the priest in person. You ought to know better, then,\nthan to repeat to this child a pure fable, that you dare not hint in the\npresence of the priest; namely, that he levies a tax of two shillings or\nhalf a dollar on every penitent whose confession he hears.\"\n\n\"That is generally believed,\" said she, ashamed that her violent attack\non Bridget had been overheard by one whose good opinion, of late, she\nwas rather anxious to secure, for a delicate reason that shan't be\nmentioned here.\n\n\"It is generally _talked_, but not _believed_, dear miss, unless by the\nidiots and children into whose minds it is continually dinned by\nmalicious persons, who know that their occupation would be gone if the\ntruth were known, and who struggle to shut out the light and knowledge\nof Catholicity from the souls of their wretched hearers with the same\ncruelty that the tyrant shuts out the light of heaven from the dungeon\nof his captive. I thought this was a free country,\" he continued; \"but I\nfind the most odious of tyrannies, domestic tyranny, and the tyranny of\nopinion, established here. I, myself, have been its victim in no less\nthan six instances. Yes, miss, I was turned out of employment, and\ncheated out of my wages, as I would not say my prayers with, or square\nmy creed in accordance with, the notions of my eccentric and fanatical\nemployers.\"\n\n\"That was too bad, Murt,\" said she, laughing. \"Ha, ha, ha!\"\n\n\"It was almost as bad as your own attempt to rob these orphan children\nof the faith of their fathers. For they were young, innocent, and\nhelpless; but for me, I am able to work, and can defy any tyrant your\ncountry affords,\" said he, in a passion. \"There is not, I believe,\" he\nadded, \"on earth, a more odious tyranny, except the landlord tyranny in\nIreland, than that of your sectarian Methodist, Presbyterian,\nEpiscopalian, Nothingarian tyranny in America.\"\n\n\"You Irish should learn to correspond with the institutions of the\ncountry, and should not attempt to introduce Popery into this Protestant\nland.\"\n\n\"Protestant land!\" said Murty. \"We never dream of this being a\nProtestant land when we land on its shores. We look on it as the land of\nliberty, where no form of religion is dominant, and where all are\nequally protected. Protestant land! Why, this sounds odd in a world\nfirst discovered and trod on by Catholics. This sounds bad in a republic\nestablished by the aid of Catholic arms, blood, and treasure, despite of\nthe tyranny of Protestant England. This slang of Protestant land is\nintolerable in a people against whose liberties no Catholic sword was\never unsheathed, though the founder of the sect of which your friend Mr.\nBarker is preacher, John Wesley, offered George III. the services of his\nforty thousand Methodists to put down the American rebellion. What\nAmerican, what republican, then, of spirit or intelligence, can for an\nhour profess himself a follower in religion of such a fanatic as Wesley,\nwith this well-known fact staring him in the face? How noble the conduct\nof Catholic France, or Catholic Ireland, when compared with Protestant\nEngland or Protestant Germany, at the time of the revolution! The two\nformer Catholic nations sent their men, ships, money, clothing, and\nprovisions, to aid your insurgent ancestors; Germany and England sent\ntheir armed vessels, their cannon, and their hireling soldiery, to burn\nthe homesteads, desolate the fields, and murder the wives and children\nof your forefathers.\"\n\n\"I am afraid, Murt,\" she said, \"you will convert me to your notions.\"\nThis was said with a tenderness that could not be mistaken.\n\n\"I fear not, miss; you are too old for that,\" said he, meaningly.\n\n\"I am not so very old as you suppose. I am not so old as uncle Jacob,\nyet,\" she said, perceiving that her meaning was understood by Murty;\n\"and he became a Papist before he died.\"\n\n\"God gave him the grace, and I pray that you may receive a like grace;\nbut I suppose you allude to a different sort of conversion?\" said he.\n\nThe truth was, Amanda, having failed to secure the permanent regard of\nany of her numerous admirers, was foolish enough, as most old maids are,\nto suppose that some green, young, inexperienced lover would be most\nlikely to be caught in her net. Hence she had her mind fixed on Murty,\nwhom she regarded, as he really was, a young man of talent, and whose\ndependent and menial condition she considered as calculated to balance\nthe disparity in their age, and as likely to insure her success. This\nwas why she felt so mortified at being detected by him in her late\nattempt on the faith and resolution of Bridget, having, since her\ndesigns on Murty, promised to let the orphans have their own way, after\nhaving attempted to convince him that she was quite indifferent on the\nsubject of religion, and \"that she would be very glad to know more from\nhim about the Catholic church.\"\n\nThe detection of her insincerity in this instance, and of the falsity\nof her professions, put an end to all her further hopes regarding the\ngallant young Irishman, who could not tolerate a falsehood in any body,\nbut especially in a lady, and who ever after avoided her society as much\nas possible. His presence, however, in the house was a sure guaranty to\nBridget of full religious toleration, Amanda's fiery zeal for religion\nbeing succeeded by a flame of a somewhat different nature.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\n\"TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION.\"\n\n\nWe devote this chapter of our narrative to the record of a very strange\nsuccession of circumstances, no less so, however, than true. They may\nserve as an illustration of the wonderful and mysterious workings of\nReligion on the soul, and, at the same time, afford an instance of the\nabsolute insufficiency of speculative belief or theoretic religion,\nwithout the every-day practice of her sublime and simple lessons.\n\nOne morning, in the town of Sheffield, England, one John Cunningham,\nafter confession and communion, called on the Catholic pastor of that\ntown, for the purpose of procuring a line of commendation, or\ntestimonial of character, that might be of use to him, as he thought, to\nget him employment in some part of the new world, to which he was\npreparing to emigrate. The poor fellow then little dreamed that a\npriest's recommendatory paper, instead of a dollar bill, was the worst\npossible substitute in certain parts of America; and, if of any\nconceivable effect, was likely to prove an occasion to him of such\nannoyances, on account of his faith, as we have described in these\npages. \"The character,\" however, he succeeded in procuring, and written\nin no niggard terms. If it offended in any thing, it was in being too\nfavorable to the bearer. It was by means of this paper, with the\nrespectable name of Rev. Dr. H---- at its foot, that Cunningham\nsucceeded in ingratiating himself into the confidence and favor of the\nO'Clerys during the voyage, as well as by his attention to Mr. Arthur\nO'Clery during his fatal sickness. The reverend gentleman whose\nsignature stood at the foot of the \"character\" was well known to the\nO'Clery family; and hence, undoubtedly, originated the intimacy,\nstrengthened by his asserting falsely that he was a relative of the\npriest, which subsequently enabled him to rob the poor widow and her\norphans of their entire means. Accomplished villain as he was, Religion\nhad not yet lost her whole sway over his soul, and by way of punishing\nhimself, but in reality, making bad worse, the second day after his\nliberation from arrest consequent on the theft, he listed in the United\nStates army, and was hurried off forthwith to the field of battle, in\nFlorida. The gnawing worm of remorse still followed him on board of\nship, and in barrack, and on the scorching plains of the south. He had\nless dread of the sabre, or grape, or rifle of the enemy, than of the\nthought that he had robbed the poor widow, and availed himself of the\nconfidence of confession to elicit from his too confiding director the\npaper that principally enabled him to do so. He had plundered an honest\nfamily of their all, and it was of no use to him. The injury done was\nseverely felt by not only one, but several. The pleasure, comfort, or\nhappiness to him was nothing at all. Unhappy man, what was he to do? He\ncould not help it now; the enemy was before him, and he could not turn\nhis back, and the money was lost forever. He feared death would deprive\nhim of the means of making restitution, for he had a presentiment he\nwould fall on this very day. First, that sin he committed in Liverpool,\nwhen, in an evil hour, yielding to the advice and example of wicked\ncompanions, he took to drink in order to smother the thought of it; and\ndrink caused him to rob the widow, and to shun further the thought of\nthese crimes he enlisted in the army; but yet, here, in the very ranks,\nwith drums beating, and music playing, amid the shouts of Indians and\ndin of battle, the sins were uppermost still in his mind. How horrid\nmust be the feelings of poor Cunningham, with death staring him in the\nface, and yet he expected nothing but judgment after death! In vain did\nhe look around for the tall and venerable form of Father McEl----, to\ncast himself at his knees, and ask for advice, blessing, and\nforgiveness. He was nowhere now to be found. O misery unspeakable! And\nbut yesterday, but this very morning, four hours ago, that father went\nthrough the ranks, encouraging the men, and exciting them to contrition.\nAh, yes! But yesterday Cunningham had got some drink, and, not\nperceiving the danger, refused to confess. But now, if he could see the\npriest! \"O God!\" said he, \"where is the priest?\" Some of his comrades,\nwho heard this exclamation expressed aloud, laughed; others taunted him\non his evil conscience. However, down on his knees he fell, as if\nunconscious of the presence of his comrades, and promised, if God spared\nhim, on the first opportunity, that he would not only restore the\nstolen treasure, but, if necessary, travel the whole Union in search of\nthose whom he robbed; and ask their forgiveness for the injury done\nthem. He had scarcely risen into the ranks of his comrades when the\nhostile fire opened on the plains of Tampa, and a bullet from the rifle\nof the enemy shattered his arm to pieces. A few hours decided that\nwell-known victory of the Americans, and Cunningham had not long to\nremain on the field, exposed to the scorching sun, when he was conveyed\nto the hospital. Though the pain he felt in his arm was great, that\nwhich rankled in his bosom was greater; and on his reaching the\nhospital, he called out for Father McEl----, before he would allow the\nsurgeon to inspect his arm.\n\nAfter the amputation of the limb he recovered, got his discharge, came\nback to New York, and, in company with a respectable Catholic citizen,\nwent out about seven miles east of Brooklyn, and there, at the foot of a\nmaple tree, they dug out of the ground, three feet deep, the bag sure\nenough, containing every sovereign and note of the money stolen from the\nwidow O'Clery. They went with it right straight to the priest of St.\nPeter's Church, who, upon hearing the recital of the now penitent thief,\npromised that he should suffer no legal consequences, and inserted\nadvertisements in the papers to find out where the O'Clerys might be.\n\nThis information was communicated to Paul by Mr. Clarke, and to Bridget\nby Father Ugo, on the same day.\n\nThis news, when made known, created the most intense excitement. Amanda\nwas now very polite to Bridget, whom she marked out in her own mind as a\nsuitable wife for her eldest brother Calvin. Paul was declared to be a\nyoung \"likely gentleman,\" of real genius. The two younger brothers,\nPatrick and Eugene, were lauded, flattered, and admired. In fine, the\nsudden change which took place in the relation in which they stood in\nthe house of bondage was such as to cause Murty to remark to Paul,--who\nlost no time in coming to pay for his brothers' and sister's board,\nalthough the term of servitude of Bridget was now almost\nexpired,--\"Paul, I see that it is not our faith that is so much hated by\nthese goodly Christians as our poverty.\"\n\n\"There may be some truth in that,\" replied Paul.\n\n\"Ever,\" continued Murty, \"since it appeared in our papers here that you\nhad your thousand pounds restored to you, all mouths are full of your\npraise. You were uncommon children, and it was cruel of the minister\nGulmore to conspire against you. It was infamous in him, they now say,\nto have your letters 'burked' in the post office, as it appears from\nAmanda, who has turned informer on the parson, because he did not marry\nher after his first wife's death. Before this ye were paupers, Irish,\nand Papists; now, you and your sister and brothers are noble and likely\nyoung people.\"\n\n\"O Murty,\" said Paul, \"I can see the hand of God in all this. Where I\nhave lived for the last three years, several families, together with my\nfriend and former employer, Mr. Clarke, have been converted. The very\nminister, Mr. Strongly, has embraced the true faith; and another parson,\nRev. Mr. H----, I am sure, only waits instruction to enter the gate of\nlife within the true church.\"\n\n\"Thank God!\" said Murty O'Dwyer. \"I thought these Yankees never could be\ngood Catholics, they are so fond of money, trading, cheating, and legal\nswindling, such as assigning, and mortgaging, and the like.\"\n\n\"O, bless you, Murty, all Yankees are not alike. There are no better\nCatholics on earth than Americans, when they once get the faith. Mr.\nClarke, and my friends in Vermont, who consider me as instrumental in\nbringing them to the true faith, have paid for my education in the\ncollege of G----, after they found that I was resolved to embrace the\nclerical state.\"\n\n\"That was very generous of them, indeed, sir,\" said Murty, assuming a\nlittle less familiarity; \"those here, in this neighborhood, cannot be\nmuch blamed for their bigotry; they know no better, imposed on for ages\nby such fellows as Miller, Scullion, Barker, Gulmore, Grinoble, Scaly,\nand the like.\"\n\n\"But it is not so in the cities, Murty,\" continued Paul; \"and it will\nnot be so here long; for now railroads are building, light, and\nliberality, and, I trust, charity, are extending their influence. We\nmust do our part, by being good, and virtuous, and prudent; try to gain\nthem by our good example, rather than by argumentative or angry\ndiscussion. 'They know not what they do' when they contemn, or attempt\nto stop the progress of, our faith. They are a naturally good and\nkind-hearted people; as witness how they assist the sick and give\nhospitality. Such virtues must ultimately gain for them the grace of\nconversion. The greatest obstacle in their way is the low cunning of the\nunprincipled parsons, who, from being peddlers, and poor, shiftless\nmechanics, without any proper discipline or preparation, take to the\nless laborious trade of preaching. Pray for them, Murty--pray for them.\"\n\n\"I have a far stronger inclination to curse them,\" said Murty.\n\n\"Fie, fie, Murty; that is not Christian.\"\n\n\"That I know,\" said Murty; \"but have you heard that I have been cheated\nout of near two hundred dollars by my employer, and all through the\ninfluence of a villanous parson who got divorced from his wife, on\naccount of a short answer I made him?\"\n\n\"What was the answer, Murty? I suppose it must be droll.\"\n\n\"One day,\" said Murty, \"this Parson Boorman dined where I worked for two\nyears, and, to convert me from the error of my ways for observing\nabstinence on Friday, commenced saying, 'Don't you see, Murty, how\nfoolish and unreasonable you act? You eat butter and use milk that come\nfrom the cow, and you refuse to eat her flesh. It's all the same, my\nIrish friend,' continued the dominie, pitying my ignorance. 'I have no\ngreat desire, Mr. Dominie,' said I, 'now, for controversy, being\nfatigued after my hard day's work; though it takes but little learning\nto refute your profound logic. If there is no difference between\ndrinking milk and eating flesh, then you may as well eat your mother's\nflesh, parson, as suck her breast; and as you, I expect, have done the\nlatter, therefore, dominie, you must be a cannibal. How do you like\nthis?' said I.\n\n\"'O,' said the dominie, 'the butter, you know, that comes from the cow,\nwhat do you say to that?' 'I say, parson, that there is another\nsubstance besides butter that comes from the cow, and you would not like\nto dine on it.' At this the whole company laughed outright in his face,\nand from that time to this the dominie never ceased to persecute me.\"\n\n\"That was a very queer way you took to silence the dominie,\" said Paul;\n\"but I presume, after that ludicrous answer, you met with very little\nreligious controversy afterwards.\"\n\n\"That's true,\" said Murty; \"but I have suffered the loss of my wages\nthrough the unrelenting malice of the Presbyterian dominie.\"\n\n\"Never mind, Murty; do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse\nyou, pray for those who persecute and calumniate you. For your kindness\nto Bridget while I was away, I feel bound to give you some remuneration.\nHave courage, have courage, and think better of the Yankees. The more\nyou know of them, the better you will like them. They have their\nfaults,--as what nation has not?--but they have their virtues also.\"\n\nThis conversation took place between Paul and Murty in the farm house of\nMr. Clarke, where he had just arrived, as well to spend the vacation as\nto make arrangements regarding the future of his brothers and sister.\nMurty, upon hearing of his arrival, lost not a moment's time in going\nacross lots from the Pryings' farm to that of Mr. Clarke, thinking he\nmight be the first to communicate to Paul the joyous intelligence\nregarding the recovery of the lost money, and the pleasing change in the\nopinion of all regarding him and his brethren.\n\nPaul could not but feel grateful for the kindness of his friend Murty;\nbut he was too well practised in Christian perfection to indulge in any\nthing like excessive joy, and too well accustomed to refer every thing\nto God to claim any merit, or take any pleasure, in the flattering\neulogies of all his acquaintances, as repeated by Murty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nWHAT HAPPENED TO LITTLE EUGENE O'CLERY.\n\n\nFortune now began to smile on Paul O'Clery, and to make amends for the\nlong course of ill usage to which she had subjected himself and his\nkindred. He had not only enjoyed the sympathy of friends, and his\ntalents had not only gained him the good will and respect of his\nsuperiors and classfellows, but he now unexpectedly found himself in\npossession of a handsome sum of money, the fruit of the honest industry\nof his parents. The true Catholic training which Paul received from his\nvery infancy taught him the impropriety of immoderate joy or gladness,\nand the severe trials of the last few years had chastened his naturally\nhilarious and pleasant mind to a temper of habitual calm and reserve\nbordering on melancholy. It must be confessed, in this instance,\nhowever, that his spirit felt unusually buoyant and glad, as he\nreturned, under present circumstances, to the scene of his late trials\nand humiliation.\n\nThere are few persons born, however propitious the position of their\nhoroscope, who have not, some time or other, to experience the feeling\nattendant on a transition from an inferior condition to one of more\nrespect and honor. It will not, therefore, be difficult to imagine what\nwere the sentiments of our young hero on his return from the south, on\nthis occasion. He was a slave; he is now a freeman. He was a menial; he\nis now a gentleman. He was the subject on which the hypocrite and the\nimpostor sought to try the success of their well-taught deceptions; now,\nhis virtues, his manners, and his success are in the mouths of all men;\nand those who plotted against his soul are ready to do homage to his\naccomplishments. When St. Patrick, the apostle of Ireland, returned to\nthe house of his former master, who held him in slavery,--the glorious\nprelate and saint to the hut of the slave,--what must have been the\nfeelings of his exalted and inspired soul? Not those of hatred, vanity,\nor earthly exultation, but those of charity, thanksgiving, and apostolic\nzeal, if not those of gratitude, to his pagan master. Kindred to these\nwas the mental exultation of Paul O'Clery, on approaching the valley of\nR---- Creek, the scene of the most meritorious part of his life, and\nstill the novitiate of those who were the most dear to him on earth.\n\nHe determined not only to redeem his sister and brothers, by paying the\ncustomary sum for whatever clothing and board they had received, but\nresolved, as soon as possible, to have them placed in a suitable\neducational establishment. Bridget was already free, and by right\nentitled to something handsome in remuneration of the services she had\nrendered in the family in which she was so long a menial; but Paul was\ndetermined that she should not only refuse accepting what was to fall to\nher share, and what in justice she could claim, but said every thing\nshould be paid for--board, lodging, and even her \"_common-school_\"\neducation. \"This last item,\" he said, \"was not of the most choice\ndescription,--that is, the 'common-school' learning,--but such as it is\nI am unwilling to accept it gratuitously.\" He had come to the same\nconclusion regarding Patrick and Eugene. O, it was on account of these\nlatter children, principally, that Paul rejoiced and thanked God that\nrestitution had been made of the stolen money; for he had a burden of\ncare and anxiety on his mind on account of these two children. It was so\ndifficult a work, especially as himself could not be with them, to save\nyoung boys like them from the contagious vice so prevalent in this\ncountry; and, above all, so hard to preserve young boys in the\natmosphere of your \"common schools.\" Bridget might be said to be safe,\nfor she could remove to a better and more Christian neighborhood, or\nreturn to her friends in the old country; but Patrick, and, above all,\nEugene, who were in the hands of utter strangers, how were they to be\nsaved from the universal corruption, when deprived of the continual\nguardianship of their faithful brother? These were the considerations,\nand not the sole recovery of the money restored to him, that contributed\nto the increase of the joy, and gratitude, and thanksgiving in the heart\nof Paul that now pervaded it. Alas! that this joy and these pleasant\nanticipations of future prospects were of such short duration!\n\nIn order to understand the following statement of facts in relation to\nthe fate of poor Eugene O'Clery, it is necessary here to observe that,\njust after Paul had, by means of the support received from his convert\nfriends in Vermont, been enabled to enter college, a gentleman, who\nstated that he took a great interest in Paul, from what he learned from\nthe Rev. Mr. Strongly about him, wrote him a long letter.\n\nThe burden of the epistle was, that the writer was a minister, with\nviews not far removed from those of the Rev. Mr. Strongly, the convert\nto the Catholic church; that he had heard a good deal about Paul and his\ntrials and success; that he lately visited at Mr. Reuben Prying's, where\nhis two little brothers now remained; that he pitied them, but\nespecially the younger, for that they lacked the opportunity of a better\nand more _Catholic_ education; that, in fine, he, Dr. Dilman, if Paul\nconsented, would take the younger, Eugene, with him into the city, where\nhis education could be attended to, and where he, at least, might be\nsaved from the influence of the barbarous mannerism and irreligious\ntaint of these country \"common schools.\" His reverence the doctor\nfurthermore added, that Mr. Prying had no objection to the arrangement\nhe proposed, and that he had conquered the repugnance that Mrs. Prying\nhad to the separation of the brothers by the very flattering terms on\nwhich he offered _to do_ for the child.\n\nIn a postscript of this letter, it was stated by this veracious\n_Christian minister_, as he signed himself, that he would send Paul\nquarterly or monthly bulletins of Eugene's progress in science and\nvirtue, and, above all, that his faith should not be tampered with in\nthe slightest.\n\nThe effect of such an artful piece of diplomacy may be easily\nconceived. The bait of the parson took, and Paul was for once\noverreached. The unsuspecting youth took this gentleman to be a\nclergyman of the same stamp with his friends Rev. Messrs. Strongly and\nH----. And the fact that Parson Dilman was acquainted with the former\nhonorable men, was enough to throw Paul off his guard. The parson's\ntalk, too, about \"_Catholic education_,\" and the \"barbarous\" common\nschools, served still to deceive, not only Paul, but even the professors\nof the college to whom the epistle of Parson Dilman was submitted for\nadvice and direction.\n\nPaul was enthusiastic in the praise of his two reverend convert friends\nin Vermont, (who were the only two Protestant parsons he intimately knew\nbefore or after conversion,) and hence, when questioned by the\nprofessors about what he might know of his correspondent, he answered\nthat he knew nothing; but the fact of his intimacy and acquaintance with\nthe ex-parsons Strongly and H----, his friends and patrons, was \"a good\nsign of his honesty and honor.\" The shrewd Jesuit professors smiling at\nthe poor child's credulous and confiding disposition, told him that, as\nhe had such an opinion of the worth and honor of the fraternity of\ndominies, he might commit his brother to the charge of one, and\nespecially as he stood in very great danger to his faith and morals\nwhere he was at present. His situation might be ameliorated, but could\nnot be much worse; but the good fathers declined taking the\nresponsibility of giving a decision on the subject.\n\n\"The letter promised what was fair and honorable, but there might be\ndeception,\" said they.\n\n\"Deception, reverend fathers!\" said Paul. \"I can't suspect any such\nthing in one so intimate with my dearest and best friends, the converted\nclergymen in Vermont.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the sons of Ignatius, whose wise experience had taught them\nto have little faith in heretical parsons, \"you can use your own\ndiscretion, my child.\"\n\nPaul, acting on the impulse of his own feelings, thinking it would be a\nrash judgment in him to suspect evil design in one who professed himself\nfavorable to Catholicity, and, besides, was of the same sentiments in\nreligion, or nearly the same, with his convert friends in Vermont,\nimmediately wrote in answer to Dr. Dilman, consenting to have Eugene go\nwith him. But there was to be no legal binding in the matter, and honor\nwas to be the only bond under which his younger brother was to be held\nbound.\n\nThe day now arrived for Eugene to part--alas! that it should be\nforever--from the society of his brother and sister. At first, some\nopposition was made by Patrick and Bridget; but when shown the letter of\ntheir brother Paul, they were reconciled to what they thought the\ntemporary separation. Eugene himself was calmed, and his sorrow turned\ninto joy, by being told that he was going towards where Paul was, and\nthat, like enough, he would meet him on his way.\n\n\"Can I see Paul there?\" said he, drying the tears that stood in his\neyes.\n\n\"Sartain you can. Don't you like that, Bob?\" said Reuben, who was in\nthe plot with Dilman.\n\n\"Well, I'll go, then,\" said the child. \"Good by, Bid; good by, Pat. You\nstay there till Paul and I come to see ye.\"\n\nAll the household of Reuben embraced Eugene, and made him some little\npresent, before he set out. An abundance of tears were shed by young and\nold, as the melancholy and thoughtful face of Eugene was seen by them\nfor the last time.\n\nTruth compels us to say a word or two in reference to the antecedents of\nthis reverend doctor of Presbyterianism into whose _protection_ this\ninnocent lamb was taken. Dr. Dilman was about sixty years old at this\ntime; and after having lived in some manner with his first wife for near\nthirty years, had lately taken out a bill of divorce by law against the\n\"old woman,\" to make room for a young _religious lady_ in his reverend\nbed. During his long life, he had changed his creed no less than nine\ntimes. He was first an Episcopalian; but having been refused ordination\nin that sect, on account of some peccadilloes of his youth, he joined\nthe Methodists, from whom he received conversion and a call. Being a man\nof undoubted talent, and thinking the Methodists were too slow in\npromoting him, he became a Baptist. His next hop was to the\nUniversalists, whom, because he found too penurious, he deserted for the\nCongregationalists, from whom he got a call to a southern pro-slavery\nchurch, where, after amassing considerable wealth in cash and \"human\nchattels,\" he resigned his charge, came to the north again to recruit\nhis sinking constitution, and, after trying two or three other minor\nsects, he settled down an old-school anti-slavery Presbyterian. Poor\nman! his star has gone down now, and his memory will soon be forgotten;\nbut the anecdotes and tales that his extraordinary life illustrated will\nnot be forgotten for generations to come. The passage in his study,\nthrough which he used to admit his \"Cressida\" from a secret door\ncommunicating with his \"basement church,\" is now shown as a specimen of\nhis skill. The transformations and metamorphoses he used to undergo,\nlike Jupiter of old, in order to pass unobserved to the retreats of his\n\"Europas,\" on the sides and on the summits of the classically-sounding\nhills of the city of his ministry,--all these things, and more, are\nknown to the poorest retailers of interesting stories and anecdotes. In\na word, he was as impure as Caligula, as cruel as Nero or Calvin\nhimself, and as violent as Luther or John Knox.\n\nYet it is a melancholy fact in connection with, and illustrative of, the\nspirit of the Protestantisms of the United States, that for twenty years\nand more, with all this guilt, with all the crimes in the calendar on\nhis head, with the full knowledge of all his sins of impurity,\nhypocrisy, intolerance, and cruelty to his wife, this _reverend\ngentleman_ was the most popular, well-supported, and _respected_\nminister in the whole state in which he resided. He was a good preacher,\nan eloquent expounder of the word, a smart man; that was enough.\nProtestantism could not afford to lose him now, when she was so spare of\nthe giants to which she owes her existence.\n\nThis was the Rev. Dr. Dilman who took Eugene under his care about whom\nReuben Prying remarked, after he had left the house, that the doctor was\na \"real smart man.\" \"Your church, Murty,\" said he, \"can't scare up such\na grand preacher as that. Did you hear that lecture he delivered last\nwinter against Popery? He is an honor to our church, I can tell you.\"\n\n\"Why so?\" said Murty; \"what has he done that you esteem him so high?\"\n\n\"Nothin', but bein' so eloquent and talented, and able to address such a\nfeeling prayer _to his hearers_.\"\n\n\"Bless you, I know one much more talented than ever he will be,\" said\nMurty.\n\n\"I guess not, Murty,\" said he, shaking his head; \"who is it?\"\n\n\"Why, the devil,\" said Murty, \"beats him all to pieces. Your parson only\nopposes the pope, you say; whereas the devil opposes both the pope and\nthe Almighty. What is any of your ministers to great 'Ould Harry'? I bet\nyou are beat now. Ha! ha! ha!\" said the Irishman, laughing.\n\n\"You are a curious feller, Murty,\" said Mr. Prying.\n\n\"Am I not right?\" said Murty. \"You praise your minister, _not_ because\nhe is good, charitable, humane, chaste, or pious, (all which he possibly\nmay be,) but solely because he is talented or endowed with genius. Well,\nthen, I tell you this gains him no merit, for he received this gift from\nGod. He may abuse it; and, at any rate, the devil, the very enemy of\nGod, is endowed with more genius than he and all the Protestant parsons\nliving put together. I think this is fair _arguing_, Mr. Prying, don't\nyou?\"\n\n\"Let's drop it, Murty,\" said Mr. Prying, not liking to hear any more of\nsuch \"arguing,\" particularly as the children were present, and seemed\nmuch to enjoy the home-spun comparison between the Dominie Dilman and\n\"Old Harry.\" This was the first time they were observed to laugh since\nthe departure of poor Eugene.\n\nMeanwhile, poor Eugene arrived in the city of the parsonage of his\nreverend protector, where he was received with apparent affection by\nthat gentleman's wife. During the first three days after his arrival,\nseveral of the \"saints,\" male and female, of the doctor's church, came\nto see the new acquisition, as well as to congratulate the parson on the\nsuccess of his plan. The little orphan was flattered, caressed, and\nencouraged by the promise of nice clothes and other presents. And it\nwould be unnatural to expect that the innocent heart of a child of his\nage, now between eight and nine years, could remain insensible to the\ncaresses and favors bestowed. The little lad felt quite content; nay, a\ngradual sunshine began to spread over the calm melancholy of his angelic\nface.\n\nThey first imposed on the child by telling him that his reverend\nprotector was the priest. He believed it for some time; but when, after\ntwo weeks were elapsed, he was permitted to go to church, he was\nperfectly surprised at \"the quare way the priest said mass.\" He saw no\ncandles lighted on the altar. He heard no little bell rung at various\nparts of the service. He saw no persons \"bless themselves\" there,\neither. \"I suppose,\" said he to himself, \"they would not tell a lie; but\nthat was a very strange mass I was at to-day.\"\n\nFriday came round soon after, and then little Eugene learned where he\nstood. Then he saw what hypocrites the self-styled priest, his wife, and\nall in his house were. He had perceived his reverence help himself\nplentifully to fat meat; and Eugene was invited to eat it himself, but\ndeclined, saying, \"I would be a Protestant if I eat meat on Friday; and\nI fear ye are all here Protestants.\" A suppressed laugh was all that his\nremark could elicit from these worthies whose gluttony gave him such\nscandal.\n\nEugene's eyes were further opened by some boys at school, who laughed\nheartily at his expense when he asked about the \"strange mass\" that he\nhad heard on Sunday.\n\n\"What mass?\" said they; \"sure it is only the Popish priests that offer\nmass, and it is a wicked thing to go to mass.\"\n\nThe poor child, on seeing the snare laid for him, burst into tears and\nwept aloud, calling for his brother Paul by name, and crying, \"O woe!\nwoe! woe!\"\n\nThe school madam was attracted by the lamentable cries of the lad, and,\nlearning the cause of them, reprimanded the impudent boys, and tried to\nconsole him. Her attempts were, however, in vain. The child seeing\nhimself sold and betrayed, his candid soul fell back to its former\nmelancholy, and he drooped under the weight of the injustice of which he\nwas the victim.\n\nFrom that day forward he refused to attend either the night prayers of\nthe \"false priest,\" or to go to any of his meetings, and to the hour of\nhis death this resolution could never be shaken by all the wiles of his\npersecutors. Several new arts and schemes were tried to vanquish his\nresolution, but all to no purpose. He was alternately coaxed and\nthreatened, but all attempts either to flatter or force him proved\nineffectual. He was several times locked up in a dark room, which was\nthe terror of a young nephew of the parson, who was in the house, but\nwhich had far less terror for this young confessor than the smiles of\nhis false friends. He was heard by young Sam, who often went to the door\nof the dread prison, chanting his favorite hymn, thus:--\n\n   \"Ave Maria! hear the prayer\n    Of thy poor, helpless child;\n    Beneath thy sweet, maternal care,\n    Preserve me undefiled.\"\n\nAnd when spoken to through the keyhole, he answered that he was not a\nbit afraid of \"Spookes,\" and that there was plenty of light for him to\nsay his prayers. Even the parson himself, in company with his wife, went\nto listen at the door of where their prisoner was confined, and for a\nmoment their hard hearts even were softened by the sweet, plaintive\nchant of the \"Ave Maria.\"\n\n\"Are you sorry for your disobedience, now, Eugene?\" said the parson;\n\"and will you attend prayers and meeting when you are told?\"\n\n\"I can't promise to do what would displease God, and what my brother\nPaul and the priest told me not to do, sir,\" said the child.\n\n\"Don't you know, Eugene, the priest is a wicked man, and the Lord will\npunish you in a dark dungeon, darker than that room you are in, if you\ndo not do what I tell you?\" added the persecuting parson.\n\nAll this talk was lost on poor Eugene, who continued chanting his little\nhymn, or repeating the \"Hail Mary\" and \"Holy Mary,\" for his father and\nmother's souls. In a word, after a series of whippings, confinements,\nand scoldings, after compelling him either to eat flesh on Friday, or\nfast all day without any other food, Parson Dilman, out of sheer shame,\ngave him up, and confessed himself vanquished by the Catholic child. He\ndid not give him up for good, however, but, by way of making more sure\nof his victim, he sent him out into the country, to undergo the\ntreatment of a more zealous and perfect disciplinarian than himself.\nThis pious Christian was no other than Shaw Gulvert, who was known to be\na prodigy of sanctity, and had a world of zeal in reconciling obstinate\nheretics, or pagans, (as he called all but his own sect,) to the true\nstandard of old Presbyterianism. He could boast of having most of the\nOld Testament by heart, making a prayer or \"asking a blessing\" of one\nhour's duration in the delivery; and by these virtues, and others he\nknew how to practise, every person who lived in his house, or came\nwithin the influence of his zeal, was sure \"to get religion in no time.\"\n'Tis true, he met some unlucky converts, and one or two very obstinate\nPapists whom he did not convert at all; but he soon despatched and\ndischarged these latter. And he was especially mortified at the conduct\nof one Tipperary man, named Burk, who had the audacity to bring the\npriest to say mass in a house which the latter rented from him. The\nhouse has ever since been locked up, the pious Christian, Mr. Shaw\nGulvert, preferring to let it rot and totter in ruin, rather than run\nthe risk of having a Catholic tenant, who, like Burk, would be wicked\nenough to allow the priest inside the threshold.\n\nThis is the gentleman who is intrusted with the conversion of poor\nEugene O'Clery, the Irish emigrant orphan; and he set about the work in\nright earnest fashion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nTHE SAME, CONTINUED.\n\n\nDuring the first two months, Eugene had comparatively but little to fear\nfrom the bigotry of his protector at Greenditch; but he was not indebted\nfor this limited peace to the generosity of Mr. Shaw Gulvert. Indeed,\nthat ignorant and cruel man dared not to execute his designs regarding\nthe little confessor of the cross, while his two hired men, named\nDevlin, were in his house to enlighten his ignorance and reprimand his\naudacity. These two young men, brothers, were hired for a year by\nGulvert, under the impression that they were native born; but after the\ncontract between them was signed, and especially when Friday came on,\nMr. Gulvert found he was _gulled_, and ran off to the parson, one\nWaistcoat, to see what was to be done. The young men told him not to be\nalarmed if he thought their presence would endanger his peace of mind,\nor that any dangerous consequences were to be apprehended from two such\nformidable soldiers of the Pope as they were; that he could easily get\nrid of them by paying them their year's wages, and they would go\nelsewhere to work; but that, while in his house, they insisted on\nperfect religious and mental independence. \"And in future,\" said they,\n\"we expect to see cooked and on the table, on Fridays and fast days,\nsuch food as we can partake of without scruple of conscience, or\nviolating the rules of the Catholic religion, of which we are unworthy\nmembers.\"\n\n\"This is strange,\" said Gulvert; \"why did you not tell me ye belonged to\nRome, and were Irish?\"\n\n\"Why did we not tell you? Because you did not ask us. And besides, boss,\nyou hired us to work, and not to worship or believe according to your\nnotion.\"\n\n\"I have never before kept a Papist to work for me,\" said he, drawing a\nheavy sigh.\n\n\"Well, boss, you can't know much about them, then. Perhaps you will be\nagreeably disappointed, and find that, if we do not join your very long\nprayers, we will _work_ as well as the most red-hot Presbyterian.\"\n\n\"I am much in doubt about that,\" said the boss.\n\n\"Why so, boss? Can we not handle the plough, use the scythe, or the\ncradle as well as if we were of your school of heresy?\"\n\n\"I allow; but the good book says that 'men don't gather grapes of\nthorns, or figs of thistles;' so I am afraid my crops would not prosper,\nif religious men were not employed in my fields.\"\n\n\"O, you need not be alarmed, boss. God makes his sun to shine on the\ngood and the bad; and though we Papists appear very wicked in your pious\nPresbyterian eyes, or in those of your amiable Methodist lady here, we\nwill guaranty your crops will be as good as those of your neighbors,\notherwise we will ask no pay. Ain't this fair?\"\n\n\"Yes; but the good book, you know. The Bible says so plainly,\" answered\nthe wife, \"that men gather not grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles.\"\n\n\"Bless you, madam,\" said the elder Devlin, \"you are mistaken in the\nmeaning of that text, which has a figurative sense, and has no reference\nto corn, pumpkins, rye, or any other crop that your farm produces.\"\n\nShe shook her head in dissent to this speech, and in a most sanctified\ntone said, \"Our minister, Dr. Waistcoat, always applied that text to the\nPapists when advising us against employing Romanist hired help.\"\n\n\"That only proved him a booby, madam,\" said Devlin. \"That text partly\nalludes to the Presbyterian sect, and partly to the Methodist, to which\nyou belong.\"\n\n\"I would like to see how you can show that,\" said she, affecting great\nlearning in such interpretations.\n\n\"As clear as mud, madam,\" resumed Devlin. \"The Presbyterian religion is\nthe 'thorn' tree on which no 'grapes' grow; for that sect reject the\nHoly Eucharist, containing the blood of Christ, of which the grape is a\nfigure. It is full of thorns, for it persecutes and stings the head of\nthe Savior in his representative the pope; and it produces no 'grape,'\nno sacrament, no good works, no refreshing food or drink. Again: the\n'thistle,' that produces no figs, is the Methodist religion; because,\nthough it has plenty of stings and prickles to wound the hand that\ntouches it, the very ass that goes the road can bite off its head. Or,\nin other words, though ye Methodists are malicious enough, all your\nmalice is harmless to the church, and a very fool can refute or crop\nthe most formidable of your arguments.\"\n\nThis queer _private interpretation_ disconcerted the _learned_ boss and\nhis better half, and during the remainder of the service of the Devlins\nthey did not hear much more about the religious interpretations of these\nprofessors of two contradictory sectarian creeds. The Devlins showed,\nnot only to the boss and his wife, that they knew more about the Bible\nthan themselves, but the minister, Mr. Waistcoat, was soon convinced, by\nconversation with them, that they were not to be duped. The consequence\nwas, that the persecution to which Eugene was subjected was arrested for\na time; and it was not till after the Devlins were paid off that this\ninnocent child was again subjected to a series of punishments and brutal\ntreatment without parallel in the records of modern persecution.\n\nEvery Friday that the young confessor refused, after the example of holy\nEleazer, \"to eat flesh, or go over to the life of the heathens,\" (2 Mac.\nvi. 24.) he was compelled to go without food till the Sunday following.\nHe was flogged with a \"black snake,\" till the blood flowed in rills,\nevery time he refused going to meeting. He was compelled to stand out\nunder rain and storm, scorching sun and chilling frost, during the time\nthe family spent in prayer. Yes, tied with a thong to the pump by his\nlittle soft, white hands, the juvenile martyr had to bear the merciless\nviolence of the elements, or consent to share in the blasphemous prayers\nof his persecutors! And, O God! worse than all, they robbed him of his\nrosary, and of the little bunch of shamrocks which were the only legacy\nof his dying mother to him, and which his sister Bridget and he took so\nmuch pains to keep alive in a small glass vase brought from Ireland. The\n\"_Agnus Dei_\" and \"_Gospel_\" which it is usual with Irish Catholic\nchildren to wear around the neck, were also forcibly stripped off his\nperson and put into the stove.\n\nAll his much-prized memorials were now gone--his beads, or rosary, with\nthe crucifix attached, to remind him of his Redeemer; his little vase of\nshamrocks, to remind him of Ireland and St. Patrick; and his \"Gospel of\nSt. John,\" and \"Agnus Dei,\" to recall to his mind his dignity and\nobligations as a believer in the gospel of Jesus Christ, and his\nconfidence in the Lamb of God who took away his sins. These constituted\nall the riches and treasure of Eugene, and of these he was plundered and\nstripped ere he was confined in the old deserted house that stood a few\nrods away from the dwelling house, and where soon all the persecutions\nhe suffered were terminated.\n\nOne evening in October, the team of Mr. Gulvert broke loose from the\npost to which they were tied while he was at meeting, and, taking\nfright, rushed along at full speed on a narrow by-road by the river that\nran through the village, till, coming in contact with the root of a tree\nthat protruded from the road, the horses and wagon were precipitated\nover a fall of some twenty feet into the channel of the river beneath.\nAs the night was dark, and the road the animals took in their furious\ncourse was not known, it was not till next morning that the fate of the\nteam was discovered, though not only Gulvert himself, but his hired\nhelp, including his servant girl and wife even, were out all night on\nthe search for them.\n\nIf the most unexpected calamity had visited these _enlightened_\nChristians--if two of their children, instead of two of their horses,\nhad met with a sudden death,--their grief could not be more heartrending\nor despairing than on this occasion. The whole family was in an uproar.\nThere were wringing of hands, lamentable cries, and bewailings the most\nbitter, of the death of the best team in the town of Greenditch. The\nvery children, down to the youngest of six years old, joined their tears\nto those of their parents and the adult members of the family. Not a\nwink was slept, not a morsel of victuals cooked, nor even a fire kindled\nin Mr. Culvert's house that night, and it was more than a week before\nthe pious Mrs. Gulvert could be consoled or prevailed on to show herself\ndown stairs. She was either really sick, or affected sickness, so that\nit was doubted whether or not she could survive the loss of her \"darling\nteam.\" O, what a loss was there! \"The team would fetch two hundred\ndollars between two brothers, and it was only last month the new wagon\ncost seventy or eighty dollars; and all now gone.\"\n\n\"What a misfortune that I went out to hear that preacher at all on the\nSabbath!\" said Gulvert. \"Had I remained at home, or walked down to\nmeeting, I would be three hundred dollars richer to-day than I am now.\"\n\n\"Pa, where were the two Paddies, Pete and Bill, that they did not mind\nthe team while you were in meeting?\" said young Harry.\n\n\"Hang the cusses, Harry! They wanted to hear the preacher, too,\"\nanswered the father.\n\n\"If I were you, pa,\" said little Libby, \"I would keep the price of the\nhosses out of Pete and Bill's wages, the ugly fellows, that did not mind\nand keep the team from running away.\"\n\n\"That would be but sarving 'em right, Lib,\" said her mother, heaving a\nsigh.\n\n\"Yes, wife,\" said Gulvert, \"that I would gladly do; but you know they\nare in my debt. I will be glad enough if they wait to work out the money\nthat I have advanced them.\"\n\n\"You didn't _advance_ them money, did you, Gulvert?\" said his wife.\n\n\"Yes, I did that,\" said he, \"by the advice of that old fool Parson\nWaistcoat, who expected, as he succeeded in converting Pete and Bill\nKurney, that he would also convert the rest of their friends, if they\nwere out here from Popish Ireland.\"\n\n\"O Gulvert,\" said his better half, sobbing again anew, \"you will kill\nme! I cannot live with you, that is the amount of it! How dare you, sir,\nlend money, or dispose, of my means, without first having consulted me!\nI lay my death at your door!\" she added, in a sharp, angry tone.\n\n\"Dear wife, don't blame me----\"\n\n\"Away, old man!\" she interrupted, \"away, and leave me here to despair! I\nfear I will never again leave this bed; and if I find myself able, I\nshall never after spend a day in your house, but go back to my native\nstate, and take out a bill of divorce against a man who knows nothing\nbut to spend and squander the means of his family.\"\n\n\"O ma,\" said Libby, \"do go away from father, the ugly fool, and I will\ngo with you, won't I?\"\n\n\"He ain't nothing else, sis,\" said she, \"but a poor ugly fool, a\nshiftless, good-for-nothing old man. O, me! O, me! I could easily have\nknown that this would be the case, from the dreams I had for two\nnights.\"\n\n\"I had a dream too, ma,\" said sis, who, though only going in her eighth\nyear, was perfectly well versed in all the arcana of the science of\ninterpretation. \"I dreamed I saw you crying, ma,\" continued Lib, \"and\nthat there was blood on the stairs, and all way up garret, and that\nShaw, my father, had spilt the blood all round.\"\n\n\"That's just it, sis,\" said her mother; \"the blood signifies the death\nof our 'darling team;' my crying is on account of them; and Shaw, the\nfool, your father, was the cause of all this trouble, and that is why he\nappeared to you to spill the blood. My dream was not so clear as yours,\nbut I could have guessed that something was going to be the matter.\"\n\nPoor Gulvert was in great pain, in consequence, among other things, of\nthe oft-repeated threat of his wife to separate from him; and, to give\nvent to his sorrowful reflections, he went up garret as quietly as he\ncould, and folding himself up in several heavy \"comforters,\" or padded\nquilts, he forgot his grief by falling into a sound sleep. Meantime Pete\nand Bill Kurney, the two Irish converts of Parson Waistcoat, seeing\nthings in confusion, thought that now was the time for them to free\nthemselves forever from the hypocrisy, as well as bad board, of Mr.\nCulvert; and, to add to the grief of Mrs. Gulvert, next morning they\nwere not to be had. These knowing fellows, hearing of Gulvert's\ncharacter, put themselves in his way, and being questioned as to the\nnature of their doctrines, and finding them suitable to his taste, he\nhired them, and brought them home to work on his farm. They not only\nbecame \"converts\" during the first week in his house, but went to\nmeeting regularly, where they were complimented on their highmindedness\nand independence in shaking off Popery, and got frequent chances to tell\ntheir experience. Besides their hypocrisy, these were thorough\nscoundrels; for they not only robbed their employer of the two hundred\ndollars which he had advanced them to bring out their parents from the\nold country, but in addition to this, and to the severity of the\npunishments which their apostasy occasioned Eugene, these consummate\nmiscreants seduced the two sisters of Mr. Gulvert, one of them an old\nmaid, whom they imposed upon by their lying representations and profane\ndiscourses. Here was a little more of the natural fruit of Mr. Gulvert's\ngreat zeal for his sect. His two hired men were gone, without having\nserved one eighth of the two years they had agreed to work for the money\nadvanced to them; both his sisters, _pious things_, yielding to\ntemptation, were in a fair road to disgrace; and, to cap the climax of\nthe unfortunate man's guilt and remorse, Eugene O'Clery, neglected in\nhis prison in the old house, on the morning of All Saints' day, first of\nNovember, was found dead on its damp floor! Yes, this spotless,\ninnocent, and almost infant but heroic confessor of Christ, after a\ncourse of worse than pagan persecution continued for more than two\nyears, in the midst of legions of blessed spirits passed out of this\nworld, to add to the joy and glory of heaven by his heroic virtues. O ye\nmock philanthropists, ye lovers, on the lip, of freedom of conscience,\nwhere was your voice, where your sympathy, where your indignation, where\nyour meetings, speeches, and resolutions, when this Catholic child, this\ndestitute orphan, this noble son of Catholic Ireland, this spotless\nconfessor and glorious martyr of Christ, was being sacrificed, like his\ndivine Master, to the demon of cruel sectarianism? O, the blood of this\ninnocent Abel, of this infant martyr, shed by the cruel Herod of\nPresbyterianism, will cry to Heaven for vengeance on your heads, and\nbring a curse on your hypocrisy and dissimulation.\n\nThe news of Eugene's death, communicated by the servant maid, created a\nsudden fear, but very little sympathy, in the brutal family of Mr.\nGulvert. Overwhelmed by the loss of their \"darling team,\" and confounded\nby the loss of the money which the mock converts succeeded in cheating\nthem of, they had neither tears nor sympathy to spare for such a trifle\nas the death of a \"little Papist child.\"\n\nThe servant girl, however, who was a Scotch lassie, called Jane McHardy,\ncried bitterly over the death of the \"poor orphan laddie,\" and, in\ncompany with two neighboring workmen, or cotters, who _passed_ for\nProtestant Irishmen, watched around the corpse all night, and on the\nday of its interment in the pagan cemetery, situated in a barren corner\nof Gulvert's farm, they lingered for a considerable time around the\nspot, to the scandal of the religious people who assembled to take a\nlook at the \"face of the dead,\" and who began to suspect that those two\npretended Protestants were Catholics in disguise. Their suspicions were\nwell founded, as their subsequent conduct proved; for the two cotters,\non the Sunday following Eugene's death, went to the meeting house for\nthe last time, where they, in giving their experience, boldly professed\nthemselves Catholics, asked pardon of the people for having deceived and\nimposed on the public, inveighing, at the same time, against the system\nof persecution and underhand proselytism that prevailed, and which\nproduced the death of Eugene O'Clery.\n\n\"Your ministers think they have great merit,\" said the Irish cotters,\nwhose names were Lee and Twohy, \"when they succeed in causing a lax\nCatholic to trample on every precept of his religion and to perjure\nhimself; but as God is just, and as those who counsel to evil partake of\nits guilt, and will have to suffer its punishment, so will all the sins\nthat your minister's cruel advice led us to commit be laid to his charge\nbefore the just tribunal of Christ.\"\n\nAfter this speech, the two Irish Catholic cotters retired from the\nmeeting, and ever since these two men have proved, by their repentance,\nzeal, humility, and perseverance, that, though they fell from the\nexternal practice of their faith, they did so influenced by the evil\nadvice and misrepresentations of persons who took advantage of their\ninexperience and poverty to lead them astray. They were gradually,\nhowever, becoming reconciled to the hard life of hypocrisy and sin which\nthey were induced to enter on, and might have forever continued in the\nreprobate path on which, in an evil hour, they walked, had not the cruel\nmartyrdom of the holy orphan child aroused them from their slumbers.\nThus, as of old, does the \"blood of martyrs become the seed of new\nChristians;\" and thus is Erin, even in America, still true to her\nHeaven-appointed destiny--which is, that of being a missionary and a\nmartyr in the new world as well as in the old.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\n  \"Considerate, et videte si est dolor sicut dolor meus.\"\n  \"Attend, and see if there be any sorrow like to my sorrow.\"\n\n     LAM. JER.\n\n\nThere was a complete suspension of the ordinary occupations on the farm\nof Gulvert for near ten days, owing to the trials with which his family\nwas visited. The wife was still confined to her room, and continually\nthreatening her husband with the divorce, who, on his part, had no heart\nto conduct the necessary work of his farm, he felt so dispirited at the\nloss of his team and of the money out of which \"his converts\" had\ntricked him. Add to this that there were very ugly rumors going the\nround of the neighborhood in reference to the ill usage the little Irish\norphan met with. While he was living and in suffering, there was nobody\nto sympathize with him or to say a word in his favor; but now, when that\nsympathy could do him no good, according to the custom of modern\nphilanthropy, there was an abundance on hand, and the conduct of Shaw\nGulvert, as the agent of Parson Waistcoat, was censured by a thousand\ntongues. This is characteristic of Protestant charity: when one is dying\nof hunger, or forced to beg a crum of bread, she shuts her ears, and\npoints to the prison or poorhouse, as the only proper retreat for\nwhoever is compelled to commit the _sin_ of mendicity; but no sooner\ndoes the victim of her own neglect or misdirected benevolence die, no\nsooner is he out of the reach of all human relief, than the heralds of\nProtestant charity gather round his tomb, to proffer their assistance,\naid, and liberality--like the Jews building the tombs of the prophets\nput to death by their own malice.\n\nThis was the case in the instance here related. Some were for having the\nbody of the martyred Eugene exhumed, to see if there were any marks of\nviolence visible. Some proposed to raise a collection to have a monument\nraised on his grave, and all unanimously condemned Gulvert's cruelty to\nthe \"dear little child.\" What principally turned the current and force\nof public opinion against Gulvert was, that he was impudent enough to go\nand demand restitution of Parson Waistcoat, of the money that, on\naccount of his recommendation, he advanced to the runaway converts. And\nthe parson, to be revenged on Gulvert, on next meeting day called on the\ncongregation for their prayers, to save said Gulvert from the relapsing\ngulf into which he had fallen. The parson, enraged at being held\naccountable for the money lost by Gulvert, through his own \"want of\ngodliness,\" as he termed it, and incensed on account of Gulvert's\ndeclaration of deserting his church, held him up continually as a stray\nsheep, and already, if not lost, far advanced on the broad way to\nperdition. In the midst of this excitement, the progress of public\nfeeling against Gulvert was suddenly checked by the following\nafflicting and sudden accidents.\n\nThe wife of Gulvert, being a Boston lady, of course was altogether in\nfavor of the Sons of Temperance; but, by some means or other, she\nhappened always to keep a little in the house for medicinal purposes. It\nwas well known, among the well informed, that this lady, having been\n\"jilted,\" or, in other words, deceived, by a merchant in her native\ncity, who promised to marry her, was subject to frequent melancholy\nattacks, and on these occasions especially did she make use of\n\"medicinal brandy.\" She suffered from one of these periodical attacks\nnow, and, consequently, the medicinal glass was always within her reach.\nOn the small stand by her bed stood two tumblers, one containing the\nmedicinal \"eau de vie,\" and the other was half full of vinegar.\n\nShe ordered Jane, on this fatal day, to pour a little laudanum into that\ntumbler that contained the vinegar, to see if, by applying it to her\ntemples, it would not allay the terrible headache which she said had\ntormented her. Instead of pouring the poison into the vinegar glass,\nwhere would the Scotch Abigail empty the cruet but into the tumbler with\nthe brandy in it? Her mistress soon after quaffed off the liquor into\nwhich the poisonous drug had been poured, and in an hour after she was a\nlifeless corpse. This was not all; for, on the day of the funeral, young\nHarry, Mr. Gulvert's son and heir, in order to show his devotion to his\nbeloved parent's remains, was all the morning busy in collecting flowers\nwith which to deck the room where she was laid in state, and,\nattempting to reach a flower that grew out of the side of a deep,\ndeserted well, in the lower end of the garden, the little fellow fell in\nand was drowned. \"When the feet of them who buried\" Mrs. Gulvert \"were\nat the door,\" they found out the corpse of Harry was at the bottom of\nthe well. It was a long time before any body could be induced to go into\nthat well, as well because it was very deep as on account of the\nprevalent report in the neighborhood that Gulvert's father had killed a\nnegro and cast him into the well, with heavy weights attached to him.\nAfter several unsuccessful attempts to raise the body, they at length\nsucceeded, by the aid and undaunted courage of a young man who was just\nafter riding up to the crowd, and who, on learning the cause of such a\ngathering, generously volunteered to go into the well, notwithstanding\nthe hints he received from some of the bystanders that the \"nigger\" was\nat the bottom. In a few minutes Paul O'Clery was at the bottom of the\n\"enchanted well,\" and, amid shouts of \"Bravo!\" and \"Well done!\" almost\ninstantly returned, with the lifeless body of little Harry in his arms.\nBut what's this that he finds tangled in the drowned child's hands? It\nis surely the beads of his beloved mother, which she bequeathed as her\ndying legacy to his youngest brother Eugene. How did it get into the\nwell? He trembled visibly as it struck his mind that possibly Eugene\nmight have fallen in too.\n\n\"Are you sure there is nobody else in?\" said he to the bystanders.\n\n\"No, there ain't nobody else in,\" said Gulvert; \"all we have left, now,\nare around here.\"\n\n\"And how came this relic to get into the well?\" said Paul. \"I think I\nsaw this before.\"\n\n\"That? O, that's a toy that a young Papist orphan which we had used to\nsay his prayers on.\"\n\n\"And where is that orphan now? O, tell me, where is he? For God's sake\ntell me, where is my beloved brother?\" exclaimed Paul.\n\n\"He is dead.\"\n\n\"O, don't mock me, but tell me the truth. I assure you I am a brother of\nthe orphan child, Eugene O'Clery. What has become of him?\"\n\n\"We do not joke, my young gentleman,\" said an aged man in the crowd.\n\"Your brother, the orphan you allude to, died suddenly on the night of\nthe first of this month, and was interred in yon mound on the second of\nthe month.\"\n\n\"O Lord! O Lord! grant me patience. O my brother! O Eugene! O beloved\nchild of our hearts! what has become of you? Did you die on your bed, or\nmeet with an accident? or how did these beads you loved so well come\ninto this horrid, pestiferous well? O, woe is me! Why did I ever let you\nout of my sight? Why did I not remain in servitude and slavery, rather\nthan let you into the care of the cruel, false-hearted stranger? O\nvillanous deceiver! O infamous prevaricator! Parson Dilman, why did I\nlisten to your seductive promises?\"\n\nThe reader may imagine, for we cannot adequately describe, the burden\nof woe and grief which took possession of the soul of Paul when he found\nthat his darling brother, on whose account he suffered so much anxiety\nand came such a distance, was gone forever from his sight. And when he\nlearned how he died; how, after countless tortures, by whippings, by\nhunger, and by confinement, the delicate martyr of Christ was allowed to\nperish on the damp floor of an old, deserted house; how he was deprived\nof the memorials of his faith and country; how he was buried with as\nlittle ceremony, and as much indifference, as if he had been an\nirrational animal,--when he learned all these circumstances from the two\nIrish cotters, Lee and Twohy, it took him to pray continually not to\nyield to feelings of hatred and revenge.\n\nA circumstance related to him, however, by the peasants, whose\nhospitality Paul consented to avail himself of for a few days, served to\nreconcile him to Eugene's fate, and to inspire him with the most exalted\nsentiments of forgiveness and good will towards the murderers of his\nbrother. Every night since Eugene's burial a bright column of light was\nseen rising from his tomb, and terminating in the heavens above, where\nthe column became gradually wider, till it became like a wide circle of\nglory, similar to that which appears around the moon on a winter's\nnight, when the atmosphere is at the snowing temperature. In the centre\nof the circle appeared a beautiful cross of most perfect proportions,\nand so bright in the bright circle that it was perfectly dazzling, and\nthe sight could with difficulty be fixed on it for an instant.\n\nThis phenomenon was seen by the two Irish cotters frequently, and all\nthe neighbors around had observed the lower part of the column, but\nconcluded that it was phosphorus, which, they said, from some cause or\nother, either the nature of the soil or from the bodies interred there,\nascended to the clouds, attracted by some atmospheric body there. Paul,\ntoo, was blessed with this happy sight, but without indulging in the\ngratification of a too curious or protracted observation of this vision;\nand being fully convinced that it was no phosphoric combination of\nnatural phenomena, concluded to take off the body of his beloved\nbrother, and have it interred, in a Christian manner, in the same\nconsecrated tomb in which the remains of his father reposed. He was also\nfortunate enough, by the payment of a liberal bonus, to succeed in\nraising the body of his mother, whose tomb he was able to find out, by a\nmeasurement which, on the day of her interment, he had made, and from\ncertain stones placed by him at the head of her coffin.\n\nThus, by the piety of a son and a brother, were the three bodies of\nthese members of this pious and renowned family united again after a\ntemporary separation. \"Lovely and comely in their life, even in death\nthey were not divided.\" In a Catholic cemetery, in the vicinity of New\nYork, can now be seen a beautiful monument of Italian marble, with the\nnames, ages, and places of the nativity of Arthur O'Clery, and his wife\nCecilia, and their son Eugene, inscribed in a neat cruciform slab in one\nof the faces of the monument. In another slab are carved, in \"bold\nrelief,\" the little vase of shamrocks brought by the family from\nIreland, together with the _Rosary and Cross_, suspended from the hand\nof the virgin holding the child. On the third square of the tomb is\nconspicuous a figure of Erin, holding in her right hand a crucifix, and\nwith the left hand pointing it to her children, with the words, \"_Sola\nspes nostra, ubi crux ibi patria_\"--\"This is our only hope; wherever the\ncross is honored, call that your country.\"\n\nAfter having seen to the proper execution of all things in reference to\nthe tomb of his family, Paul O'Clery, with a heavy heart, returned to\nacquaint his little brother Patrick and sister Bridget about the fate of\nEugene. He did not forget, however, before quitting the last\nresting-place of his parents and brother, to have the grave fenced round\nwith a neat iron rail; and fixing all inside the fence in the form of\ntwo pretty flower beds, he, with his own hands, carefully planted the\nroots of the shamrocks which were brought from Ireland, and which he\nluckily found in Mr. Gulvert's kitchen garden, where they had been\nthrown, after having been taken from Eugene. And to this very day these\nshamrocks flourish--neither frost, nor cold, nor parching heat, nor\ninclement seasons being able to retard their growth; as if their verdure\nand flourishing vegetation were supplied from the pure and genuine\nIrish clay to which the bodies of the three O'Clerys have been long\nsince reduced.\n\nPaul now saw his people reduced by more than one half. When they left\nIreland, they were seven in number; now they were only three. He was too\nwell trained in Christian resignation, however, to repine at what\nevidently appeared to him the dispensation of Heaven. After the example\nof holy Job, therefore, he praised the Lord, to whom, if he deprived him\nof his good parents, he was also indebted for being placed under the\ncare of such patterns of virtue. These several trials, and the\nconsequent distractions in which they involved him, made him more\ndisgusted than ever with the world; and his desire to consecrate himself\nto God in the holy priesthood became stronger and stronger every day.\nThe Almighty seemed to have some special mission in view for this\nspotless child of St. Patrick, when his mercy had conducted him, like\nthe children in the fiery furnace, so early through such meritorious\ntrials and sufferings, as it requires the most faithful correspondence\nwith grace to endure, and it falls to the lot of a few to encounter.\n\nThe end of all his difficulties and trials had now arrived. From this\nday forward the breeze that bore him along in his ecclesiastical voyage\nbecame fairer and fairer, till, advancing from virtue to virtue, and\nhonor to honor, he became the glory of the church, and exercised such\ninfluence on the destinies of his countrymen and of those committed to\nhis charge, that he might adopt the language of Joseph to his brethren:\n\"God hath sent me before you into Egypt, that you may be preserved on\nthe earth, and have _food to live_.\" (Gen. xlv. 7.) But this is\nanticipating what naturally should have its place at the conclusion of\nour narrative.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nTHE DESERTED HOME OF THE ORPHANS.\n\n\n\"Now,\" said Murty O'Dwyer, one Sunday evening, as all the members of the\nPrying family were seated around the tea table, \"will any body doubt the\nusefulness of confession? The very robber who, while under the influence\nof drink and evil advice, plundered the widow O'Clery and her orphans of\ntheir money, has returned from the scorching plains of the south, in\nobedience to the advice of the priest to whom he confessed, to make\nrestitution; and he has made it.\"\n\n\"It beats all I ever heard,\" said Mr. Prying.\n\n\"That is only an ordinary occurrence with Catholics,\" rejoined Murty.\n\"Thousands of dollars, and I might say millions of money, are yearly\nrestored to those to whom it belongs, through the influence of this\ndivine institution.\"\n\n\"I wonder what has Paul done with the rest of the money, after paying\nfor the board of himself and his sister and brothers?\" said Calvin.\n\n\"He has given me two hundred of it,\" said Murty, \"to compensate me for\nwhat I lost on account of the malice of Dominie Boorman, the\nPresbyterian, because I could not believe according to his cruel code of\nirreligion. He paid one hundred dollars for masses for the soul of poor\nCunningham, who died of fever and ague one week after his having made\nthe restitution. Two thousand, I believe, Paul paid into the convent\nwhere his sister Bridget has gone to become a nun. And the rest, I\nbelieve, he spent in raising an elegant monument over his parents and\nbeloved Eugene's remains. O, yes, I forgot; he paid five hundred dollars\ntowards the new Catholic church, S.A., where his convert friends\nreside.\"\n\n\"It is to me the strangest thing on earth,\" said old Mrs. Prying, \"how\nliberal these Catholics are in paying to the support of their religion.\nWhere on earth do they get the means to put up such costly buildings as\nthey have erected in scores, within my own knowledge, these past five\nyears?\"\n\n\"So far from this being strange,\" said Murty, \"madam, it is the most\nnatural thing in the world. We know the Catholic religion is true. We\nknow it has God for its Author, and that through its teachings all men\nmust be saved that will be saved. Knowing this, we understand the merit\nof supporting such an institution. What is the whole world to a man if\nhe lose his soul? and how can a man save his soul, if true religion be\nwanting?\"\n\n\"Ah, what a noble critter that Bridget O'Clery was!\" said Calvin,\nchanging the subject to her whose image stood uppermost in his mind,\n\"What a pity,\" he continued, \"that she should ever become a nun! Do nuns\never get married, Murty?\"\n\n\"Don't you know so much yet, Calvin? Certainly, they never do get\nmarried. They vow to consecrate their hearts forever to God. In fact,\nthey anticipate, here in this life, what all the blessed do in the next\nlife--to live in God, and for God. I think the life of a holy nun,\" said\nMurty, kindling into enthusiasm, \"is superior to that of an angel, and\nthe merit far greater.\"\n\nHere it is as well to state that Calvin Prying, of late years, lost all\nthat zeal for stiff Presbyterianism that possessed him in his younger\ndays,--an ordinary occurrence with American Protestant young men,--and\nthat, instead of his former zeal, he now had the utmost indifference, if\nnot contempt, for the teachers of the hard creed of his cruel namesake\nof Geneva. He had a heart, too; and though a phlegmatic and a rude one,\nit could not remain insensible to the chaste charms and virtuous beauty\nof Bridget O'Clery. For years this feeling was growing on him--the\nexhortations, and lectures, and advices of little Parson Gulmore to the\ncontrary notwithstanding. In a word, though she was \"Irish\" and a\npauper, in the slang of parsons and officials, and though the vulgar\nlittle dominie was continually ridiculing the Irish and the Catholics,\nCalvin saw that Bridget was beautiful in countenance, and light as a\nhumming bird in heart--circumstances which insensibly made an impression\non the rude material of which his own was made, creating there a feeling\nof love bordering on admiration and distant esteem. No sooner, however,\ndid it reach his ears that the money was restored to the orphans, and he\nwas told that Bridget was likely to have a portion of some thousands of\ndollars, than his former esteem and admiration, as if by magic art, was\nturned into love. And now, who dare say word against her? and how low,\ncontemptible, and wicked the counsels of Parson Gulmore, who attempted\nto prejudice him against such a treasure, such a model of every virtue,\nsuch an angel, as she \"always appeared to him to be\"! He would have\ncheerfully \"accepted the hand\" of the poor \"Irish\" orphan when that hand\nhad some thousands of gold dollars in its beauteous grasp. The Yankee is\nnot remarkable for having an eye for the beautiful in nature or art; but\nwhen _dimes_ and _dollars_ are in prospective, none is more penetrating\nor sharpsighted than he. Beautiful paintings, cathedrals, the noblest\ncreations of the chisel, the most enchanting landscapes have just as\nmuch attraction for his genius as they can be made available \"for making\nmoney,\" and no more. It was from the same principle that Calvin Prying's\nlove for Bridget O'Clery originated. Hence he was highly enraged at the\nidea of her going into a convent, and had a strong notion in his head to\ncall a \"public mass meeting,\" and pass resolutions against the\nconstitutionality of allowing young ladies of respectable fortunes to\nenter convents. Indeed, he so far succeeded in creating an excitement in\nhis favor about deterring Bridget from entering the convent, as to get,\nby the payment of a small sum, one of the daily papers of the city to\nwrite an article in his favor, entitled \"_Abduction_!\" During a few\ndays, the editor of the same filthy sheet repeated his scurrilous\nattacks on Catholicity, not forgetting to squirt a good deal of his dirt\non the Rev. Dr. Ugo, whom he blamed for encouraging the girl's\nvocation, and thus depriving the _hungry_ Presbyterian Calvin of a fair\nwife and a handsome fortune.\n\nThere was no great tumult created, however. Election was approaching,\nand that absorbed all the excitable matter of the people, in spite of\nthe newspapers. The disputes and defences of the faith which Murty\nO'Dwyer had to maintain since the departure of the young, \"beautiful\nIrish girl,\" as Bridget was called, were many and critical; but an event\nnow happened, that fanned the latent but active anti-Catholic fire into\na furious flame.\n\nOne evening, at supper, after the news arrived at R---- Valley that Paul\nO'Clery was not only a priest, but stationed in the second city then in\nthe Union, Amanda, casting her malicious eye at her youngest sister\nMary, on whose calm cheek she saw, and seemed to envy, the innocent\nblush that started there, on having heard the paragraph alluding to Paul\nread and commented on, thus addressed her:--\n\n\"Ah, Mary, what do you say, now, to Paul, who is forever estranged from\nyou? for he is not only a priest, but a missionary among the 'Irish,'\nand, of course, can never care about you again.\"\n\n\"I am glad to hear he is a priest,\" said Mary, in a gentle voice; \"for I\nbelieve he will be more happy so than in any other situation in life. I\nam sure I wish him happy, for he was ever good and amiable.\"\n\n\"But yet,\" rejoined the old maid, \"he never made you any return for all\nyour fondness for him. He never writes you any loving letters, nor\ncares whether you are living or dead, or else he would write, or send\nyou some tokens of friendship.\"\n\n\"You know a little too much, Amanda,\" said Mary. \"I never asked him to\nwrite; and I know he loves me so far as to pray for me, and that's all\nhe ever pretended to; and as for presents, I do not covet them, as I\nhave got this beautiful one, a miniature of the mother of God, set in\ngold, which Paul presented to me when here last. See it here,\" she said,\ndrawing it from her bosom. \"I would not give this for all the presents\nin New York.\"\n\n\"Idolatry! idolatry!\" cried out Amanda. \"Idolatry!\" cried out Calvin and\nthe rest of the family. \"Idolatry! yes, as the Lord liveth,\" groaned a\nhollow, dramatic voice, as he entered by the woodshed way to the dining\nroom. It was that of Rev. Mr. Gulmore, who after a long absence, hearing\nthe Romanizing tendencies that threatened to desolate this once stanch\nPresbyterian family, came, he said, \"with his sickle,\" to cut down the\ncockles, and \"weed out this once fertile but now overgrown garden.\"\n\n\"What is this I have been hearing?\" thundered the little thick man,\nstamping on the floor. \"Is it possible that my senses deceive me? or\nhave I heard and seen the daughter of my friend, my Orthodox--once\nOrthodox--friend, draw forth her idolatrous bawble from her American\nbosom, and defend its use and veneration with her tongue? Is this true?\nTell me! Speak!\"\n\nThere was a short pause after this short declamation, delivered in the\nmost passionate form. At length, Mr. Prying, senior, coolly answered,\n\"Yes, Mr. Gulmore, I 'spect Mary is lost to your church, and inclined to\nthe Catholic system.\"\n\n\"O Lord, forbid it!\" cried the little thick man in white choker. \"It\ncannot be; we cannot allow it. I shall storm heaven with prayers. I\nshall do violence to the Lord. I shall catch hold of him, and not let\nhim go till he give back this lamb to my bosom.\"\n\nSuch were only _some_ of the expressions, blasphemously familiar, which\nthis clerical mountebank made use of during a full half hour, that he\nalmost electrified the whole company by his half-mad gesticulations and\ndiscourses. At length, when his legs began to fail, he got on his knees,\nor rather on his _heels_--a posture the Irish call \"on his _grugg_.\" He\nprayed, and roared, and screamed, and he cried, as it were, shedding\ntears, to the alarm of the oldest members of the family, who feared he\nmight burst a blood vessel, as he was a short-necked, plethoric, chunk\nof a man; and to the infinite amusement of Murty O'Dwyer and the younger\nmembers of the family, who, from the violence of the laughter that\nseized them, were in danger of meeting that fate from which the former\nwanted to save the parson.\n\nThis levity on the part of the youngsters did not escape the notice of\nhis _weeping_ reverence; and he no sooner recovered himself than he\nadministered a sharp reprimand to all concerned, but especially to\nMurty.\n\n\"I pity men of your country,\" said he, addressing Murty,--who, it must\nbe recollected, had made very great improvement in his education since\nwe first introduced him to our readers,--\"I pity men of your country, on\naccount of the ignorance in which they are kept by the soul-destroying\nsystem of Popery that binds them down.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Mr. Gulmore,\" said Murty, \"I am sorry you don't take some other\nmeans, besides those not very enlightened prayers you have volunteered\nto favor us with, to dispel and instruct our ignorance.\"\n\n\"Why, thou Papist boor, durst thou deny the power of prayer?\"\n\n\"No, sir. I have great faith in prayer, especially the prayer of a 'just\nman;' but God forbid that I should regard your eccentric, indeed, I\nmight say blasphemous, effusions as prayer! You talk of the 'ignorance'\nof my countrymen! Ah, sir, I have no hesitation in saying the most\nignorant among them would be ashamed of such silly-acting and disgusting\ncant as you have just now delivered.\"\n\n\"I blame you not,\" deluded Papist; \"you have not felt the 'power of\nprayer,' brought up in all the ignorance and idolatry of the 'scarlet\nlady.' But it is not for you I prayed or wrestled with the Lord, but for\nmy beloved dove, this innocent victim of your idolatry and the hellish\narts of your church. Do you not feel the change of heart, Mary, my\nlove?\" he said, approaching near to the girl. \"Tell me, have I gained\nthee? Has the Lord heard my groanings, and sighs, and petitions for thy\nrestoration to the creed of our Protestant fathers? Do, Mary dear, tell\nme the feelings of thy heart! Do, love, comfort me by the assurance\nthat I have gained thee!\"\n\n\"Mr. Gulmore,\" answered the good child, \"I thought you had long since\nceased visiting us, and we hoped never again to be annoyed by your\nministrations. Your conduct in combining with my step-sister here, in\nconjunction with the late postmaster of S----, to prevent Paul from\nholding correspondence, has disgusted, not only me, but even father,\nbeyond the limits of reconciliation; and whatever I may think of your\nreligion, be assured I have no two opinions about yourself.\"\n\n\"O, she is lost, I greatly fear! Fallen is an angel from heaven! Save,\nsave, O Lord!\" cried the parson, as Mary Prying rose up from her seat\nand left the room.\n\nThe foregoing rebuke of the spirited girl brought this craven-hearted\ndominie at once to his senses, and during the remainder of the evening\nhe was more rational in conduct and discourse, seeing that Mary was the\ndarling of her father, who would allow the parson to make no reflections\non the motives that actuated her in the steps she was about to take.\n\n\"I am afraid, parson,\" said Murty, breaking the embarrassing silence\nthat continued for a few minutes, \"I am afraid the lady has eluded the\nforceful grasp of your powerful prayer. I guess she will become a nun,\ntoo, notwithstanding your great efforts to make her sing\n\n   \"But I won't be a nun; I can't be a nun;\n    I'm so fond of pleasure that I can't be a nun.\"\n\n\"I greatly fear, yer riverince,\" said he, affecting the broadest Irish\nbrogue, \"y'ill have to phray a great deal yet afore you convart her from\nher resolution.\"\n\n\"We must submit to the decree of the Lord in all that he has planned\nfrom the beginning of the world, Murty,\" said the parson, resignedly.\n\n\"Think the Lord has decreed Mary for the nunnery, reverend and learned\nsir?\" said Murty, affecting great politeness.\n\n\"Not exactly, Murty; but the Lord, by his inscrutable decree before the\ncreation, has passed sentence on all accountable beings: some he has\ndelivered over to irremediable wrath, and others he has predestined to\nglory and bliss eternal; and no efforts of men can reverse these\nirrevocable decrees.\"\n\n\"O, dreadful!\" said Murty. \"I always heard that God willed all men to be\nsaved; that it was in every man's power to avoid evil, and do good; that\nthe giving of the commandments supposed the perfect liberty of men; and\nthat, supposing the grace of God, all men had the means of salvation\nwithin their reach. If your system were true, all efforts of man to save\nhimself would be useless, and all your pulpits and sermons would be\nworse than useless; for they would be a gross imposition, and a loss of\ntime.\"\n\n\"There is where you are in error, Murty,\" said the parson. \"Churches,\npulpits, Bibles, and ministers are the machinery the Lord makes use of\nto secure the perseverance of the elect.\"\n\n\"That talk appears to me silly,\" rejoined Murty. \"The elect are to be\nsaved, or they are not; if they are to be saved by the decree of God,\nthen there is no use of you and your machinery; if they can lose their\n'election,' and become reprobate, then your theory is contradictory,\nabsurd, and grossly perversive of the gospel. Take your choice of the\nhorns of the dilemma.\"\n\nThe parson here entered into a very unintelligible explanation of a\nsubject which constitutes, in defiance of common sense and of the\nplainest teaching of the gospel, the leading dogma of Presbyterianism;\nnamely, foreordination, or the eternal decree of every man's election or\nreprobation, irrespective of free will, good works, or even the\nall-saving merits of our Lord Jesus Christ.\n\n\"How contradictory the tenets of sectarianism!\" said Murty. \"You, that\naccuse Catholicity of teaching absurd and incredible doctrines, are\nyourselves enslaved by the most incredible and contradictory creeds. It\nis the same in every sect. Take the Methodists, and they are the very\ncontrary of what their name signifies. Instead of following any _method_\nin their mad orgies, they would seem to be, _intellectually_, the\nsuccessors of the ancient bacchanalians. They would carry man back to\nhis primitive _woods_, and, by the medium of plenty of 'straw,' would\nannihilate the distinctions between the sexes, by introducing a\npromiscuous intercourse, and legalizing, by custom, the most indecent\npractices.\"\n\n\"You have been at a camp meeting then, I see,\" said the parson, glad\nthat attention was turned from his own sect to one that was a rival of\nit.\n\n\"Yes, sir, I have, I regret to be obliged to confess,\" said Murty; \"and\nI must say that the Methodists, by their conduct there, showed\nthemselves more ingenious in inventing the means of election than those\nof the church of Calvin.\"\n\n\"How so, Murty? In what do they exceed the Presbyterians?\"\n\n\"Why, in this, that they have beat you hollow in securing salvation. You\nmake use of churches, pulpits, parsons, Bibles, and anti-Popery lectures\nto secure the election for the brethren; but the Methodists secure the\nsame gift by means of some 'straw.' At the camp meeting held last year\nat M----ville, of which the Irish laborer who spent a night there said,\n'that there were more _souls made there_ than convarted,'--at that\nmeeting, where there were twenty thousand persons present, I heard a\npreacher cry out, 'More straw! more straw! Fifty souls lost for the want\nof straw!' Now,\" continued Murty, \"this is what I call progress, to make\nas much out of a good bed of straw as you do out of all your church\nmachinery for saving souls.\"\n\n\"Ha! ha! ha!\" said the parson, turning to Mrs. Prying. \"He is right; I\nsaw and heard them myself at such absurdities.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Murty, \"you or any other Americans who are aware of such\ngross impositions on the credulity of your people, and of their gross\nignorance, should be the last persons on earth to reproach the Irish or\nany other people with ignorance, superstition, credulity, or fanaticism.\nGood night, parson, and every time you are tempted to reproach an\nIrishman with ignorance, think of 'More straw! more straw! Fifty souls\nlost for the want of straw!' and that this sermon was preached in\nenlightened America of Bibles!\"\n\nAfter the departure of Murty from the room, Gulmore, to make amends for\nhis senseless conduct in his attempts to convert Mary Prying, became\nvery complaisant, and, for the want of a better subject, resumed the\nsubject of the extravagances of the Methodists where Murty left off. He\nknew, also, that old Mrs. Prying had an antipathy to that sect.\n\n\"The Irishman is an amusing fellow, I perceive,\" commenced he; \"he is\nnot far wrong in his description of the Methodists, I can tell you.\"\n\n\"I never could bear that denomination,\" said Mrs. Prying, \"especially\nsince the time that Morefat carried on over in Vermont; and I am still\nmore displeased since that Minister Barker seduced Amanda to his\nmeeting, together with others of our regular members.\"\n\n\"They are a horrid set!\" said the dominie. \"Did you not hear of the\ndonation party at brother Funny's, last new year's?\"\n\n\"No. Do you mean the talk about Miss Talebearer?\"\n\n\"Worse than that, although nothing secret. Nothing that the whole town\nhas not heard. You know Mr. Funny was rather poor, having been but a few\nmonths on the 'circuit;' and so Mrs. Plumpcheek, wife to Aaron\nPlumpcheek, while he was off in Virginia, went to the party, and there\noffered to kiss every man that would pay her a dollar for the proceeds\nof the donation! The consequence was, that she realized seventy-five\ndollars in hard cash, though most of the boys paid her but two\nshillings. And thus poor Brother Funny made a handsome sum by the _free\ncharms_ of Mrs. Plumpcheek! Ever since her husband is made jealous, and\nI think he has reason.\"\n\nSectarians, you who are so loud in your pretended zeal for education and\nmorals, you who talk so much and loudly about the corruption of Popery\nat home and abroad, why do you not cast the beam out of your own impure\neyes, and then you may see in your own land of plenty, carried on under\nthe _sanction of what you call religion_, scenes such as the annals of\npaganism can scarcely parallel.\n\nWe can prove the facts related above by Parson Gulmore to be literally\ntrue, and to have happened annually for years under the sanction of\n_religious_ ministers, and exposed to the cognizance of fathers and\nmothers accompanied by their _daughters_ and _sons_.\n\nWe publish these things reluctantly, on account of our readers; but we\nmust tell the truth, though it be piecemeal and in fractional parts,\nrather than in the full view of its naked reality.\n\nIs it not time to say to these hypocritical sects, \"Physicians, heal\nyourselves\"? Look into the conduct and constitutions of your own bodies\nere you turn censors on others. The corruptions and deformities of your\nown bodies will take all your zeal, all your energy, and all your\nlives, to correct, purify, and eradicate, leaving the Catholic church to\nreform whatever abuses may have crept into the lives or morals of her\nchildren by the ordinary resources, which are ample, and always within\nher reach.\n\nReally, the hypocrisy, audacity, and malice of the Pharisees of old, in\npersecuting Jesus Christ in the flesh, were not equalled, in degree or\nintensity, to the malice and hypocrisy of sectarians, under every\nProtestant title, in their unrelenting hatred of the same divine Person\nin his mystical body here on earth!\n\n'Tis all nonsense to reproach _Catholics_ with conduct similar, or as\ngross, as these instances of immorality which we justly charge on the\nProtestant sects. Catholics, as individuals, may be, and have been,\nguilty of grave crimes and scandalous immoralities; but does the church\ncountenance or connive at their conduct? No; we say, emphatically, No.\nOn the contrary, she condemns vice in every shape, and denounces, like\nanother Baptist in the wilderness, the wrath of Heaven on the workers of\niniquity. Is there one of her precepts, counsels, or rules, that guards\nnot against sin and its occasions? According to the accusations of her\nenemies themselves, who reproach her, with too much severity, of\nimposing too many restrictions on the passions, is she not continually\npreaching up to her followers the necessity of self-denial, humility,\npurity, charity, prayer, fastings, watchings, and, above all, OF\nSHUNNING THE OCCASIONS OF SIN? Hence, in the whole volume of her\nhistory for eighteen centuries and better, we read not of one _camp\nmeeting_ sanctioned by her, nor that she ever authorized her ministers\nto _feel \"for the change of heart_\" in young ladies, to proclaim the use\nof \"more straw\" for the conversion of both sexes, or to raise funds by\nthe abominable practices of the \"donation parties\" for the support of\nher institutions. And mind, these scandals the sectarian churches\nsanction and carry on under the sun of heaven, by day as well as by\nnight, exposed to the jeers and ridicule of one another, and to the\ncondemnation of the Catholic church. When they are such in \"the\ngreenwood, what would they be not in the dry\"? If, like the Catholic\nchurch, they had the world to themselves for \"a thousand years and\nmore,\" what abominations would their spurious churches have not only\ntolerated, but have instituted and approved? If they have produced\nMormons, Transcendentalists, Universalists, and spiritual rappers, in\nthe nineteenth century, what monsters would they not have produced in\nthe ninth?\n\nIn the \"dark ages,\" the Catholic church saved the world, preserved\nliterature, civilized real barbarians, and, above all, practised, as\nwell as preached, a PURE MORALITY. The Protestant sects in this\nenlightened age, by their novelties, by their dissensions, and, above\nall, by the low standard of morals which they inculcate, threaten to\nthrow the world back again to the dark chaos from which Catholicity has\ndrawn it, and to substitute for the glory of Christianity the miserable\nphilosophism and superstition of the degenerate days of paganism.\n\nIn proof of these statements, we refer any candid mind to the\n\"spiritual rappers,\" \"women's rights,\" \"Mormonism,\" \"gold hunting, and\nother manias,\" which, within the last few years, have sprung from the\nsectarian systems and their teaching, and from no other source.\n\nWe are horrified at the morals and tenets of the Gnostic sects, the\nManicheans, the Albigenses, and other defunct heresies of old; but we\ndoubt if any thing more impious, immoral, or absurd happened under the\nauspices of these by-gone sects than the blasphemies, delusions, and\ncorruptions carried on under the cloak of your \"camp meetings,\"\n\"revivals,\" \"mediums,\" \"spiritual wife system,\" and other modern\n_reproductions_ of the Protestant Christian churches, falsely so called.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nIN WHICH THE SCENE OF OUR TALE IS CHANGED.\n\n\nThe events recorded in the foregoing chapters, as you are aware, good\nreader, happened principally among the poor and humble of life; and this\nwas in accordance with the scope of our narrative, having no higher\nambition than to chronicle the lowly annals of that numerous class of\nthe community. _Nunc paulo majora._ Now we must introduce you into high\nlife. We turn our eyes to one of those grand mansions of the rich,--one\nof those palaces of the \"upper ten,\"--where few of the humble are\nprivileged to enter, much less to be introduced or admitted on terms of\nfamiliarity. It is our privilege to introduce you, friend of the\nblistered hand and dusty coat, but of the honest heart, into that palace\nof the merchant prince of the second city in the Union, in order that\nyou may see and judge for yourselves whether or not more happiness\ndwells there than in your homely residence. See the imposing structure,\nwith the neatly-mowed lawn in front. Observe the taste and artistic\nskill with which the walks, the little hedges, and the shrubberies are\nlaid out. You can yet get but an imperfect view of the proud edifice\nitself, which seems as if a monarch, that looks down with dignity and\nauthority on the countless array of ordinary buildings that extend as\nfar as the eye can reach on every side. The gates, as you enter the\nenclosure, are of massive iron, painted green, and, by the help of\nmachinery, yield to the gentlest pressure of the hand, as if some spirit\nof the ancient fabled Olympus kept guard at their hinges. It is a\ncomplete \"_rus in urbi_,\" inside the outer wall. Here the luxuriant\ngrape vine creeps along in graceful festoons, groaning under the\npressure of her full paps; there the lofty and beauteous palm spreads\nhis cooling and protecting branches.\n\nOn one side see the fruitful lemon and orange trees, bending under the\nweight of their golden and emerald productions; on the other the\nfragrant apple, the sweet pear, and mellow peach borrow support from the\nstrong granite wall to bring their burdens to maturity. Behold there two\nfountains casting their crystal and refreshing contents aloft, as if\nmaking restitution to the thirsting atmosphere for what they stole from\nhim under ground. The water falls back again, however, and is received\nby the marble basin at the base, to form a neat pond, where gold and\nsilver fish sport and gambol. A little at a distance, to the rear, the\nfragrance of honey and the busy hum of the bee are perceived by your\ngrateful senses. The place looks like an earthly paradise; every thing\nthere seems to laugh without restraint, from the creeping rose fastened\nto the hedge to the tall, princely-looking mountain ash, with its\nbunches of red berries.\n\nThe only one living thing that seemed pensive and sad there was a\nlovely, delicate fawn, which rested, with her head drooping, at the foot\nof a rose bush, on the summit of the little green mound which was the\ncentre of this delightful spot. Perhaps the lovely creature is after\nbeing weaned from the udder of its affectionate dam; or, perhaps, she\ngrieves for the absence of some favorite in the palace of whom she is\nthe pet. But that the creature grieves is evident, for you could see the\ntwo moist tracks furrowed on the smooth face, from the tears that have\nflowed there.\n\nBut the inside of the \"great house,\" who can describe it? From the\nground floor to the uppermost attic, the rooms presented that waste of\nfurniture, in the shape of sofas, ottomans, easy chairs, couches,\ncarpets, tapestries, curtains, paintings, pier glasses, plate, and a\nthousand other articles contributive of ease and luxury, which the most\nextravagant expenditure could procure or vanity suggest. In truth, the\ninterior was the exact counterpart of the exterior, in the artistic\narrangement and splendor of every thing. To the eye of an observer, on\nan ordinary occasion, every thing appeared gorgeous in the extreme; but\non the occasion we describe, when preparation was making for a grand\nreception, all was joy, mirth, luxury, and happiness. Servants of every\ncolor and hue were seen moving through the labyrinths of the saloons and\nchambers of this great palace, uncovering the long-concealed splendors\nof valuable articles, and arranging every thing for the most\nadvantageous show.\n\nAnd\n\n   \"Now through the palace chambers moving lights\n    And busy shapes proclaim the toilet's rites;\n    From room to room the ready handmaids hie,\n    Some skilled to wreathe the headdress tastefully,\n    Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade,\n    O'er the warm blushes of the youthful maid.\"\n\nSplendid services of gold and silver plate met the eye in every\ndirection, on their way to the grand dining room; while, from the\nremotest part of the building, the sense of smelling was simultaneously\nassailed by several currents of delightful culinary exhalations, which,\nlike the winds in the cave of AEolus, struggled for egress from their\nconfined birthplace.\n\nThis is one of those occasions on which the Dives of this sumptuous\npalace, Mr. Goldrich, intends to celebrate his birthday; and as he can't\ntell where he was born, nor can he show any genuine images of his\nancestry, (except that he came down a scion from the great \"Anglo-Saxon\nrace,\") he is determined to make amends for this calamity he could not\nhelp, and the want of taste in his father, whoever he was, by spending\nan ordinary fortune in the present celebration, and thus combine the\nsplendors of all the possible past anniversaries of his birth in one\ngrand, unrivalled celebration to-day.\n\n   \"And here, at once, the glittering saloon\n    Bursts on the sight, boundless and bright as noon.\"\n\nThe select music of splendid bands now announced the movements of\nguests towards the grand banquet room. In pairs they enter, and\nsingular; the short procession is now at an end, and the places are\nfilled up with the scanty number of twoscore guests, male and female.\n\nYou would have supposed, from the preparation, that the inhabitants of\nthe entire city were invited; but no, the exact number was forty,\nbesides the members of the rich man's family. And this happened not by\naccident, or because of the penury or avarice of Mr. Goldrich, but\nbecause in the whole city there were no more than twenty families who\nranked in the sphere of the \"upper ten\" in which \"mine host\" moved.\nThese shining figures, that you can scarcely look at without risk to\nyour eyes from their jewelry, are the ladies who leave us in doubt which\nthey love most to exhibit--their charms, or the richness of their\nornaments. Among that bright array of female beauty there is missed the\nfair form of one who was, heretofore, an ordinary occupant of an\nhonorable place at the family table. It was the chair of the\nrosy-cheeked Alia that was unoccupied at this splendid circle. The\npresiding queen of the feast, Madam Goldrich, apologized for the absence\nof \"poor Alia,\" by representing her indisposed; and at the announcement\nof this dispiriting intelligence, disappointment marked the countenances\nof the guests, for Alia was the brightest star that shone in that\nbrilliant galaxy of fashion.\n\nBeing the oldest among the children of Mr. Goldrich, Alia possessed all\nthat graceful and dignified superiority over those whom she regarded as\nher younger sisters, which are the acknowledged privileges of age in\nevery well-regulated family, and which her superior talent seemed\nnaturally to enforce.\n\nYears rolled on, and the dear child lived in blissful ignorance of her\norigin and desolate condition, till the jealousy of her younger sisters\nexcited her suspicions, and she began to mistrust the genuineness, as\nshe felt the coldness, of that parental affection which the pretended\nauthors of her existence so long counterfeited. During many months, if\nnot years, these suspicions preyed on the poor girl's mind; and though\nshe never dared to mention them to any save old Judy, the negro woman,\nshe felt satisfied that her sisters and herself could not belong to the\nsame stock or the same race. The transparent delicacy of her complexion,\nthe rosy tint on her cheek, unrivalled by the costly paint of her\nsisters, the shining blackness of her splendid hair,--all these\ncircumstances pointed her out and proclaimed her as of a different race\nto those whom she hitherto regarded as her kindred. Long had she mused\non the cause of this disparity, and much had she suffered, in the depth\nof her soul, from the representations and suggestions of her active\nimagination in reference to her origin, and many were the tears shed by\nher while oppressed with these doubts. But the events of this day, added\nto the late insolent conduct of her sisters, which provoked the\nreprimand of her peevish mother guardian, who told her to curb her\n\"Irish temper,\"--these cleared up all her doubts; and, filled with a\nmelancholy joy at a revelation she owed to the jealousy and vanity of a\nproud mother and her daughters, Alia retired to her room to give vent to\nher feelings in sobs and tears.\n\n\"Thank God,\" she cried, \"I know what I am, or ought to be. Thank God I\nam Irish, too, for I often wished I belonged to that much-abused and\npersecuted people. But O, where shall I find my parents? or how came my\nlot to be cast in this proud palace, which, alas! I too long regarded as\nmy home? O, who, who will restore this poor 'exile of Erin,' to the home\nof her unknown parents? How gladly would I exchange all the splendor of\nthis place for the homeliest cot in that land of the shamrock and the\ncross; ay, the poorest 'cabin, fast by the wild-wood,' in the land of\nSt. Patrick, and my unknown ancestors.\"\n\nSuch were the soliloquies of poor, despised Alia, in her room on the\nthird floor, where old aunt Judy, the negro, having missed her favorite\nfrom the grand company, after having sought her in vain in the lower\nsaloons of the house, just entered her room.\n\n\"Dere, now, Miss Ali', am poor aunt Judy half kilt from sarching for you\nall over. What make you be here, and all the gran' gem'men asking for\nyou?\"\n\n\"Ah, aunt Judy, why have you all along denied of me all knowledge of my\nextraction, parentage, and race? Did you not know that I was Irish? and\nyet you always denied that I was, though I have suspected I was, and you\nmust have known it, having lived so long in the family. This is not what\nI expected from you, aunt Judy,\" she said, casting a look of gentle\nreproach at the old negro.\n\n\"O, dear, miss--O, dear,\" cried the poor affectionate creature, bursting\ninto tears; \"don't blame dis ole nigger, but massa and missus, and Miss\nSillerman, sister to the missus who died last year. They forbid aunt\nJude to tell who rosy-faced Ali' was. I was bound to swear not to tell.\nIf they knowed I did hab a _parle_ vit you on de subject, they would\nturn poor ole Jude out de door to die in the poor _maison_.\"\n\nThis poor negro woman was a native of St. Domingo, and, at the time of\nthe revolution there, came to New Orleans, in care of a child belonging\nto one of the white planters who was murdered--which child, by the way,\nhas since become a pious and eminent clergyman. By some accident or\nother she fell in with the Goldriches, in their commercial visits to New\nOrleans, and, though brought up a Catholic, the poor thing forgot all\npractice of her religion, and this accounts for her evasions and denials\nto the repeated questions of Alia regarding her parentage and birth.\n\n\"'Pon my fait, miss,\" she ever said, \"I know nothing about you, 'cept\nthat you are the rose-cheeked Ali', the _fleur de lis_ of the flock.\"\n\nPromises, and flattering presents, and all other persuasive arts of Alia\nto get the secret out of Judy proved useless. She had promised to keep\nit, and no human authority, she thought, could ever cause her to violate\nthat promise. Although Judy had, through fear of displeasing her\npatrons, given up all public practice of her religion, she nevertheless\nnever denied that she was a \"Catholique,\" and never omitted to recite\nfull five decades of the beads after going to bed. She declared she\ncould not fall asleep till she complied with this rather lazy effort of\nprayer. Besides these rather faint evidences of her faith, she often\ntold her loved Ali' that she intended calling in the priest at the hour\nof her death; and she confided to the honor of the young lady this\nsecret desire of hers, and elicited many promises from her Ali' to send\nfor his reverence when she would perceive her end approach. \"This is\nrather a singular notion of yours,\" Alia used to say. \"If you are a\nCatholic, and believe your faith the best, or the only true one, why do\nyou not practise its teachings, and fulfil all the requirements of your\nchurch? I am sure neither father nor mother would blame you.\"\n\n\"O miss, I feard, I feard,\" the poor, timid soul would answer. \"But tink\nof vat I tol' you; when I go to die, send for the _bon_ priest, who know\nhow to do the '_parle Francaise_,' and I pray for you when I go to\nheaven.\"\n\n\"I shall do that for you, poor aunt Judy, or even attend you now, while\nyou are in health, to the Catholic church, where you can go to the\nsacraments, and become a member again of that church which you have so\nlong neglected, but which yet seems still to retain a strong hold of\nyour affections and heart. Won't this be the best course, aunt Judy? I\nwill attend you to the church of that zealous young Irish priest whom I\nsee so often hurrying along here to his sick calls up town; and as I\nsuspect I am 'Irish' myself, I hope he will not be displeased at my\ncall.\"\n\n\"O, you no Irish, miss, at all, but good Yankee. But tish better not go\nfor de priest till he come to me when I go to die. Now I have religion\nhere in _mon coeur_; ven I die, I profess her open.\"\n\n\"Well, Judy, act as you wish; but it appears to me your conduct is\nsingular. I shall do my part, however; and if there is a priest to be\nhad in the city when you take to your death bed, you must have him to\nattend you.\"\n\nIt was by such communings and conversations as the foregoing, during the\nleisure hours of aunt Judy and her loved Ali', that mutual confidence\nand disinterested friendship grew into maturity between them--the\nchildish and helpless simplicity of the one, and kind and good-natured\ncondescension of the other, producing the like effects in the hearts of\nboth respectively--that is, disinterested friendship. Yet strong as this\nfriendship was, and enthusiastic as was the love of Judy for her\n\"rosy-cheeked\" favorite, they were not sufficient to cause her to reveal\nthe secret of her birth and adoption, even at this hour of Alia's\ndeepest grief and affliction.\n\nThere were two causes for this her unaccountable silence. Firstly, she\nhad promised not to mention the slightest circumstance connected with\nthe adopted child, and she feared punishment from the anger of her proud\nmassa, whose disgrace might be the consequence. And again, having been\nin the habit of hearing all sorts of reflections on the \"Irish,\" whom\nsome mad abolitionists would gladly enslave in place of the blacks, poor\nJudy thought to save Alia from the mortification of finding herself\n\"Irish,\" by her equivocation and falsehood.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nSHOWS HOW THE CROSS AND SHAMROCK WERE PERMANENTLY UNITED AFTER A LONG\nSEPARATION.\n\n\nPaul O'Clery had been appointed pastor of one of the principal churches\nin the second city in the Union, as we have before mentioned, and\nalready the evidences of the \"care of souls\" with which he was charged\nfor several years began to manifest themselves on his placid brow. His\nwas a life of unceasing activity. The visitations of the sick, the calls\nof charity, the hearing of confessions, together with the instruction of\nyouth and the preaching of God's word,--these, the ordinary lot of\npastors, constituted but a share, and not the largest one, of his\nonerous duties. Ever mindful of his own destitute condition while an\norphan deprived of both parents, all the orphans of the\nthickly-inhabited district that constituted his mission became objects\nof his special care. And at a time when such an institution as a\nCatholic orphanage was regarded as visionary, or the ephemeral creation\nof a too ardent zeal, this good pastor succeeded in founding and\nsupporting an asylum which has since become of incalculable value, not\nonly to the Catholics as a body, but to the inhabitants of the whole\ncity and state. A house of refuge for repentant Magdalens, placed under\nthe care of the Sisters of Mercy, commanded his next care. In a word,\nthe founding of schools, hospitals, confraternities, guilds, and other\npious institutions exercised all of his time that was not devoted to\nhis strictly ecclesiastical duties; so that his sister Bridget, known in\nreligion as Sister St. John of the Cross, complained a good deal of his\nwant of charity in not having visited her but once in seven years. \"Ad\nmajorem Dei gloriam,\"--\"To the greater glory of God,\"--was this pious\nLevite's motto; and he was dead to all the ties of flesh and blood, and\nheedless of all calls save those of charity to his God and his neighbor.\n\nIn the pulpit, the spontaneous eloquence of his heart chained the\nattention of his hearers; and his discourses, though rather inclined to\nasceticism than controversial, went to the hearts, and convinced the\nunderstandings, of unbelievers of the divinity of the doctrine he\npreached. No class of his fellow-creatures was excluded from the\ninfluence of his boundless zeal. Protestants--to whom he was very mild,\non account of his knowledge of the ignorant prejudices in which they are\nbound by the malice of their teachers--heard him, and became converts to\nthe church of God. Even the neglected negro race claimed and received a\nfull measure of his zeal. He established a school for the children of\nthese neglected sons of Africa, and never lost an opportunity of\nvisiting them at the death bed or in the hour of serious sickness.\n\nIt was on occasion of one of these visits that God rewarded his priest,\neven in this world, by the joyous disclosure which we here record, and\nwhich, next to his grace of vocation to the priesthood, of all the\nmanifestations of God's mercy to him, claimed his sincerest gratitude\nand thanksgiving. After the end of the grand \"birthday banquet,\" which\nlasted for a day and two nights, Alia's position at the palace became\nmore disagreeable than ever. The young girls frowned on her and shunned\nher society, and Madame Goldrich, after she had got over the fatigue of\nthe party, read her a smart lesson on her \"ill manners and Irish\ntemper,\" because she dared to absent herself, to the disappointment of\nthe guests, from a table at which she was denied her proper and usual\nplace. \"Alia, this conduct of yours must be reformed, and that quick, or\nyour separation from this family, to which you do not belong, must soon\ntake place. I ain't goin' to let you take precedence of my children no\nlonger.\"\n\nTo this vulgar speech of the \"princess, our hostess,\" as she was\nflatteringly toasted by a John Bull guest who was there, Alia answered\nnot a word, but, having retired to her room, fell on her knees and\nprayed long and fervently to the God of her fathers to assist her by his\ninspirations, and direct her to the best, in her present perplexity.\nHaving unburdened her bosom of a load of grief by a copious effusion of\ntears, and felt in her spirit that calm resignation which a sense of its\nown forlorn condition and a total reliance on God are calculated to\ninspire even in the unregenerate and imperfect soul, Alia now proceeded\nto the chamber of old Judy, whose expected illness had at last arrived,\nhaving been ill now for three days. On perceiving her entrance into the\nroom, the old negress appealed to her in most supplicating terms to\nfulfil her promise to send for \"de priest, for now de hour am come. O\nAli', angel, dear,\" she cried, \"do not let me die without the 'bon\nDieu,' or I lost foreber. O, haste! O, haste!\"\n\nAlia lost no time, but, taking pen and paper, wrote as follows to the\nbishop of the diocese:--\n\n\"The Right Rev. Catholic bishop is respectfully informed that there is a\nnegro woman lying dangerously ill at Mr. Goldrich's, who, being a\nCatholic, desires the last rites of that church. Being a native of St.\nDomingo, the French is her vernacular tongue; for which cause it will be\ndesirable, if possible, to send, a clergyman who can speak that\nlanguage.\"\n\nA young negro lad was the bearer of this despatch, and he returned in\nless than an hour, attended by Rev. Paul O'Clery, whom the bishop sent\nto answer this urgent call, all those of the episcopal residence having\nbeen out since early morning attending on the sick in their respective\nlocalities. In order to avoid any further cause of displeasure to Mrs.\nGoldrich, Alia had given the negro lad instructions to bring the priest\nin through a private door that communicated with the garden, rather than\nattract attention by entering the hall door. She had a full view of the\ncountenance of the young priest, through the window, while he was\ncrossing that part of the garden that lay next the houses of the city,\nand, strange! her heart throbbed, and an indescribable sensation passed\nover her frame.\n\n\"How happy,\" she thought, \"must be the sister of such a gentleman as\nthat! how different her lot from mine!\"\n\nThe priest entered, and was received with a very polite bow by Alia,\nwhich was returned profoundly. Declining to take a seat, on account of\nhis many other urgent calls, he was escorted to old Judy's chamber by\nhis fair guide, who, on the way thither, explained to him what sort of a\nperson she was, and how odd in her notions about religion. Having\nconducted him to her bedside, she made a polite bow, and retired, asking\nif her services were further needed.\n\nThe priest answered, \"No; that he believed all the requirements for this\nholy but melancholy service were prepared, and that he supposed he had\nto thank her for the nice arrangements he observed.\"\n\n\"Yes, mon pere,\" said old Judy, in half French, half English, \"there is\nthe '_chandel_,' the '_eau-benite_,' the '_la croix_,' and the rest,\nthat I keep many year for my deathday.\"\n\nIt was only when she retired from the chamber that the priest caught a\nfull view of the fair Alia; and now\n\n   \"A strange emotion worked within him, more\n    Than mere compassion ever worked before.\"\n\nHe saw in this interesting stranger the strongest resemblance to his own\nsister Bridget. There were the same raven hair, the same candid and\nlarge eyes, the same broad and well-set teeth so peculiar to the\nO'Clerys, and the same form almost to a line. The groans and urgent call\nof his penitent Judy, however, soon recalled his mind from its reveries,\nand he banished all thoughts of Alia, as temptations, or, at least,\nspeculations, which it was for the present useless to entertain. He put\non his stole, and after a short aspiration for light and grace to\ndischarge his duty to the sick woman, was just in the act of repeating\nthe prayer, \"_Dominus sit in corde tuo et in labiis_,\"--\"May the Lord be\nin your heart and lips,\"--when the creature, raising herself up in her\nbed, prevented him, saying, \"Mon pere, I vant, before I begin the\nconfession, to tell you a secret that burden my mind long time.\"\n\nShe then proceeded to tell how that young lady he had just seen had been\nadopted, or rather kidnapped, by the family she now lived with; how her\nname was changed from Aloysia to Alia; how this scheme was planned and\ncarried out by Miss Sillerman, Mrs. Goldrich's sister, who died not long\nsince; how, till of late, she was brought up as one of the family; how\ncarefully she was instructed in all the ways of the Presbyterians; and,\nabove all, how they endeavored to conceal her family name, for fear of\nbeing claimed by her friends. \"But, mon pere,\" said she, in\ncontinuation, \"though I forget the family name of this young, lubly\nlady, I have an article here (loosing an old-fashioned workbag) which\nmay tell her family name.\"\n\nWith that she handed Father Paul a neat ruby necklace, with a rather\nheavy gold clasp, on which were carved deeply a cross, interwoven with\nshamrocks, with these words, in italics, \"_The O'C---- Arms_.\" This was\nenough for Paul O'Clery; he had no doubt of having seen and conversed\nwith his own dear, long-lost sister, a few moments before. He sunk down\non his knees, buried his face in his hands, and tried as well as he\ncould to suppress the emotions that pervaded his bosom. After having\nprepared old Judy for heaven,--having first prevailed on her to make\nthese disclosures in presence of witnesses, on condition that the\ncircumstances of her revelation should not be published till after her\ndeath,--the priest retired from that palace, promising to call again,\naccompanied with another gentleman, in the afternoon. Lest his feelings\nshould betray him, he retired from the house with as little delay as was\nconsistent with politeness; and he trembled all over as he a second time\nreturned the greeting of his dear Aloysia, as she conducted him to the\ndoor.\n\nWith as little delay as possible, he sought the office of his legal\nadviser, and, accompanied by a judge of the Supreme Court of eminent\ncharacter, and the legal adviser, and a third, all Protestant gentlemen,\nhe sought the sick chamber of the old negress again, and there her\ndeposition, and a confirmation of her previous account of Alia's\nbringing up and captivity, were obtained. They had scarcely concluded\nher testimony, when poor Judy bid farewell to the world and its crosses,\nand the priest had the satisfaction of bidding God speed to her soul in\nits passage to eternity, having read for her the last benediction a\nsecond time.\n\nThe presence of so many strangers in the house naturally created some\nsurprise among the inmates, and shortly the death chamber of Judy was\nfilled with the members of the family, of both sexes.\n\nAn explanation of this unusual and unauthorized proceeding was demanded\nby Mrs. Goldrich, which the eminent judge consented to give, provided an\n_adjournment_ to a more appropriate court was agreed to.\n\nHis honor was in the act of unravelling the mysterious but\nwell-connected development of old Judy--a work of supererogation on his\npart, as far as madam was concerned--when the fair-faced Alia herself\nmade her appearance; and her reverend brother Paul, no longer able to\ncheck his feelings, sprang forward, and, seizing her white hand, kissed\nit, saying, \"My dearest sister Aloysia, welcome to the embrace of your\nbrother! 'You were lost, and I have found you; you were dead, and are\nagain come to life! Rejoice, and be glad.'\"\n\nThis was too much happiness for Alia to bear up against without\nmomentarily yielding to the shock, and she sank, as if lifeless, on a\ncouch. She was soon restored, however, and surrounded by the seemingly\naffectionate caresses of her envious _mother_ and jealous sisters. She\nhad to hear all their arguments to persuade her to prefer her present\nsplendid misery to the equivocal boon of having found out a poor,\ndestitute brother, though it was not yet clear whether she could call\nhim by that name. Appearances were deceitful.\n\nFather Paul listened meekly to the smooth discourses and flattering\npromises of the rich lady and her children, not doubting, if she were an\nO'Clery, which side she would choose.\n\n\"You are young, my dear Aloysia, but yet at or near the age of mature\nunderstanding; and I know a brother cannot command you as a parent could\nin this 'free country.' You have your choice--the traditional glory of\nthe old family of O'Clery, two brothers, and a sister as fair as\nyourself, together with the old faith of St. Patrick,--the glorious\nCROSS and the immortal SHAMROCK,--all these balanced against this grand\npalace, probably great earthly comforts, and a religion that 'is not fit\nfor a gentleman.' Have your choice; choose boldly, and at once, and free\nyour brother from suspense.\"\n\n\"Are you my brother?\" she said, wildly, \"or do I dream? Have I a brother\non earth, and one so worthy as thou? O, I have no second choice,\" she\ncried, falling at his feet, and wetting them with her tears.\n\n   \"Plant this Cross in my bosom,\n    And this Shamrock in my hair;\n    And these are the only ornaments\n    I ever again shall wear.\"\n\nThe spirited girl prepared immediately to quit the splendid palace, and\nshe came to the resolution of taking nothing with her, either of dress,\nor trinkets, or jewelry. \"Naked and bare I came into this family, and\nwith one single dress shall I leave it,\" said she, \"feeling sufficiently\nenriched in what I have this day found--a brother, with the Cross and\nShamrock of the O'Clerys. O, what complete changes! Instead of Alia, I\nam Aloysia; instead of Goldrich, I am O'Clery.\"\n\nPaul did not think it prudent to allow his sister to quit the house of\nher rich patrons so quickly, especially as Mr. Goldrich was from home,\nand till the public should be satisfied, and all doubts about her\nidentity resolved. There was some opposition made by the parsons, one of\nwhom, a Mr. Cashman, was long fishing for the fair hand of Aloysia; but\nthis little dust raised by the \"white necks\" was soon hushed, when the\nrecord of the baptism of Miss O'Clery was produced, and when the book of\nheraldry was consulted to verify the armorial bearings of the O'Clerys,\nwhich were, as we said, carved on the clasp of her necklace; and, above\nall, when, on the left-hand ring finger of the young lady, the same\nimpression of a ring appeared which several persons testified having\nseen on it when an infant.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\nCONCLUSION.\n\n\nDuring the _denouement_ of the events recorded in the preceding chapter,\nand the discussion of them by the various _religious_ newspapers,--each\nof which, like a well-trained spaniel, tried to bark so as to secure the\napprobation of those from whom it derived its food,--Father O'Clery\ncontinued in the discharge of his ordinary duties as if nothing strange\nhad happened. He addressed one letter on the subject to the leading\nsecular journals of the city, showing, by the most convincing chain of\nevidence, the identity of the lady passing so long for a daughter of Mr.\nGoldrich with his own younger and long-lost sister, and satisfying all\nbut fanatics and bigots of his prudence, and the propriety of the steps\ntaken by him for her recovery.\n\nMr. Goldrich, in the mean time, returned home, and though he could not\nbut feel astonished at the developments which took place in his absence\nrespecting his adopted daughter, he was too shrewd and too keen a man of\nbusiness to make himself a tool in the hands of bigoted parsons, or to\ndeny the validity of the evidence proving her to be no other than\nAloysia O'Clery. This was enough. What now was become of all the\ntalking, writing, swearing, and preaching of the dominies? To what\npurpose was this big talk, loud exclamations, puzzling interrogatories,\nand flaming articles of the Babylonian press? For a whole month nothing\nwas published by the editors but \"leaders,\" \"articles,\" \"paragraphs,\"\n\"communications,\" \"reports,\" \"speeches,\" \"lectures,\" \"sermons,\" \"mass\nmeetings,\" \"resolutions,\" \"protests,\" and \"letters of correspondents,\"\nregarding this \"Popish plot,\" \"this Romanist aggression,\" \"this priestly\ninsolence,\" and a thousand other names, threats, and unflattering\nepithets against persons and institutions, whose only connection with\nthe case of Miss O'Clery was, that they belonged to the Catholic church,\nor dared to speak the truth, or claim their rights. Now the\nhundred-headed Cerberus of the press is silenced, and skulks into its\ndark lair, beaten and silenced, but not ashamed of the filthy dribblings\nof its lying tongue. Now all the talk, articles, and \"leaders\" go for\nnothing, since Mr. Goldrich acknowledges \"the priest is right; she is\nhis sister.\" But did not that clamorous press, that bellowed and\nhallooed on the rabble to rob, murder, and destroy,--did it not recall\nits words, apologize for its naughty language, and retract every charge\ngroundlessly made? Like a convicted felon, did it cry _peccavi_--I have\nsinned, been misled, or misinformed? No; not a sign of repentance has\nbeen manifested, not an apology made, not a word of retraction uttered\nby these self-styled philosophers of the press, who think they are\nresponsible to no law, human or divine, and who say they have a world to\nredeem, and nations and peoples to regenerate. We have read countless\nfolios of calumnies, misrepresentations, and black libels on every thing\nsacred and venerable on earth, by the American press, during several\nyears that we have read newspapers; but we never yet found one editor to\nretract, apologize, or mend his manners and language, except when\ncompelled by the cudgel or by the law. What an anomaly does the\nobservation of the conduct of the world present to us! They refuse \"to\nhear the church,\" or be guided by the teaching of men who have spent\ntheir lives in preparing and qualifying themselves for the office of\npublic teaching; and they submit themselves blindly and without control\nto the guidance of men whom they know not, who have not always the best\nmoral characters, and whose training, in most instances, does any thing\nbut qualify them for the dangerous office they fill.\n\nThe instance which is here given of the almost unanimous hostility of\nthe press to the cause of justice, truth, and honor, illustrates what we\nsay; and the obvious conclusion is, that the \"fourth estate\" itself\nneeds reclaiming--the great modern reformer needs reformation.\n\nSoon after Mr. Goldrich's return home, he called on Father Paul O'Clery,\nand, with a great deal of good nature, congratulated him on his very\nprovidential discovery of his sister, \"my dear adopted child. And now,\nreverend sir,\" said he, affectionately, \"I beg to tender you the\nhospitalities of our house. As your sister has been for so many years\none of the family,--and not the least loved one, I assure you,--I hope I\nmay, without impropriety, by right of relationship by adoption, claim\nyou as a member also.\"\n\nFather Paul answered by assuring him he appreciated his kindness; that\nhe acknowledged the honorable connection in full; and that, though this\nvery affectionate advance had not taken place, Mr. Goldrich would ever\nbe regarded by him with feelings of veneration and love, on account of\nhis affectionate kindness to his sister, in giving her such a superior\neducation, and treating her on terms of equality with his own children.\nThe highminded and liberal gentleman, after having shed tears at the\nidea of losing his dear adopted girl, departed, having previously\nextorted a promise from Father Paul to attend a great party in honor of\nAloysia, at the palace, on the evening of the next day.\n\nIn the mean time, Aloysia's room was besieged with crowds of anxious\nvisitors and voluntary condolers on her resolution of renouncing wealth,\npleasure, and Protestantism, for poverty, Popery, and penance. Rich\nmerchants came, offering to settle annuities on her for life; rich\nwidows came, with their tracts and Bibles in one hand, and their real\nestate deeds and scrip in the other, hoping to conquer her resolution;\nand eloquent parsons, with their \"sweet speeches and flattering\ndiscourses,\" were chasing one another, like clouds driven by the winds,\nto and from the well-furnished boudoir, all charged with the same\napostolic office of saving a soul, a beautiful, interesting one, from\nfalling into that world-wide \"net\" of Popery with which St. Peter and\nhis successors have never ceased to \"catch men,\" since the days of Jesus\nChrist. All the discourses, prayers, entreaties, threats, crocodile\ntears, flatteries, misrepresentations, legacies, settlements, and other\nseductive allurements have miscarried, this time. A Catholic Aloysia was\nbaptized, and a Catholic she is resolved to live and die, with God's\ngrace.\n\nThe \"big dinner\" was prepared at the rich man's house, where Father Paul\nthrough courtesy attended, and where he was obliged to defend, in a\nspeech of some length, the violent assault of that Parson Cashman, who\nwe told was fishing for the hand of Aloysia, but who now, because she\nrejected him with scorn, had the bad taste to insult the whole company\nby his _champagne_-inspired attack on Ireland, her creed, and her\nchildren.\n\nPaul completely refuted his charge of ignorance of the Irish, by\ncontrasting their religious knowledge with that of the English and\nAmericans; in the former one of which countries there are seven or eight\nmillions of pagans, and in the later so many thousands who follow such\nimpostors as Miller, Smith, spiritual rappers, Transcendentalists,\nFourierites, and other impostors notorious for their crimes.\n\n\"The reverend gentleman forgets,\" said he, \"that Ireland was once, and\nfor ages, the most enlightened country on earth, and deserved to be\ncalled \"the Island of Saints;\" and that whatever of ignorance, poverty,\nand crime--which, thank God, is little--she is afflicted with, was\ninherited by her from the curse introduced into her by the upas tree of\nProtestantism. Ah, sir, the eulogy of England comes with a bad grace\nfrom the lips of a son of America, which she oppressed, and which, but\nfor Catholic arms, might be now, instead of a great republic, a\nbadly-ruled province of Protestant England. Study history, sir; study\nhistory; and you will soon think better of Ireland and Catholicity, and\nless of England and her persecuting Protestantism.\" And with that he\nretired.\n\nThe remaining part of our tale is soon told. Paul O'Clery, from being a\ngood priest, became, in addition, a great man; his virtues, learning,\nand genius soon attracted the notice of the princes of God's church. He\nwas consecrated bishop, \"_in partibus infidelium_,\" and he is now a\npillar of God's church, and an ornament in his sanctuary, as archbishop\nin one of the great cities of British India, in Asia. Behold, my young\nreaders, how the church opens the gates of her treasures, and encourages\nthe promotion of the humblest of her children. Virtue and genius are the\nonly titles to nobility which she regards. Every office in her gift (and\nshe has stations too high for angels) is open to the humblest aspirant\nto perfection. How many scores of young men might be now shining lamps\nin God's sanctuary, instead of being degraded to the level of the\ndrudges of the earth and the slaves of the world, if they only resisted\nthe glittering bait of temptation at first, and took as their model Paul\nO'Clery, the orphan boy!\n\nWhat became of Aloysia, do you wish to know? She joined her sister\nBridget in the nunnery, and after atoning by her tears and repentance\nfor the _material_ heresy of her youth, she lately fell a victim to\nfever, contracted by her in caring for the poor negro slaves of New\nOrleans. She preferred to die a saint than live a princess.\n\nEugene, as you already know, died a martyr for his faith, having been\npersecuted to death by Parson Dilman and Mr. Shaw Gulvert of evil\nmemory.\n\nPatrick returned to Ireland, where he has lately purchased an estate\nunder the encumbered estates law--the very same estate on which his\nfather lived under Lord Mandemon.\n\nYou recollect Van Stingey, the first persecutor of the orphan family,\nwas blown up by powder, and perished miserably. Amanda Prying met a fate\nlittle better. Having been in the habit of imbibing strong drafts of\nchloroform, for purposes of intoxication, she was found dead in bed one\nDecember morning, after having imbibed too strong a dose.\n\nThe youngest child of Reuben Prying met with his death in this way:\nWilly, the youngest but one, hearing that somebody was to be hanged,\nasked his pa how the operation was performed. The father, of course,\nbelieving that \"knowledge was power,\" taught the child how to act the\nhangman, and the lesson was not taught in vain; for, the next day,\nWilly, experimenting on the \"knowledge\" communicated, hanged his younger\nbrother, Lory, dead. Thus perished the darling son of him who combined\nwith the parson to kill Eugene O'Clery.\n\nI forgot to say that Mary Prying, the innocent, good girl, and the\nadmirer of Paul, became a convert, and is now a nun, called Sister Mary\nMagdalen.\n\nBut what of the Parsons Grinoble, Gulmore, Barker, Scullion, and the\nothers, who had a hand in robbing the orphans of their faith? They are\nall alive yet, and, according to their limited capacities, doing all the\nharm it is possible for them to do, in propagating error and\ndisseminating discord. And your friend Dr. Ugo, who was instrumental in\nsaving the orphans, is yet living, and battling for the faith, never\nomitting to inculcate fidelity to the CROSS and attachment to\nthe SHAMROCK on all his beloved parishioners and hearers. Amen!","title":"The Cross and the Shamrock: Or, How To Defend The Faith. An Irish-American Catholic Tale Of Real Life, Descriptive Of The Temptations, Sufferings, Trials, And Triumphs Of The Children Of St. Patrick In The Great Republic Of Washington. A Book For The Entertainment And Special Instructions Of The Catholic Male And Female Servants Of The United States.","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":65065}