he volley was returned slowly but deliberately from an old house in
front, on which this large body of men were making an assault. While the
priest stood at a distance, looking on at this horrid contest, he was
perceived by the people in the house, who at once despatched a messenger
to inform his reverence of the danger they were in, assailed by so many
men resolved on their extermination. At no small risk, leaving the
messenger in charge of his horse, he entered between the ranks of the
combatants, and, with crucifix in hand uplifted, he implored the
assailants, in the name of Christ, to desist from their cruel warfare,
and take some other means and time than the Lord's day for getting
possession of that old house about which the contention arose. By a
great deal of difficulty, and after a speech of an hour, he succeeded in
quelling this cruel and disgraceful riot, and before he left the ground
he had all the arms secured in one pile, and conveyed to an adjacent
farmer's house for security.

After this the work went on peacefully. Van Stingey & Co. made money,
and were now rich; the poor priest had every thing but the thanks of the
contractors for his pains, and he concluded, from his experience of
this and other railroads and public works in America, that, of all the
men living, the railroad and day laborer of this "free country" is the
most ill treated and oppressed. He has to work from dark to dark; he has
to take _store pay_ for his wages; and he has to obey the nod, look, and
arbitrary commands of the lowest, cruellest, and most brutal class of
men on earth. I ask any man, Is not this slavery? Van Stingey was now
rich--had horses, wagons, and a splendid mansion. He took another, and a
third contract, in which he was very successful. One day, however, he
was on his work, and a blast having failed to go off, Van ordered his
men to return to the dump. They refused. He stamped and swore, and then
and there discharged all the "darned paddies," who were not fools enough
to get killed. So himself and his nephew, who bossed for him, returned
to the "cut," where they were no sooner arrived than the blast went off,
and poor Van Stingey was blown into atoms.

Thus perished, at the height of his success and of his guilt, the
meanest and most worthless of the human race--the mocker and robber of
the poor, the persecutor and kidnapper of Paul O'Clery and his brethren,
the merciless swindler and defrauder of the laborer's wages,