errupted
communication with the city.

Father O'Shane bemoaned his fate in doleful terms; the more so as Sunday
was approaching, when he feared he should be absent from his
congregation; and he also regretted that he had it not in his power,
according to his promise to the widow O'Clery, to visit her next day,
and provide for her poor orphans among the benevolent of his flock. And,
well aware of the character of the hard-hearted Van Stingey, he
shuddered for the fate of the children.

The apprehensions of the good priest were not groundless; for no sooner
was the body of Mrs. O'Clery consigned to its narrow, cold habitation,
than the official, assisting the children into the sleigh that had borne
their mother's body to the tomb, drove off in a rapid trot towards the
poorhouse.

"Have we far to go yet, sir?" said Paul, thinking that the "county
house" was something different from the much dreaded poorhouse. "I am
afraid Bridget will perish with cold, sir."

"No fears of her; she's hardy, I guess."

"Yes, sir, but her dress is so very light."

"Well, she can pull that ere buffalo around her."

"Ou, hou, hou!" cried Bridget, breathing on her little bare hands, which
she kept pressed to her lips.

"I hope, sir, you are not going to take us to the poorhouse," said Paul;
"we don't want to go there. The priest that attended my mother--God rest
her soul!--told us he would provide for us."

"Indeed! How can he do so?" said Van Stingey.

"Why, sir, I don't know; but perhaps he will write to my uncle, who is a
vicar general in Ireland, and he will send us money to take us back
home."

"Is your uncle in the British sarvice, then, and a general in the army?"

"No, sir, but he is a priest next to the bishop in station in the
church."

"That's it, eh? Wal, I guess you better not talk of going back, any how.
You must live here in this free country, and learn to be a man and a
Christian--a thing you could not be at home, in the old country."

"I beg your pardon, sir," replied Paul; "the very best Christians are in
Ireland, which was once called the 'Isle of Saints,' when all the people
were Catholics; and where I came from, even now, they are all mostly
Catholics. There are in the whole parish but two _peelers_, the minister
and his wife, and the tithe proctor, or collector of tithes; in all,
five Protestants."

"You are a lad, I see," said the official, as he dismounted from the
sleigh and ordered the children to en