Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1877-11-19
DEATH OF BENEDICT ARNOLD.
BY GEORGE Leopard.

half dressed; though his legs were con-
cealed in long military boots. An aged |
minister stood beside the rough couch.
The form was that of a strong man
grown old through care more than age.
There was face that you might look
upon but once, and yet wear it in your
memory forever.
Let us bend over the bed, and look
upon that face. A bold forehead seam
ed by one deep wrinkle visible between
the brows-long locks of dark hair,
sprinkled with gray; lips firmly set,
yet quivering, as though they had
life separate from the life of the man :
and then, two large eyes-vivid, burn
ing, unnatural in their steady glare.
Ay, there was something terrible in
that face-something so full of unnat-
ural loneliness-unspeakable despair,
that the aged minister started back in
horror. But look those strong arms
clutching at the vacant air; the death
sweat stands in drops on that bold brow
the man is dying Throb-throb-
throb-beats the death watch in the
shattered wall. "Would you die in the
faith of the Christian ?" faltered the
preacher. as he knelt there on the damp
floor.
The white lips of the death-stricken
man trembled, but made no sound.
Then, with the strong agony of death
upon him. he rose into sitting posture.
For the first time he spoke. christian !''
he echoed in that deep tone which thrill
the preacher to the heart; "Will that
faith give me back my honor? Come
with me, old man, come with me, far
over the water Ha! we are there
This is my native town. Yonder is the
church in which | knelt in childhood;
yonder the green on which l sported
when boy. But another flag waves
yonder. in the place of the flag that
waved when | was child.
"And listen, old man, we're to pass
along the streets, as / passed when but
child. the very babes in their cradles
would raise their tiny hands, and curse
me The graves in yonder churchyard
would shrink from my footsteps; and
yonder flag would rain baptism of
bloUd upon my hOad ~
That was an awful death-bed. The
minister had watched ''the last night
with hundred convicts in their cells,
but had never beheld a scene so terri
BILE as this. Suddenly the dying man
arose; he tottered along the floor. With
those white fingers, whose nails we're blue
with the death-chill, he threw open a
valise. He drew from thence faded
coat of blue, faced with silver, and the
wreck of a battle-fag.
"Look ye, priest this faded coat is
spotted with lny blood !" he cried, as
old memories seemed stirring at his
heart. This coat wore when l first
heard the news of Lexington this coat
I wore. when I planted the banner Of
the stars on Ticonderogal that bullet
hole was pierced in the fight of Quebec !;
and now, am a-let me whisper it in
your ear = He hissed that single burn
ing word into the minister's ear. 'Now
help me, priestl help me to put on this
coat of blue, for you see, and CHASTITY
smile came over his face, ''there is no
one here to wipe the cold drops from
my brow; no wife, no child. l must
meet Death alone; but / will meet him,
as have met him in battle, without a
fear!'
And while he stood arraying his
limbs in that worm-eaten coat of blue
and silver, the good minister spoke to
him of faith in Jesus. Yes, of that
great faith, which pierces the clouds of
human guilt, and rolls them back from
the face of God. "Faith p echoed the
strange man, who stood there, erect,
with the death. h.chill on his brow. "Faith
Can it give me back my honor? Look
ye, priest there, over the waves. sits
George Washington. telling to his COM
rades the pleasant story of the eight
years war; there, in his royal halls,
sits George of England, bewailing, in
his idiotic voice, the loss of his colonies.
And here am ], who was the first to
raise the flag of freedom. the first to
strike blow against that king-here
am dying oh. dying like dog !"
The awe-stricken preacher started
, back from the look of the dying man,
while throb-throb-t the
: death-watch. in the shattered wall.
"Hush silence along the lines there p
he muttered, in that wild. absent tone,
} as though speaking to the dead "silence
, along the lines not word-not a
7 word, on the peril of your lives ! Hark
you Montgomery we will meet in the
centre of the town we will meet there
in victory. or die Hist silence, my
men-not whisper, as we move UP
, those steep rocks Now on, my boys
now onl Men of the wilderness, we will
gain the town Now up with the ban.
. ner of the stars-up with the flag Of