Madam L——— listened with interest to his narratives, and often wondered at the elasticity with which his spirit soared above the ruins of his frame. One morning as he was seated with her, his only hand resting upon the crutch that stood by his side, he said—
"I should take more pleasure in coming to this house, Madam, if I could but forget that the traitor Arnold used to reside in it. I don't like to sit in seats, where he sat."
"I am sorry, Anderson," replied the Lady, "that any such image should interfere with the comfort of your visiits. I have no particular satisfaction in retracing the connection of Benedict with our family. He was received by my husband, more from the solicitations of a widowed mother, than from any prepossessing traits of character. He evinced, at the age of twelve, those qualities which distinguished his manhood. He possessed a courage, and contempt of hardship, which would have been interesting, had they not been associated with dispositions delighting to inflict pain. His intellect was rapid and powerful, but he was impatient of controul, arid devoid of integrity."
"I remember him," said the soldier, "in his boyish days. He loved to cut young birds to pieces, and to laugh at the mourning of their parents, and to torture every thing that was weaker than himself. There is nothing that I check my boys sooner for than cruelty to animals. It will make you like Arnold, I say to them, and no traitor shall be son of mine. I once met him when a boy at the mill, where we both came with corn. He quarrelled with
