VIII. MISFORTUNE AND GRIEF
When the scholars assembled on Monday morning, the first news they heard was that Mr. Brown's splendid and valuable watch-dog had been poisoned, and died on Saturday night.
Mr. Brown had obtained evidence so convincing against Michael Hennessy as to cause his arrest.
Great was the indignation of his young friends, and unanimous their declarations that they knew Michael did not do it.
"A great deal more like that hateful Joe Bundy," said one.
"Oh! it couldn't be him," said another; "for he was one of the party, and of course it wasn't he. If he hadn't been invited, he might have done it out of spite; but now he had no object."
Various were the conjectures and discussions at school and in the whole neighborhood.
The trial was on Tuesday, and Mr. Blair was the prosecuting attorney. The village apothecary testified that on the Friday previous Michael Hennessy purchased some poison of him, representing that his mother sent him for it to poison rats. A neighbor of Mr. Brown's alleged that he saw Michael passing his residence in the road on Saturday afternoon, and Joe Bundy averred that he saw him prowling around the farm buildings about the time indicated by the last witness.
Mrs. Hennessy testified that she sent Michael for the poison to kill the rats that infested their premises. Mr. Hennessy said he had mended a hand-reel for a person who lived just beyond Mr. Brown's, and sent Michael home with it on Saturday afternoon.
Mr. Blair accepted the evidence of the parents, and urged the probability that a portion of the poison had been reserved by the lad as an instrument of his spite against Mr. Brown, for the application of which the errand upon which he was dispatched furnished an opportunity.
He set forth every circumstance unfavorable to poor Michael in the strongest possible light, blending with his argument such reflections and assertions upon the character and training of the children of foreign parentage as could not fail to influence a prejudiced jury.
Notwithstanding an able defence, the jury, after a short consultation, returned a verdict of "guilty," and Michael was sentenced for twelve months to the reform-school.
Nothing could exceed the grief and indignation of his comrades, or the sympathy of the whole village with poor Mr. and Mrs. Hennessy. Michael stoutly protested his innocence, and there were but very few who doubted it; but his father, whose health was very poor and his family large, was not able to risk an appeal to a higher court, which would probably, after all, confirm the decision, and Mike was not willing to have him. So they prepared, with heavy hearts, for the separation.
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Sullivan to her neighbor Mrs. Mellen--"indeed, it's a sore thing to be put upon two such decent people, through the hatred of that miserable old Blair against an Irishman's boy, and him as innocent as the child in his mother's arms!"
"You knew them before they came here, I have heard," said Mrs. Mellen, who had not lived long in the place.
"They came over on the vessel with us, and were from the next county at home; and this was the way of it:
"The two brothers, Pat and Mike Hennessy, married two sisters, Mary and Bridget Denver. They were decent tradesmen as any in the two counties, and were well enough to do until the hard times came, when old Ireland saw her poor children starving on every side so that it would melt the heart of a stone, or any thing softer than an English landlord's, to hear tell of it. Well, in the midst of the famine, Mike agreed that he'd come to America, and prepare a place against Patrick should come with Mary and Bridget. So when he left them, Pat set to get all he could together by selling his bits of furniture and things, and when times grew worse and worse, he would not delay, but took Mary with her baby of a week old, and Bridget, and came, as I said, on the vessel with us; and, by the same token, the ship's name was the Hibernia. A good name with a rough fortune, like the dear old land; for the weather was boisterous from first to last, and when we had been out four days, the most awful storm arose, that you'd think heaven and earth was comin' together. And in the midst of it what does poor Bridget do but sicken and die with the fright, leaving her little baby; but it followed its mother that same night which was God's blessing on it, poor motherless thing, seein' it was baptized by a priest we had on board, and who attended Bridget at the last.
"When we reached Boston, no tidings was to be heard of Mike; so Pat staid there hopin' to get news of him, and we came on to Vermont, where Sullivan's sister's husband came the year before.
"After a while Pat heard that the vessel Mike sailed on was struck by an iceberg, and went down with all on board; and it was called the Polar Queen, a name no knowledgeable man would have put on a vessel, in respect of them same icebergs, that would naturally enough claim their own.
"So when Pat heard these news, and he not finding such work as he wanted, seein' it was very costly living in the city, they started for the West; but hearing at Albany that the cholera was ragin' there, they turns and they follows us to Vermont, thinking, poor creatures! that it would be some comfort to be near those who knew of all their troubles. The church was then a building, and Mr. Wingate gave him work on it, and has been the best of friends to him ever since, and he has never wanted for employment; but lately his health is poor, and I'm afeered this grief will kill him entirely, and indeed my heart is scalded for them, bein' that we're all as one family, and their sorrow is our sorrow."
IX. AFFLICTED AND CONSOLED
When the morning appointed for the departure of Michael arrived, the whole school assembled to accompany him to the depot, and take leave of him. The teacher gave him much good advice, and exhorted him to conform closely to all the rules of the institution, adding, "And I have no doubt you will, Michael; for you have always been a good, attentive, and obedient scholar."
The parting with his parents and the children was inexpressibly painful; but for their sakes he bore up manfully under it, cheering them with brave words, and suppressing his grief until the dear home with all its cherished associations was no longer in sight. Oh! how bitterly and dismally did the heavy grief he had so struggled with, and tried so heroically to smother, then press upon him; he still choked it down until he was ready to suffocate, and then the weary sense of desolation, of cruel injustice, and of a homesickness which made the sight of a year's separation from all he loved, that was now staring him in the face, seem an age of insupportable sorrow, rushed upon him with overwhelming power, and found relief in floods of tears.
The officer who had him in charge tried to soothe and cheer him; assuring him that it was a very pleasant place to which he was going, and that he would be treated with the utmost kindness if he behaved well. But what was the kindness of strangers to the tenderness of dear parents from whom he had never before been separated? What could the place be to him, though ever so comfortable, to which he was consigned, in his innocence, as a disgraced felon?
No! there was no comfort for him! and again the convulsive sobs shook his whole frame, and the pride of his honest Irish heart rebelled against the injustice of his cruel fate; when suddenly he remembered the words his dear mother whispered softly, amidst sighs and tears, at parting, "Remember, darling! remember the loving Jesus! and how he suffered, being innocent, for our sins. When you are tempted to despair, fly to the wound in his sacred heart, ever open to receive and comfort the broken-hearted, and you will surely find comfort and peace." From that moment he became calm. He sought that dear refuge, and hid himself there from the storm that was raging within and without.
He had always been a warm-hearted boy, an affectionate, generous, and dutiful son and brother; but now he reproached himself that he had never prized his dear ones at half their value, or loved them with any thing approaching to the degree of affection which they deserved. Oh! if he could only be with them again, how would he strive to show his love by the most entire devotion, and the most diligent efforts to assist and sustain them.
Then how did the memory of the wild frolics in which he had joined, and for which he had even neglected his religious duties, come back like accusing spirits to whisper to his afflicted heart that it was just he should be punished.
After a few hours' ride, they reached the place of their destination, and the principal, a venerable old man with a most benevolent countenance and manner, received Michael very kindly, even tenderly.
With strong efforts the poor lad was able to maintain his composure until he prepared for his bed at night, when the same dark sense of desolation overwhelmed him, as recollections of his dear home, and the kneeling circle, where his place was to be so long vacant, pressed upon him; but the thought of how fondly he would be remembered in their united prayers this and every other night poured a ray of light upon his stricken soul. Again recalling his mother's words, he knelt by his bedside, commending himself and all his beloved and afflicted ones to his Saviour, and to the prayers of the tender Virgin Mother who never forsakes her children; and then slept the peaceful sleep of a tired, exhausted child on that maternal bosom.
The next morning he was duly instructed in the routine of his present position, and soon found that the most diligent attention to its duties served to relieve the crushing weight which seemed to be pressing the very life-blood from his young heart. After a few days, he won approving smiles from the principal, who was as ready to appreciate the merits of those under his charge as he was to reprove their faults.
The Saturday after Michael's arrival, the devoted bishop of the diocese visited the institution, and heard the confessions of the Catholic members. This was an unspeakable consolation to Michael; and his heart felt lighter than he had thought it ever would again after he had poured the tale of all its sins and all its sorrows into that paternal ear. The bishop had obtained permission for the Catholic boys to attend mass at their own chapel in the place, and at his recommendation they were placed under Michael's care to and from the church.
Some of these were very wild, reckless boys, hardened in vice and iniquity, and disposed to "poke fun" at the "new prig," as they called Michael.
At first, when he was saying his prayers, they would shoot peas at him, flip buttons in his face, and even repeat portions of prayers in mocking derision. But he paid no heed to them. After a few days, two or three others knelt to their prayers at night and morning, and then he obtained permission from the principal to recite the beads with these at night. It was not long before they were joined by every Catholic boy in the dormitory.
There is a wonderful vigor and tenacity in the life our Catholic Mother--our Mighty Mother, ever ancient, ever new--imparts. When, by our own fault, we seem to have quenched the last spark of living fire which she kindled upon the altar of our hearts, a passing breath from heaven wafted gently through a fitting word kindly spoken, or the voice of hymn or prayer over the dying embers on the almost abandoned shrine, will awaken the flame anew, and draw the wanderer back to the forsaken source of life, of light, and of warmth.
It was very consoling to Michael to witness this returning vitality in the hearts of his unfortunate companions; and they soon became so fond of him as to seek his advice and confide all their troubles to him. The influence he thus acquired was a great relief to the principal. It was no longer necessary for him to exercise unceasing vigilance over these, who had been among the most turbulent boys under his care, to prevent violent outbreaks; for they were now the most diligent, attentive, and orderly members of the establishment.
And Michael's efforts brought their own reward to himself. The consciousness of being useful to others brought cheerfulness to his heart, and lent new wings to old time, whose flight had at first been so heavy and slow; so that at the end of the first month he was surprised to find how swiftly it had flown.