rching plains of the south. He had
less dread of the sabre, or grape, or rifle of the enemy, than of the
thought that he had robbed the poor widow, and availed himself of the
confidence of confession to elicit from his too confiding director the
paper that principally enabled him to do so. He had plundered an honest
family of their all, and it was of no use to him. The injury done was
severely felt by not only one, but several. The pleasure, comfort, or
happiness to him was nothing at all. Unhappy man, what was he to do? He
could not help it now; the enemy was before him, and he could not turn
his back, and the money was lost forever. He feared death would deprive
him of the means of making restitution, for he had a presentiment he
would fall on this very day. First, that sin he committed in Liverpool,
when, in an evil hour, yielding to the advice and example of wicked
companions, he took to drink in order to smother the thought of it; and
drink caused him to rob the widow, and to shun further the thought of
these crimes he enlisted in the army; but yet, here, in the very ranks,
with drums beating, and music playing, amid the shouts of Indians and
din of battle, the sins were uppermost still in his mind. How horrid
must be the feelings of poor Cunningham, with death staring him in the
face, and yet he expected nothing but judgment after death! In vain did
he look around for the tall and venerable form of Father McEl----, to
cast himself at his knees, and ask for advice, blessing, and
forgiveness. He was nowhere now to be found. O misery unspeakable! And
but yesterday, but this very morning, four hours ago, that father went
through the ranks, encouraging the men, 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