, had cut the supports from under the floor.

To these people, a priest was an object of hatred and scorn, whom they
believed it would be a good work to kill, and Father MacDonald settled
among them at the risk of his life. But when duty was in question, he
knew not fear. _The servant is not greater than his master_, he would
say: _If they have persecuted me they will persecute you also_. It was
in vain they used every means their perverse ingenuity suggested to
intimidate this dangerous papist. They even began to like him. Slowly
but surely, he won his way among them, and within a year of his arrival
he was able to hire the Granite Hall as a temporary chapel. In 1849, he
built a church on a square purchased with his own patrimony, at the
corner of Union and Merrimac Streets.

Besides the theological virtues which the "natives" valued not, Father
MacDonald possessed all the natural virtues which they pretend to
canonize. He was most frugal. To great objects he would give royally,
but it was doubtful if he ever wasted a dollar. He sought to live on as
little as possible, but it was that he might have more for the needy. He
was industrious; not a moment of his day was lost. For many years, he
was one of the only two priests in the State; but when his parochial
duties left him a little leisure, he was seen to handle the trowel and
use the broom. He paid cash for everything he bought, and whoever worked
for him received full pay on the day and hour agreed upon: no cutting
down of rates. If they wished to give to the church, very well; but they
must take their pay from him to the last farthing. He was neatness
personified. The fresh complexion and fine physique common among his
countrymen he did not possess. Barely reaching middle height, his spare
form, sharp features, sallow complexion, and keen, spectacled eyes, made
him look like a son of the soil. As for energy, no Yankee ever had more,
or perhaps so much. Non-Catholics knew that his power over his flock was
absolute. But they admitted that his wish, his word, and his work, were
always on the side of order, sobriety, frugality, and good citizenship.

When Father MacDonald's beautiful church was finished, the
Know-Nothings, or Native American Party, by way of celebrating in a
fitting manner the independence of the United States, burst upon the
defenceless Catholics, July 4, tore down their houses, destroyed their
furniture, dragged their sick out of bed into the streets