The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1847-11-20
For Tie (cciL Uhir
A R N O L D

In the history of nations there are pc
RODS distinguished not only by important
changes and revolutions, but also by the
remarkable characters which those pc
riods produce. 1t is rot every day that
a reformer or hero is born. He arrives
at the appointed time-at the hour when
the affairs of people Or of empires de-
mand the guidance of master hand.
Then he comes unheraldcd by man. He
accompishes his destined work and dis
appears. He moves for a momen, on
the waves of time and passes on like the
meteor that fits across the brow OF night;
but the memory and the influence OF his
deeds remain. He is gone but his name
fingers on the tongue of posterity. If
his actions We're good, the world does
him honor if evil his name is a damning
thing we trcmble to pronounce. 1t is a
bye word and a curse.
When Freedom unfurled her banner
upon this western hemisphere, and led
! forth her champions to the field, many a
hero followed in her ranks whose name
sswas not born todir." I need not men,
ton them. They are enrraven upon the
great heart Of the world. They are
watchworlS to the nation. They are
spoken on cart, and in heaven. There
is no land to which their fame hath not
gone forth, nor people to whom they
have not come.
Among the great and immortal Of sew
enty six there is one who, for a time,
shOne ike a star among the sons Of Lib
erty. but fell like Lucifer. Ola wild
and ungoverna5lo spirit, he became a
prey to evil passions, and descended to
dwell with the vilest Of the vile. Let
us paus" for a moment before that terri
/ bic genius. At the commencement of
! our Revolutionary struggle he was in the
meridian of life, and his daring mind well
| fitted him to play an active part in the
coming scenes. He had tasted the life OF
a soldier before and smiled at the tenn
pests and storms Of ocean.
One pleasant April evening in IT'S a
courier arrives in New Haven bringing
some dreadful intelligence, the meaning
|
edit is something about Concord and
Lexington All fearful news, The church
bells BERN to toll. Strong men trembIe
+ to hear the sound. They leave their
work in the field and hurry hither and
! thther not Knowing what to do. The
mother clasps her infant to her throbbing
breast and looks with dread lorebodings
! upon the gathering tumult.-But bark, a
voice is heard--a stern voice is
raised amid the crowd. "Mv country
men arise. The enemy is upon us! This
day at Lexington the tyrantS have shed
American blood, TO arms Americans
to arms, strike for your country and your
liberty. To arms against the foe and |
am with vou.' That voice is Benedict
Arnold's Then he first appeared in the
cause Of liberty. Then the iron hero
stood forth in brightest glory. He will
ed and it was done. lie lifted up his
glttcring sword and toemcn fled before
him. At one time he travcrses the I'M
troddcn wilderness and scales the noun
tains of ice and snow. At another he
rushed along the path of the tempest like
the wrathful spirit Of the storm. He
guides as general never did his furnishing
troops amid the the terrors Of northern
winter. Behold him again at Valcour
island. 1nvincibe in dangcr-.undis-
mayed in the fearful and unequal contest
The flames of the enemy's artillery flap
Their red wings around him. The foam
ing waters vawn to receive his shattered
boat, but he remains unconquered. Again
the field Of Saratoga bursts on our view.
The day is turning against the sons OF
Liberty. The stecl-clad lcgions of the
foe press hard upon the ranks of young
America. Now they totter-- now the
day seems lost. But yonder a foaming
steed is bounding furiousIy over the
plain. The wild shout Of the fiery rider
is heard He comes like the shade of
These9s among the Greeks at Marathon.
With a thrilling shout he sweeps along
the wavering lines He rushes before
the army like a terrible war god in the
day of battle. The cnemy's battalions
tremble they yield-they flee, and the
day is for America. What mighty hand
thus turned the tide Of victory on the
field Of Saratoga All twas Arnold
Thus far he welded the sword in the
cause of Freedom: but his dark and trail
tor soul could be still no longer He
never was true patriot or he would
not have forsaken his country no matter
how neglected by her government. Who
less than a demon could sell his country
to a merciless foe! Judas sold his master
for thirty pieces Of silver, Arnold his
country for thirty thousand, and surren-
dered her to the grasp of cruel and irri-
tated tyrants. We shudder to mention
the accused deed. Our blood runs cold
to think that Washington, his best friend,
he sold To the ENGLISH hanolnan. and the