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.

"Ever," continued Murty, "since it appeared in our papers here that you
had your thousand pounds restored to you, all mouths are full of your
praise. You were uncommon children, and it was cruel of the minister
Gulmore to conspire against you. It was infamous in him, they now say,
to have your letters 'burked' in the post office, as it appears from
Amanda, who has turned informer on the parson, because he did not marry
her after his first wife's death. Before this