The northern tribune. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1847-1855, 1847-11-24

1t was a terrible night. The snow had
changed to sleet the wind, swelling to a
hurricane, roared like the voice of ten thous-
and men, clammering in battle, over the wilds
of the swamp. Although it was in the depth
of winter, the sound of distant thunder was
heard, and pale, lurid lightning flashed
| from the verge of that dreary horizon.
| The old man, with the light faring, now
| over his withered face now over the stranger
| and his steed, stood in the doorway of his
| rude home.
take the track to the right-turn the big
| oak about quarter of mile from this place,
and then you must follow the windin's of the
| path, as best you may But hold, it's ter
| rible night; I'll not see fellow beins life in
peril. Wait minute, until l get my cap and
rifle; Ill go with you to the edge of the
swamp"
$50 you would like to know interrupted
the deep voice of the stranger.-"So you
would like to know what has become of Ben
edict Arnold"
That voice held the old mans eye and ear
like spell. He started forward, holding the
torch in his hand, and grasped the stirrup of
the traveller.
Then occurred sudden, yet vivid and i'm
pressive scene!
You hear the thunder roll-you see the
pale lightning glow. That torch spreads a
| circle of glazing light around the old man and
the horseman, while all beyond is intensely
dark. You behold the brown visage of the
aged soldier, scanned with wrinkles, battered
with scars, its keen grey eyes appraised, the
white hairs streaming in the wind.
| And then, like some wild creature of that
desert waste, you see the impatient horse, and
the cloaked figure, breaking into the vivid
liUk t1yr ali hx,t
of darkness beyond.
The old man gazed intently for moment,
and then fell back against the doorpost of his
hut, appalled,, frightened, thunder stricken.
The mingled despair, wonder, fear, stamped
upon his battle-worn face, was frightful to
behold.
The cloak had fallen from the strangers
shoulders. The old man beheld a massive
form, clad in scarlet, bronzed visage, dis
iorted by hideous emotion, two dark eyes,
that flashed through the gloom as with the
light of eternal despair.
Nop do you knoo me !" Numbered that
hoarse voice, and mist came over the old
mans eyes,
When he recovered his consciousness again,
the tufted sward before his hut was vacant.
There was the sound Of horses hoof crashing
through the swamp, there was the vision of a
morse ana rlQer seem lar over the waste Dy the
glare Of the winter lightning
| The space before the hut was vacant, yet
still that old man, with his paralyzed hand
clenching the torch, beheld hideous vision
rising against the dark sky-a red uniform, a
bromzed usage ssoo burning eyes!
"To-night," he faltered,-the brave old
man, now transformed into very coward by
that sight" tonight, l have seen the
F1END OF DARKNESS for it was not-no! 1t
was not BENEDICT ARNOLD J"
And the old man, until the hour of his
death. firmly believed that the vision of that
mig hit was horrible delusion, created by the
fiend of darkness, to brighten brave old
soldier. He died, believing still in the Pa
TRIoT ARNOLD.
Arnold was afterwards heard to say, that
all the shames and scorns which had been
showered upon his head, never cut him as
thoroughly to the soul as the fervant admira-
ton of that soldier of the wilderness, who, in
his lonely wanderings, still cherished in his
heart the memory of the PATRIOT ARNOLD.