Father O'Shane was now several days weather bound and laid up sick in
Vermont, where, with great anxiety, he waited the first opportunity to
return home to his mission; and the orphans were safely lodged in the
poorhouse, where our friend Paul, to calm the anxiety and dispel the
grief of his younger companions, began to contrast, with an air of
satisfaction, the aspect of things here with what he had heard of the
horrors of the Irish poorhouse.

"What nice men we have in America over the poorhouse," said he; "they
are very kind to us."

"Yes; but I don't like that man with the great beard," said Bridget; "he
frightens me when I meet him. O, such a _feesage_; a robin redbreast
could make her nest in it," said she, smiling.

"He might be a nice man for all that, Bid. Most people here don't shave
at all, you know, as we saw in New York. And did you notice that sailor
that saved the boy who fell overboard, what a long beard he had? And he
must be a brave, good man, to risk his own life to save another's."

"Yes, Paul; but he was a Catholic, and from Ireland, too; for he made
the sign of the cross on himself in Irish before he leaped out, for I
was near him; and besides, I saw him going to confession to the same
priest we went to the day after we landed."

"And are not they all Catholics here, Paul?" said Patsy. "I seen crosses
on three churches, the time I went with Mrs. Doherty for the priest for
mother, God be good to her."