Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1879-08-08
Whole Number 1914.
Not q Friend in Amari6a-

There was a day when Tallyrand ar
rived in Havre, in great haste from
Paris. 1t was in the darkest hour of
the French revolution. Pursued by the
blOodhounds Of the reign of terror,
stripped Of every wreck Of property or
power, Tallyrand secured q passage to
America and was about to sail He was
going beggar and wanderer to astrange
land, to earn his bread by his daily labor.
'1s there any American staying at
your house ?' he asked the landlord of
his hotel. "I am bound across the wa
ter, and would like letter of influence
IN the new world"
The landlord hesitated a moment and
then replied
There is gentleman up stairs, either
from America or Britain; but whether
an American or Englishman I cannot
tell"
He pointed the way and Tallyrand,
who in early life was bishop, prince,
and afterWard prime minister, ascended
the stairs. A miserable suppliant, he
stood before the strangers door, knocked
and entered.
In the far.corner of the dimly-lighted
room sat a gentleman of so years, his
arms folded, and his head bowed on his
breast. From window directly oppo-
site, a flood Of light poured over his
forehead. His eyes looked from beneath
the downcast broWss gazed in Tally
rands face with peculiar and searching
expression. His face was striking in its
outline, the mouth and chin indicating
his iron will His form, vigorous even
with the SHOWS of fifty winters, was clad
in a dark, but rich and distinguished
costume.
Tallyrand advanced, stated that he
was fugitive, and under the impression
that the gentleman before him was an
American, he solicited his kind feeling
and offices, pouring forth his history in
eloquent French and broken English.
81 am wanderer-an exile! I am
forced to fly to the New World without
ray Of hope. You are an American.
Give me, I beseech you, a letter of yours,
so that l may earn my daily bread.
am willing to toll in any manner; the
scenes In Paris have filed me with such
horror, that life of labor would be a
paradise to a career of luxury in France.
You will give me letter to one of your
friends"
The strange gentleman rose. With a
look that Tallyrand never forgot, he re-
treated toward the door of the next
chamber, his head still doWncast, his
eyes looking still from his darkened
brow. He spoke as he retreated back
Wards-his voice was full of meaning
81 am the only man born in the New
World who can raise his hands to God
and say, 1 have not friend, not one, in
all America!
Tallyrand never forgot the over
Whelming sadness Of the look that &C
companied these words.
"Who ara your he cried, as the
strange gentleman retreated toward the
next room. "Your nameP
"My name !" with a smile that had
more Of mockery than Joy in its ex-
preston, ''My name is Benedict ArnoldP'
He was gone. Tallyrand sank in
chair, gasping the words
Arnold, the traitor one who has be-
trayed his country"
Thus Arnold wandered over the earth,
another Cain, with a wanderers mark
on his brow. Even in that secluded
room, at that inn of HaYre, his crime
found him out, and forced him to tell
his name-that name the synonym of
infamy.
The last twenty years of Arnold's life
were covered with a cloud from whose
darkness but few CLEANS of light fash
out upon the page Of his history.