Cooper's Clarksburg register. [volume] (Clarksburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1851-1861, 1858-11-05
THE RIGHT ARM; or the Patriot
and the Traitor.

ana the Traitor. 2.
Fifty years ago terrible storm SHOOK
the city of London. At the dead of the
night, when tue storm was at its highest
an aged minister. living near the suburbs
OF he city was aroused by an earnest cry
for help. Looking from his window, be
bebeld q rude man. clad iu the course at.
tire OF the sweeper OF the public street.
In few moments. while the rain came
down In torrents. and the storm growled
above. the preacher. leaning on the arm oil
the scaVenger. threaded his way through
the dark suburbs.
That very day strange old man had
fallen speechless in front Of the scaven.
gers rude home. The good he srted
street sweeper had taken him in, laid him
on his own bed-he had not spoken once
and now he was dying.
This was the story Of the rough man.
And now. through dark alleys. among
miserable tenemenIs, that seem 10 topple
down upon their heads. into the loneliest
and dreariest suburbs they pass. That
white haired minister and his guide. AT
last in a narrow court, and up fl ght of
stairs that creaked beneath their tread
aud then into the death room.
1t was in truth. miserable place
gGmmering light stood ou broken
chair. There was the rough walls. there
the solitary garret window, with the rain
beating through t rags and straw.
which stuffed the broken panes-and
there amid heap Of cold ashes the small
vaiise which it seems the strager had With
him.
In one corner. on the coarse straw OF
the ragged bed. lay the dying man. He
was but half dresseG-hiS legs we're con-
ceaIed by military bouts.
The aged preacher drew near and
looked upon him. And he Iooked-throb
-thrOb-you might hear the death
watch ticking in the shattered wall.
1t WAS tie form OF a strong man
grown old with care more than age
There was face that you might look
upon once. and yet wear in it your mem
ory forever. Let US bend over the bed
and look on that face.
A bold forehead scanned by one deer
wrinkle between the brows-long lock.
of dark hair. sprinkIed with gray-lip:
firmly set. yet quivering as though they
had life separate from the life OF The
man-and then Two large eyes. vivid
burning. unnatural in their steady glare
All. there was something SO terrible
In that face-something so full Of uuut
cerable loneliness. unspesksbIe despair
that the aged minister started back il
horror.
But look, these strong arms are clutch
ing at the vacant air-Ihe death.swea
starts in drops upon the cold brow-tht
man is dying
ThrOb !-throb !-throb beat tn,
death>Watch in the sh altered we'll.
"Would you die in the faith of Chris
tian ?" faltsred the preacher, as he knel
there on the dark dOor.
The white lips Of the death>stricker
mau trembled but made no sound.
Then. with the agony of death upo,
him. he arose into sitting posture. Fo
the first time, he spoke
"Christisn !" he echoed in that dee
tone which thrilled the teacher to thl
heart, "Will that faith give me back m,
honor Come with me-with me far
far over the water. Ha we are there
This is my native home. Yonder is III,
church ia which l knelt in childhood
yOnder the green on which sported wher
boy. But another flag than that waiv
~ i 90 . Sullus E1uu IIStcuR OIL
man; were l to pass this street as pass,
ed when but a child. the very babes il
their cradles would raise their tiny hand.
and curse me. The graves in yondel
churchyard would shrink from my foot
steps. aud youder Rag would stain bap
usm Of blood upon my heart"
That was an awful death>bed. Tht
minister has watched the last night, =
with a hundred convicts in their cells anc
yet never beheld a scene as terrible a.
this.
Suddenly the dying man arose. H,
tottered along the floor. With those
white fingers, whose nails are blue witt
the death chill. he threw open the valise
He showed his military coat trimed with
silver, an old parchment. a piece of clott
that looked like the wreck of a battle
flag.
Look ye. priest. this faded coat il
spotted with my blood + he cried, as ole
memories seemed stirring in his heart
This is the last coat wore W hen plant.
ed th' banner Of the stars on Ticondero
ga. That bullet. hole was pierced in thu
fight at Quebec; uow-I am a-let me
whisper 10 your ear
Now. help me priest he said in 8
voice growing suddenly tremuIous: .helr
me put on this coat Of blue and silver
For you see.' and ghostly smile came
over his face. 'there is no one to wip.
the cold drops from my brow: no vile
no child must meet death alone: bu
will meet him, as met him in battle
without fear