een repeatedly assailed by slanders and
misstatements. The animosity of party feeling had more than once
wrongfully assailed him, and his second marriage to the daughter of
a man whose Tory sympathies were widely known had roused political
hatreds, unsparing and headstrong.

But these facts are merely touched upon to make more clear the
motive of his infamous plot. Determined to give the enemy a great
vantage in return for the pecuniary indemnity that he required of
them, this unhappy man stooped low enough to ask and obtain from
Washington, the command of West Point. Andre, who had for months
written him letters in a disguised hand under the name of John
Anderson, finally met him, one night, at the foot of a mountain
about six miles below Stony Point, called the Long Clove. Arnold,
with infinite cunning, had devised this meeting, and had tempted the
adventurous spirit of Andre, who left a British man-of-war called
the Vulture in order to hold converse with his fellow-conspirator.
But before the unfortunate Andre could return to his ship (having
completed his midnight confab and received from Arnold the most
damning documentary evidence of treachery) the Vulture was fired
upon from Teller's Point by a party of Americans, who had secretly
carried cannon thither during the earlier night. Andre was thus
deserted by his own countrymen, for the Vulture moved away and left
him with a man named Joshua Smith, a minion in Arnold's employ. Of
poor Andre's efforts to reach New York, of his capture and final
pathetic execution, we need not speak. On his person, at the time of
his arrest, was found a complete description of the West Point post
and garrison--documentary evidence that scorched with indelible
disgrace the name of the man who had supplied it.

On September 25, 1780, Arnold escaped to a British sloop-of-war
anchored below West Point. He was made a colonel in the English
army, and is said to have received the sum of L6,315 as the price of
his treachery. The command of a body of troops in Connecticut was
afterward given him, and he then showed a rapacity and intolerance
that well consorted with the new position he had so basely
purchased. The odium of his injured countrymen spoke loudly
throughout the land he had betrayed. He was burned in effigy
countless times, and a growing generation was told with wrath and
scorn the abhorrent tale of his turpitude. Meanwhile, as if by
defiant self-assurance to wipe away the perfidy