and exciting them to contrition.  Ah, yes!  But yesterday Cunningham had got some drink, and, not perceiving the danger, refused to confess.  But now, if he could see the priest!  “O God!” said he, “where is the priest?” Some of his comrades, who heard this exclamation expressed aloud, laughed; others taunted him on his evil conscience.  However, down on his knees he fell, as if unconscious of the presence of his comrades, and promised, if God spared him, on the first opportunity, that he would not only restore the stolen treasure, but, if necessary, travel the whole Union in search of those whom he robbed; and ask their forgiveness for the injury done them.  He had scarcely risen into the ranks of his comrades when the hostile fire opened on the plains of Tampa, and a bullet from the rifle of the enemy shattered his arm to pieces.  A few hours decided that well-known victory of the Americans, and Cunningham had not long to remain on the field, exposed to the scorching sun, when he was conveyed to the hospital.  Though the pain he felt in his arm was great, that which rankled in his bosom was greater; and on his reaching the hospital, he called out for Father McEl——­, before he would allow the surgeon to inspect his arm.

After the amputation of the limb he recovered, got his discharge, came back to New York, and, in company with a respectable Catholic citizen, went out about seven miles east of Brooklyn, and there, at the foot of a maple tree, they dug out of the ground, three feet deep, the bag sure enough, containing every sovereign and note of the money stolen from the widow O’Clery.  They went with it right straight to the priest of St. Peter’s Church, who, upon hearing the recital of the now penitent thief, promised that he should suffer no legal consequences, and inserted advertisements in the papers to find out where the O’Clerys might be.

This information was communicated to Paul by Mr. Clarke, and to Bridget by Father Ugo, on the same day.

This news, when made known, created the most intense excitement.  Amanda was now very polite to Bridget, whom she marked out in her own mind as a suitable wife for her eldest brother Calvin.  Paul was declared to be a young “likely gentleman,” of real genius.  The two younger brothers, Patrick and Eugene, were lauded, flattered, and admired.  In fine, the sudden change which took place in the relation in which they stood in the house of bondage was such as to cause Murty to remark to Paul,—­who lost no time in coming to pay for his brothers’ and sister’s board, although the term of servitude of Bridget was now almost expired,—­“Paul, I see that it is not our faith that is so much hated by these goodly Christians as our poverty.”

“There may be some truth in that,” replied Paul.