The Ashland union. [volume] (Ashland, Ashland County, Ohio) 1854-1868, 1858-12-22
THE RIGHT A RM:
OR. THE
Patriot and the Traitor.

| otAAVt dn0 S4O A o46Ol.
Fifty years ago terrible storm shock
the city Of London At the dead of the
night, when the storm was ct its high
est, an aged minister living near the
| suburbs of the city, was aroused by an
| earnest cry for help. Looking from his
window, be bebeld rude ma6, clad in
the coarse attire 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 of the scavenser.
threaded his way through the dark su-
| burbs.
That very day strange old man had
fallen speechless in front of the scaven-
gers fade home. The good. hearted
street-sweerer had taken him in, and
laid him on his own bed-he bad not
| spoken once-and now he was dying.
This was the story of the rough man
And now, through dark alleys, among
miserable tenements, that seemed to
| topple down upon their heads, into the
ioneliest and dresriest subeI bs they pass
that white, haired minister and his
guide. At last in narrow court, and
| up a flight of stairs that creaked beneath
their tread, and then inte the death
1 room.
In one corner, on the coarse stray of
the ragged bed, lay the dying man
He wss but half dressed-his legs we're
concealed by military boots ~
The aged preacher drew near and
looked upon him. And he looked-throb
-throb-you might hear the death
watch ticking in the shattered wall
It was the form of strange man,
grown old with care more than age. CHS
| There was face that you might look
upon once. andeyet wear it in your mem
ory forever. Let u.s. bend over the bed
and look on that face.
A bold forehead scanned BY one deep
wrinkle between the brow-ioog locks
of dark hair. 8: rinkled with grey-lips
firmly SET yet quiveripg as thoug b they
had a life. separate from the life of the
man-and then two large eyes vivid,
burning, unnatural in tfeir steady glare
Ah, there was something so terrible
in that face-something so full of un-
utterable Loneliness, unspeskable despair
that the aged minister started back
10 horror - @
+ But look, these strong arms are clutch.
ing at the vacant air-tbe death-sweat
starts in drops upon the cold brow
| the man is dying!
Throb!-throb - throb - beat the
death-watch in the shattered wall.
Would you die in the faith of a
Christian ?" fal.cred the preacher, as he
knelt there on the dark floor.
The white lips ST the death stricken
man trembled but made no sound
Then with the agony of death upon
him, be rose into a sitting posture
For the first time he spoke;
Christiani'' he echoed in that deep
| tone which thrilled the preacher to the
heart, Twill that faith give me back my
honor Come with me--with me far,
| far over the water. Ha I'VE are there
This ia my native home. Yonder is the
church in which | knelt in child hood
Yonder the green on which l sported
| when boy. But another flag than that
waved when was child. And listen,
old man wereI to pass this street as l
passed when but child, the very babies
in their cradles would raise their tiny
hands and curse me. The graves. in
yonder churcbyard would shrink from
my footsteps, and yonder flag would
stain baptism of blood upon my heart" !"
That was an awful death bed. The
minister has watched the al last night. :"
| with hundred conSicts in their cells
and yet never beheld q scene as terrible
| as this.
Suddenly the dying man arose. He
tottered along the floor. With those
white fingers, whose nails are blue with
| the death chill, he threw open the va
lise He showed his military coat trim
med with silver, an old parchment, q
piece of cloth that looked like the
wreck of battle Gag.
'"Look yc, priest, this faded coat is
spotted with my bloodl" he cried, as
old memories seemed stirring at his
heart. This is the last coat l wore
when l planted the banner of the stars
on Ticonderoga. That bullet hole was
pierced in the fight at Quebec; now-I
am a--let me whisper in y our ear"
"Now, help me, priest" he said in
voice growing suddenly tremulous "help
me put on this coat of blue and silver
For you see," and ghostly smile came
over his face, "there is no one to wipe
the cold drops from my brow; no wife,
no child must meet death alone; but
will meet him, as I met him in battle,
without fear"
While he stood afrayiug himself in
that worm-eaten coat of blue and silver,
the good preacher spoke to him Of faith
in Jesus. Yes, of that great faith which
pierce tho clouds of human guilt. and
rolls them back from the face of God.
"Fsithr' echoed the strange man,
who stood there erect, with the DEATH
light in bis eye. Faith, can it give me
back my honor? Look, ye, priest, there
over the waves, sits George Washington,
telling to his comrades the pleasant sto-
ry of the eight years war-tbere in his
royal hall sits George of England be-
wailing in bis i5iotic yoice' the loss of
his colonies. And here am I-I-aho
| was the first to raise the fag of freedom,
the frst 10 strike the blow against that
King-here ami !, dying like dogl"
The awe.stricken preacher started
back from the look of the dying man,
e-throb-throb--t the
tdeath.watch in the shattered wall.
Hushl silence along the liueslthere",'
he muttered iu that wild, ahssnt tone, as
though speaking to The dead; silence,
along the linesl Hark, you, Montgome-
rg, we will meet there ia victory or
deatbti Hist silence, my men, bot a
/ whisper, as you move up those steep
rocksl Now on my boys, now oDi-
Men of the vildarnpss ,ra witl 1cai6 Ehr