Marshall County Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1855-1859, 1858-01-14
THE THREE WORDS
Which followed Benedict Arnold to hi:
grave.
BY GEORGE LIPPARD.

When we look for the traitor again, we
find him standing in the steeple of the
New London Church, gazing with calm
Joy upon the waves of fire that roll around
him, while the streets beneath flow with
the blood of men, women and children.
1t was in September, 1871, that Arnold
descended like destroying Angel upon
the homes OF Connecticut. Tortured by a
rsmorse that never for a moment took its
vulture beak from his heart, fired by hope
to please the King who had bought him.
he went with men and horses, swords and
torches, to desolate the scene of his child
hood.
Do you see this beautiful river flowing
so calmly on beneath the light of the stars?
Flowing SO silently on, with the valleys,
the hills and the orchards, and the plains
of ConHectlcut on either shore.
On one side you behold the slumbering
town, with the outlines of Ft. Trumbull
rising above its roofs; on the other, dark
and massive pile, pitched on the summit
Of rising hills, Ft Griswold
All is very still and dark. but suddenly
two columns of light break into the starlit
sky. One here, from Ft. Trumbull, an
other over the opposite shore, from Fort
Griswold. The column marks the career
of Arm old and his men.
While New London, baptized in blood
and flames, rings with death groans, there
are heard the answering shouts of murder
from the heights Of the Fort on the oppo-
site shore.
While Benedict Arnold stands in the
steeple. surveying the works of assassins,
yonder in Ft. Griswold, brave young man,
who finds all defence in vain, rusbes to-
ward the British officer and surrenders his
sword.
BY the light of the musket we beheld
the scene.
Here lies the young American, his uni
form torn, his manly countenance marked
with the traces Of the flight. There. the
British leader, clad in his red uniform,
with a scowl darkening his red, round
face.
The American presents his sword, you
see the Briton grasp it by the hilt, and
with an oath, drive it through the Ameri-
cans heart, transfxing him with his own
blade.
The single course of the heroic Led
yard. stabbed with his own sword, should
speak to us with voice as eternal as the
justice of Heaven.
While he lay cold and stiff on the floor
of the conquered Fort, the flames of the
burning town spread to the vessel in the
river, and by the light of blazing roofs and
sails, Benedict Arnold looked his last upon
his childhood's home.
Soon afterwards he sailed from our shores
and came back no more.
From this time forth, wherever he went,
three whispered words followed him, ring
ing through his ears and into his heart
ARNOLD THE TRAITOR!
When he stood beside the King, in the
House Of Lords--the weak old man whis-
persd in familiar tones to his gorgeously
attired General whisper crept through
the thronged Senate, faces were turned,
fingers extended, and as the whisper deep
ened into murmer, one venerable Lord
arose and stated that he loved his sover-
eign but he could not speak to him while
by his side stood ARNOLD THE TRAITOR.
He went to the thea.er, parading his
warrior from amidst the fairest flowers of
British nobility and beauty, but no sooner
was his visage seen than the whole andi-
ence rose--the Lord in his cushioned seat,