The Cross and the Shamrock Part 7

"Is it slavery in one to obey his parents in what is good and useful?"

"No."

"Well, then, the church is my mother; and when she prohibits an indifferent thing, I, as a good child, am bound to obey her, particularly when I have the promise of Christ that she can never err--that 'the gates of h.e.l.l can never prevail against her.' We have an instance in this very county," said Paul, now warming into the argument, "of the effects of a prohibitory law. A few years ago it was no harm to fish for pickerel in the lakes and brooks of this county; but some of the people pet.i.tioned the legislature, and got a law pa.s.sed forbidding the fis.h.i.+ng for such fish for twenty years; and now, whoever is detected in violating the law is fined or imprisoned. So it was no sin to eat meat on Friday; but the church, for wise reasons, and to encourage mortification, has forbidden its use; and so now, after the prohibition, just as after the pa.s.sage of the law in regard to fis.h.i.+ng, whoever knowingly violates the law disobeys the church; and he who disobeys the church, or his parents, offends G.o.d, and will be punished by imprisonment, death, or eternal condemnation."

"That boy will never do any good, and is a dangerous viper in a family,"

said the parson, abruptly rising, and taking his hat.

"Well done, my young paddy," said uncle Jacob, as he saw the dominie retire; "you have beaten the minister holler. Ha! ha! ha! I am really glad you silenced his gab, for he is 'tarnally blabbing about his religion; though I think he hain't much of it himself, except counterfeit stuff, like a bad bill,--ha! ha!--that he wants to pa.s.s."

"I hope he is not angry," said Paul, timidly.

"Pshaw! And who cares, Paul? Let him cool, if he is mad, the darned fool," said uncle Jacob. "I am glad to have the house shet of him."

Paul and uncle Jacob, with whom he was of late becoming a great favorite, retired for the evening to the latter's bed room, where Paul was accustomed to read aloud for him out of his Catholic books of instruction.

CHAPTER IX.

THE PRYING FAMILY.

The farms of the brothers Prying were situated in a beautiful valley. On the one side were the Vermont snow-crowned and cloud-capped mountains, rising up like eternal ramparts against all eastern hostile incursions of the elements. On the other, or the western side, were the pleasant hills of York State, which, in contrast with the mountains of Vermont, looked like so many tumuli of the deceased Indian giants of ages gone by. In the centre between, in a southerly course, ran a clear, silver brook, well stocked with an abundance of trout and other species of the finny tribe. On both sides of this stream were situated the extensive farms of the Pryings. They had abundance of woods from the elevated extremes on either side. The rivulet const.i.tuted a cooling retreat for cattle in summer, and in spring afforded an abundant source of irrigation to the rich meadows on both sides.

Ephraim's family, where Paul and Bridget remained, consisted of Mrs.

Prying, Amanda, the senior daughter, Melinda, and Mary, called after her grandmother, who was Irish. There were besides, Calvin, Wesley, Ca.s.sius, and Cyrus, younger members of the family, together with old uncle Jacob, an unmarried brother of Ephraim, the head of this family. We may as well here remark that Mr. Prying was, from the beginning, averse to receive these orphans into his house, seeing, as he said, "that he wanted no more such hands as they were;" but Amanda persuaded him, in order to have the glory of being instrumental in the conversion of the "interesting orphans," as they were called.

There were frequent friendly contentions in the family to see who would have the special care of the new comers. Little Mary insisted on having Bridget to sleep with herself instead of her sister Melinda, whom she wanted to dispossess. Wesley, Calvin, and Ca.s.sius wanted to monopolize Paul, especially on Sundays, when each of them were about to separate for their respective meetings to hear the preacher.

"Father," said Calvin, "won't Paul come with me? Our minister, Mr.

Gulmore, is such a clever preacher, and our Sunday school the best and the largest."

"I say he shan't, now, Calvin," replied Wesley. "Your minister, the old feller, is nothing, compared with ours, Mr. Barker."

"Well, brothers," said Ca.s.sius, "I don't see the use of your jawing about it. But I say Paul had better come to our meeting--the very name, Universalist, signifying the same with Catholic, as I was telling Paul yesterday, while a-fis.h.i.+ng, and as our minister said."

"Well, boys," said uncle Jacob, laughing, "my advice to you is; to see first whether Paul is willing to go with any of ye to yer meetings. I think his mind is made up to stay at home, like myself."

Amanda now stepped forward to inform this conference that Paul had been spoiled by their example; that he cried when told he must go to meeting; and that it was better now not to urge the matter further. In future, she intended to instruct Paul and Bridget herself; and she was resolved to cut off all intercourse between them and the younger members of the family.

Our readers are aware that Amanda was the Miss Prying, a child of her father by a former marriage; and besides this, she was an old maid. In addition to the foregoing circ.u.mstances, she became pious, attended camp meetings, donation parties, and _quilting matches_ at young ministers'

houses, who were just preparing to get a _rib_. And though she was praised as the best needle lady in the town, her epistles on love to young preachers were the most admirable mixture of cla.s.sical and biblical composition that could be found. Though she had a good pair of hands at making pies, puddings, and other culinary preparations, though she was praised, flattered, and admired, yet n.o.body ever yet went beyond this. All was admiration, praise, flattery, no more. Again: Amanda, though a strict old school Presbyterian, in order to exhibit her liberality and prove that she had no objection to a partner from any of the other countless sects of Protestantism, be he Baptist, Methodist, or Unitarian--in order to prove her liberality, she attended the donations of the six ministers of her village, and each of the dominies received from her a neatly-worked handkerchief for pulpit use. Yet, though she was at once liberal and strict, pious and politic; though she induced one Sally Dwyer to join her church and declare she "got the change of heart;" though she was eternally working and planning to bring others to her way of thinking, and had some success in her proselyting efforts,--she never could, with all her art, biblical lore, and policy, succeed in causing any body to say, "I take thee, Amanda, to my wedded wife." This was the chief point; and here is just where she failed. What was the cause of it? She was not too old--not near so old as Miss Longface, whom the youthful parson Barker lately wedded. "And besides,"

said she, in a soliloquy, "when I was young, it was just the same bad luck. Is it that men are less numerous than ladies? There might be something in that, for she had seen it stated in their newspaper, 'The Home Journal,' that female births exceeded that of males by forty thousand annually in certain European kingdoms. The number of Popish priests also," she said, "who remain unmarried, adds greatly to the superfluity of the female s.e.x. Hence there is no part of the wicked Popish system I regard so much contrary to G.o.d's holy word as celibacy.

Celibacy!" she cried aloud; "one of the doctrines of devils, as any one can tell, who has been these twenty years in search of a mate, and could never yet find one! O horrid thought!" She had consulted the famous fortune teller at the state fair of Vermont, and, after having paid that "seer of future events" a fee of ten dollars, she found his prediction was false. For she was told she would be married within two years, and to a neighboring minister; but now it was twenty-six months since, and the only single minister around lately got married to Miss Longface, a very ignorant and unamiable person. But there was no taste, or judgment, or discernment nowadays in men, as this fact clearly proved.

"Thunderation on them!" said she, in a rage.

Such were the ideas that were pa.s.sing through the brain of Amanda one Sunday morning, as she lounged on the sofa of her sitting room, when, upon her looking out towards the lawn in front, she perceived Paul and Bridget kneeling by a seat, at the foot of a large wild plum tree that stood at the end of the green plot in front of the house, and that had its branches bent within a few feet of the ground by the embraces of a rich grape vine that for years had grown around it and impeded its development. For a few moments she watched the movements of the orphans as they smote their b.r.e.a.s.t.s at the "Confiteor," or bowed their heads at the "Sanctus," accompanying the priests who, they knew, in thousands of churches, were engaged in offering sacrifice to G.o.d; and reading the "Prayers at Ma.s.s" out of the Key of Heaven manual of devotion.

Instead of admiring this sincerity of devotion, or giving thanks to G.o.d for the grace of fidelity and piety that his mercy had vouchsafed to these children of grace, Amanda, as if she could not endure the sight of such happiness, or mortified at the miscarriage of her vain attempts to rob these innocent hearts of the treasure of true faith and piety which they possessed, still pale with rage in consequence of her ruminations about her own misfortune, the ill-tempered old maid there and then resolved to try another and a severer plan to effect her purpose of proselytism.

"Confound yer impudence, ye little Popish paupers!" she said to herself.

"I shall soon make ye give up these superst.i.tious practices. Paul, Paul, dear," she said, tapping at the window, "come in out of that, come in Bridget, ye little fools; the sun will spoil yer features, cover ye with tan."

"Yes, miss, in a few minutes; we are just finis.h.i.+ng," said Paul.

Ever since Paul came to this house, in obedience to the advice of his mother, as well as in accordance with the prescriptions of the excellent religious education he received at home in the diocesan seminary, he always read the "Prayers at Ma.s.s," accompanied by his sister Bridget, first; and after having read them with her at home, he went across the brook to Reuben Prying's, where his brothers lived, and taking them into the fields, or to the barn if the weather did not answer, he read for them the same devotions, causing them to answer "Amen" after the end of each prayer, and reading to them a chapter of the catechism for committal to memory. And to do justice to Reuben, whose wife was a southern lady, there was no obstacle thrown in the way of the children to prevent them from discharging their duties to their religion. On the contrary, the fidelity of Paul, and his watchfulness over the faith and morals of his younger brothers Patrick and Eugene, commanded the highest approbation of Mrs. Reuben Prying. And such was her horror of any thing like the domestic tyranny or intolerance of Amanda, that Mrs.

Reuben always allowed the two young lads to say their own prayers in private, notwithstanding the advice of the ministers to the contrary.

The only times that Pat and Eugene were ever asked into the parlor to pray was on some rare occasions, when Mrs. Reuben, through a laudable curiosity, and to serve as an example to her own children, caused the orphans to say their prayers aloud before retiring to bed. The two little fellows, one five and the other eight years of age, joining their hands before their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, repeated the Lord's Prayer, Hail Mary, the Apostles' Creed, the General Confession, the Acts of Faith, Hope, and Charity, the Litany of the Blessed Virgin, the Prayer of the Angel Guardian and Patron Saint, and Prayers for the Dead: these they repeated aloud, and correctly, to the astonishment of the other children and the edification of the mistress.

"Ah, Reub, Ben, and Will," she said, "when will you be such good boys as Patsy and Geny? You can't say the Lord's Prayer yet."

"I can tell," said Reub, blus.h.i.+ng, "more than Pat can. I know how old Mathusalem was, who was the wife of Abraham, and who was the mother of Solomon, and the wife of Putiphar."

"I don't know how to say so many prayers," said Ben, contemptuously; "but I can tell how many cents in ten dollars, how many states in the Union, and how large England is."

"I can sing a hymn," said Will, "which I heard in the choir in the Methodist meeting house when I went there with cousin."

"Let us hear you, Will," said his mother.

"Mother, I have only a little of it," said Will.

"Say all you remember," said she, "and sing it."

"The ladies first said, ma," said he, commencing,--

'O for a man--O for a man--O for a mansion in the skies.'

"The men answered,--

'Send down sal--send down sal-- Send down salvation to our souls.'"

At this specimen of ludicrous poetical composition the mother burst out a-laughing, in which she was joined by the two arch Irish lads; and Will, discouraged, blushed and stopped.

"I would rather not have any prayer than have that foolish hymn," said Ben. "O Will! O, you goose!"

"Silence, boys!" said Mrs. Prying. "Pat and Eugene, can you not sing?

Come, let us hear how you can sing. Commence. Don't be ashamed."

"Will we sing, ma'am, what the Christian brothers taught us?"

"Yes, Pat, any thing; don't be shy," said the lady. The lads began thus, with joined hands and uplifted eyes:--

"Ave Maria! hear the prayer Of thy poor helpless child!

Beneath thy sweet maternal care Preserve me undefiled.

"Ave Maria! do I sigh In deep affliction's hour.

Nor to a suppliant heart deny Thy mediative power.