P.S.—By the way, hadn’t you better drop in upon our mutual friend General Clinton at New York and remain with him for a few days until it blows over? I only throw this out as a mere suggestion. Good bye. A.” Watching his opportunity when his captors’ backs were turned, the Major slipped this epistle into the coffee-pot, clapped on the lid, and, having diverted the canine’s attention by means of a piece of salt pork, which had been originally laid out for the approaching meal, hastily appended the tin vessel to his caudal extremity, and having with nice precision turned the animal’s nose in the direction of Arnold’s tent, he gave the tail an agonizing twist, and—and the party did without coffee that night. The yellow dog came duly to hand, and Mr. Arnold was not slow in acting upon the hint contained in the message he brought. With that long-headedness which is the characteristic of the true man of business he anticipated any investigation of his conduct that might follow by resigning and changing his residence at once. We learn that he subsequently went to Europe, but up to the present writing has not yet returned. [Illustration: _INSTANCE OF CANINE SAGACITY._ ] If any one doubts the incident we have just related about the way in which the news of André’s capture reached Arnold, he has only to narrowly scrutinize our illustration, which treats of the moment when the sagacious quadruped reaches the American lines. With almost human intelligence he overturns the sentinel, who, doubtful of the nature of his business, has challenged his further progress. For Mr. Arnold’s own sake we regret the imprudent course he pursued to improve the state of his exchequer. It is true his funds were low, and no one can blame him for wanting to make a “raise.” But then he ought to have remembered that there are always honest as well as lucrative pursuits open to the deserving poor involving but small investments; for instance, he might have started a paper, peddled matches, got an appointment in the Cabinet, blacked boots, organized savings banks, or written comic histories. We are aware that these invaluable suggestions come too late to apply specifically to Mr. Arnold’s case, but we do hope that all who have invested capital in this book will shape their course by the few hints we have here thrown out, and above all remember that the plucking out of even the tail feathers of the American Eagle for commercial purposes is ever attended with risk. * * * * * On a more thorough investigation of the subject we learn that Benedict Arnold is dead, and has been for some time; but he lives in American history. _CHAPTER XXIII._ THE AFFAIRS OF THE REVOLUTION WOUND UP—CORNWALLIS STEPS DOWN AND OUT.