He would have fled: but they level their muskets Trembling and pale, he offers them an elegant gold. watch to let him go. No! He presses on them a purse bloated with guineas. No! He promises each of them a handsome pension for life-but all in vain. The power that guarded Washington was wroth with Andre. On searching him they find in his boot, and in Arnold's own hand-writing, a plan of the whole conspiracy! Sons of the generous soul, why should I tell how major Andre died! The place where his gallows stood is overgrown with weeds-but smiling angels often visit the spot; and it was bathed with the tears of his foes. His candour, on his examination, in some sort expiated his crime. It melted the angel soul of Washington and the tears of the hero were mingled with the ink that signed the death-warrant of the hapless youth. The names of the young men who arrested poor Andre, were, John Paulding, David Williams, and Isaac Van Vert. They were at cards under a large poplar that grew by the road, where the major was to pass. Congress rewarded them with silver medals; and settled on each of them $200 annually, for life. American writers have recorded a thousand handsome things of unfortunate Andre. They have made him scholar, soldier, gentleman, poet, painter, musician, and, in short, every thing that talents and taste can make a man. The following anecdote will show that he was much greater still. Some short time before that fatal affair which brought him to his end, (said my informant, Mr. Drewy, a painter, now living at Newbern,) a foraging party from New-York made an inroad into our settlement near that city. The neighbours soon assembled to oppose them; and, though not above fitteen years old, I turned out with my friends. In company was another boy, in age and size nearly about my own speed. We had counted on a fine chase. But the British were not to be driven so easily as we had expected. Standing their ground, they not only put us to flight, but captured several of our party; myself and the other boy among them. They presently set out with us for New-York: and, all the way, as we were going, my heart ached to think how my poor mother and sisters would be distressed when night came, and I did not return. Soon as they brought me in sight of the prison, I was struck with horror. The gloomy walls, and frightful guards at the doors, and wretched crowds at the iron windows, together with the thoughts of being locked up there in dark dungeons with disease and death, so overcame me, that I bursted into tears. Instantly a richly dressed officer stepped up, and taking me by the hand, with a Look of great tenderness, said, "My dear boy! what makes you cry ?" I told him I could not help it when I compared my present sad prospect with the happy one I enjoyed in the morning with my mother and sisters at home. "Well, well, my dear child, (said he) don't cry, don't cry any more." Then turning to the jailor ordered him to stop till he should come back. Though but a boy, yet I was deeply struck with the wonderful difference betwixt this man and the rest around me. He appeared to me like a brother; they like brutes. I asked the jailor who he was. "Why, that's Major Andre, (said he angrily) the adjutantgeneral of the army; and you may thank your stars that he saw you; for I suppose he is gone to the general to beg you off, as he has done many of your d-d rebel countrymen." In a short time he returned; and with great joy in his countenance called out—" Well, my boys, I've good news, good news for you! The general has given you to me, to dispose of as I choose; and now you are at liberty! So run home to your fond parents, and be good boys; mind what they tell you say your prayers; love one another; and God Almighty will bless you." And yet Andre perished. on a gallows while Ar nold, after living to old age, died in his bed!! Shal we hence infer with Brutus, that "Virtue is but an empty name?" and that Andre had been good in vain? God forbid! Goodness and happiness are twins. Heaven hath joined them together, and Hell cannot put them asunder. For proof, we need go no further than to Andre himself to Andre in prison! Even in that last and gloomiest scene of his life, we see the power which virtue has to illuminate the dark, to en liven the sad, and to raise her votaries above the terrors of death. In the first moment of his capture, when vulgar minds are thinking of nothing but selfpreservation, he is thinking of nothing but duty and generosity. Regardless of himself, he is only anxious for Arnold. Having by letter advised that wretched man of his danger, and given him time to escape, he then gallantly asserts his own real character; and avows himself "the Adjutant General of the British army." The truth is, he had been sent by Gen. Clinton, on a dirty piece of business for which he was not fit; and of which he was so heartily ashamed, that he appears to have been willing to atone for it with his life. Hence to the questions put at his trial, he answered with a candour which at once surprised and melted the Court Martial-he answered, with the candour of a mind which feared its own condemnation more than that of any human tribunal.—He heard his sentence of death with perfect indifference; and at the place of execution behaved like one who had fulfilled the high duties of son, brother, and man, with constant attention to a happy immortality. Thus giving the friends of virtue abundant cause to exclaim: "Far more true peace the dying Andre felt, Than Arnold ever knew in prosp'rous guilt." He, poor wretch, survived! but only to live a life, at cnce hated and despised-hated by the British Gene |