k**»*i« 
 
Class, ^^ r^ 
 Book )_Sv-^i_i— 
 
 PRESENTED WiT 
 
— -""--^ * 
 
 PUBLISHED AND FOR SALE BY 
 
 GRIGG & ELLI 
 
 No. 9 N. FOURTH ST., PHILADELPHIA, 
 And for Sale by Booksellers generally in the United States. 
 
 The following books are particularly adapted for family read- 
 ing, and we do iiope, as our political troubles are ended for 
 awhile, that our friends will now settle down to their "sober 
 second thoughts," and as " knowledge is power" and "informa- 
 tion capital," that instead of being satisfied with the periodical 
 trash of the day, they will store their minds with something 
 more solid, and for that purpose make a selection from the fol- 
 lowing list: 
 
 FAMILY PRAYERS AND HYMNS, adapted to family 
 
 worship, and tables for the regular reading of the Scriptures. By Rev. 
 S. C. Winchester, A. M. 1 vol. 12rno. 
 
 THE YOUNG LADIES' AND GENTLEMEN'S' PAR- 
 
 LOUR LIBRARY, 6 vols. 32mo. 
 
 These two beautiful works are particularly adapted to promote the wel- 
 fare and happiness of the rising generation. 
 
 ^ UNIVERSAL BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY, con- 
 
 taining the Lives of the most Celebrated Characters of every age and nation. 
 
 COWPER AND THOMSON'S PROSE AND POETICAL 
 
 WORKS, complete in 1 vol. 8vo., including two hundred and fifty Letters, 
 and sundry Poems of Cftwper, never before published in this country; and ol 
 Tiiomson a new and interesting Memoir, and upwards of twenty new poems, 
 for the first time printed from his own Manuscripts, taken from a lato edition 
 of tlie Aldine Poets, now publishing in London. 
 
 The distinguished Professor Silliman, speaking of this edition, observes, 
 "I am as much gratified by the elegance and fine taste of your edition, as 
 by the noble tribute of genius and tnoral excellence wliich tliese delightful 
 authors have left for all future generations; and Covvper especially, is not 
 less conspicuous as a true Christian moralist and teacher, than as a poet of 
 great power and exquisite taste." 
 
 GOLDSMITH'S ANIMATED NATURE, in 4 vols. 8vo., 
 
 beautifully illustrated. 
 
 "Goldsmith can never be made obsolete, while delicate genius, exquisite 
 feeling, fine invention, the most harmonious metre, and the hapj)iest diction 
 are at all valued." 
 
 This is a work that should be in the Library of every fiimily, being writ- 
 ten by one of the most talented authors in the Enjrlisb language. 
 
 THE WORKS OF LAURENCK STERNE, in 1 vol. 8vo., 
 with a life of the author, written by himself. 
 
2 VALUABLE BOOKS PUBLISHED BY GRIGG & ELLIOT. 
 
 'Vhv. beauties of this author are so well known, and his errors in style 
 and expression so few and far betwecu, that one reads with renewed deliaht 
 his driicato tiirnp, &c. ° 
 
 THK POETICAL WORKS OF ROGERS, CAMPBELL 
 MONTGOMERY, LAMB, AND KIRK WHITE, complete in 1 vol. 8vo' 
 MILTON, YOUiNG, GRAY, BEATTIE, AND COLLINS' 
 
 POETICAL WORKS, complete in 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 THE POETICAL WORKS OF MRS. HEMANS 
 
 com- 
 
 plete in 1 vol. 8vo 
 
 WZT This is a new and complete edition, with a splendid engraved likeness 
 of Mrs. Hemans, on steel. 
 
 "As no work in the Kn/Iish languag-e can be commended with more con- 
 fidence, it will arorue bad taste in a female in this country to be without a 
 complete edition of the writinjrs of one who was an honor to lier sex and 
 to huinanit}', and whose productions, from first to last, contain no syllable 
 calculated to call a blush to the cheek of modesty and virtue. Tliere is 
 moreover, in Mrs. Hemans' poetry a moral purity, and a religious feelino-] 
 which commend it, in an especial manner, to the discriminating readt-r! 
 No parent or guardian will be under the necessity of imposing roslrictions 
 with regard to the free perusal of every production emanating from this 
 gifted woman. There breathes throughout the whole a most eminent cxeinp- 
 tion from impropriety of thought or diction; and there is at times a pen- 
 sivenesa of tone, a winning sadness in her more serious compositions, which 
 tells of a soul which has been lifted from the contemplation of terrestrial 
 things, to divine communings with beings of a purer world." 
 
 LECTLIRKS ON SCRIPTURE FACTS AND PROPHE. 
 
 CY. By W. B. Collyer, D. D. In 1 vol. 8vo. A new edition of this dis- 
 tinguished author's works. Few persons will rise from the perusal of this 
 book without acknowledging, that their thoughts and affections have been 
 elevated by the fervent and pious eloquence of the writer. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER'S OWN BOOK; Or Practical Hints 
 
 from a Father to his Daughter. In 1 vol. 18mo. 
 
 This is one of the most practical and truly valuable treatises on the cul- 
 ture and discipline of the female mind, which has hitherto been published 
 in this country, and the publishers are very confident, from the great demand 
 for this invaluable little work, that ere long it will be found in the library 
 of every youQg lady. 
 
 SENECA'S MORALS— By way of abstract to which is 
 
 added, a Discourse under the title of an After-Thought, by Sir Roger L'Es- 
 trangc, Knt. A new fine edition, in I vol. 18mo. 
 
 A copy of this valuable little work should be found in every family library. 
 
 MALTE-BRUN'S NEW AND ELEGANT QUARTO AT- 
 
 ^LAS; containing forty colored maps. 
 
 The Atlas is particularly adapted for Colleges, Academies, Schools, and 
 priy;itc families. There is no work that ever was published in this country 
 which has received more numerous and fluttering recommendations. 
 
 THE AMERICAN CHESTERFIELD; or "Youth's Guide 
 
 to the Way to Wealth, Honor, and Distinction," &.C.: containing also a 
 complete treatise on the art of Carving. 
 
 " VVe most cordially recommend the American Chesterfield to general 
 attention; but to young persons particularly, as one of the best works of the 
 
 / 
 
VALUABLE BOOKS PUBLISHED BY GRIGG &. ELLIOT. 
 
 kind that has ever been published in this country. It cannot be too highly 
 appreciated, nor its perusal be unproductive of Katisfaction and uselulncss." 
 
 BYRON'S WORKS, complete in 1 vol. 8vo., including all 
 
 his Suppressed and Attributed Poetns. 
 
 (O" This edition has been carefully compared with the recent London 
 edition of Mr. Murray, and made complete by the addition 'of more than 
 fifty pages of poems heretofore unpublished in England. Among tiicse there 
 are a number that have never aj)pearcd in any American editionj and the 
 Pui)Iishcrs believe they are warranted in saying, that this is the most complete 
 edition of Lord Bi/ron's Poetical Works ever published in the United Slates. 
 
 RENNET'S (Rev. John) LETTERS TO A YOUNG LA- 
 DY, on a variety of subjects calculated to improve the heart, to form the 
 manners, and enligiiten the understanding. "That our Daughters may be 
 as polished corners of the Temple." 
 
 I'he publishers sincerely hope, {for the happiness of mankind,) that a copy 
 of this valuable little work will be found the companion ol every young lad_y, 
 as much of the happiness of every family depends on the proper cultivation 
 of the female mind. , , .. . . 
 
 SAY'S POLITICAL ECONOMY. A Treattse on Political 
 
 Economy, or the Production, Distribution, and Consumption of Wealth. By 
 .Tcan Baptisle Say. Fifth American edition, with Additional Notes, by C. 
 C. Biddle, Esq., in I vol. 8vo. 
 
 The editor of the North American Review, spcakmg of Say, observes, 
 that "he is the most popular, and perhaps the most able writer on Political 
 Economy, since the time of Smith." 
 
 CARPENTER'S NEW GUIDE. Being a complete Book 
 
 of Lines, for Carpentry, Joinery, &c., in 1 vol. 4to. 
 
 The Theory and Practice well explained, and fully exemplified on eighty- 
 four copperplates, including some observations, &c., on the strength of 
 Timber; by Peter Nicholson. Tcnlh edition. This invaluable work super- 
 seded, on its first ai)pearance, all existing works on the subject, and still 
 retains its original celebrity. 
 
 Every Carpenter in our country should possess a copy of this invaluable 
 work. 
 
 A TREATISE ON CATTLE, their Breeds, Manngcment 
 
 and Diseases; published under the superintendence of the Society for the 
 Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. With numerous plates. 1 vol. 8vo. 
 Tliis is an invaluable work to Farmers. 
 
 WEElMS' LIFE OF GEN. MARION. 
 
 WEKMS' LIFE OF GEN. WASIJING TON. 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF FAMILY RELIGION: with a 
 
 selection of Hymns and Prayers, adapted to Family Worship, and Tables for 
 the regulnr Reading ot^ tlie Scriptures. By the Rev. S. G. Winchester, A. M. 
 The subject is one of incalculable practical importance, and is treated in a 
 masterly manner. It contains an able, elai)orate and highly instructive 
 Essay on the obligation, nature and importance of Family Religion; and 
 we hope, ere long, it will bo found in the Library of every family. 
 
 .JOSEPIIUS'S (FLAVIUS) WORKS. By the late William 
 
 Whiston, A. M. From the last London edition, complete. 
 
 As a matter of course, every family in our country has a copy of the 
 Holy Bible— and as the presumption is, the greater portion often consult its 
 
VALUABLE BOOKS PUBLISHED BY GRIGG & ELLIOT. 
 
 pagncs, we take the liberty of saying to all those tliat do, that th** perusal o( 
 the writings of Josephua will be found very inleresting and instructing-. 
 
 All those who wisli to possess a beautiful and correct copy of this invalu- 
 able work, would do well to purcliasc this edition. It is for sale at all the 
 principal bookstores in the United States, by country merchants generally 
 in the Soutl)crn and Western States. 
 
 BURDER'S VILLAGE SERMONS, or 101 plain and short 
 
 DiscouFses on the principal doctrines of the Gospel; intended for the use of 
 families, Sunday schools, or coujpanies assembled for religious instruction 
 in country villages. By George jiurdcr. To which is added, to each Ser- 
 mon, a short Prayer, with some general prayers for ftimilics, schools, &,e., 
 at the end of the work. Complete in 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 These sermons, which are characterized by a beautiful simplicity, the en- 
 tire absence of controversy, and a true evangelical spirit, have gone through 
 niany and large editions, and been translated into several of the continent;tl 
 lan'ruao-cs. "They liave also be(;n the honored means not only of convert- 
 ing many individuals, but also of introducing the Gospel into districts, and 
 even into parish churches, where before it was comparatively unknown." 
 "This work fully deserves the immortality it has attained." 
 This is a fine library edition of this invaluable work, and when we say 
 that it should be found in fhe possession of every family, we only rcitcr;;te 
 the sentiments and sincere wishes of all who take a deep interest in the 
 eternal welfare of mankind. 
 
 BIGLAND'S NATURAL HISTORY OF ANIMALS, 12 
 '"^SlGLAND'S NATURAL HISTORY OF BIRDS, 12 co- 
 ° PERSIA. A DESCRIPTION OF. By Shoberl, with 12 
 
 colored plates. 
 
 These works are got up in a very superior •st3'le, and well deserve an 
 introduction to the shelves of every' family library, as they are very interest- 
 ing, iitid pirtienlarlv adapted to the juvenile class of readers. 
 
 HIND'S POPULAR vSYSTEM OF FARRIERY, taught 
 
 on a new and easy plan, being a Treatise on all the diseases and accidents 
 to which the Horse is liable. With considerable additions and improve- 
 ments, ada|)ted particularly to this country, by Thomas IVI. Smith, Vete- 
 rinary Surgeon, and Member of the Loudon Veterinary Medical Society, in 
 
 'maSON'S POPULAR SYSTEM OF FARRIERY; com- 
 
 prising a general description of the noble and useful animal the Horse, 
 together with the quickest and simplest mode of fattening; necessary treat- 
 inent while undergoing excessive fatigue, or on a journe}'; the construction 
 and management of stables; dirtVrent marks for ascertaining the age of a 
 Horse: also, a concise account of the diseases to which the Horse is subject; 
 with such remedies as long experience has proved to be clYectual. By 
 Richard Mason, M. 1")., forn»erly of Surrey Co., Va. Ninth edition, with 
 additions. To which is added, a Prize Essay on Mules, and An Appendix 
 containing observations and recipes for the cure of most of the common 
 disleni|)ers incident to Horses, Oxen, Cows, Calves, Sheep, Lanibs, Swine, 
 Dogs, etc. &c. Selected from ditlerent authors. Also, an Addenda, contain- 
 ing Annals of the Turf, American Slud Book, Rules for Training, Racing, 
 
 _ 
 
"1 
 
 VALUABLE BOOKS PUBLISHED BY GRIGG & ELLIOT. 5 
 
 The publishers liave received numerous flattering notices of^ tlic great. 
 ()r;iclical value of these works. The distinguished editor of the American 
 Farmer, speaking of tliem, observes — " We cannot too highly recommend 
 hese l)()o!vs, and thcrer>re advise every owner of a liorse to obtain them." 
 
 NEW SONG BOOK.— Grigg's Southern and Western Song- 
 tcr; h^ing a choice collection of the most fashionable songs, many oi 
 vhich arc original, in 1 vol. IBmo. 
 
 Great care w;)s taken in the selection, to admit no song that contained, 
 in tlic slightest degree, any indelicate or improper allusions, and with great 
 )r()|)riety it may claim the title of "The Parlour Song Book or Songster." 
 The immortiil Shakspcare observes — 
 
 "The man that hath not music in himself. 
 Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils." 
 
 RUSH ON TOE MfND. New fine edition. Tins work is 
 valuable and highly interesting for intelligent readers of every profession; 
 it is rei)lete with curioiis and acute remarks, both medical and metaphy- 
 sical, aT)d deserves particular praise for the terseness of its diction. 
 
 A DICTIONARY OF SELECT AND POl^ULAR QUO- 
 
 TATIONS, which are in daily use: taken from the Latin, French, Greek, 
 Spanish, and Italian languages; together with a copious collection of Law 
 maxims and Law terms; translated into English, with illustrations, historical 
 ;ind idiomatic. Sixth American edition, corrected with additions. 1 vol. 
 12mo. 
 
 In preparing this sixth edition for the press, care has been taken to give 
 ihe work a tiiorougli revision, to correct some errors which had before 
 escaped notice, and to insert nmny additional Quotations, Law maxims and 
 Law terms. In this state it is offered to the public in the stereotype form. 
 This little work sliould find its way into every family library. 
 
 CURRENCY AND BANKING. A Treatise on Currency 
 
 and Banking. By Condy Raguet, I^L.D. 1 vol. 12mo. 
 
 This is a new and very popular work on that important subject. 
 
 DR. EBERLE ON DISEASES AND PHYSICAL EDU- 
 
 CATION OF CHILDREN, for family use. 1 vol. 8vo., new ed. 
 
 O" This is a new edition much improved, containing a table exhibiting 
 the doses of medicines, according to the different ages. 
 
 DR. EBERLE'S PRACTICE OF MEDICINE FOR FA- 
 
 MIIiY USK. 2 vols 8vo. 
 HEBER, POLLOK and CRABBE'S POETICAL WORKS 
 
 complete in 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 "Among the beautiful, valuable, and interesting volumes which the enter- 
 prise and taste of our publishers have presented to the reading community, 
 we have seldom met with one which we have more cordially greeted and 
 can more confidently and satisfactorily recommend, than that, embracing 
 in a single, substantial, well bound, and handsomely printed octavo, the |)o- 
 elical works of Bishop Heber, Robert Pollok, and the Rev. George Crabbc. 
 What a constellation of poetic ardor, glowing piety, and intellectual bril- 
 liancy! Such writers require no eulogy. Their fiine is established nnrl 
 universal. The sublimity, p ithos, and piety of all these writers, have given 
 them a rank at once with the lovers of poetry and the friends of religion, 
 unsurpassed perhaps by that of any other recent authors in our language. 
 
VALUABLE BOOKS PUBLISHED BY GRIGG & ELLIOT. 
 
 A more delightful addition could scarcely be made to the libra.T^flhTT^ 
 ticmun or lady of taste and refinement. The prize poems, hymn "and" 
 M.Kscdlancous vvnungs of Bishop Heber, the 'Course of Time' by Vol W. 
 and the rich various, and splendid productions of the licv. Georire On h 
 are among the standard works, the classics of our langunffc. To oh .in' 
 and preserve them ,n one volume, cannot but be a desirable%bject to the 
 
 l^mily " '' ^"^ ^°^ '^ '"'^^ ^"^ ^''""'^ '" ^''"^ ^'^'''y "^^"^'y 
 
 A writer in the Boston Traveller holds the following lanffuage with refer 
 cncc to these valuable editions: ^ ^ 
 
 Mr. Editor— 1 wish, without any idea of puffing, (o say a word or Uvn 
 upon the "Library of English Poets" that is liow published^at Sadl "a 
 by Gngg & E hot; it ,s certainly, taking into ionsideration tli^e Snt' 
 manner in wh.ch it is printed, and the reasonable price at which i is aK 
 cd to purchasers, tiie best edition of the modern British Poets that has ever 
 been published in this country. Each volume is an octavo of abou 500 
 pages double columns stereotyped, and accompanied with fine eng vin's 
 ...d biographical sketches, and most of them are reprinted from GaL',anr's 
 French edition As to its value we need only mention that it cont at" t ^c 
 entire works of Montgomery, (Jray, Beattie, Collins, Byron, Cowper Thorn 
 son. Burns, Milton, Young, Scott, Moore, Coleridge, Rogers,' SnbdT 
 Land,, emans. Icbcr, Kirk While, Crabbe, the MisccIlaLous vCks of 
 Goldsmith and other martyrs of the lyre. The publishers are doing a !,xa 
 service by their publication, and their volumes are almost in as great^dcmand 
 as the fashionable novels of the day, and they deserve to be so^ for they a" e 
 certainly printed in a style superior to that in which we ha;c beforc^r d 
 the works of the English Poets. "''" 
 
 V\^r ^^E)J/:^^*^S OF HISTORY, or Examples of the Op- 
 posite Eifects of Virtue and Vice, for the use of Schools and Families wilh 
 Questions f^.r the Examination of Students. 1 vol. 12mo., wilh plates 
 
 I h s work IS introduced into our IJigh School. It is particularly adapted 
 for a Class Book in all our male and female Sen.inaries,\tc ^ 
 
 " VVe have received from the publishers, Messrs. Grigg & Elliot a verv 
 nea duodecimo volume, entitled ^T/>e Bcavlies of HiUorv- or e\^Z\1 
 of the opposite efF-cts of Virtue and Vice, drawn ion. rl^l^if^^ Afto ' a 
 careful examination of this book, we can conscientiously recommend it to 
 parents and teachers as a most meritorious performance.^ There a e he c 
 eol cctcd, within a narrow compass, the n;ost striking examples of individual 
 virtue and vice which are spread forth on the png?s of history, or re re 
 
 t"e Puid^n'c"";"' ^'^""''^^• 1^ '" "°^'"^^ '^'•^^•^'^^ «-' reeo,?:;nendcd br 
 the suidance of youth; and in the most impressive manner is he taught to 
 conquer the degrading impulses which lower the standard of the hun a 
 character. We have not lately met with a volume which, in design n 
 execution, seemed so acceptable as this. The book, moreover, is hand 
 somcly got up, and illustrated with wood engravings " 
 
 GRIMSflAW'S LADIES' LEXICON, and Parlour Com- 
 panion; containing nearly every word in the English language, and exhi- 
 h.l.ng the plurals of nouns and the participles of^crbs, being also particu. 
 h,rly adapled to the use of Academies and Schools. By William Gri Xw 
 Esq, author of the Gentlcnen's Lexicon &c ^nmshaw, 
 
 THE GEiNTLEMEN'S LEXi'cON, or Pock.t Dictionary; 
 
 containing nearly every word in the English language, and exhibiting thJ 
 
VALUABLE BOOKS PUBLISHED BY GR IG G ^ ELLIOT. 7 
 
 icon. ine pccuiiaruy auu „ iTh^v rliffcr from al prcccdiitj^ 
 
 ;;::.":nd n'l'Trdltbtnexduded which ^ rc,u,red e.th« .„ epistolary 
 composition or conversalion.'" 
 
 TU)OK OF POLITENESS.— The Gentleman and Lady's 
 
 R o of Politeness and Propriety of Deportment. Decl>cated to the Youth 
 o^b th sex s By Madame' CelLrt. Translated from the S.xth Fan. cd.- 
 tix,n, enlarged arid improved. Fifth Amencan edition. 
 
 School Books. 
 
 Grimshaw's History of England, - 
 Grimshaw's Questions to do. - 
 Grimshaw's Key to do. • 
 
 Grimshaw's History of Rome, 
 Grimshaw's Questions to do. - 
 Grimshaw's Key to do. - " 
 
 Grimshaw's History of the United States, 
 Grimshaw's Questions to do. - 
 Grimshaw's Key to do. - 
 
 Grimshaw's History of Greece, 
 Grimsh.iW's Questions to do. - 
 Grimshaw's Key to ^do. ^ 
 
 Grimshaw's History of France, 
 Grimshaw's Keys and Questions to do. 
 Grimshaw's History of Napoleon, - 
 Grimshaw's Keys and Questions to do. 
 
 Beauties of History, new ed., - 
 
 The Young Gentlemen's Lexicon, - 
 
 The Young Ladies' Lexicon, - - , ,. . 
 
 Conversations on Natural Philosophy, Jones edition 
 
 Conversations on Chemistry, Jones' edition, 
 
 Maltc-Brun's New College and Family Atlas 
 Maps, 4to., 
 
 Virgil Delphini, 
 
 Horace Delphini, - - - 
 
 Hutchinson's Xenophon, with notes, 
 
 Torrey's First Book for Children, - 
 
 Torroy 3 Pleasing Companion, 
 
 Torrey's Moral Instructor, . - - 
 
 ISmiley's Table-book, 
 Smiley's Arithmetic, . . - - 
 Smiley's Key to do. 
 
 with 
 
 40 
 
 colored 
 
 bound 
 stitched. 
 stitched, 
 bound, 
 stitched, 
 stitclied. 
 bound, 
 gtitciied. 
 stitched, 
 bound, 
 stitched, 
 stitched, 
 bound, 
 stitched, 
 bound, 
 stitched, 
 sheep, 
 sheep, 
 sheep, 
 bound, 
 bound. 
 
 bound. 
 
 bound. 
 
 bound. 
 
 bound. 
 
 stitched. 
 
 half-hound. 
 
 half-bound. 
 
 stitched. 
 
 bound. 
 
 bound. 
 

 8 VALUABLE BOOKS PUBLISHED BY GRIGG & ELLIOT. 
 
 Smiley's Geogn-.phy and Atlas, new edition, 
 
 Murray's Exercises, 12mo. half-bound. 
 
 Murri'.y's K(.y to do. > . - S - . . half-bound. 
 
 First Reading Lessons. 
 
 Bentley's American Instructor. 
 
 IJegcwiscli's Introduction to Historical Chronology. 
 
 VVecnis' Marion. 
 
 VVeems' VVashing[ton. 
 
 Life ol'k.ieneral Harrison. 
 
 Life of General Jackson. 
 
 First Steps in Reading. 
 
 A Biographical Dictionary for Schools. 
 
 Medical Books. 
 
 Dispensatory of the United States, by Drs. Wood and Bache, new edition, 
 much enlarged, - - bound. 
 
 Eberle's Practice of Medicine, 2 vols., new edition, 
 
 Ebcrle's Therapeutics, 2 vols., 4lh edition, .... bound. 
 
 Ebcric on Diseases and Physical Educiition of Children, 1 vol. 
 O" This is a new edition much improved, containing a table exhibiting 
 the doses of medicines, according to the different ages. 
 
 Eberle's Notes for Students, new edition. 
 
 Buylc and Hollard's Manual of Anatomy, - - . . bound. 
 
 Rush on the Mind, new edition, bound. 
 
 Vclpeau's Treatise on Midwifery, new improved edition, by Dr. Meigs. 
 
 %* The above are used as text books in the principal medical schools in 
 the United States. 
 
 %* All the new Medical Works received and for sale as soon as published 
 0n the inost reasonable terms. 
 
 liR^r filooks. 
 
 Toller on Executors, - - - - - .' - • - bound. 
 Condensed English Chancery Reports, in 12 vols. 8vo. 
 
 The 1st, 2d and .3d vols, of this work being out of print, we 
 now sell as complete sets from the 4th inclusive. 
 Russell's Chancery Reports, 1st vol. bound. 
 
 0° This volume completes Condensed Chancery Reports to 
 the present time. 
 Elarris's Modern Entries, newly arranged by II. Davey Evans, 
 
 Esq., of the Baltimore Bar, in 2 vols. 8vo. - - - bound. 
 
 With a very general assortment of Law Books. 
 
 *^* Public, private, and social libraries, and all who purchase to sell 
 utrain, supplied on the most reasonable terms with every article in the Book 
 and Stationary line; including new novels, and all new works in every de- 
 partment of literature and science. All orders will be thankfully received 
 and promptly attended to. 
 
Pasre 57. 
 
 Serjeant Jasper, rescuing the Amencan 
 
 prisoners. 
 
OF 
 
 GEN. FRANCIS MARION, 
 
 A CELEBRATED 
 IN THE 
 
 AGAINST THE 
 
 BRITISH AND TORIES 
 IN SOUTH CJIROLINA AND GEOR^M 
 
 BY BRIG. GEN. P. HORRY, OF MARION's BRIGADE ; 
 AND M. L. WEEMS. 
 
 **0n Vernon's Chiev, why lavish all our lays ; 
 
 *• Come, honest Muse, and sin^ great Marions praise/ 
 
 BTEREOTYrED BY L. JOHNSON 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 PUBLISHED BY JOSEPH ALLEN, 
 AND SOLD BY GRIGG & ELLIOT. 
 
 Ko. y North Foil fill btrcot. 
 
 /(?> 
 

 Eastern District of Pcnnsijlmnia, to ml ' 
 
 " I^Jk ^i^^ ""^i^^"' ^'■^''^' ^^^"«°' ^ celebrated parUsan offi«»r m 
 
 « cL^'^^^^Tr ^ ^''' "°^^^ ^^ British ai^ ToS^Su ™ 
 
 "Carobna and Georg^ia. By Bri^cUer General P. uTrr^ oi 
 
 » MarH)n's Bn-ade, and iVI. L. Weenu. ^* °* 
 
 " On Vernon's Chief, why lavish all our lays ? 
 
 Lome, honest Muse, and sin- great Marion's maise " 
 
 .ors of such Cop.es, durmg tho times Uiereia mentionea--AX^ 
 to th. Act, eautled, "An Act supplementary to an AH If .f . 
 
 D.CALDWELL, 
 Clerk of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania 
 
 4li!;^* 7^^ ""^7^. Copy-Rio;ht has been purchased by Josei>V 
 Allen, and u regularly transferred to him. ^ ^ 
 
 
 j*f 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 " THA T mine enemi/ rvould write a book^"* — This, 
 in former times, passed for as sore an evil as a good 
 man could think of wishing to his worst enemy. — 
 Whether any of my enemies ever wished me so great 
 an evil, I know not. But certain it is, I never dream- 
 ed of such a thing as writing a book ; and least of all 
 a xvar look. What, I ! at man here under the frozen 
 zone and grand climacteric of my days, with one foot 
 in the grave and the other hard by, to quit my prayer 
 book and crutches^ (an old man's best companions'^ 
 dnd drawing my sword, flourish and fight over again 
 the battles of my youth. 
 
 The Lord forbid me such madness ! But what cai 
 on€ do when one's friends are eternally ttazing him, 
 as they are me, and calling out at every whipstitch 
 and corner of the streets, " Well^ biit^ sir, where^^ 
 Marion? whereas the history of Marion^ that tvehawi 
 sc long been looking for .^" 
 
 *Twas in vain that I told them I was no scholar » 
 fto historian. " God," said I, " gentlemen, has maide 
 * many nen of many minds ;' one for this thing and 
 another for that. But I am morally certain he nev*;< 
 made me for a writer. I did indeed once understrmd 
 something about the use of a broad-sword ; but as v^ 
 a ])en, gentlemen, that's quite another part of speech. 
 The difference betv/een a broad-sword and a pen, 
 s^entlemen, is prodigious ; and it is not every oflGicer. 
 let me tell you, gentlemen, who can, like Cs&sar, figb 
 A2 
 
^^ PREFACE. 
 
 you a great battle with his sword to-day, and fi^ht it 
 over agam as elegantly with his pen to-morrow " 
 
 Burn Cxsarr replied they, ^^ and his book too. 
 V^l^ere-Lvmten in letters of gohl.we would not read 
 It. What have honest republicans like us to do with 
 such an ambitious cut-throat and robber? Besides 
 , your reasoning about scholarship, and fine style 
 i all that, does not, begging your pardon, apply at 
 *11 to the case in hand. Small subjects indeed re- 
 quire great writers to set them off; but threat Sub- 
 jects require no such artificial helps : like mie beau- 
 ties, tiiey shine most in the simplest dress. JMarir.n 
 IS one of this sort : great in his simplicity. Then 
 give us Marion— plain, brave, honest Marion ; that's 
 all we want, sir. And you can do this better than 
 any other man. You have known him longest; have 
 tought closest by his side : and can best tell us of his 
 noble deeds. And surely now, after all, you can't 
 bear to let him die, and all his great actions, and be 
 forgotten forever." 
 
 This, I confess, went to the quick, and roused me 
 completely. - Hat / Mar'ion forgotten r^ I exclaim- 
 ea, Manonjorgottcnl and bif mer No never' 
 never! while memory looks back on the dreadful 
 clays of the revolution; when a British despot, not 
 the NATION, (for I esteem them most generous,) but 
 ^ proud, stupid, obstinate, despot, trampling the holy 
 CHARTER and constitution of Kngland^s realm, issued 
 against us, (sons of Britons,) that most unrighteous 
 edict, taxation without representation! and th^^n be- 
 cause m the spirit of our gallant fathers, we bravely 
 opposed him he broke up the very fountains of his 
 malice, and let loose upon us everv indescribable, 
 ummaginab e curse of civil ivar ; when British ar' 
 mips, with their Hessian, and Indian, and tory allies 
 i^verran my afflicted country, swallowing up its fruits 
 -«d hUmg every part with consternation; when no- 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 thing was to be seen but flying crowds, burning 
 houses, and young men, (alas! too often,) hanging 
 upon the trees like dogs, and old men wringing their 
 withered hands over their murtlcred boys, and wo- 
 men and children weeping and flying from their 
 ruined plantations into the starving woods! When I 
 think, I say, of these things, oh my God! how can I 
 ever forget Marion, that vigilant, undaunted soldier, 
 whom thy own mercy raised up to scourge such 
 monsters, and avenge his country's wrongs. 
 
 The Washington of tlie south, he steatlily pursued 
 the warfare most safe for us, and most fatal to our 
 enemies. lie taught us to sleep in the swamps, to 
 feed on roots, to drink the turbid waters of the ditch,, 
 to prowl nightly round the encampments of the foe 
 like lions round the habitations of the shepherds who 
 had slaughtered their cubs. Sometimes he taught us 
 to fall upon the enemy by surprise, distracting the 
 midnight hour with the horrors of our battle; at other 
 times, when our forces were increased, he led us on 
 boldly to the charge, hewing the enemy to pieces, 
 under the approving light of day. Oh, Marion, my 
 friend! my friend! never can I forget thee. Although 
 thy wars are all ended, and thyself at rest in the 
 grave, yet I see thee still. I see thee as thou wert 
 wont to ride, most terrible in battle to the enemies of 
 thy country. Thine eyes like balls of fire, flamed be- 
 neath thy lowering brows. But lovely still wert thou 
 in mercy, thou bravest among the sons of men! For, 
 soon as the enemy sinking under our swords, cried 
 for quarter, thy heart swelled with commiseration, 
 and thy countenance was changed, even as the coun- 
 tenance of a man who beheld the slaughter of his 
 brothers. The basest tory who could but touch the 
 hem of thy garment was safe. The avengers of blood 
 stopped short in thy presence, and turned away 
 abaslied from the lightning of thine eyes. 
 
^'* PREFACE. 
 
 ^ O that my pen were of the quill of the swan that 
 sings for future days ! then shouldst thou, my friend 
 receive the fulness of thy fame. The fathers, of the' 
 years to come, should talk of thy noble deeds • and 
 Ae youth yet unborn should rise up and call thee 
 
 u ^'fi^r 1,^''''^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^f ^^y ^i^tues, they 
 should follow thee in the path of thy glory, and make 
 themselves the future Marions of their country. 
 
 PETER HORRY. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Short sketch of an extraordinary French couple^ viz, 
 the grandfather and mother of our hero — their 
 early and happy loves — cruel persecution of the 
 priests — final expulsion from their native country-^ 
 providential settlement In South Carolina — their 
 prosperous and exemplary lives — singular will of 
 ohi Marion — and birth of hh grandson^ Francis, 
 
 Immortal may their memory be 
 Who fought and bleu for liberty. 
 
 ONE thousand seven hundred and thirty-two was 
 a glorious year for America. It gave birth to two of 
 the noblest thunderbolts of her wars, George Wash- 
 ington and Francis Marion. The latter was born in 
 St. John's parish, South Carolina. His fatlier also 
 was a Carolinian, but his grandfather was a Hugue- 
 not or French Protestant, who lived near Rochelle, 
 in the blind and bigoted days cf Louis XIV. 
 
 The priests, who are the persecutors in all countries 
 except America, could not bear that he should wor- 
 ship God in his own way, or dream of going to heaver 
 but in their leading strings, and therefore soon gave 
 
8 THE LIFE OF 
 
 him to understand, that he must either " recant oi 
 trot;'' that is. quit his heresy or his country. 
 
 Too brave to play the hypocrite, and too* wise U 
 hope for happiness with a " wounded spirit," he 
 quickly made up his mind, and, like faithful Abra- 
 ham, forsook his country, to wander an exile in Undb 
 unknown. The angel who guides the footsteps or the 
 virtuous, directed his course to South Carolina; and 
 as a reward for his piety, placed him in a land wnere 
 mighty deeds and honours were ripening for his 
 grandson. Nor did he wander alone. A cheruh 
 m the form of a lovely wife, followed his fortunes' 
 and gave him to know, from happy experience, that 
 where love is, there is no exile. 
 
 Previous to his expulsion, the priests had, for 
 some time, suspected young Marion of what they 
 called " heresy.'' But, learning that he was enamour- 
 ed of the beautiful and accomplished Mademoiselle 
 Louisa D'Aubrey, and like to win her affections, 
 they withheld for a while, their sacred thunders 
 hoping, that through fear of them, and love of her 
 he might yet return to the bosom of the Catholic 
 Church, to which she belonged. 
 
 Young Marion's suit to his fair mistress, was for- 
 tunate to the full extent of an ardent lover's wishes, 
 f he charming girl repaid his passion with such libe- 
 ral interest, that, in a short time after the commence- 
 ment of their delicious friendship, she received him 
 for her husband, in spite of all that wealthier wooeis 
 could promise, or frowning friends could threaten. 
 
 The neighbouring clergy now marked the conduct 
 of Marion with a keener eye ; and discovering in 
 him no symptoms that pointed to recantation, they 
 toiously pressed the bishop to enforce against him 
 the edict of banishment. 
 
 At this time, Marion with his lovely Louisa, were 
 uvmg on a small farm in the vicinity of Rochelle. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 9 
 
 As he walked one afternoon in the m^in Street of 
 that cit)% he was very rudely accosted by a couple of 
 officers of the holy inquisition, whose looks and dress 
 were as dark and diabolical as their employment. 
 
 ^*' Fous etes nommes Marion?'''' said they; that is 
 " your name is Marion V 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen, that is my name." 
 
 Upon this, they rudely thrust a letter into his hand, 
 ftnd turned away, but with such looks as tigers throw 
 at a tender lambkin, whose well-guarded fold forbids 
 their access. On opening the letter he found as 
 follows : 
 
 "Your damnable heresy, well deserves, even in 
 this life, that purgation by lire which awfully awaits 
 it in the pext. But, in consideration of your youth 
 and worthy connexions, our mercy has condescended 
 to commute your punishment to perpetual exile. — 
 You will therefore, instantly prepare to quit ycuT 
 country for ever. For, if after ten days from the 
 date hereof, you should be found in any part of the 
 Kingdom, your miserable body shall be consumed 
 Dy fire, and your impious ashes scattered on the 
 w^inds of heaven. 
 
 "Pere Rochelle."* 
 
 Had this dreadful letter been presented to Marion 
 even while a bachelor, it would have filled him with 
 
 * I forewarn all my friends from thinlcino; me capable of chargii^ 
 this yile persecutin°; spirit on the " Old JV—e of Rome''' exclusively. 
 Na, thank Gcxl, I have not so learned human nature. And they who 
 are yet to learn, may, by rcadin^^r the " Calholic Layman," soon g;et 
 latisfied, that the priests are as apt to abusfi poicer as the people, and 
 Ihat, when " dad with a little brief milhorifij,''' Protestants as well as 
 Fapists, have committed those cruelties which make milder devils 
 Slush. [By way of a note on a note, I would observe, that the " Co- 
 fh.ohc Layman,^'' is a very sensible and spirited pamphlet; the pro- 
 iuction, it is said, of Mathew Carey, Esq. of Philadelphia, v/hc 
 jhong;h a Roman Catholic, has printed more protestant Bibles and 
 restameat"! than half the preaehera and printers in America put to- 
 ^etiier.j 
 
^0 THE LIFE OF 
 
 1 
 
 horror; for the heart naturally cleaves to the spot 
 where it awoke into being, and quits, with tearful 
 eyes, the j'cenes among which were spent the first and 
 happiest days of life. But ties stronger than those 
 of nature bound Marion to his country. His coun- 
 try was the country of his Louisa. How could he 
 Jive without lier? And how could he hope that she 
 would ever consent to leave her parents and friends 
 to wander and die with him in hopeless exile? 
 
 But though greatly dejected, yet he did not de- 
 spair. He still trusted in that parent-power who 
 smiles even under frowns, and often pours his rich- 
 est showers from the blackest clouds. Cheered with 
 this hope, he put the letter into his pocket, and set 
 out to seek his Louisa. , 
 
 With arms fondly interlocked, she had accompa- 
 nied him that morning to the gate on the back of the 
 gai • ' through which he generally passed when he 
 went to ilochelle. Soon a s h»b horse was led up, and 
 he about to mount, she snatched the bridle, and 
 laughing, vowed he should not go until he had pro- 
 mised her one thing. 
 
 ^'Well, charmer, what's that?'' 
 "Why that you will return very soon." 
 **Well, indeed I will; so now let me go." 
 *'0h no! 1 am afraid that when you get out of 
 sight you will play truant. You must give me secu- 
 rity." 
 
 *^Well, Louisa, what security shall I give you?" 
 *'Why you must give me that thing, whatever it 
 be, that you hold most dear in all the world." | 
 
 "Well done! and now, Louisa, I give you your- 
 self, the dearest thing God ever gave me in all this 
 world." 
 
 At this her fine face was reddened all over with 
 blushing joy, while her love-sparkling eyes, beaming 
 on his, awakened that transport which those who . 
 have felt it would hot exchange for worlds. Then, 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 11 
 
 ;ifter the fond, lengthened kiss, and tender sigh of 
 happy lovers parting, he rode off. 
 
 Soon as he was oat of her sight, she turned to go to 
 the house. As she passed along the garden, the sud- 
 den fancy struck her to adorn the summer liouse with 
 evergreens and flowers of the liveliest tints, and 
 chere, amidst a wilderness of sweets, to receive her 
 returning lover. Animated with this fond sugges- 
 tion ui conjugal ajfcction^ (woman's true life,) which 
 at every quickened pulse diffused an answering rap- 
 ture through the virtuous breast, she commenced her 
 pleasing task ; and v.'ith her task she mingled the 
 music of her voice, clear and strong as the morning 
 lark, and sv/eet as from a heart full of innocence and 
 love. 1'he pleasant sounds reached the ear of Ma- 
 rion, as he d^ew near the garden. I'hen, entering the 
 gate without n(/ise, he walked up, unperceived, close 
 to her as she sat all alone in the arbour, binding her 
 fragrant flowers and singing the happy hours away 
 She was singing her favourite hymn, by Madam 
 Guion. 
 
 " That love I sln^, that wondrons love, 
 
 " Which wak'd my rjleciMn::^ dny ; 
 ** That spread tlio ?ky in azure brii^ht, 
 
 "And pour'd the golden day," ^c. .fcc. 
 
 To see youth and beauty, though in a stranger, 
 thus pointing to heaven, is delightful to a pious heart. 
 Then what rapture to an enlightened soul to see a 
 beloved wife thus communing with God, and becom- 
 itng every day more and more angelic I 
 
 Soon as her song was finished, he called out, 
 "Louisa !" 
 
 Startled at the sudden call, she turned around to 
 the well-known voice, presenting a face on which 
 love and sweet surprise had spread those rosy 
 charms, wliich in a m.oment banished all his sorrows. 
 * My dearest Gabriel," she exclaimed, dropping her 
 
:x9 THE LIFE OF 
 
 flowers, and running and throwing herself into his 
 unns, "here, take back your security! take hack 
 your security! and also my thanks ior being such a 
 man of honour. But what brought you back, love^ 
 so much earlier than you expected ?" 
 
 Here the memory of that latal letter \yeni: like a 
 dagger to his heart, bleaching his manly cheeks. 
 
 He would have evaded the question; but in vain, 
 for Louisa, startled at the sudden paleness of his 
 looks, insisted the more earnestly to know the cause. 
 
 He delayed a moment, but conscious that the se- 
 cret must soon come out, he took the letter from his 
 pocket, and with a reluctant hand ])ut it into hers. 
 
 Scarcely had she run through it, which she did 
 with the most devouring haste, when she let it drop 
 from her hands, and faintly articulating, " Ah, cruel 
 priest !" she fell upon his bosom, which she bathed 
 with her tears. 
 
 After some moments of distress too big for utter 
 arce, Marion, deeply sighing, at length broke silence 
 
 " All, Louisa ! and nuist we part so soon !'* 
 
 At this, starting up with eyes suffused with tears 
 hut beaming immortal love, slie hustily replied — 
 *4 Part!" 
 
 "Yes !" continued he, " part ! for ever part !" 
 
 " No, Marion, n(»! never! never !" 
 
 " Ah! can you, Louisa, leave fatlier and mother, 
 lid follow a poor banished husband like me ?" 
 
 " Yes — yes — father, mother, and all the world will 
 
 leave to follow thee, Marion !" 
 
 '"' O blessed ])riest, I thank you ! Good bishop Ro- 
 helle, holy father in God, I thank you — your ])crse- 
 ution has enriched me above princes. It has dis- 
 covered to me a mine of love in Louisa's soul, that 
 I never dreamed of Ijetore." 
 
 " My dearest Gabriel, did you ever doubt my 
 ove V 
 
 " Pardon me, my Vjve, I never doubted your lovp, 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. J3 
 
 '^h no ! I knew vou loved me. The circumstances un- 
 der which you married m.e ^ave me delicious proof 
 of that. To have preferred me to so many wealthier 
 wooers — to have talren me as a hushand to the para- 
 dise of your arms, when so many others v.'ould hax'e 
 feent me as a heretic to the purgatory of the inquisi- 
 tion, was evidence of love never to be forgotten ; but 
 that in addition to all this you should now be so 
 ready to leave father and mother, country and kin, to 
 frJiow me, a poor wanderer in the earth, without 
 even a place where to lay my head " 
 
 " Yes, yes," replied she, eagerly interrupting him, 
 •^ that's the very reason I v/ould leave all to follow 
 \ oa. For, oh my love ! how could I enjoy father or 
 mother, country or kin, and you a wanderer in the 
 earth, without a place whereon to lay your head! That 
 single thought v/ouid cover my days with darkness, 
 and drive me to distraction. But give me your com- 
 pany, my Gabriel, and then welcome that foreign land 
 with all its shadv forests I ^V''elcome the thatched 
 cottage and the little garden filled v/ith the fruits of 
 our ov.n fondly mingled toils ! ^t'lethinks, my love, I 
 already see that distant sun rising v.'ith gladsome 
 beams on our dew-spangled flower:-. I hear the wild 
 wood-birds pouring tneir sprightly carols on the 
 sv.'eet-scented morning. !My heart leaps with joy to 
 their songs. Then, O my husband I if we must go, 
 let us go without a sigh. God can order it for out 
 good. And, on my account, you shall cast no lin- 
 gering look behind. I am ready to follow you 
 wherever vou eo. Your God shall be mv God. 
 VvTiere you live I will live, and where you die, there 
 will I die, and will be buried by your side. Nothing 
 my beloved, but death, shall ever part me from you." 
 
 '^ Angelic Louisa!" cried Marlon, snatching her 
 to his bosom in transports — " Wondrous woman * 
 v/hat do I not owe to God, ever blessed, fcr fjuch 3 
 comforter I I (ame juot nov/ from UQchelle vrith trie 
 
U THE LIFE OF 
 
 foad of a mountain on my heart. You have taken ofl 
 that mountain, and substituted a joy most lightsome 
 and heavenly. Like a ministering angel, you have 
 confirmed me in duty ; you have ended my struggles 
 — and by so cheerfully offering to forsake all and fol- 
 low me, you have displayed a love, dear Louisa, 
 which will, I trust, render you, next to my God, th^ 
 cterual complacency and delight of my soul." 
 
 In the midst of this tender scene, a servant came 
 running to inform Louisa that her mother, Madame 
 D'Aubrey, had just arrived, and was coming to her 
 in the garden. This startled our lovers into a pain 
 ful expectation of another trial. For as Louisa was 
 an only daughter, and her parents doatingly fond of 
 her, it was not to be imagined that they would give 
 her up without a hard struggle. Seeing the old lady 
 coming down the walk towards them, they endea- 
 voured to adjust their looks, and to meet her with the 
 wonted smile. But in vain. The tumult in their bo- 
 soms was still too visible in their looks to escape her 
 discernment. She eagerly asked the cause. Their 
 changing countenances served but to increase her 
 fears and the vehemence of her curiosity. The bi- 
 shop's letter was put into her hands. Its effects on 
 the good old lady were truly distressing. Not hav- 
 ing, like her daughter, the vigour of youth, nor the 
 fervours of love to support her, she was almost over- 
 come. 
 
 Soon as her spirits were a little recovered, she in- 
 sisted that her daughter and son-in-law should in- 
 stantly step into her coach and go home with her 
 "Your father, my dear,'' said she to Louisa, " your 
 father, Monsieur D'Aubrey, will, I am certain, do 
 something for us." 
 
 But in this she was wofully mistaken, for Mon- 
 sieur D'Aubrey was one of that blind sort who lilacc 
 all their religion in forms and notions He coulO 
 imile and look very fond upon a man, though not 
 
CEiX, FRANCIS MARION. U 
 
 over moral, provided tliat man went to his clmrch— 
 praised iiis preacher and opinions, and abused every 
 body else ; hvit would look very sour on the best man 
 on earth who diircred from him in those things. In 
 lihort, lie was destitute of love, the sole life of reli- 
 gion. And though on account of his wife's importii 
 nities and his daughter's repose, he iiad consented to 
 her marriage with Marion, \ et he never liked the 
 young /icrctic^ :\nd tlierefore he read tl:c order of his 
 banishment without anv I>ursc of grief, and made no 
 ciffort to revoke the decrees of the church against 
 aim, t)ut abandoned him to his fate. 
 
 Such insensibility to her husband's interest dis- 
 tressed poor Louisa exceedingly. However, it had 
 this good effect: It contributed greatly to lessen her 
 regret at pai-ting with lier parents. 
 
 '' O had they but lo\ed me as )'(ju do, m)- Marion," 
 said she, ^^ could they have been so indifferent when 
 my all was at stake ? No, indeed," continued she, 
 ""they could not," and burst into tears. 
 
 " Dearest Louisa !" replied lie, tenderly embracing 
 her, " would not I lea\e father and mother and all 
 for >ou ?" 
 
 '^ ^Vell," returned she, v/itli eves of love, out- 
 shining all diamonds, " and am I not going to leave 
 all for you ? Yet a few duys and I shnll have no fa- 
 ther, no mother, no country; cut ofl' from all the 
 world but you, IVlarion I alas ! what will become of 
 me if you should prove cruel to me ?" 
 
 '"'' Cruel ! C3uel to )'ou, Louisa ! O my God, can 
 that ever be r" 
 
 '■'■ Ah Marion ! but soi^v.- excellent women have left 
 father and motlier, ar.d followed their husbands ; and 
 yet after all have been cruelly neglecte(«l by them !" 
 
 "■ Yes, Louisa; and God forgive them for that hor- 
 rid crime ! But to me such a deed \\-ciC; \.;tterly im- 
 pos.sible. I live for happiness, Louisa, I live for hap- 
 piness, mv angel. And I fmrl so much liappiness in 
 B'2 
 
16 THK LIFE OF 
 
 loving, that I would as sof)n cease to live as cease to 
 love. Some indeed, .sordid cclcbatcs for example^ 
 seem to exist without love; hut it is only a seeming 
 existence, most joyless and imj)crl'ect. And they bear 
 the dulness of a[)athy the better, because they have 
 never known the transports of afFection. But with 
 me, my charmer, the case is happily different; for at 
 the moment I first saw those angel eyes, they infused 
 a sweetness into my heart unknown before. And 
 those delicious sparks, f'aimed by your loves and 
 graces, have now risen to such a ihune of bliss, that 
 methinks, were it to go out, my life would go o 
 with it. 'i'hen, my Hrst and last, and only sweetheart, 
 I pray you, do not fear that I shall ever cease to love 
 you : tor indeed that can never be while you con- 
 tinue even half as lovelv as you are at present." 
 
 '* Well then, Marion," replied she, fondly pressing' 
 his ru(hly cheeks to her heaving bosom, ^Mf it de- 
 ponds on me, on my constant alfectionand studious- 
 ness to please, you shall never love me less ; bui 
 more and more every day of your life." 
 
 Tlie next morning, accompanied by Madame 
 1^'Aubrev, Marion and I^ouisa n'turned home in or- 
 der to make the best preparations, which the short- 
 ness of tlie time woidd allow, to quit their country 
 for ever. 
 
 In choosing his place of exile, it has been said that 
 Marion's thoughts w(U'e at first turned towards the 
 West Indies. But it would appear tliat Heaven had 
 decreed for him a different direction. For scarcely 
 had he reached his home, much agitated about the 
 means of getting off in time, betore a letter was 
 brought liim, from an miimate friend in Ilochellc, in- 
 forming him that a lar;:i;o ship, chartered for the Ca- 
 rol inas, by several weallliy Huguenot families, wasi 
 then lying at anchor under the Isle de Jihee. (Grate- 
 fully regarding this as a beckoning from heaven, 
 they at once commenced their work, and prosecuted 
 
 \ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. if 
 
 it with such spirit, that on the evening of the ninth 
 day they emiiraced their weeping friends and went 
 on board the ship. 
 
 It is said that many of the most respectable fami- 
 lies of Carolina — the Gourdines, Hugers, Trapiers, 
 PosteiL, Horrys, he. came over in the same ship. 
 
 The next day, the clouds began to bank the eastern 
 sky, and the winds to whistle from the hills. Pleased 
 with the darkly r:[)prmg waters, the ready shijj got 
 home hen anchors and h^osed her sails. 1'licn wheel- 
 ing befoio the freshening gale, she l>id adieu to her 
 native rshvjres, and on wings of wide-spread canvas, 
 commenced her foaming course for the western world. 
 
 But though mutual love and confidence in heaven 
 were strong in the bosoms of yoimg Marion and his 
 Louisa, yet could they not suppress the wc)rkings cyi 
 nature, which would indulge her sorrows when look- 
 ing back on the lessening shores ; they l^eheld dwin- 
 dled to a point and trembling in the misty sky, tliat 
 glorious iand, at once their own cradle and the se- 
 pulchre of their fathers. 
 
 Some natural tears they shed, but wiped them 
 soon, for the earth v/as all before them where to 
 choose tlieir place of rest ; and Providence their 
 guide. 
 
 But Marion and Ixjuisa did not leave their coun- 
 tr)- empty handed. Her Parents, 'tis supposed, gave 
 Louisa money, but what sum, after this long lapse of: 
 time, is uncertain. Nor does tradition say for how 
 much Marlon sold his little farm. But it is well known 
 that on their arrival in Carolina, they went up into the 
 country, and bought a plantation on Goose creek, near 
 Charleston, v/here their dust now sleeps, after a long 
 life endeared !jy mutual love, and surrounded by 
 Kvery oomfort that industry and prudence can be- 
 stow. 
 
 We have said that Marion left his country for the 
 Bake of his religion; which appears to have been of 
 
18 THE LIFE OF 
 
 that cheerful sort for which a wise man would make 
 any sacrifice. It was the religion of the gospel, that 
 blessed philosophy which asks not a face of gloom, hut 
 a heart of joy. And thereunto enjoin a supreme love 
 of God, and a close walk with him in a pure and be- 
 nevolent life. From this, the genuine spring of all the 
 sweetest charities and joys of life, Marion derived 
 that cheerfulness which appears never to have failed 
 him. Even in his last will, where most men fancy 
 they ought to be gloomy as the grave whither they 
 are going, his cheerfulness continued to shine with 
 undiminished lustre. It was like the setting. of a 
 cloudless sun : which, after pouring its fattening 
 beams on the fields of a livelong summer's day, goes 
 down in smiles to rise a brighter beauty on another 
 day. This will is certainly an amiable curiosity, and 
 as it may be of service to the reader, by showing him 
 how free and easy a good life makes a man with 
 death, I will record it : at least the principal features 
 of it, as I got them from the family. 
 
 After having, in the good old way, bequeathed 
 " his soul to God who gave it,'' and " his body to the 
 earth out of which it was taken," he proceeds in the 
 manner following : 
 
 In the fr.it place, as to debts, thank God, I owe 
 none. And therefore shall give my executors but 
 little trouble on that score. 
 
 Kiccondly — As to the poor, I have always treated 
 them as my brethren. My dear family will, I know, 
 follow my example. 
 
 Thirdly — As to the wealth with which God has 
 been pleased to bless me and my dear Louisa and 
 children, lovingly we have laboured together for it — ' 
 lovingly Ave have enjoyed it — and now, witJi a glad 
 and grateful heart do I leave it among them. 
 
 He then proceeds to the distribution. Liberally to 
 his children: but fur more so to his wife — and at 
 ihe end of each bequest assigns his reasons, viz. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 10 
 
 I give my ever beloved Louisa all my ready money 
 
 that she may never be alarmed at a sudden call. 
 L give her all my fat calves and lambs, my pigs and 
 
 poultry — that she may always keep a good table. 
 I give her my new carriage and horses — that she 
 
 may visit her friends in comfort. 
 I give her my family bible — that she may live above 
 
 the ill tempers and sorrows of life. 
 I give my son Peter a hornbook — for I am afraid he 
 
 will always be a dunce. 
 
 But Peter was so stung with this little squib, that 
 he instantly quit his raccoon hunting by nights, and 
 betook himself to reading, and soon became a very 
 iensible and charming young man. 
 
 His eldest son, who, after his father, was named 
 Gabriel, married a Miss Charlotte Corde, by whom 
 he had six children — Esther, Gabriel, Isaac, Benja- 
 min, Job, and our hero Francis, the least as well as 
 the last of the family. As to his sister Esther, I 
 have never heard what became of her ; but for his 
 four brothers, I am happy to state, that though not 
 formidable as soldiers, they were very amiable as 
 citizens. They bought farms — proved their oxen — 
 mar ied wives — multiplied good children, and thus, 
 very unlike our niggardly bachelors, contributed a 
 liberal and laudable part to the population, strength, 
 and glory of their country. God, I pray heartily, 
 take kind notice of all such ; and grant, that having 
 thus done his will in this world, they may partake of 
 his glory in the next. 
 
20 THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER II. i 
 
 Marioii'^'i first appearance — an humble cultivator of 
 the earth — the great Cherokee war of 1761 cornea i 
 on — volunteers his services to his country — is ap^ ' 
 pointed a frst lieutenant in the provincial line—^ 
 commands a forlorn hopte — narrowly escapes with 
 his life — the Anglo-American and the Indian forces 
 engaged — bloody battle — the Indians defeated — 
 their country laid waste — peace made — Marion 
 retires, 
 
 AMONG the Mohawks of Sparta, it was a constant 
 practice on the birth of a male infant, to set a military 
 granny to examine him, as a butcher would a veal for 
 the market, and if he were found any ways puny, he 
 was presently thrown into a horse pond with as little 
 ceremony as a blind puppy. Had such been the order 
 of the day in 1732, Carolina would never have 
 boasted a Marion ; for I have it from good authority 
 that this great soldier, at his birth, was not larger 
 than a New England lobster, and might easily 
 enough have been put into a quart pot. This puny 
 appearance continued with him till the age of tM elve, 
 when it was removed by the following exiraordinary 
 providence. 
 
 On a trip to the West Indies, which his friends put 
 him upon for his health's sake, the lirile j^chooner in 
 which he was embarked was suddenty ^ittacked by 
 some monstrous fish, probably a thom-Kick whale, 
 who gave it such a terrible stroke with his tail as 
 started a plank. The frightened crew f?t;w to their 
 pumps, but in vain ; for the briny llooci noshed with 
 such fury into their vessel, that they wei'e glad to quit 
 her, and tumble as fast as they could into their little 
 jolly boat. The event showed that thU was s»s but 
 a leap " out of the frying pan into the fr<;*'' for their 
 schooner v/ent down so suddenly as not k* give them 
 
GEN. FJRANCIS MARION. 21 
 
 time to ta'ie a mouthful of food with them, n^^t even 
 so much as a brown biscuit or a pint of water, AftJ^r 
 three wretclied days of feverish hunger and thirst, 
 they agreed to kill a little cabin dog who had swam 
 to them from the schooner just before she sunk. On 
 his raw Jle.<ih they feasted without restraint ; but the 
 hlood they preserved with more economy, to coo 
 their parched lips. In a few days, however, their owi 
 blood, for lack of cooling food, became so fiery hot 
 as to scald their brain to frenzy. About the tenth 
 day the captain and mate leaped overboard, raving 
 mad; and the day following the two remaining sea- 
 men expired in the bottom of the boat, piteously 
 crying to the last for ivater I ivater I God of his 
 mercy forgive me, who have so often drank of that 
 sweet beverage without grateful acknowledgments ! 
 Scarcely v/as this m.elancholy scene concluded be- 
 fore a vessel hove in sight, standing directly for the 
 boat, as if purposely sent to save the child that was 
 tossing in it on the gloomy waves. 
 
 Little Marion was so weak that he could not stir 
 nand or foot to climb up the side of the vessel. The 
 captain, however, soon had him on board ; and by 
 means of chocolate and turtle broth, sparingly given 
 him at first, recruited him so fast, that, by the tnne 
 he reached his native shores, he was in much better 
 health than ever. So that on his return to his friends, 
 it was found, as is often the case, that what was at first 
 looked on as a great misfortune, had proved a very 
 noble blessing. His constitution seemed renewed, his 
 frame commenced a second and rapid growth ; while 
 his cheeks, quitting their pale suet-coloured cast, as- 
 sumed a bright and healthy olive. According to the 
 6est accounts that I have been able to ]-)rocure, Ma- 
 rion never thought of another trip to sea, but conti- 
 nued in his native parish, in that most independent 
 and happy of all callings, a cultivator of the earth, 
 till his twenty-seventh year. 
 
1» THE LIFE OF 
 
 A report then prevailing that the Cherokee Indianii 
 were murdering the frontier settlers, Marion turned' 
 out with his rifle, as a volunteer under governor Lyt- 
 tleton. I'he affair, however, proved to be a mere flash 
 in the pan : for the Cherokee s finding that things 
 were not exactly in the train they wished, sent on a 
 deputation with their wampum belts and peace-talks 
 to bury the hatchet and brighten the old chain of 
 friendship with the whites ; and the good-natured 
 governor, thinking them sincere, concluded a treaty 
 with them. The troops of course were dismissed, 
 and Marion returned to his plantation. 
 
 Scarcely, however, had two years elapsed, before 
 the perfidious Cherokees broke out again in a fresh 
 place, killing and driving the defenceless inhabitants 
 at a most barbarous rate. Marion instantly flew again 
 to the governor with the tender of his services to fight 
 for his afllicted countrymen. His excellency was sc 
 pleased with this second instance of Marion's patriot- 
 ism, that he gave him a first lieutenancy in the pro- 
 vincial line under the brave captain William Moul- 
 trie. The reported force and fury of the Indians 
 struck such a terror through the colony, that colonel 
 Grant (of the British) with twelve hundred regulars, 
 was ordered out on a forced march to succour the 
 bleeding frontiers. 
 
 On their way they were joined at Ninety-six, May 
 14, 1761, by tv/elve hundred provincials, all men of 
 surest aim with the deadlv rifle. 
 
 To draw off" the enemy from their murderous ex-» 
 cursions. Col. Grant wisely determined to push tht 
 war at once into their own country ; which was no 
 sooner discovered by them, than they instantly col- 
 lected their whole force to oppose him. The only 
 passage into their country was through a dark defile 
 or gap in the mountain, which it was resolved should 
 be forced as rapidly as possible. A forlorn of thirty 
 brave fellows were ordered to explore the dangerous 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 23 
 
 f$2LSs : and Marion, though but a young lieutenant, 
 had the honour to be appointed their leader. At the 
 head of his command he advanced with rapidity, 
 while the army moved on to support him. But 
 scarcely had they entered the gloomy defile, when, 
 from behind the rocks and trees, a sheet of fire sud- 
 denly blazed forth, which killed twenty-one of hi 
 men ! With the remainder, he faced about and push 
 ed back with all speed ; whereupon great numbers 
 of tall savages, frightfully painted, rushed from their 
 lurking places, and with hideous yells and uplifted 
 tomahawks, pursued and gained upon them so fast 
 that nothing but the nearness of the advanced guard 
 saved them from destruction. The Anglo-Ameri- 
 can army then prepared themselves for a serious and 
 bloody conflict. 
 
 An enemy in such force, so well posted, and de- 
 fending the only pass in their country, would, thej' 
 well knew, light clesperately. And well aware, also, 
 what slaughter would follow upon their ov/n defeat, 
 they determined to yield the victory only with their 
 iives. A long summer's day v/as before them, for the 
 sun had just risen above the hills, a bright spectator 
 of the coming fight. Then, in high spirits, v/ith jus- 
 tice on their side, and an approving conscience, they 
 T^heerfully left the event to Heaven. The British ware 
 formed in small corps, the more promptly to support 
 ihe riflemen, who led the van, and now with wide 
 extended wings began to move. In a little time they 
 came in sight of the enemy, who appeared flying 
 backwards and forwards, as if not well satisfied with 
 their ground. The provincial marksmen then rapidly 
 advancing, flew each to his tree, and the action began. 
 From wing to wing, quite across the defile, the woods 
 appeared as if all on Are ; while the incessant crash 
 of small arms tortured the ear like claps of sharpest 
 thunder. The muskets of the British, like their native 
 bull-dogs, kept up a dreadful roar, but scarcely did 
 
24 THE LIFE OF 
 
 more than bark the trees, or cut off the branches abovn 
 the heads of the Indians. While, with far less noise, 
 the fatal rifles continued to lessen the numbers of tlie 
 enemy. The action was kept up with great spirit for 
 nearly two hours, during which the superiority of the 
 American riflemen was very remarkably displayed. 
 For in that time they lost only fifty-one — whereas of 
 the Indians there fell one hundred and three, which 
 so disheartened them that they fled and gave up their 
 coimtrv to the conquerors, who prepared immedi- 
 atelv to enter it. 
 
 Colonel Grant had hoped to surprise their towns, 
 but concluding that their swift-footed runners had 
 given the alarm, he moved on in slow marches 
 through the wilderness towards the settlement?!, 
 thinking that by the destruction of their tov/ns and 
 corn-fields he should drive them into a disnosition 
 foi' peace. * 
 
 Marjoii often spoke of this part of the war, as of a 
 transaclioii which he remembered with sorrow. " We 
 arrived, said he, in a letter to a friend," at the Indian 
 towns in the month of July. As the lands were rich 
 and the season had been favourable, the corn was 
 (jending under the double weight of lusty roasting 
 ears and pods of clustering beans. The furrows 
 seemed to rtjoice under their precious loads — the 
 fields stood thick with bread. We encamped the first 
 night in the woods, near the fields, v/here the whole 
 army feasted on the young corn, which, with fat ve- 
 nison, made a most delicious treat. 
 
 *' The next morning we proceeded by order of colo- 
 nel Grant, to burn dov/n the Indian cabins. Some of 
 our men seemed to euioy this cruel work, laughing 
 very heartily at the curling flames, as they mounted 
 loud crackling over the tops of the huts. But to me 
 it appeared a shocking sight. Poor creatures ! thought 
 I, we siu-ely need not grudge you such miserable 
 habitations. But when v/e came, according to orders^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2d 
 
 to cut down the fields of corn, I could scarcely refrain 
 Irom tears. For w/io could see the stalks tliat stood so 
 Btately with (Droad green leaves and gaily tasseled 
 shocks, filled with sweet milky fluid and flour, the 
 staff oi life ; who, I say, without grief, could see 
 these sacred plants sinking under our swords with 
 all their precious load, to wither and rot untasted in 
 their mourning fields ? 
 
 " I saw every where around the footsteps of the 
 little Indian children, where they had lately played 
 under the shade cf their rustling corn. No doubt they 
 had often looked up with joy to the swelling shocks, 
 and gladdened v/hen they thought of their abundant 
 cakes for the coming winter. rcWhen we are gone, 
 thought I, they will return, and peeping through the 
 weeds with tearful eyes, will mark the ghastly ruin 
 poured over their homes and happy fields, where they 
 had so often played 
 
 *^ * JVho did this?'' they will ask their mothers. 
 
 "^ The xuhite people did it.;^ the mothers reply 
 * ilie christians did it .'' 
 
 " Thus for cursed Mammon's sake, the followers 
 of Christ have sown the hellish tares of hatred in the 
 bosoms even of pagan children." 
 
 The reader will, however, v/ith pleasure remember 
 that these were the dark deeds chiefiy of a kingly 
 government. A gloomy monarch, three thousand 
 miles distant, and rolling in all the pomps and plea- 
 suies of three millions of dollars per annum, could 
 hardly be supposed to know what was passing in the 
 American wilds ; but Washington had known. With 
 bleeding heart he had often beheld the red and white 
 men mingling in bloody light. The horiiors of the 
 cruel strife dwelt upon his troubled thoughts ; and 
 soon as God gave him pov/er, (as presidi^nt of ik- 
 DEPKNDENT America,) he immediately adopted that 
 better system which he had learnt from the gospel. 
 His successors, Adams, Jeilerson, jind Madisoa, 
 
26 THE LIFE OF 
 
 have piously pursued his plan. In place of the toma* 
 hawk, the plough-share is sent to the poor Indians- 
 goods are furnished, them at first cost — ^letters and 
 morals are taught among their tribes — and the soul 
 of humanity is rejoiced to see the red and white men 
 meet together like brothers. 
 
 By this god-like policy, the United States have 
 not only saved an immensity of blood and treasure^ 
 but are rapidly adding to the population and strength 
 of the countiy. 
 
 Now to return to Marion's letter. — "After burn- 
 ing twenty towns, and destroying thousands of corn- 
 fields,* the army returned to Koewee, where the 
 Little Carpenter^ a Cherokee chief, met colonel Grant 
 and concluded a peace." The troops were then dis- 
 banded: and Marion returned to his plantation in 
 St. John's parish, where, with a few well-fed slaves, 
 he continued to till his parental acres, occasionally 
 amusing himself with his gun and fishing rod, oi 
 which he was always very fond. 
 
 * To this day the Indians cannot bear the name of colonel Grant \ 
 and whenever they see a drove of horses destroying a corn-field, ihej 
 cull out "Gnuit! Grant!" 
 
 1 
 
CiEN. FRANCIS MARION. 27 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ^f(it r/vVv^vV/T En^knid and America — Marion ap ' 
 pointed a c-dpta'in in the Second South Carolina 
 rczzmcnt — rTjC'i xv'ith the author on the recrnit'ina 
 aervh-c — curious anecdote of lieiU. Charnock and 
 captain Johnson — some melanchohj and memorable 
 relations. 
 
 I 
 
 MARION continued to tread the peaceful and 
 Icasant v/alks of life, as aljove, till the 'heginning of 
 Alay, ITTj, wlien, hy a vessel direct from iiobton, 
 news v/as l)rou;;ht of th(; gallant battle of Lexington. 
 Instantly the whole town and country were in a iianie 
 for war, and the leg'slatvu'c being purposely convened, 
 hastened to meet the wishes of the people, v, ho were 
 clamorous for raising; two rej^iments for the service. 
 
 On bidioting for ofiicers, Marion\s ticket came o..it 
 .-ijr a captaincy in the ficcond re;;iment, under com- 
 mand of the ijra\ c William Aloultrie. In a little time 
 my name was called out as a captain also, in the same 
 regiment with Marioii. 'i'his to me, was matter of 
 great Jo)-, as 1 had ic-ng courted the friendship of 
 Marion, r'or though he was neither liandsoine, nor 
 n'itt\-, nor wealtliv, \et he was uni\-er.sally beloved. 
 The fairness of liis cliaracter— -his fondness for his 
 relations — his Immiuiily to his slaves — arid his 
 bravery in the Indian war, had ructde him the darling 
 of the coLintr}'. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at., 
 that I should have taken such a liking to Marion, but 
 v/hy he si'.ould have conceived sucli a partialitv for 
 me, that's the question. But it is no business of 
 mine to solve it. However, very certain it is, thai 
 on the irst moment of our acquaintance, there was 
 someTning in" his e)'es .'md looks towards me which 
 led me to think there must be truth in the old say- 
 ing of" people's falling in lo'.e at f.rst sight." And 
 when it is considered, that strong attachments gene- 
 2 
 
28 THE LIFE OF 
 
 rally spring from congenialities, I must confess, that 
 the warm and constant friendship of Marion has evei 
 appeared to me exceedingly llattering. 
 
 But to return to my narrative. — Our commissions 
 as captains, were soon made out and signed by the 
 council of safety, the 21st of June, 1775. As we were { 
 a couple of flaming patriots, we could not bear to be 
 idle a single moment — marching, fighting, killing, 
 and taking prisoners, was all that we could think or 
 talk of. But as all this nne sport could not be car- 
 ried on without men, nor men to be had without re- 
 cruiting; recruiting, of course, appeared to be the 
 first act and pielogue of our play. 
 
 " But what shall we do for money, captain Ma- 
 rion ?" said I. 
 
 " Why," replied he, " we must get it from the as- 
 sembly." 
 
 The assembly was accordingly applied to, but alas ! 
 " could not help us to a single dollar !" 
 
 I wonder whether posterity will ever muster faitb 
 to believe that the gray heads of South Carolina 
 without a penny in pocket, ventured to war with 
 Great Britain, the nation of the longest purse in Eu- 
 rope ? Surely it was of him who pitied young David 
 with his maiden sling and pebbles against the giant 
 Goliah. 
 
 But though the poverty of the legislature was 
 enough to have thrown a (j^nip on spirits of ordinary 
 heat, yet to a flaming zeal like ours, it only served as 
 water on a fiery furnace, to make it blaze the fierc«;r. 
 
 " Why truly, Horry I" said Marion, ''this looks 
 unpromising, but mc must not rnind it my hero. Til 
 tell you what — if the assembly can't help us, wt 
 must e'en help ourselves ! So come let us try whai 
 we can do on cur own credit.'' 
 
 " With all my heart," i re])lied. 
 
 So away M^ent we to borrow money of our friencU 
 m Charleston ; I mean hard money. And hard 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 29 
 
 ttloney it was indeed. The gold and silver all ap- 
 peared as if it had caught the instinct of water- 
 witches, diving at the first flash of the war, to the 
 bottom of misers' trunks and strong boxes. For tv/o 
 whole days, and with every eifort we could make, 
 we collected but the pitiful sum of one hundred dol- 
 lars ! However, fully resolved that nothing should 
 stop us, we got our regimentals the next morning 
 from the tailor's, and having crammed our saddle- 
 bags with some clean shirts, a stout luncheon of 
 bread and cheese, and a bottle of brandy, we mount- 
 ed, and with hearts light as young lovers on a court- 
 ing scheme, we dashed off to recruit our companies. 
 Our course v/as towards Cieorgetown, .Black River, 
 and Grer.t Fedee. Fortune seemed to smile on our 
 enterprise ; for by the time we reached Pcdee, we 
 lad enlisted thirty-seven men, proper tall fellows, to 
 whom we gave furloughs of two days to settle their 
 affairs, and meet us at the house of a Mr. ikiss, ta- 
 vern-keeper, with whom we lodged. I should have 
 told the reader, that we had with us, a very spirited 
 young fellow by the name of Charnock, who was my 
 lieutenant. 
 
 On the second day, a captain Johnson of the militia, 
 came to Bass's, and took lieutenant Charnock aside, 
 and after prattling a great deal to him about the 
 *' cursed hardship," as he was pleased to call it, " of 
 kidnapping poor clodhoppers at this rate," he very 
 cavalierly offered him a guinea for himself, and a half 
 joe a-piece for Marion and me to let the recruits go. 
 
 Never did a poor silly puppy more completely take 
 the wrong sow by the ear, than did Mr. captain John- 
 son, in thus tampering with lieutenant Charnock. For 
 Charnock, though remarkaljly good natured and po- 
 lite among men of honour, could )K)t bear the least 
 approach of any thing that looked like rascality. Im- 
 mediately, therefore, on hearing this infamous pro- 
 positionj he brought Johnson into the dining room 
 
30 THE LIFE OF 
 
 where Marion and myself were sitting, and, in hiu 
 presence, told us the whole affair. 
 
 Oh that my yomig countrymen could all have been 
 there, that they might have seen v/hat a pale, trem- 
 bling, pitiful figure a detected rascal makes ! I a.w 
 sure they could never have lost that blessed mo* 
 ment's impression in favour of trutli and honour. 
 
 After much swallowing, Johnson, however, at last, 
 got the better of his conscience, and came on with a 
 stout denial of the fact. Whereupon Charnock, 
 snatching a pair of pistols, ordered him to take one 
 and fight him on the spot. 1 his being refused, the 
 furious lieutenant instantly fell upon him with a cane. 
 Sensible that Johnson had very richly deserved this 
 ignominious chastisement, we gave him up to Char- 
 nock, who thrashed him very soundly, until, falling 
 on his knees, he roared out for quarter. Charncjck 
 then ordered liim to be gone, hut with the severest 
 threats in case the recruits were not forthcoming ai 
 the appointed time. 
 
 On the morrow they came, and " let the cat out of 
 the bag." It appeared then, that that most worthless 
 fellow, Johnson, had told the poor simple recruits 
 such dreadful stories about the war, that in their 
 fright they had offered him all their cows and calve" 
 to get them off ! 
 
 Our success in the recruiting business far exceed- 
 ed cur expectations, for in a very short time v/e made 
 up our full complement of sixty men each. I have 
 often lamented it as a most serious misfortune that 
 we did not enlist for the war. I am certain we could 
 as easily have enlisted for the war as for six months. 
 We should then have had a host of veterans, masters 
 of their dreadful art, inured to hardsliips, scornful 
 of danger, and completely able to })urge our country 
 of her cruel invaders. 
 
 Asa place of greater security from the enemy's 
 vessels, Dorchester had been pitched on as a deposite 
 
GEN. i'RANCIS MARION. 31 
 
 for ammanition imd military stores, and put under a 
 guard of miiitia. But fearing that the tories might 
 rise upon this slender force and take away our pow- 
 der, an article, at that time, of incalculable value, the 
 council of safety advised to add a company of regu- 
 lars, under some brave and vigilant oilicer. Marion 
 had die honour to be nominated to the command, 
 and, on the 19th of November, 1775, marched to the 
 post, where he continued, undisturbed by the tories, 
 until Christmas, when he was ordered down to 
 Charleston to put fort Johnson in a state of defence. 
 
 About this time an alFair happened in Charleston, 
 which lilled with horror all who witnessed it. Cap- 
 tain Fuller, of the second regiment, a gentleman in 
 other respects very amiable and exemplary, gave 
 himself up to hard drinking, and to such an excess as 
 brought on an inflammation in the brain. In this fran- 
 tic state, v/ith wild rolling eyes, and a face shockingly 
 Jloated and red, he v/ould behave for all the world 
 as if he were leading his men into action. " Come 
 on, my brave fellows," he would cry, " now be cool and 
 steady — reserve your lire till I say the word — now 
 give it to them, my heroes — hurra, they run, they 
 run. I thank you, my lads, for your gallantry in 
 your country's cause." 
 
 All this time the sweat would roll in torrents 
 down his cheeks. Then, quite exhausted, he v/ouid 
 fall on his knees, and with clasped hands, and eyes 
 lifted to heaven, would pronounce the Lord's Prayer 
 and the creed in the most moving manner. For 
 several days the soldiers gathered around him v/hile 
 thus employed : and often with tears in their eyes; 
 would observe the total ruin which intemperance had 
 brought upon this once elegant young gentlem.an.- - 
 His friends in the country, hearing of his deplora- 
 ble condition, came and took him home, where death 
 soon put an end to all his mdseries. 
 
 In a short tim<^ after this, our regiment was de- 
 
S2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 privej of another very genteel young oiEcer, lU* ' 
 tenant Perrineau; who also fell an early sacrifice t* 
 that most shameful and detestable practice of morn- 
 ing slings and mid-day draughts of strong grog. 
 
 After these two tragedies, the reader will not, I 
 hope, be displeased with the following farce., which 
 was acted in fort Johnson, while Marion was repair- 
 ing it, in January, 1776. The principal actors in it^ 
 v/ere captain Marion, and a young lieutenant, whose 
 name, delicacy, yet a while, bids me suppress. This 
 officer, though in his person as handsome as Absalom, 
 or the blooming Adonis, was as destitute of soul as 
 a monkey. He appeared to have no idea above that 
 of dress and diversion: and provided he could but 
 compass his own little pitiful ends, which were al- 
 ways of the sensual sort, he cared not how shame- 
 fully he prevaricated and lied , but would wink, and 
 grin, and chuckle, as if he haa done some great 
 thing. He had served under a score of captains, 
 who had all spoken of him as a slippery, worth- 
 less fellow, whom they knew not what to do with. 
 But though most heartily despised, the fool had the 
 vanity to think himself amazingly clever ; and ac- 
 tually boasted to me one day, that he would soon let 
 me see how far he v/as over my famous captain Ma- 
 rion's speed. Presently he hears thai there is to bt, 
 next v/eek, a great cock-fight at Dorchester. Instant- 
 ly his childish spirits are all on a fever to see the 
 cock-fight. ^^ Oh heavens i he would not miss the 
 cock-fight for the v/orld !" But how to obtain leave of 
 absence from the foi-t at this busy time, was the rub ; 
 however, for such n^eans as he v/as capable of using, 
 an invention like his could not long be at a loss. In 
 short, he went to Marion, with a doleful face, and in 
 piteous accents, stated that his father, an excellent 
 old man as ever son was blessed with, was at his last 
 gasp, and only wanted to see him before he died. 
 
 The generous Marion, not suspecting that so 
 
GKN. FRANCIS MARION. 33 
 
 poodly an outside could cover such falsehood, did 
 not wait to hear the coming petition, but instantly 
 granted his wish, unheard — '"'' To be sure, lieutenant, 
 go, by all means, go and wait upon your father; but 
 return as soon as possible, for you see how much we 
 have to do." 
 
 The lieutenant affected to be quite overcome with 
 Marion's generosity, and swore he would be back in 
 two days, or at farthest in three. As he stepped 
 along by me, he thrust his tongue into his cheek, and 
 looked prodigiously arch, as if he had achieved a 
 grand exploit. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, I told Marion I suspect 
 cd it was ail a trick. And so it turned out; for in* 
 stead of hurrying off, as he had pretended, to see hia 
 dying father, he slipt over to Charleston, where, for 
 fear of being seen by any of our officers, he skulked 
 about in the lower lanes and alleys until it was time 
 to go up to the cock-fi^ht at Dorchester. 
 
 At length after a fortnight's absence, he came over 
 to the fort, and entering the marquee, where Marion 
 was sitting with his oiTicers, he began to bov/ and 
 scrape. As if not perceiving him, Marion turned 
 his head another way. The lieutenant then, exceed- 
 ingly embarrassed, came out with his apology, — " I 
 am sorry, sir, to have outstayed my time so long ; 
 but — ^but I could not help it — but now I am returned 
 to do my duty'." 
 
 Marion turned very quickly upon him, and with 
 a most mortifying neglect, said, ^' Aye, lieutenant, 
 is that you ? well, never mind it — there is no harm 
 done — I never missed you." 
 
 The poor lieutenant was so completely cut up, that 
 he could not say a word, but sneaked off, hanging 
 down his head, and looked much more like a detect- 
 ed swindler than a gentleman soldier. 
 
 The officers, who were all prodigiously pleased 
 with his confusion, presently went out and bf gan to 
 
54 THE LIFE OF 
 
 rally him — " Ah, ha, lieutenant, ixvd so the. captain 
 has given you a set down." 
 
 "•'A set down," replied Ijc very •anp;nly, ^'a ses 
 down, do you call it ! I had rather a tijou^and time!: 
 he had knocked me down — -ixn uc;ly, cross, •knock 
 kneed, hook-nosed son of a b%tf|i !" 
 
 The ofiicers nlmost split their sides with laughinj^. 
 The story soon took wind ; and the poor lieutenant 
 did not iiear the last of it for many a day. I have 
 often heard him say that nothinj^ ever so completely 
 confounded him, as did that dry, cutting speech cf 
 Marion. 
 
 "I was never at a loss before," said he, "to ma 
 nage all other oflicers that were ever set over me 
 As for our colonel, (meaning Moultrie) he is a fine, 
 honest, good-natured old buck. But I ca?n wind him 
 round my fmger like a pack-thread. But as for the 
 stern, keen-eyed Marion, I dread him." 
 
 The truth is, Marion wished his officers to be gen- 
 tlemen. And whenever he saw one of them acting 
 below that character, he would generously attempt 
 his reformation. And few men, perhaps, ever knew 
 better how to manage truants from duty. 
 
 To a coarse, conceited chap, like our lieutenant. 
 Marion gave no quarter., but checked him at once, 
 but still in a Vv^ay that v/as quite gentlemanly, and 
 calculated to overawe. He kept him at arms' length — 
 took no freedoms with him — nor allowed any — and 
 when visited on business, he would receive and treat 
 him with a formality sufficient to let him see that all 
 was not right. 
 
 The effect of such management evinced the cor- 
 rectness of Marion's judgment. The young lieute- 
 nant became remarkably polite, and also attentive tc 
 duty. In short, no subaltern beha\ed better. And 
 this veiy happy change in his mav\nera;» was soon 
 succeeded by as pleasing a change in tht; sentiments 
 of all around him. The ofHcers of the regiment grew 
 
GEN. FRANXIS MARION. 35 
 
 fond of him— Marion spoke of him with pleasure, as 
 an excellent soldier — and he of Marion, as his beat 
 friend. 
 
 This is sufficient to show the truth of the remark 
 made by Aristotle — "that there is no art &o difficult 
 and godlike a-s that of managing men to their own 
 happir*es3 and glory." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 'Die cUiiOH ^of danger darker and darker — two addU 
 tioriul regiraenti rahed — Mari'jn prrjrnrjtf.d Vj a mo/- 
 joriVj—Jort Moultrie built — A lirit'i'^h fieet and ar- 
 mij iTi^ade Carc>ima — grand prtparathriH to receht 
 iheTK — admirable patriothm of the CharkfAon iadien 
 — herrui^ attack on fort Moultrie — gloriouH d'fcru:e 
 of the ^arr'v.on. 
 
 THE clo^id of war prowin;' still dzrktr and darker 
 cvtry- day, the council of safety determined to raise 
 a regiment of artillery, and another of infantry. In 
 consequence of this, several of the officers of the 
 former regiments were promoted. Among these was 
 my friend Marix)n, v/ho from the rank of captain, was 
 raised to a majorit)'. His field of duties became, of 
 course, much more wide and difficult, but he seemed 
 to come fon^ard to the discharge of them with the 
 familiarity and alertness of one who. a« general 
 ?»Ioultrie used to say, v/as bom a soldier. In fact, he 
 appeared never so happy, never so completely in his 
 element- as wli^jn he had his officers and men out on 
 parade at ex**- training. And for cleanliness of per- 
 son, neatr-esa of dress, and gentlemanly manners. 
 With celerity and exactness in performing tlieir evo- 
 lutions, the^ soon became the admiration and praise 
 both of citizens and soldiers. And indeed I ara not 
 
36 THE LIFE OF 
 
 atraid to say that Marion was the architect of the 
 second regiment, and laid the foundation of that ex- 
 cellent discipline and conlldence in themselves, which 
 gained them such reputation whenever they were 
 brought to face their enemies. 
 
 In JMarch, 1776, I was sent over with my com* 
 pany, to Sullivan's island, to prevent the landing ol 
 ihe British from the men of war, the Cherokee and 
 Tamar, then lying in Rebellion road. I had not been 
 long on that station, before col. Moultrie came over 
 with his whole regiment to erect a fort on the islanrt. 
 
 The truth is, the governor had of late become con- 
 foundedly afraid of a visit from the British. The 
 great wealth in Charleston must, he thought, by this 
 time, have set dieir honest fuigers to itching — and 
 ,ne also suspected that they could hardly be ignorant 
 what a number of poor deluded gentlemen, called 
 tories, we had among us. 
 
 The arrival of colonel Moultrie, with the second 
 regiment, afforded me inunite satisfaction. It brouglu 
 me once more to act in concert with Marion. 'I'is 
 true, he had got one grade above me in the line of 
 preferment ; but, thank God, I never minded that. ] 
 loved Marion, and " love^"^ as every body knows, 
 " envieth not.^^ We met like brothers. I read in hif 
 looks the smiling evidence of his love towards me « 
 and I felt the strongest wish to perpetuate his pai'- 
 tiality. Friendship was gay within my heart, and 
 thenceforth all nature xvithout put on her lovelies* 
 aspects. The island of sand no longer seemed a 
 dreary waste. Brighter rolled the blue waves of 
 ocean beneath the golden beam ; and sweeter mur- 
 mm-ed the billows on their sandy beach. My he-art 
 rejoiced with the playful fishes, as they leajK'd high 
 wantoning in the air, or, with sudden flounce, return- 
 ed again, wild darting through their lucid element. 
 Our work went on in joy. The palmetto trees were 
 brought to us by the blacks, iu lar^a rufts^ of which 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 37 
 
 we constructed, for our fort, an immense pen, two 
 hundred feet long, and sixteen feet wide, filled with 
 sand to stop the sljot. For our platforms, we had 
 two-inch oak planks, nailed down with iron spikes. 
 With glad hearts we then got up our carriagt^s and 
 mounted our guns, of which twelve were 18 pound- 
 ers — twelve 24' 8, and twelve French 36's, equal to 
 English 42*s. 
 
 A general joy was spread over the faces of our regi- 
 ment, as we looked along our battery of t.liundererf;. 
 But our glorying, under God, was chiefly in our 
 two and forty pounder.':. And indeed their appear- 
 ance was t-^irrible, where they lay with wide Cerl^e- 
 rean mouths, hideously gaping over the roaring 
 waves, and threatening destruction to the foes of 
 liberty. 
 
 They were soon called to a trial of their metal. — 
 For on the 31st of May, v/hile we were all busily 
 driving on;^ith our fort, suddenly a cry was heard, 
 " a Jlcct I f^Jicet,, ho .'" Looking out to sea, we all at 
 once beheld, as it were, a wilderness of ships, hang- 
 ing, like snow-white clouds from the north-east sky. 
 It was the sirs Parker and Clinton, hastening on with 
 nine ships of war and thirty transports, bearing three 
 thousand land forces, to attack Charleston. 
 
 Such an armament was an awful novelty, that pro- 
 duced on us all a momentary flutter ; but, thank God, 
 no serious fear. On the contrary, it was very visi- 
 ble in every glowing cheek and sparkling eye, as we 
 looked, laugliini^.^ on one another, that we considered 
 the approaching conflict as a grand trial of courage, 
 which we rather desired tlian dreaded. And to their 
 equal praise, our gallant counti'}'men in Cliarlestoni 
 as we learned daily, by the boats, were all in fine 
 spirits, and constantly making their best preparations 
 to receive the enemy. And still my pen trembles in 
 my hand ; even after this long lapse of tinae, it trem- 
 bles with v/onder and delight, to tell of that immor- 
 
m THB LIFR OF 
 
 tal fire, which in those perilous days, glowed in the 
 bosoms of the Charle?*on fair. Instead of gloomy 
 sadness and tears, for v le dark cloud that threatened 
 their city, they wore the most enlivening looks — > 
 constantly talked the boldest language of patriotism 
 —animated their husbands, brothers, and lovers to 
 fight bravely-— and, for themselves, they vowed they 
 would ^*' never live the slaves of Britain.'*'^ Some peo* 
 pie in our days, may not believe me, when I add of 
 these nc^^ile ladies, that they actually begged leave of 
 their commandant, to let them ^''fght by the sides of 
 their relatives and friends.'*'' This, though a glorious 
 request, was absolutely refused them. For who 
 could bear to see the sv/eet face of beauty rough- 
 ened over with the hard frowns of war ; or, the war- 
 riors musket, on those tender bosoms, formed of 
 heaven only to pillow up the cheeks of happy hus- 
 bands, and of smiling babes ? 
 
 But though the spirits of the ladies were willing, 
 their nerves were weak; for v/hen the British ships 
 of war hove in sight, opposite to the town, they all 
 went down to the shore to view them. And then 
 strong fear, like the cold wind of autumn, struck their 
 tender frames with trembling, and bleached their 
 rosy cheeks. Some, irdeed, of the younger sort, af- 
 fected to laugh and boast; but the generality re- 
 turned silent and pensive, as frer-i a funeral, hauging 
 their lovely heads, like rows of sickly jonquils, when 
 the sun has forsaken the gardens, and faded nature 
 mourns his departed beams. Sisters were often seen 
 to turn pale and sigh, when they looked on their 
 youthful brothers, while tender mothers, looking 
 down on their infant cherubs at the breast, let drop 
 their pearly sorrows, and exclaimed, "" happy the 
 wombs that bear 7iot, ana t/ie pops tliat give no suck?'' 
 
 In consequence of a most extraordinary continuation 
 of calms, baffling winds, and neap tides, the enemy's 
 ships never got >vithin our bar till the 27th of June 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 39 
 
 >nd on the following morn, the memorable 28th, they 
 weighed anchor on the young flood, and hefore a fine, 
 oreeze, with top gallant sails, royals, and sky scraper*, 
 all drawing, came bearing up for the fort like floating 
 mountains. 
 
 The anxious reader must not suppose that we were 
 standing all this while, with fmger in mouth, idly 
 gaping like children on a raree show. No, by the 
 Living ! but, fast as they neared us, we still kept our 
 thunders close bearing upon them, like infernal point- 
 ers at a dead set ; and as soon as they were come 
 within point blank shot, we clapped our matches and 
 gave them a tornado of round and double-headed 
 bullets, which made many a poor Englishman's head 
 ache. Nor were they long in our debt, but letting 
 go their anchors and clewing up their sails, which 
 they did in a trice, they opened all their batteries, and 
 broke loose upon us with a roar as if heaven and 
 earth had been coming together. 
 
 Such a sudden burst of flame and thunder, could 
 not but make us feel very queer at first, especially as 
 we were young hands, and had never been engaged 
 in such an awful scene before. But a few rounds 
 presently brought us all to.riglits again, and then, 
 with heads bound up, and stripped to the buff, we 
 plied our bull-dogs like heroes. 
 
 The British outnumbered us in men and guns, at 
 least three to one, but then our guns, some of them 
 at least, were much the heaviest, carrying balls ot 
 two and forty pounds weight ! and when the mon- 
 sters, crammed to the throat with chained shot and 
 infernal fire, let out, it was with such hideous peals 
 as made both earth and ocean tremble. At one time 
 it appeared as though, by a strange kind of accident, 
 all their broad-sides had struck us at once, which 
 made the fort tremble again. But our palniettoes 
 stood the tire to a miracle, closed up without sign ^ 
 sjilinter, on their shot, which was stopped by the 
 0-2 
 
40 THE LIFE OF 
 
 tcrmcdiate sand ; while, on the other hand, every 
 bullet that we fired, went through and through theii 
 ships, smashing alike sailors, timber-heads, and iron 
 anchors, in their furious course. And thus was the 
 order of our battle — there, a line of seven tall ships ; 
 and here, one little, solitary fort — there, British dis- 
 cipline ; and here, American enthusiasm— there, 
 brave men fighting for a tyrant ; and here, heroes 
 contending for liberty. I am old now, and have for- 
 gotten many things, but never shall I forget the 
 heart-burnings of that day, when I heard the blast of 
 those rude cannon, that bade me be a slave ; and still 
 my aged bosom swells with the big joy when I hear, 
 which I often do in fancy's ear, the answer of our 
 faithful bull-dogs, as with deafening roar, lurid fiame 
 and smoke, they hurled back their iron curses on the 
 wicked claim. But alas ! for lack of ammunition, our 
 opening victory was soon nipped like a luckles° 
 flov/er, in the bud : for the contest had hardly lasted 
 an hour, before our powder was so expended that we 
 were obliged, in a great measure, to silence our guns, 
 which was matter of infinite mortification to us, both 
 i because of the grief it gave our friends, and the high 
 ^ triumph it afforded our enemies. ^'- Foxvder! Poivderl 
 millions for poxuderP'' was our constant cry. Oh ' 
 had we but had plenty of that iioisy kill-seed^ as the 
 Scotchmen call it, not one of those tall ships would 
 ever have revisited Neptune's green dominion. They 
 must inevitably have struck, or laid the.Vr vast hulks 
 ulong-side the fort, as hurdles for the snail-loving 
 sheep'^s heads. Indeed, small as our stock of ammu- 
 nition was, we made several of their ships look like 
 selves, and smell like slaughter pens. 'TWt commo" 
 dore's ship, the Bristol, had fifty men killed^ and up- 
 wards of one hundred wounded ! 
 
 The lac^-els of the second rep;iment can never fade 
 —-the destructive effect of their fire gave glorious 
 proof, that they loaded and levelled their picc«^s iisg 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 4t 
 
 men who wished every shot to tell. They all fought 
 like veterans ; but the behaviour of some was gal- 
 lant beyond compare ; and the humble names of Jas- 
 per and McDonald shall be remembered, when those 
 of proud kings shall be forgotten. 
 
 A bail from the enemy's ships carried away our 
 flag-staff. Scarcely had the stars of liberty touched 
 the sand, before Jasper ilew and snatched them up 
 and kissed them with great enthusiasm. Then 
 having fixed them to the point of his spontoon, he 
 leaped up on the breast-work amidst the storm and 
 fury of tlie battle, and restored them to tiieir daring 
 station — waving his hat at the same time and huzza- 
 ing, '"''God save Iwnrtif and mij coiintru for ever P'' 
 
 As to sergeant M'Donaid, wliite fighting like a 
 hero, at his f|:un, a cannon ball came in at the port- 
 hole, and mangled him miserably. As he was borne 
 off, he lifted his dying eyes, and said to his comrades, 
 " Huzza^ my brave fellows^ I d'le^ but don^t let the cause 
 of liberty/ die xvit/i nie^ 
 
 The effect of our last gun, and which happened to 
 be fired by Tvlarion, is too remarkable to be lost. It 
 was his lot that day to command the left wing of the 
 fort, where many of our heaviest cannon were plant- 
 ed. As from lack of pov/der, we were obliged to 
 fire very slow, Marion would often level the guns 
 himself. And now comes my story. — Just after sun- 
 set the enemy's ships ceased firing, and slipping their 
 cables, began to move off. Pleased with the event, 
 an officer on the quarter deck of the Bristol man of 
 war, called out to his comrade, " WelL d — n mij ei/es, 
 Franks the play is ever J hg lefst^o belovo and hob nob 
 to a glcrss of xvine^ for I am devilish drij /" 
 
 " IVnh all my hearty JackT replied the other; so 
 down they whipped into the cabin, v/here the v.'inc 
 and glasses had been standing all day on the table. 
 At thi^ momtjnt, one of our two and forty pounders 
 being jur4 loaded, Marion called to colonel Moultrie, 
 
42 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and asked him if it would not be well enough to give 
 them the last blow. " Tes^"* replied Moultrie, " give 
 them the parting kick,'^'* 
 
 Marion clapped the match, and away, in thunder 
 2nd lightning went the ball, which, entering the cabin 
 windows, shattered the two young friends : thence 
 jraging through the bulk-heads and steerage, it shiver- 
 ed three sailors on the main deck, and, after all, 
 bursting through the forecastle into the sea, sunk 
 with sullen joy to the bottom. 
 
 We got this story from five British seamen, who 
 ran off with the Bristol's long boat, and came and 
 joined us that very night. 
 
 The next day, that noble whig, Mr. William Logan^ 
 sent us a couple of fat beeves and a hogshead of rum, 
 '' to refresh us^^ as he was pleased to say, " after our 
 hard daifs ■work?'* And on the second day after the 
 action, the governor and council, with numbers of the 
 great ladies and gentlemen of Charleston, came over 
 to the fort to visit us. We all puc on our " best bibs 
 and tuckers^"* and paraded at the water's edge to re- 
 ceive them, which we did with a spanking feu dejoi^ 
 and were not a little gratified with their attentions 
 and handsome compliments paid us, for what they 
 yolitely termed " our gallant defence of our countrij?'* 
 And indeed to see the looks of our poor soldiers, 
 when those great ladies, all glittering in silks and 
 jewels, and powdered and perfumed so nice, would 
 come up to them, in faces like angels, sparkling and 
 smiling so sweet, as if they would kiss them ; I say, 
 to see the looks of our poor fellows, their arvkivard 
 hoxvs and broad grins ^ and other droll capers they cut, 
 no human being could have refrained from laughing 
 
 Presently that excellent lady, Mrs. Colonel Elliot 
 (of the artillery,) came forward and presented us with 
 a most superb pair of colours, embroidered with gold 
 and silver by her own lilv-white hands. 
 
 rhey were delivered, if I mistake not, to the brave 
 
 ^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION 43 
 
 sergeant Jasper, who smiled when he took them, and 
 vowed he '"'"would never give them up but with his 
 
 'if"" 
 
 Poor fellov/! he too soon made good his promise, 
 near the fatal walls of Savannah. 
 
 But it was not the ladies alone that were attentive 
 to us, for that great man, governor Rutledge, in pre- 
 Bence of the regiment, took the sword from his side, 
 and with his own noble hand presented it to sergeant 
 Jasper. He also offered him a commission on the 
 spot ; but this, Jasper absolutely refused. " I am 
 greatly obliged to you, governor," said he, " but I 
 had rather not have a commission. As I am, I pass 
 very well with such company as a poor sergeant has 
 any right to keep. If I were to get a commission, I 
 should be forced to keep higher company: and then, 
 as I don't kno*/ how to read, I should only be throw- 
 ing myself in a way to be laughed at !" Parents, 
 v/ho can waste on grog and tobacco, that precious 
 'noney you ought to educate vour children with, 
 thitik'of this! 
 
04 THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Governor Rutledge harangues the troops — shows Br\ 
 tahi's injustice to have been the cause of the Amen 
 can xuar — independence declared — gi'^^cit joy on that 
 accou7it. 
 
 ON the 20th of September, 1776, all the troops ii. 
 Charleston were ordered to rendezvous without the 
 gates of the city, to hear, as we were told, " Some 
 great news." Soon as we were paraded, governor 
 Rutledge ascended a stage, and in the forcible man- 
 ner of a Demosthenes, informed, that Congress had 
 dissolved all relation with England, by an open De- 
 claration of Independence. 
 
 " You are, no doubt, gentlemen," said he, " sur- 
 prised, and perhaps shocked at this intelligence. But 
 however painful this measure may be to our feelings, 
 it is absolutely necessary to our safet}''. 
 
 " Under the sacred name of ' mother country,' 
 England has long been working our ruin. I need not 
 tell you that our fathers were Britons, who for liber- 
 ty's sake, came and settled in this country, then a 
 howling wilderness. For a long time they ate their 
 bread, not only embittered with sweat, but often stain- 
 ed with blood — their own and the blood of their chil- 
 dren, fighting the savages for a dwelling place. At 
 length they prevailed and found a rest. But still their 
 Jiearts were towards the place of their nativity ; and 
 often with tears, did they think and talk of the white- 
 clifted island where their fathers dwelt. Dying, they 
 bequeathed to us the same tender sentiments, which 
 we cherished with a pious care. The name of Eng- 
 land was a pleasant sound in our ears — the sight of 
 their ships was always wont to fill our hearts v/ith joy 
 We hasted to greet the beloved strangers ; and hur - 
 T)' ing them to our habitations, spread for them our 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 45 
 
 >past, and rejoiced as men do in the society of their 
 dearest friends. 
 
 " Oh ! had our mother country but treated us "with 
 equal affection — as a tender parent, had she but 
 smiled on our valour — encouraged our industry — 
 and thus exalted the horn of our gloiy, our union 
 and brotherly love would have h'een eternal ; and th\ 
 impious name of mdependence had never been heard ! 
 But, alas ! instead of treating us in this endearing 
 spirit, she cruelly limited our commerce — compelled 
 us to buy and sell to her alone, and at her own 
 prices — and not content with the enormous profits of 
 such a shameful traffic, she has come, at length, to 
 claim a right to tax us at pleasztrc. 
 
 " But, my countrymen, will ywu suffer thus rudely 
 to be wrested from you, that goodly inheritance of 
 LIBERTY, which was bequeathed to you by your gal- 
 lant fathers ? Will you thus tamely suffer to be frus- 
 trated all the glorious designs of God towards you 
 and your children ? For look but around on this g-rea^ 
 land^ which he has given you, and yon bright heavens, 
 which he has spread over your favoured heads, and 
 say v/hether he ever intended those mighty scenes to 
 be the prison-house of slaves ? — the trembling slaves 
 of a small island beyond the sea? — hewers of wood 
 and drawers of water, planters of rice and pickers oi 
 cotton, for a foreign tyrant and his minions i No, my 
 friends, God never intended you for such dishonour — 
 and can you be so wicked as to bring it on your- 
 selves ? I trust you will not. - Nay, the voices of 
 your brave countrymen in Congress, have said you 
 willnot^^Tid anticipating your heroic sentiments, have 
 already declared you a " iiiee and independent 
 
 PEOPLE !" 
 
 " And now my gallant friends, are you v/illing f 
 confirm their glorious deed ? Are you willing thii 
 day, in the sight of heaven, to swear allegiance to the 
 sovereignty of your country, and to place her in the 
 
46 THE LIFE OF 
 
 highest vaiik of nations, by proclaiming her juip* 
 
 PENDENT ?" 
 
 In a moment the air resounded with " Tes ! 
 independence I independence for ever ! God save th« 
 independent states of America /'" 
 
 The oath of allegiance was then tendered to the 
 troops. The officers with great alacrity took it frst: 
 which highly pleased the common soldiers, who rea- 
 dily followed their patriotic example. Soon as the 
 solemn rite was performed, the governor ordered a 
 feu dejoie. Instantly at the welcome word, " handle 
 arms,^^ the eager warriors struck their fire-locks, 
 loud ringing through all their ranks ; and presenting 
 their pieces, rent the air with fierce platoons ; while 
 the deep throated cannon like surly bull-dcgs, rolled 
 their louder thunders along the field j then madly 
 bounding back on their rattling wheels, they told to 
 fancy^s ear^ " Freedo?n''s sons are zue, and t^n the 
 oiilains that wr^ld make us slaves /" 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 47 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 rimes qr owing- sqiiallij — the author sets out a vagrant 
 hunting — gets into hot xvater — narroxvhj escapes 
 7V7th Ills life — catches a host of vagabonds^ but 
 learns from experience^ that^ though a rascal may do 
 to stop a bullet^ ^tis only the man of honour that can 
 make a good soldier. 
 
 " THE devii;' said (George Whitefielcl, " h fond 
 of f shin g in muddy -waters'''' — hence it is, I suppose, 
 that that grand demagogue has always been so fond 
 of ivar — that sunshine and basking time of rogues, 
 which calls them out, thick as May-day sun calls out 
 the rattle-snakes from their stony crannies. 
 
 In times of peace^ the waters are clear, so that if 
 the smallest Jack (villain) hut makes his appearance, 
 eagle-eyed ^w.s?ic6^, with her iron talons, is clown upon 
 him in a moment. But let ivar but stir up the mud 
 of confusion, and straightway the eyes of justice are 
 blinded — thieves turn out in shoals : and devils, like 
 hungry fishing-hawks, are seen by the eye of faith y 
 hovering over the wretched fry, screaming for their 
 prey. 
 
 This v/as exactly the case in South Carolina. The 
 war had hardly raged there above a twelvemonth and 
 a day, before the state of society seemed turned up- 
 side down. The sacred plough was every where 
 seen rusting in the weedy furrows — Grog shops and 
 Nanny houses were springing up as thick as hops— 
 at the house of God you saw nobody — but if there 
 was a devil's hous'i (a dram shop) hard by, you 
 might be sure to see that crowded v/ith poor Laza- 
 rites, with red noses and black eyes, and the fences 
 all strung along with starved tackles, in grape-viae 
 bridles and sheep-skin saddles. In short, the whole 
 country was fast overrunning^ with vagabonds, like 
 E 
 
48 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ravening locusts, seeking where they might lignt, 
 and whom they should devour. 
 
 " Good heavens !'* said Marion to me one day, and 
 with great alarm in his looks, "what's to be done 
 with these wretches, these vagrants ? I am actually 
 afraid we shall be ruined by them presently. Foi 
 you know, sir, that a vagrant is but the chrysalis of 
 fly state of the gambler, the horse-thief, the money- 
 coiner, and indeed of every other worthless creature 
 that disturbs and endangers society." 
 
 '' Why colonel," replied I, " there's a conceit in 
 my head, Avhich, if it could but be brought to bear, 
 would, I think, soon settle the hash with these ras- 
 cals." 
 
 '* Aye," replied he, " well, pray give it to us, for I 
 should be very fond to hear it." 
 
 " Why sir," said I, " give me but a lieutena-nt, ser- 
 geant, and corpora], with a dozen privates, all of my 
 own choosing, do you see, and if I don't soon give 
 vou a good account of those villains, you may, with j 
 all my heart, give me a good suit of tar and fea- 
 thers." 
 
 My demand was instantly complied with. Then t 
 taking with me such men as I knew I could depend 
 on, among whom was the brave lieutenant Jossilin, I 
 set out from the Long Bluff, towards Sandhills. The 
 reader will please to take notice, that in our hurry we 
 had not forgot to take with us a constable with a pro- 
 per warrant. 
 
 We had gone but a few miles, before we fell in 
 with a squad of as choice game as heart oould have 
 wished, three proper tall yoimg^ vainibonds I profound- 
 ly engaged at all fours ^ in a log tippling shop, with 
 cards as black as their own dirty hands, and a tickler 
 of brandy before them! and so intent were the 
 thieves on fleecing each other, that they took no 
 manner of notic? of us, but continued their scoun- 
 drel work, eagerly stretched over the table, thwack- 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION 49 
 
 ing down their cards with filthy knuckles, and at 
 every stroke bawling out, " there's a g'oocl trick i^"* 
 
 " That^<i as ^ood as heP 
 
 '* And there's the best of the three — huzza, d — if 
 tie ! at him again my hearties." 
 
 ^^ Lieutenant Joss'd'm^^ said I, ''^ f^rah thcv.i fdloxus^ 
 
 You never saw poor devils in such a fright. But 
 soon as they had recovered the use of their tongues. 
 they swore like troopers that they were the " moi^i 
 honestest gentlemen in all Carolina^ 
 
 *' Aye ! well, I am very glad to hear that, gentle- 
 men, said I, for I love honest men prodigiously, and 
 hope the magistrate will confirm the handsome re- 
 port you have made of yourselves." 
 
 So off we set all together for the magistrate. About 
 dinner time I ordered a halt at the house of one 
 Johnson, a militia captain, who appeared quite over- 
 whelmed with joy to see me. 
 
 "■ Heaven bless us !" said he, " and now who could 
 have believed all this ? And have I, at last, to my 
 heart's desire, the great honour of seeing under my 
 humble roof the noble major Borj-y .^" 
 
 I told him I was much obliged to him, for his po- 
 liteness — but, for the present, was rather too hungry 
 to relish compliments. " Like sweetmeats, captain," 
 said I, " a little of them may do pretty well after u 
 good dinner." 
 
 " Oh, my dear maior !" quoth he, " and how sorry 
 I am now ihar I have nothing fit for dinner for you, 
 my noble son oi thunder — a saddle oi fat vejiison^ 
 major ; or a brace of young ducks ; or, a green goose 
 with currant jelly, and a bottle of old Madeira to 
 wash it down, do you see, major ! something nicef for 
 rou, do you see, major !" 
 
 " Nice^'^ said I, " captain Johnson ; We soldiers 
 of liberty don't stand, upon the riice — the substantial 
 *> all that we care i'or — -a rasher of fat bacon from the 
 
50 THE LIFE OF 
 
 coals, with a good stout lump of an ash cake, is nice 
 enough for us." 
 
 " Oh, my dear sir !" replied he, " now doti^t^ dofi't 
 be angry with me ; for I was only sorry that I have 
 nothing half so good for you as I could wish, but 
 such as it i§, thank God, we have plenty; and you 
 shall have a /)ite in a trice." So oiT he v/ent, as he 
 pretended, to hurry dinner. 
 
 Now can any honest man believe that this same 
 man, captain Johnson, who had been, as Paddy says^ 
 *' sticihiif the blarney into me at that rate^"* could have 
 been such a scoundrel as to turn about the very next 
 minute, and try all in his power to trick me out ot 
 my vagrants. It is, however, too true to be doubt- 
 ed ; for having purposely delayed dinner till it was 
 late, he then insisted that I must not deny him the 
 ^'' very great honour cf my company that night.'*'' Soon 
 as my consent was obtained, he despatched a parcel 
 of riders, to order in, with their guns, as many of his 
 ganp^ as he thought would do. In the course of the 
 night, snug as master Johnson thought himself, I got 
 a hint of his capers, and told my men to see that 
 their guns were in prime order. 
 
 While breakfast was getting ready, (for Johnson 
 swore I should not leave him ^^ on an einpty stomach'*'*^ 
 lieutenant Jossilin came and told me he did not un- 
 derstand the meaning of so many ill-looking fellows 
 coming about the house with their guns in their 
 hands. 
 
 I replied that we should see presently. 
 
 Breakfast then making its appearance, we satdo'\\Ti, 
 and while we were eating, (our men all on parade at 
 the door) Johnson's men kept dropping in one after 
 another, till there were, I dare say, as many as thirty 
 of them in the room, all armed. 
 
 When breakfast was over, I turned to the consta- 
 ble, and desired him to look to his charge, meaning 
 th^ three vagrants , for that we would start as soon a* 
 
GEN. FRANCIS IVIAIUON. 51 
 
 our men were all refreshed. Upon this captain John- 
 son said he believed he should not let the pri'ioners go. 
 
 " Not let them go, sir," said I, " what do you mean 
 by that, sir ?" 
 
 " I mean, sir," replied he, " that the law is an op- 
 pressive one." 
 
 I asked him, still keeping myself perfectly cool, if 
 he was not an American soldier ? 
 
 "2"t'5, A77," he answered, "/ am an American sol- 
 dier ; and as good a one, perhaps, as yourself, or any 
 other man." 
 
 " Well, sir, and is this the way you show your sol- 
 diership, by insvlting the law ?" 
 
 " I am not bound," continued he, " to obey a bad 
 law." 
 
 " But, sir, who gave ijou a right to judge the law ?" 
 
 " I don't mind that," quoth he, '' but d—n me. sir. 
 *f ril let the prisoners go." 
 
 " Very well, captain Johnson," said I, " we shall 
 soon tri/ that; and if you and your people here, 
 choose to go to the devil for resisting the lav/, on 
 your own heads be the blood!j const quenccsy 
 
 With this I gave the floor a thundeiing stamp, and 
 in a moment, as by magic, in bursted my l^rave ser- 
 geant and men, with fixed bayonets, ready for slaugh- 
 ter, while Jossilin and myself, 'whipping out our 
 swords, rushed on as to the charge. 
 
 A troop of red foxes dashing into a poultry yard, 
 never produced such squalling and (lying as now took 
 place amoi-ig these poor guilty wretches — ''■ Lord have 
 mercij upon iis^'* they cried — down fell their guns — 
 smack Avent the doom and tvindoxvs — and out ot both, 
 heels over head they tumbled, as expecting every mo- 
 ment tlie points of oui* bayonets.. The house was 
 quickly cleared of every soul except Johnson and bis 
 lieutenant, one Lunda, who both trembled like aspen 
 leaves, expecting a severe drubbini^. 
 
 " Captain Johnson," said I '"don't tremble; yoj 
 E3 
 
S% THE LIFE OP 
 
 have nothing to fear from me. A man who can act 
 as you have* done, is not an object of anger, but cou' 
 tempt. Go! and learn the spirit that becomes a gen- 
 tleman and an American soldier." 
 
 I should have observed, that as we advanced to 
 charge Johnson's poltroons, one of the party, a reso- 
 lute fellow, presented his gun to my breast and drew 
 the trigger. Happily, in the very instant of its firing, 
 lieutenant Jossilin knocked it up with his sword; and 
 the ball grazing my shoulder, bursted through the 
 side of the house. 
 
 As we rode off, some of Johnson's fugitives had the 
 audacit}'' to bawl out, though from a very prudent dis- 
 tance, threatening us that they would yet rescue the 
 prisoners before we got to the bluif. But they wisely 
 took care not to make good their word, for they were 
 only a pack of poor ignorant tories, who did nothing 
 on principle, and were therefore ready to quit their 
 purpose the moment they saw danger in the way. 
 
 Our success at vagrant hunting was marvellous. I 
 hardly think we could, in the same time, have caught 
 as many raccoons in any swamp on Pedee. On count- 
 ing noses, we found, that in our three weeks' course, 
 we had seized and sent oif to Charleston, upwards 
 of fifty. With the last haul, I returned myself to the 
 city, where I received the thanks of general Howe, 
 for " the handsorne addition,''^ as he was pleased to 
 term it, *"' which J had made to the regiment^ 
 
 But on trial, it was found that such vermin were 
 not worthy of thanks, nor were any addition to the 
 regiment, except as disgust to the men and vexation 
 to the officers. Destitute of honour, they perforxred 
 their duty, not like soldiers, but slaves ; and^ on ev^ry 
 opportunity, would run off into the woods like rild 
 beasts. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS ; MARION. 53 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The brave sergeant Jasper again on the carpet — in dis- 
 guise visits a British post at Ebemzer — in company 
 of sergeant Newton^ makes a iccond trip thither — 
 affecting view of an American lady and her child^ 
 ■with other whig prisoners at Ebenezer — desperate 
 resolve of Jasper and Newton^ io rescue them — their 
 bloody conjlict and glorious triumph, 
 
 IN the spring of 1779, Marion and myself were 
 sent with our comnaands, to Piirysburgh, to re-en- 
 force general Lincoln, who was there on his way to 
 attack the British in Savannah, which a few months 
 before had fallen into their hards. As the count 
 D'Estang, who was expected to co-operate in this af- 
 fair, had not yet arrived, general Lincoln thought it 
 advisable to entrench and wait for him. 
 
 While v/e were lying at Purysburgh, a couple of 
 young men of our regiment achieved an act of gene- 
 rosity and courage, which, in former days, would 
 have laid the ground-work of a heroic romance. One 
 of the actors in this extraordinary play was the brave 
 sergeant Jasper, whose name will for ever be dear to 
 the friends of American liberty. 
 
 Jasper had a brother who had joined the British, 
 and held the rank of sergeant in their garrison at 
 Ebenezer. Never man was truer to his country than 
 Jasper, yet was his heart so warm that he loved hiy 
 brother, though a tory, and actually went over to see 
 him. His brother was exceedingly alarmed at sight 
 of him, lest he should be seized and hung up at once 
 as a spy, for his name was well known to many of the 
 British officers. But Jasper begged him not to give 
 himself much trouble on that head, for, said he, '"' 1 am 
 no longer an American soldier." 
 
 '' Well, thank God for that, William," replied his 
 brother, giving him a hearty shake by the hand — 
 
I^E LIFE OF 
 
 the uuord^ viy hoij^ and here is (t 
 commission Wvith regimentals and gold to boot^ 
 
 to fight for his mnj\styP 
 
 Jasper shook his head and observed, that though 
 there was but littU encouragement to fight ybr his 
 country, yet he could not find in his heart to fight 
 %gainst hex. And there the conversation ended. 
 
 After staying with his brother some two or three 
 days, inspecting and hearing all that he could, he took 
 his leave, and hij a round about^ returned to camp, and 
 told general Lincoln all that he had seen. 
 
 Having wasted several weeks longer of tiresome 
 idleness, and no news of the French fleet, Jasper took 
 it into his head to make another trip to Ebenezer. 
 
 On this occasion he did not, as before, go alone, 
 but took with him his particular friend, sergeant 
 Newton, son of an old Baptist preacher, and a young 
 fellow, for strength and courage, just about a good 
 match for Jasper himself. 
 
 He was '"'ceived as usual, with great cordiality by 
 his broth'^; tO whom he introduced his friend New- 
 ton, and 5|, ^'nt several days in the British fort, with- 
 out giving the least alarm. On the morning of the 
 third day his brother had some had neivs to tell him. 
 
 " Aye I what is it T' he asked, '' zvhat is it 'P' 
 
 " Why," replied his brother," here are some ten or 
 a dozen American prisoners, brought in this morning, 
 as deserters from Savannah, wiiitber they are to be 
 sent immediately. And from what I can learn, it 
 will b(» apt to go hard with them, for it seems they 
 have all taken the king's bounty." 
 
 " Lefs see V;«," said Jasper, " lefs see Vw." 
 
 So his brother took him and Newton to see thcnri. 
 And indeed it was a mournful siglit to behold them, 
 where ihey sat, poor fellows ! all hund-cuiTed, on tlic 
 ground. But all pity of them was forgot, soon ns 
 the eye was turned to a far more dolefid sight hard 
 by, which was a young woman, wile of one of the 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. S3 
 
 prisoners, with her child, a sweet little boy of about 
 five years old. The name of this lady was Jones, 
 Her humble garb showed her to be poor, but her deep 
 distress, and sympathy with her unfortunate hus- 
 band, showed that she was rich in that pure conjugal 
 love, that is more precious than all gold. 
 
 She generally sat on the ground opposite to her 
 husband, with her little boy leaning on her lap, and 
 her coal black hair spreading in long neglected tresses 
 on her neck and bosom. And thus in silence she sat. 
 a statue of grief, sometimes with her eyes hard fixed 
 upon the earth, like one lost in thought, sighing am 
 groaning the while as if her heart would burst — then 
 starting, as from a reverie, she would dart her eager 
 eyes, red with weeping, on her husband's face, and 
 there would gaze, with looks so piercing sad, a^ 
 though she saw him struggling in the halter, herself 
 a widow, and her son an orphan. Straight her frame 
 would begin to shake with the rising agony, and her 
 face to change and swell ; then with eyes swimming 
 in tears, she would look around upon us all, for pity 
 and for help, with cries sufficient to melt the heart 
 of a demon. While the child seeing his father's hands 
 fast bound, and his mother weeping, added to the 
 distressing scene, by his artless cries and tears. 
 
 The brave are alwavs tender-hearted. It was so 
 with Jasper and Newton, two of the most undaunted 
 spirits that ever lived. They walked out in the neigh- 
 bouring wood. The tear was in the eye of both. 
 Jasper first broke silence. " Newton," said he, " my 
 days have been but few ; but I believe their course is 
 nearly done." 
 
 " Why so, Jasper ?" 
 
 " W^hy, I feel," said he, " that I must rescue these 
 poor prisoners, or die with them; otherwise that wo- 
 man and her child v/ill haunt me to my grave." 
 
 " Well, that is exactly what I feel too," replied 
 Newton — '•* and here is my hand and heart to stand 
 
56 THE LIFE OF 
 
 by you, my brave friend, to the last drop. Thank 
 God, a man can die but once, and there is not 
 much in this life that a man need be afraid to lea^i 
 it, especially when he is in the way of his duty." 
 
 The two friends then embraced with great cor- 
 diality, while each read in the other's countenance, 
 that immortal fire which beams from the eyes of the 
 brave, when resolved to die or conquer in some glo- 
 rious cause. 
 
 Immediately after breakfast, the prisoners were 
 sent on for Savannah, under a guo-'d of a sergeant and 
 corporal with eight men. They nad not been gone 
 long, before Jasper, accompaniec. by his friend New- 
 ton, took leave of his l^rother, and set out on some 
 errand to the upper country. They had scarcely, 
 ' however, got out of sight of Ebenezer, before they 
 struck into the piny woods, and pushed hard after 
 the prisoners and their guard, whom they closely 
 dogged for several miles, anxiously watching an op- 
 portunity to make a blow. But alas I all hopes of 
 that sort seemed utterly extravagant; for what could 
 give two men a ciiance to contend against ten, espe 
 tially when there Avas found no weapon in the hands 
 ^rf* of the two, while the ten, each man was armed with 
 IP* his loaded musket and bayonet. But unable to give 
 I up their countrymen, our heroes still followed on. 
 About two miles from Savannah there is a famous 
 sprmg, generally called the Spci^ well known to tra- 
 vellers, who often tuin in hither to quench iheir thirst. 
 * Perhaps," said Jasper, " tlie guard may stop there.'* 
 Then hastening on by a near cut through the woods, 
 they gained the Spa, as their last hcpf\ and there con- 
 cealed themselves among the bushes that grew abun- 
 dantly around the spring. 
 
 Presently the mournful procession came in sight, 
 headed by the sergeant, who, on coming oppo.site to 
 the spring, ordered a halt. Hope sprung afresh in our 
 bcFoes' bo'ooms, strong throbbing too, no doubt, -vvitP 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 57 
 
 Ip'eHt alarms, for " it was a fearful odds^ The cor- 
 poral with his guard of four men, conducted the pri* 
 soners to the spring, while the sergeant with the 
 other four, having grounded their arms near the road, 
 brought up the rear. The prisoners, wearied with 
 their long walk, were permitted to rest themselves ou 
 the earth. Poor Mrs. Jones, as usual, took her seat 
 opposite to her husband, and her little boy, overcome 
 with fatigue, fell asleep in her lap. T\vo of the cor- 
 poral's men were ordered to keep guard, and the other 
 two to give the prisoners drink out of their canteens 
 These last approached the spring where our heroes lay 
 concealed, and resting their muskets against a pine 
 tree, dipped up water: and having drank themselves^ 
 turned away, with replenished canteens, to give the 
 prisoners also. ^' Noiv / Ntnvton^ is our time l"*^ said 
 Jasper. Then bursting, like two lions, from their 
 concealment, they snatched up the two muskets that 
 were rested against the pine, and in an instant shot 
 down the two soldiers that kept guard. And now the 
 question was, who should first get the two loaded 
 muskets that had just fallen from the hands of the 
 slain. For by this time the sergeant ai|d corporal, a 
 couple of brave Englishmen, recovering from their 
 momentary panic, had sprung and seized upon the 
 muskets ; but before they could use them, the strong 
 swift-banded Americans, with clubbed guns, levelled 
 each at the head of his brave antagonist, ihe final l)low 
 The tender bones of the skull gave way beneath th 
 furious strokes, and with wide scattered blood and 
 brains down they sunk, pale and quivering to the earth, 
 without a groan. Then snatching up the guns which 
 had thus, a second time, fallen from the hands of the 
 slain, they flew between the surviving enemy, and or- 
 dered them to surrender, which they instantly did. 
 
 Having called the prisoners to them, they quickly 
 with the point of their bayonets, broke off their hand- 
 cuffs, and gave each of them a musket. 
 
i8 THE LIFE OF 
 
 At the commencement of the fray, poor Mrs. Jones, 
 naif frightened to death, had fallen to the ground in a 
 swoon, with her little son piteously screaming over 
 her. But when she came to herself, and saw her hus- 
 band and friends around her, all freed from their fet- 
 ters and well armed, she looked and behaved like one 
 frantic with joy. She sprung to her husban-rs bosom 
 and with her arms around his neck, subbed out, *'''0h 
 bless God I bless God! mif husband is safe ; mj/ husbana 
 is not hung yet r"* then snatching up her child, and 
 straining him to her soul, as if she would have pressed 
 him to death, she cried out — ^'* praise! praise! praise 
 Gcdfor ever ! mi/ son has a fa iher yet /" Then wildlv 
 dartmg round her eyes in quest of her deliverers, she 
 exclaimed, ^^ Where ! where are those blessed angels 
 , aat (^od sent to save my husband ?*' 
 
 Directing her eyes to JaspiT and Newton, wh 
 they stood like two )'outhful Sampsons, in the full 
 fiowinc of their locks, she ran and fell on her knees 
 before them, and seizing their hands, kissed and 
 pressed them to her bosom, crying out vehemently, 
 "Dear angels! dear antrels ! God bless you! Gcd 
 Almighty bless you for ever !" 
 
 Then instantly, for fear of being overtaken by the 
 enemv. our heroes snatched the arms and re^^inientals 
 vf the slain, and with their friends and captive foes, 
 recrossed the Savannah, and in safety rejoined oui 
 limv at Purysbureh. to the inexpressible astonish- 
 mem and joy ol us all. 
 
(iKN. FllANCIS MARION 59 
 
 CHAPTER Vlll 
 
 Pic ccunt jyilfitanq-^ iviifi the Fniuch Jlect^ arrives to 
 attack Scroannah — our armij marches and joins him 
 —Jdta! effects of ly F.Stan if s politeness — biographi- 
 cal (hisk of ijoung (o/o?iel Laurens — curious clialogut: 
 betxvixt him a)id the Frejudi general — wisiiccessfuf 
 attack on Savannah — the brave Jasper mortally 
 xvGundcd- — is visited bij the author in his last mo- 
 ments — interesting coJiversation — dies like a Chris- 
 tian soldier. 
 
 COULD the wishes of our army liave availed, 
 those galhmt soldiers, (Jasper and Newton) would 
 long have lived to enjov their past, and to win fresh 
 laurels. But alas ! the former of them, the heroic 
 Jasper, was soon led, like a ycunj^ lion, to an evil net. 
 The mournful story of his death, with heavy heart 
 I now relate. 
 
 Scarcely had he returned from Georgia, laden, a\ 
 aforesaid, with glory, when an express came intf 
 camp, and infoi^med that the count D'Estang' wari 
 arrived OiTTybcc. Instantly we struck our tents and 
 marched for the siege of Savannah. On arriving nenr 
 that fatal place, we found that the French troops, with 
 their cannon and mortiu's, had just come up. Oh ! 
 had we but advanced at once to theattac^<:, asbecaiue 
 skilfnl soldiers, we should have carried every thing 
 before us. The iVighted garrison would have hauled 
 down their colours without fu'ing a shot. This I am 
 warranted to sav bv the declaration of numbers of 
 tlieir onicers, who afterwards fell into our hands. 
 Hut in place of an imniediate coup de main^ the 
 co!U-tly D'Estang sent a flag, very politely inviting 
 the town to do him the extreme honour of receiving 
 their surrender. 
 
 The British commander was not much behind- 
 E 
 
60 THE LIFE OF 
 
 hand with the count in the article of pohteness^ fot 
 he also returned a flag M'ith his compliments, and 
 requested to be permitted four and tivt'iitij hcurs ta 
 think cf the matter. 
 
 If tiie asking such a favour was extraordinary, whal 
 must the granting of it have been ? But the accom- 
 plished D'Estang was fully equal to such douceurs 
 tor he actuallv allowed the enemy four and twcnti^ 
 hours to think cf surrendering ! 
 
 But instead of thinking, like simpletons, they fell 
 to entrenching^Wke brave soldiers. And being joined 
 that very day by colonel JNIaitland from Beaufort, 
 with a regiment of Highlanders, and assisted by 
 swarms of negroes, decoyed from their masters un 
 der promise of freedom, they pushed on their works 
 with great rapidity. According to the report of our 
 tioops who were encamped nearest to them, nothing 
 was heard all that nigh'^, i)ut the huzzas of the sol- 
 diers, the lashes of cow-hides, and the cries of nc 
 groes. 
 
 I never beheld INIarion in so great a passion. I was 
 actuallv afraid he would have broke out on general 
 Lincoln. **■ JIi/ God J^^ he exclaimed, "" ivho ez^er heard 
 cf am/ thing like this before I — first allo-u an enemy 
 to entrench, and then fght him I ! See the destruction 
 brought upon the British at Bunker''s H'liU and yet our 
 troops there were only militia! raiv, ha f -armed clod" 
 hopper^ J and not a mortar, nor carronade, nor even a 
 sruive! — but only their ducking guns I 
 
 '" U'hat then are we to expect from regulars — -com- 
 pletely armed with a choice train of artillery, and 
 covered by a breast-work! For my own part, when 
 I look upon mv brave fellows around me, it wruigs 
 me to the heart, to think how near most of them are 
 to their bloody graves." 
 
 In fact, IMarion was so outrageous, as indeed were 
 all of us, that we at length begged colonel Laurent 
 to speak to the count D'Kstan;^. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 61 
 
 A-nd here I must beg the reader^s pardon a mo- 
 4i»«;nt, while I Inform him that this colonel Laurens 
 (son of President Laurens) was a very extraordinary 
 young- Carolinian 
 
 On a trip to l^ondon,he fell in love with, and mar- 
 ried a celebrated belle of that city. It would seem 
 that he was very much taken with his English rela- 
 tions, and they v/ith him, for after his marriage, they 
 would not suffer him to revisit his parents, who 
 doated on him, being their only son, but detained 
 him with them in London, as gay as a young man 
 well could l)e, in the gayest city in the world, moving 
 every day in the highest circles of society, and e^very 
 night encircled in the fond arms of a beauteous 
 wife. 
 
 But soon as the war against America broke out, 
 his gaiety all forsook him. The idea of a ruffian sol- 
 diery overrunning his native land, p^reyed incessantl)*" 
 on his spirits, and threw him into those brown stu- 
 dies which cost his lady full many a tear. Luiable 
 to bear his disquietude, he fled at length from his 
 wife and infant family, to fight for his ccuntr^^ He 
 presented himself before the great Washington, who 
 was so struck with the fire that beamed from his 
 eyes, that he made him handsome offers of rank in 
 the army. But his favourite service was to lead 
 forlorn hcpes^ and the daring bands that are destined 
 to carrv the enemv's works bv storm. V/ashintnon 
 
 J J ^ o 
 
 often gave him letters to this effect to his generals. 
 And this was his object at Savannah, where a regi 
 ment of choice infantry was immediately put imtler 
 his command. But instead of being permitted his 
 favourite pleasure of seeing his ardent warriors 
 mounting the enemy's works, and rushing down 
 streams of fire, followed by the bayonet, he was 
 doomed to tret and pine in the humble office of 
 interpreter between count D'E-stang and gener^' 
 Lincoln. 
 
o2 TliK LIFE OF 
 
 " But, Monsieur le couiit,^' said l.aurens to D'Ea 
 tang, '^ the Aint'rican officers say they are afraid yoi< 
 have given the English too long time to think." 
 
 Ax this,*as Laurens told us aftei-wards, the counf 
 put on a most comic starc^ and breaking into a hearty 
 laugh, replied, " De Engleesh tink ! ha, ha, ha ! By 
 pnr dat one vcr good parole ! De Engleesli tink, hel\ 
 M^'.isicur le colonel ! By gar, de Engleesh never tink 
 nut for dclr belUe. Give dc Jack Engleeshman plenty 
 beef — plenty pudding — plenty porter, by gar he nevei 
 tink any more, he lay down, he go a sleep like vun 
 hog/' 
 
 *' But, Monsieur le count," continued Laurens, 
 ^ the English are doing worse for us than thinking, 
 rhey are working away like horses, and v/ill soon 
 ^et their defences too'higli for us to scale. ' 
 
 " Eh, heh, Monsieur le colonel ! you tink-a so t 
 Well den, bv j;*ar you no need for tink-a so — by gar 
 my French-a-mans run over de fence just like vun 
 tlef horse run over de cornfield tence — mind now I 
 tell-a vou dat. Monsieur le colonel." 
 
 " Well, but Monsieur le count, the British some- 
 times fight like the d — 1." 
 
 *' Sacre Dieu !" replied the nettled coimt, starting 
 and gaping as though he M^ould have swallowed a 
 young alligator — " de Briteesh fight like de diable I 
 jaun foutre de Briteesh ! when they been known for 
 fight like de diable? Ess, ess, dat true enough; dcy 
 fight de Americans like de diable — but by gar dey 
 no fight de French-a-mans so — no no, by gar dey no 
 make one moutful for my French-a-mans — Morbleii .' 
 mv French-a-mans eat dem up like vun leetle gre- 
 nouille. * 
 
 " Green Chvll^^ exclaimed one of general Lincoln's 
 aids — '*• Oh my God ! who ever heard of a ^reen ozvl 
 before ?" 
 
 Here Laurens »«»Ung at the ofticrrs mistake, re 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 63 
 
 filled," not jg-ircn owl^ sir, hut gyenoidlle i grenoullle, 
 sir, is the French for frog." 
 
 "Aye, sure enough, sure en ough,yr(9^5^," continued 
 the count, *'^fro(^; grenoullle is frof^. By gar, Mon- 
 sieur le colonel, you he vun (Idm good interpret^ I 
 set (lat well enough. Well den, now, Monsieur le 
 colonel, you hea;-a me speak — my French-a-mans 
 eat dem Jack Engleesh all same like vun leetle frog." 
 
 ' Oh to he sure ! — no douht of all that. Monsieur 
 Je count — hut, hefore we eat them up, they may kil! 
 a great many of our soldiers."*' 
 
 ** Dey kill-a de soldier!" replied the passionate 
 count — "well what den if dey do kill-a de soldier! 
 Jaun foutre de soldier ! what dey good for but for be 
 kill ? dat deir trade. You give-a vun poor dog sol- 
 dier, two, three, four penny a day, he go fight — he 
 get kill. Well den, what dat ? My gar he only get 
 what he hire for." 
 
 " But pardon me. Monsieur le count, we can't 
 spare them." 
 
 " Vat ! no spare de soldier ! de grand Monarque 
 no spare de soldier ? O mon Dieii ! Vy, Monsieur le 
 colonel — for why you talk-a so ? Well den, hear-a 
 me speak now. Monsieur le colonel — you see de star 
 ui de sky ; de leaf on dc tree ; de sand on de shore 
 ' — you no see all dat, heh ? Well den, by gar, Mon 
 sieur le colonel, de grand Monarque got soldier more 
 »in*a all dat — ess, sacra Dieu ! more an-a all dat, by 
 gar." 
 
 " Well but, Monsieur le count, is it not cruel to 
 kill the poor fellows notwithstanding?" 
 
 " Fgo/i .'" re])lied the count, throwing back his 
 head, and puffing out his cheeks as when a segar 
 sucker explodes a cataract of smoke from the crater 
 of his throat; "cruel! vat cruel for kill-a de sol- 
 dier ! by gar. Monsieur le colonel, you mnke-a de 
 king of France laugh he hear-a you talk after dat 
 fa^hong, Let-a me tell you, Monsieur le colonel, dc 
 F2 
 
64 IKK LIFE OF 
 
 ,aig of France no like general Washington — by gar, 
 general Washington talk ui' de soldier — he shake 
 hand v/i' de soldier — he give de soldier dram — By 
 gar, de grand Monarque no do so — no, sacra Dieu ! 
 he no look at de soldier. When de king of France 
 ride out in de coach rcyale wid de supeerb horses, 
 and harness shining so bright all vim like gold, if he 
 run over one soldier, you tink he going stop for dat : 
 No, sacra foutre ! he ride on so, all one like if nothing 
 at all been huppen. Jaun foutre de soldier ! let him 
 prenez garde for himself ; by gar de grand Monarque 
 no mind dat. De grand Tilonarque only tink of de 
 soldier commes dcs ckitiis^ like de poor dam dog for 
 ^ght for him." 
 
 Thus ended the dialogue between colonel Laurens 
 ;aid the count D'Estang. 
 
 The next day, the memorable twenty-four hours 
 being expired, a flag v/as sent into town to know the 
 determination of the British officer, who very polite- 
 ly replied, fnat having consulted his pillow, he had 
 made up his mind to defend the place. A regular 
 siege was tben commenced, and continued for three 
 weeks : at the end of which an attack was made, and 
 with the success v/hich INIarion had all along pre- 
 dicted. After a full hour's exposure to the destruc- 
 tive rage of grape shot and musketry, we were 
 obliged to make a precipitate retreat ; leaving the 
 ground covered with the mingled carcasses of 400 
 Americans and SOO Frenchmen. Marion's corps 
 fighting with their usual confidence, suffered great 
 loss ; himself did not receive a scratch. Colonel 
 Laurens raged like a v/ounded lion. Soon as the 
 retreat was ordered he paused, and looking round on 
 his fallen men, cried out, " Poor fellows, I envy you !" 
 then hurling his sword in wratii against the ground, 
 he retired. Presently, after we had reached our en- 
 campment, he came to my marquee, and like one 
 greatly disordered, said, '"' Horry, my life - bur- 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 65 
 
 den to me; I would to God I was lying on yonder 
 fi.eld at rest with my poor men !" 
 
 '''• No I no ! iione of that, colonel," said I, " none of 
 that,' X trust we shall live to pay them yet for all 
 this." 
 
 And so it turned out. And though for humanity's 
 eake, I ought not to boast of it, yet we did live to pay 
 them for it, and often too : and in the same bloody 
 coin which they gave us that daj^ And although in 
 that fiery season of my days, and when my dear 
 country was in danger, it was but natural for me to 
 rejoice in the downfall of my enemies, yet I was often 
 witness to scenes, which to this day I can never think 
 of but with soriow — as when, for example, after 
 dashing upon an enemy by surprise, and cutting one 
 half of them to pieces and chasing the rest, v/e re- 
 turned to collect the horses and arms of the slain 
 Who, I say, without grief could behold those sad 
 sights which then offered themselves, of human be- 
 ings lying mangled over the crimson ground — some 
 stone dead, some still alive and struggling, with 
 brains oozing from their cloven skulls — and others 
 sitting up, or leaning on their elbov/s, but pale with 
 loss of blood, running in streams from their mortal 
 woiinds , and they themselves looking down, the 
 while, sadly thinking of home and of distant wives 
 and children, whom they shall never see again. 
 
 Such thoughts, if often cherished, would much 
 abate the rancour of malice in the hearts of those 
 whose sad destiny it is to kill one another ; especially 
 if It were known how short sometimes are the tri- 
 umphs of the victor. It was remarkably so in the pre 
 Bent case : for colonel Maitland, of the Highlanders, 
 who had contributed a large part to this very unex- 
 pected victory, was so elated by it, that he took to 
 nard drinking, and killed himself in a szr,^ie rv^e/ci 
 and the sickly season coming on, the ^ater isars 
 
of the garrison perished of the yellow or bilioui 
 fever ! ! 
 
 Thus friends and foes the same sad fortune shar'd. 
 And sickness swallowed whom the sword had spar'd. 
 
 Many gallant men were the victims of count D'Es- 
 tang's folly in this affair; among the number was that 
 impetuous Polander, the count Polaski. 
 
 But none fell more universally lamented, than the 
 heroic J aspcr. Eveiy reader must wish to hear the 
 last of this brave and generous soldier. And they 
 shall have it faithfully, for I happened to be close by 
 him when he received his death's wound ; and I was 
 with him when he breathed his last. 
 
 Early in the action, the elegant colours presented 
 by Mrs. Elliot, had been planted on the enemy's 
 works ; and the fury of the battle raged near the spot 
 where thev waved. During the whole of the bloody 
 fray, Jasper had remained unhurt. But on hearing 
 the retreat sounded, he rushed up to bear off his 
 colours, and in that desperate act, was mortally 
 wounded. As he passed by me, with the colours in 
 his hands, I observed he had a bad limp in his walk. 
 
 " You are not much hurt, I hope, Jasper," said I. 
 
 " Yes, major," he replied, " I believe I have got ray 
 furlough." 
 
 " Pshaw," quoth I, ^'' furlough indeed, for what ?" 
 
 " Why to go home," he answered, " to go to Hea- 
 ven, I hope." 
 
 " Pooh !" said I, and having, as the reader must 
 suppose, a good deal to attend to, I turned off and 
 left him. However, his words made such an impres- 
 sion on me, that soon as duty permitted, I went to 
 see him, and found too true what he had predicted ; 
 the ball had opened a blood vessel in the lungs which 
 no art could stop, and he was bleeding to slow but 
 certain death. 
 
 As I entered the tent, he lifted his eyes to me, but 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 67 
 
 their fire was almost quenched ; and stretching his 
 feeble hand, he said, with perfect tranquillity, " Well, 
 major, I told you I had got my furlough." 
 
 " I hope not," I replied. 
 
 " O yes !" said he, " I am going — and very fast 
 too ; but, thank God, I am not afraid tb go." 
 
 I told him I knew he was too brave to fear death, 
 and too honest to be alarmed about its consequences. 
 
 "Why, as to that matter, sir," said he, " I won't 
 brag: but I have my hopes, notwithstanding I may 
 be wrong, for I know I am but a poor ignorant body, 
 but somehow or other, I have always built my hopes 
 of what God may do for me hereafter^ on what h 
 has done for me here !" 
 
 I told him I thought he was very correct In that. 
 
 " Do you, indeed ?" said he. " Well, I am mighty 
 glad of that — and now major, here's the v/ay I always 
 comfort myself: Fifty years ago, (I say to myself,) 
 I was nQt/iing-^'dnd had no thought that there was any 
 such grand and beautiful world as this. But still 
 there was such a world notv/ithstanding ; and here 
 God has brought me into it. Now, can't he, in fifty 
 years more, or indeed in fifty minutes more, bring 
 me into another world, as much above this as this is 
 above that state of nQthing^ wherein I was fifty years 
 ago ?" 
 
 I told him that this was, to my mind, a very happy 
 way oi reasoning ; and such, no doubt, as suited the 
 greatness and goodness of God. 
 
 " I think so, major," said he " and I trust I shall 
 find it so ; for though I've been a man of blood, yet, 
 thank God, I've always lived with an eye to that 
 great hope. My mother, major, was a good woman; 
 when I was but a child, and sat on her lap, she used 
 to talk to me of God, and tell how it was he vdio built 
 this great world, Avith all its riches and good things : 
 and not for himself^ bjt for me ! and also, that if I 
 would but do his will id. tliat only acceptable way, a 
 
68 THE LIFE OF 
 
 good hfe^ he would do still greater and bettct ihingt 
 for me hereafter. 
 
 " Well, major, from the mouth of a dear iiother, 
 like her, these things went so deep into my heart, 
 that they could never be taken away from me. 1 
 have hardly ever gone to bed., or got up again, with- 
 out saying my prayers. I have honoured my fathei 
 and mother; and, thank God, been strictly honest. 
 And since you have known me, major, I believe you j 
 can bear witness, that though a strong man, I nevei j 
 was quarrelsome.''^ 
 
 I told him, nothing afforded me more satisfaction, 
 than to remember that, since he was now going to 
 die, he had always led so good a life. 
 
 He answered, with tears in his eyes, that he had a 
 good hope he was going where he should not do what 
 he had been obliged to do in this world. " I've killed 
 men in my time, major, but not in malice, but in whfit 
 I thought a just war in defence of my countiy. And 
 Vs I bore no malice against those I killed, neixher do 
 I bear any against those who have killed me. And I 
 heartily trust in God for Christ^s sake, that we shall 
 vet, one day, meet together, where we shall forgive 
 and love one another like brothers. I own, indeed, 
 major, that had it so pleased God, I should have been 
 glad to staij a little longer with you to fight for my 
 country. But however, I humbly hope that my death 
 is of God ; which makes it welcome to me, and so I 
 bow me to his blessed will. And now, my good friend, 
 as I feel I have but a little time to live, I beg you 
 will do a few things for me when I am dead and 
 gone." 
 
 I could not speak : but gathering my answer from 
 my tears, and the close press I gave his hand, he thua 
 went on, but it was in a low voice and laborious. 
 
 " You see that sword ? — It is the one which go- 
 vernor Rutledge presented to me for my services at 
 Fori Moultrie — give that sword to my father, and 
 
GKN. FRANCIS MARION. 69 
 
 lell him I never dishonoured it. If he should weep 
 for me, tell him his son died in hope of a better life. 
 If you should see that great gentlewoman, Mrs. 
 Elliot, tell her I lost my life in saving the colours she 
 gave to our regiment. And if ever you should come 
 across poor Jones and his wife, and little boy, tell 
 them Jasper is gone ; but that the remembrance of 
 the hard battle which he once fought for their sakes 
 brottght a secret joy to nis heart just as it was abou 
 to stop its motion for evei." 
 
 He spoke these last words in a livelier tone than 
 usual, but it was like the last kindling of the taper in 
 its oil-less socket — for instantly the paleness of death 
 overspread his face, and after a feeble effort to vomit^ 
 with convulsions, the natural effect of great loss of 
 blocwil, he sunk back and expired. 
 
 From this victim of D'Estang's madness, I went 
 with a heavy heart on parade, to take a review of the 
 sad remains of the battle. The call of the roll com- 
 pleted the depression of my spirits. To every fourth 
 or fifth name there was no answ^er — the gloomy si- 
 lence which ensued, told us where they v/ere. About 
 twelve o'clock we sent in a flag to the garrison for 
 permission to bury our dead. Curiosity led me to 
 accompany the party destined to this mournful duty. 
 I had prepared myself for a sorrowful sight ; but 
 ah ! what words can express v/hat I then saw and 
 Buffered ! 
 
 A scattered fev/ lay here and there on th-e utmost 
 verge ot the field, killed by cannon shot, and so man- 
 gled, that in some instances, it was hard to tell who 
 they were. As we advanced, they lay thicker and 
 thicker. Some, nct quite dead, were constantly cry- 
 ing, *' Water I water ! — Oh ' for God's sake, a little 
 water i^-'-Others lay quite dead, but still their life- 
 less visages retained the dark frowns of war. There, 
 on the side of the enemy's breast-work, lay the brave 
 tixfiigu Boushe, covering, vSth his dead body, the 
 
» Tim LIFE OF 
 
 very spot where he had fixed the American standard. 
 His face was pale and cold as the earth he pressed, 
 but still it spoke the fierce determined air of one 
 whose last sentiment towards those degenerate Bri- 
 tons was, " There, d — n you ! look at the stripes of 
 ^berty." 
 
 Close by ensign Boushe, lay that elegant young 
 man, Alexander Hume, Esq. with his sword still 
 grasped in his stiffened fingers. My heart bled within 
 rne, when I looked on young Hume, where he lay in 
 ill the pale beauties of death. He was to have been 
 "Harried the week following, to a charming woman • 
 Dut such was his zeal to serve his country, that he 
 came a volunteer to our camp, and met his death the 
 next morning after he joined us. Gifted with a pretty 
 taste for painting, he had tried his skill, and very 
 BUccessfuUy too, in sketching the likeness of his love- J 
 iy mistress. For on opening his bosom, was found, ' 
 suspended by a blue riband, (the happy lover's co- 
 lour) a fine likeness of the beautiful Miss : tlie 
 
 hack of the portrait was stained with his blood; but 
 unconscious of her lover's fate, she still wore the en 
 chanting smile with which yielding beautu views 
 the you*h she loves. 
 
 We then proceeded to bury our dead ; which v/as 
 done by digging large pits, sufficient to contain about 
 a hundred corpses. Then taking off their clothes, 
 with heavy hearts, we threw them into the pits, with 
 very little regard to order, and covered them over 
 with earth. 
 
 " Poor brothers, farewell ! the storm of your last 
 battle has long ago ceased on the field, and no trace 
 now remains on earth that you ever lived. The 
 worms have devoured your flesh ; and the mounds 
 raised over your dust, are sunk back to the common 
 kvel with the plain. But ah ! could your mournful 
 story be read, the youth of America would listen to ) 
 the last words of Washington, and * study the art 
 
 )tjH 
 
^EN. FRANCIS MARION. 7t 
 
 war,' that their countrymen might no more be mur- 
 dered by military quacks. 
 
 As a hint to American office r«, I think it my duty 
 to state the following fact : — Our fatal attack on Sa- 
 vannah was made very early in the morning. A few 
 hours previous thereto, a council of war was held; 
 •and while it was deliberating, a deserter and spij had 
 the address to bear a musket, as sentinel at the doo* 
 'if the marquee 1 1 On hearing* where the attack was 
 to be made, he ran off in the dark, and gave such in- 
 telligence to the enemy, as enabled them very com- 
 pletely to defeat us. The fellow was afterwards 
 taken at the battle of liobkirk Hill, near Camden, 
 and hung. 
 
 Scarcely had we finished burying the dead, before 
 the count D'Estang hurried on board his ships with 
 his troops and artillery, while we, passing on in si- 
 lence by the way of Zubley's ferry, returned to Caro- 
 lina, and pitched our tents at Sheldon, the country 
 seat of general Bull. 
 
 The theatre of v/ar bemg, from this period, and 
 for some time at least, removed to the northern 
 states, the governor and council were pleased to re- 
 duce the regiments, and dismiss tjhe supernumerary 
 officers. To some of my brethren in arms, this was 
 matter of serious alav m. But for myself, possessing, 
 thank God, a liberal fortune in the country, and feel- 
 ing no attraction to the camp, except when drawn 
 thither by public danger, I was quite happy to hear 
 of this new arrangement, and waited on his excel- 
 lency to return my commission. 
 
 Perhaps some may say it was pride in me, and 
 that I did not like the idea of being unfrocked. Why, 
 as to that matter, it is not for me to boast cf my 
 standing among my superiors in those days. But 
 this I must needs say, that it is joy enough, and 
 glory enough too, for me to know, that I was always 
 the iavrjurite of the great Marion ; and that he sel- 
 G 
 
HE LIFE OF 
 
 rfom ever asKcd tne lightning of any other swcrd 
 than mhie, to lead his squadron to the charge. How- \ 
 ever, the moment I heard, as above, that it was in 
 agitation to reduce the regiments, I waited on the 
 governor, and begged that, as there was nothirig 
 doing, he would allow me to return to my planta* 
 tion. To my plantation /<^'ir/ return, and there con- 
 tinued till sprinp;, 1780, when Charleston was taken 
 oy the British ; at which time, and for some weeks 
 before, I vras grievously affiicted with the rheuma- 
 tism. Thus by a providence, which, I confess. I did 
 not at that time altogether like, I was kindly saved 
 from being kidnapped bv tlie enemv, and also intro- 
 duced into a field of some little service, I hope, to my 
 country, and of no great dishonour to myself. Hoav- 
 ever, be this as it may, the reader shall soon see, iuid 
 then let him judge for himself. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Provukntial escape of Manoii out of Charleston — th4 
 British fleet ami army iwovat and take that place — 
 Tarleton and the British officers beg-in to let out — 
 youn^' Scotch Macaonald coniea upon the turf — extra- 
 ordinary anecdote of him — play.s a very curious trick 
 en a rich old toru. 
 
 HOW happy it is for man, that the autlior of his 
 5eing lo\'es liim so much better than he loves him 
 ^elf ; and has established soclo^e a connexion betweer* 
 his duty and his advantage. This delightful truth 
 was remarkably exemplified in an event that bcfel 
 Marion about this time, March, 1780. Dining with 
 a squad of choice wj.igs, in Charleston, in the house 
 of Mr. Alexande ^T' Queen Trauu stre( t,he v/as so 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. U 
 
 fiequcntly pressed to bumpers of old wine, that ho 
 found himself in a fair way to get drunk. 'Twas in 
 vain he attempted to beat a retreat. Tlie company 
 swore, that that xvould never do for general Marion^ 
 Finding, at last, that there was no other way of es- 
 caping a debauch^ but by leaping out of one of the 
 windows of the dining-room, which was on the se- 
 cond story, he bravely imdertook it. It cost him, 
 however, a broken ankle. When the story got about 
 \x\ Charleston, most people said he was a great fool 
 '^or his pains ; but the event soon proved that Ma- 
 rion was in the right, and that there is no policy like 
 sticking to a man^s duty. For, ])ehold ! presently 
 Charleston was invested by a large British army, and 
 the American general (Lincoln) finding Marion was 
 utterly unfit for duty, advised him to push off in a 
 litter to his seat in St. John's parish. Thus providen- 
 tially was Marion preserved to his country when 
 Charleston ff.dl, as it soon did, with all our troops. 
 
 The spirits of the British were so raised by the 
 capture of our metropolis with all the southern army, 
 that they presently began to scour the neighbouring 
 country. And never victors, perha])s, had a country 
 more completely in their power. Their troops were 
 of the choicest kind ; excellently equipped, and com- 
 manded by active, ambitious young fellows, who 
 looked on themselves as on the high road to fortune 
 among the conquered rebels. They all carried with 
 them pocket maps of South Carolina, on which they 
 were constantly poring like }'Oung spendthrifts on 
 their fathers' last testaments. They would also ask a 
 world of questions, such as, " where lay the richest 
 lands ? — and the finest situations ? — and who were 
 the warmest old fellows, and had the finest girls?" 
 and when answered to tlieir humour, they would 
 break out into hearty laughs ; and flourish their 
 sv/ords, and zvhoop and hole it away like young fojc* 
 hunters, just striking on a fresh tiail. 
 
74 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Some of them had Dr. IVIadan's famous book, call- 
 ed " Th\ lipthora, or a Defence of Polygamy," v/kh 
 which they were prodigiously taken, and talked very 
 freely of reducing the system to practice. Cornwal- 
 lis, it seems, was to be a bashaw of three tails — Raw- 
 don and Tarleton, of tico each — and as a natural ap- 
 pendage of such high rank, they were to have their 
 seraglios and harams filled M'ith the greatest beauties 
 o^ die country. 
 
 **" Huzza, my brave fellows !" — diey would sav to 
 each other; *'' one more campaign and the hash will be 
 settled with die d — d rebels, and tlien stand by the 
 girls! — stand by the jNliss Piiickneys ! and Elliots! 
 and Rutledges ! and all your bright-eyed, soft bosom- 
 ed, lovely dames, look sharp ! Egad ! your charms 
 shall reward our xalour ! like the grand Turk, we'll 
 have regiments of our own raising! Charleston shall 
 be our Constantinople ! and our Ciixassia, this sweet 
 Carolina famed for beauties ! Prepare the baths, the 
 perfumes, and spices ! bring fordi the violins and the 
 rose buds ! and tap the old iNIadeira, that our souls 
 may all be joy !" > 
 
 'Twas in this way they would rant ; and tken, 
 brightened up to the pitch, they vrould look and grin 
 on each other as sweetly as young foxes, M-ho, prowl- 
 ing round a farm yard, had suddenly heard the cack 
 ling of the roo^ffcr pullets. The reader shall present* 
 [y see the violent and bloody course c^f these ruffians, 
 who did siich dishonour to die glorious island they 
 came from. But before I begin my tragedif^ I beg 
 leave, by way of prologue, to entertain him a momen^, 
 with a very curious /cint* that was acted un a wealthy 
 old tory, near Monk s Corner, while colonel Tarleton, 
 with the British advance, lay dieie. 
 
 'I'he hero of the play "was a remarkably stout, red- 
 haired young Scotsman, named iMacdonald,son of the 
 Macdonald of famous defeat at IMorris Creek Bridge 
 North Carolina. Soon after the defeat of his father. 
 
GEN. FRANXIS IMAKION. 75 
 
 fie came and joined our troop?. I.cd ny curiosity, I 
 could not help, one day, asking him the reason : to 
 which he made, in substance, the following reply. 
 
 '•' Immediately on the misfortune of my father and 
 his friends at the Great Bridge, I fell to thinking M'hat 
 could be the cause ; and then it struck me that it must 
 have been owing to their own monstrous ingratitude. 
 " Here now," said I to myself, " is a parcel of people, 
 meaning my poor father and his friends, who fled from 
 the murderous swords of the English after the mas- 
 sacre at Culloden. Well, they came to America, with 
 hardly any thing but their poverty and mournful looks 
 But among this friendly people that was enough. — » 
 Every eye that saw us, had pity ; and every hand was 
 reached out to assist. They received us in their 
 houses as though we had been their own unfortunate 
 brothers. They kindled high their hospitable fires for 
 us, and spread their feasts, and bid us eat and drink 
 and banish our sorrows, for that we were in a land of 
 friends. And so indeed we found it ; for, whenever 
 we told of the woful battle of Culloden, and how the 
 English gave no quarter to our unfortunate countrv- 
 men, but butchered all they could overtake, these 
 generous people often gave us their tears, and said, 
 '*(9/ that 7ve had been there to aid ivith oar rijics^ then 
 should jnanif of those inonsterf have hit the ^-roundy 
 They received us into the bosoms of their peaceful 
 forests, and gave us their lands and their beauteous 
 daughters in marriage, and we became rich. And yet, 
 after all, soon as the English came to America, to 
 murder this innocent people, mcrelv for refusing to 
 he their slaves, then my father and friends, forgetting 
 all that the Americans had done for them, went and 
 joined the British, to assist them to cut die throats of 
 tneir hest friends I 
 
 ^•^ Nozik'' said I to myself, " if ever there vjas a time 
 Jor God to stand np to punish ingratitude^ this "zrr's 
 the time.'''' And God did stand up : for he enab>od ^.€ 
 02 
 
 A 
 
76 THE LIPE OB 
 
 Americans to defeat my father and his friends mot 
 completely. But, instead of murdering the prison, 
 ers, as the English had done at CuUoden, they treat, 
 ed us with their usual generosity. And now these are, 
 *' the people I love and will fight for as long as I live.'' 
 And so he did fight for us, and as undauntedly too as 
 George Washington ever did. 
 
 This was young Scotch Macdonald. Now the cu- 
 rious trick which he played, is as follows. 
 
 Soon as he heard that colonel Tarleton was en- 
 camped at Monk's Corner, he Aventthe next morning 
 to a wealthy old tory of that neighbourhood, and 
 passing himself for a sergeant of colonel Tarleton's 
 corps, presented that officer's compliments, adding 
 that colonel Tarleton was just come to drive the re- 
 bels out of the country, and knowing him to be a 
 good friend of the king, begged he would send him 
 one of his best horses for a charger, and that he 
 should be no loser by it. 
 
 '* ^<"nd him one of my finest horses !" cried the old 
 'j-aitor, witn eyes sparkling with joy; " Yes, Mr. Ser- 
 geant, that I will, by gad ! and would send him one of 
 my finest daughters too, had he but said the word. 
 A good friend of the king, did he call me, Mr. Ser- 
 geant? yes, God save his sacred majesty, a good 
 friend I am indeed, and a true. And, faith ! I am 
 glad too, Mr. Sergeant, that colonel knows it. Send 
 him a charger to drive the rebels, heh ? Yes, egad will 
 I send him one, and as proper a one too, as ever a 
 soldier straddled. Dick ! Dick ! I say you Dick !" 
 
 " Here, massa, here ! here Dick !" 
 
 " Oh, you plaguy dog ! so I must always split my 
 throat with bawling, before I can get you to answer 
 heh r 
 
 " Uigh^ massa ! sure Dick always answer when h 
 hear massa hallo /" 
 
 " You do, you villain, do you ? — Well then, run ' 
 jump! fly, you rascal, fly to tnc stable, and bring me 
 
Pao:e 77. 
 
 AVDonaid'e trick on the old Tory] 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 77 
 
 out Selim, my young Selim ! do you hear ? you vil- 
 lain, do you hear ?" 
 
 " Tes, massa^ be sure /" 
 
 Then turning to Macdonald, he went on : " Well, 
 Mr. Sergeant, you have made me confounded glad 
 this morning, you may depend. And now suppose 
 you take a glass of peach ; of good old peach, Mr. 
 Sergeant ? do you think it would do you any harm ?'' 
 
 " V/hy, they say it is good of a rainy morning, 
 sir," replied Macdonald. 
 
 " O yes, famous of a rainy morning, Mr. Sergeant * 
 H mighty antifogmatic. It prevents you the ague, 
 Mr. Sergeant; it clears a man's throat of the cob- 
 webs, sir." 
 
 " God bless your honour !" said Macdonald, as he 
 turned off a bumper of the high-beaded cordial. 
 
 But scarcely had he smacked his lips, before Dick 
 paraded Selim ; a preud, full-l)looded, stately steed 
 that stepped as though he disdained the earth he 
 walked upon. 
 
 Here the old fellow brightening up, broke out 
 again ; " Aye ! there, Mr. Sergeant, there is a horse 
 for you ! is'nt he, my boy V 
 
 " Faith, a noble animal, sir," replied Macdonald. 
 
 " Yes, egad ! a noble animal indeed ! — a charger 
 for a king, Mr. Sergeant ! — Well, my compliments to 
 colonel Tarleton ; tell him I've sent him a horse, my 
 youg Selim, my grand Turk, do you hear, my son 
 of thunder ? And say to the colonel that I don't 
 grudge him neither, for egad! he's too noble for mc, 
 Mr. Sergeant. I've no work that's fit for him, sir; 
 no ! damme, sir, if there's c\|^y work in all this coun- 
 try that's good enough for him, but just that which 
 he is now going on; the driving the d — d rebels out 
 of the land." 
 
 And in order to send Selim off in high style, he 
 ordered Dick to bring down his elegant new saddle 
 and holsters, with his silver-mounted pistols. Theii 
 
TS 'IHE LIFE OF 
 
 giving Macdonald a hot breakfast, and lending hi^^ 
 his great coat, as it was raining, he let him go, with 
 a promise that he would come next morning and see 
 how colonel Tarleton liked )'Oimg Sclim. 
 
 Accordingly next morning he \vaited on colonel 
 Tarleton, and told his name, with the smiling coun- ^ 
 tenance of one who expected to be eaten up with 
 fondness. But alas! to his inhnite mortification, 
 Tarleton heard his name without the least change of 
 feature. 
 
 After recovering a little from his embarrassment, 
 he asked colonel Tarleton how he liked his charg^er, 
 
 " Charger, sir!" replied Tarleton. 
 
 " Yes, sir, the elegant horse I sent you yesterday." 
 
 " The elegant horse you sent me, sir !" 
 
 "Yes, sir, and by your sergeant, sir, as he called 
 himself." 
 
 " An elegant horse ! and by my sergeant ! Why 
 really, sir, I-I-I don't understand all this !" 
 
 The looks and voice of colonel Tarleton too sadly 
 convinced the old traitor that he had been bit ; and 
 that young Selim was gone ! then trembling and pale, 
 cried out, "' Why, my dear good sir, did you not send 
 a sergeant yesterday with your compliments to me, 
 and a request that I would send you my very best 
 horse for a charger, which I did ?" 
 
 " No, sir, never !" replied Tarleton : " I never sent 
 a sergeant on any such errand. Nor till this moment 
 did I ever know that there existed on eartli such a 
 being as you." 
 
 To have been outwitted in this manner by a rebel 
 sergeant — to have lostt^his peach brandy — his hot 
 breakfast — his great coat — his new saddle — his silver 
 mounted pistols — and, worse than all, his darling j 
 /wrst\ his young, full-blooded, bounding Sclim — all 
 these keen reflections, like so many forked lightnings, 
 I'aUing at once on the trnin and tinder of his passions- 
 blew them up to such a diabolical rage that the old sIb 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 79 
 
 Qer had like to have been suffocated on the spot. Ha 
 turned black in the face ; he shook thi-oughout ; and 
 as soon as he could recover breath and power of 
 speech, he broke out into a torrent of curses, enough 
 to raise the hair on any Christian man's head. 
 
 Nor was colonelTarlcton much behind liim, when 
 he came to learn what a noble horse had slipped 
 dirough his hands. And a noble horse he was in- 
 deed ! Full sixteen hands higli ; the eye of a hawk; 
 the spirit of the king eagle ; a chest like a lion ; swifter 
 than a roebuck, and strong as a bufl'alo. 
 
 I asked Macdonald, how he could reconcile it to 
 himself to take die old poltroon's horse in that way ? 
 
 " Why, sir," replied he, *"' as to that matter, people 
 iV'ill think difTerendy; but for my part I hold that all 
 :s fair in ivar : and, besides, sir, if I had not taken 
 him, colonel Tarleton, no aoubt, would have got 
 him. And then, with such a swift strong charger aa 
 this, he might do us as much harm as I hope to do td 
 them." 
 
 And he did do them harm widi a vengei^nce ; for 
 he had no more sense of fear than a hungry tiger. 
 And, as to his strengdi, it was such, that widi one of 
 Potter's blades he would make no more to drive 
 through cap and skull of a British dragoon, than a 
 boy would, with a case-knife, to chip olf die head of 
 a carrot. And then, he always kept Selim up so lust- 
 ily to the top of his metal. He was so fdnd of him, 
 that I verily believe he would at any time have sold 
 tlie shirt olf his l)ack to get corn iox him. And trulv 
 Selim was not much his debtor; tor, at the Hrst flash 
 and glimpse of a red coat,, he woui i paw and champ 
 his iron bit with rage ; and the mo'iient he heard the 
 word "^''0," off he was among them like a thunder' 
 bolt. 
 
 And to see how Macdonald would charj^e^ you 
 would swear the fear of death was never before hi a 
 eyes. Whether it was o?ii: or tt7i against him, it made 
 
90 THE LIFE OF 
 
 no odds to this gallant Scotsman. He never stoppec^ 
 to count noses, but would dash in upon the thickest 
 of them, and fdW to he^ving and cutting down like a 
 very fury incarnate. 
 
 Poor Macdcnald ! the arm of his strength is no^^ 
 in dust ; and his large red cheeks have, long ago 
 been food for worms : but never shall I forget when 
 first I saw him fight. 'Twas in the days when the 
 British held Georgetown ; and Marion had said to 
 me, ** Go and reconnoitre." I took only Macdonald 
 with me. Before day we reached our place of con- 
 cealment, a thick clump of pines near tlie road, and 
 in full view of the enemy's lines. Soon as the bonny 
 gray-eyed morning began to peep, we heard the town 
 all alive, as it were, with drums and fifes ; and about 
 sunrise, beheld five dragoons turn out, and with 
 prancing steeds dash up the road towards us. I turned 
 my eye on Macdonaid, and saw his face all kindled up 
 with the joy of battle. It was like that terrible joy 
 which flashes from the eyes of an ambushed lion, when 
 he beholds the coming forth of the buifaloes towardoi 
 his gloomy cave. '' Zounds, IMacdonald,'* said I 
 ** here's an odds against us, five to two." *'' By my soul 
 now captain," he replied, " and let 'em come on 
 Three are welcome to the sword of IVIacdonald." 
 
 Soon as they were come fairly opposite to us, we 
 gave them a blast from our bugles, and with drawn 
 sabres broke in upon them like a tornado. 
 
 Their panic was complete ; two we stopped, over- 
 thrown and weltering in the road. The remaining 
 three wheeled about, and taking to their heels, went 
 oir as if old Nick had been bringing up the rear. Then 
 you might have heard the roar, ancl seen the dust, 
 which dragoons can raise, when, with whip and spur 
 and wildly rolling eyes, they bend forward from the 
 pursuit ot death. ]My charger being but a heav) 
 brute, was soon distanced. But they could not dis- 
 tance the swift-footed Se'im. Rapid as tlie deadJy 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 81 
 
 blast of the desert, he pursued tlieir dusty course, still 
 pathering upon them at every jump. And before they 
 could reach the town^tlioagh so near, he brought his 
 furious rider alongside of two of them, whom he cut 
 down. One hundred yards further, and the third alsc 
 would have been slain ; for Macdonald, with his 
 crimson cla3'^more, was within a few steps of him, 
 when the guns of the fort compelled him to retire. 
 However, though quickly pursued by the enemy, he 
 ha<l the address to bring off an elegant horse o5 one 
 of the dragoons whom he had killed. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 . Tfie abomhiatwn and desolation set up in South Card 
 Una — tht author^ with sorrowful hearty quits hif 
 native land^ and Jlies to the ?iorth in quest of war^ 
 like friends — fortunate rencontre ivith his gallant 
 friend colonel Marion — curious adventures. 
 
 AFTER the capture of Charleston, with all our 
 troops, the British, as aforesaid, began to spread them- 
 selves over the country. Then was exhibited a spec- 
 tacle, which for sadness and alarm, ought never to be 
 forgotten by the people of America. I mean how easy 
 a thing it is for a small l)ody of soldiers to overrun a 
 populous and powerful country. The British did not, 
 after Sir Henry Clinton's return to New York, exceed 
 three thousand men; and South Carolina alone, at the 
 lowest computation, must have contained ffty ihou" 
 ita?id! and yet this host of poor honest men were made 
 to trcz:ible before that handful of ruffians, as a flock of 
 sheep before the wolf, or a houseful of little children 
 before a dark frowning pedagogue. The reason is 
 immensely plain. The British were all embodied and 
 firm as a rock of granite ; the Carolinians were scat- 
 H 
 
82 THE LIFE OF 
 
 tered over the country loose as a rope of sand : the 
 British all well armed and disciplined, moved in 
 dreadful harmony, giving their fire like a volcano : 
 the Carolinians, with no other than birding pieces, 
 Rnd strangers to the art of war, were comparatively 
 feeble as a forest of glow-worms : the British, though 
 but units in number, were so artfully arranged that 
 they told for myriads ; while, for lack of unity, the 
 Carolinians, though numerous as myriads, passed 
 only for ciphers. In short, the British were a handful 
 of hawks ; the poor Carolinians a swarm of rice-birds, 
 and rather than be plucked to the pin feather, or pick- 
 ed to the bone, they and their little ones, they were 
 Vin to Hatter those furious falcons^ and oft times to 
 4iirp and sing v/hen they were much in the humoui 
 *o hate and curse. 
 
 Oh ! blind indeed, and doubly blind is that people, 
 and well worthy of iron yokes, who, enjoying all the 
 sweets of liberty, in a land of milk and honey, can 
 expose to foreign Philistines, that blessed Canaan, un- 
 guarded by military science. Surely those who thus 
 throw " their pearl btfore swine," richly deserve that 
 the beast should turn again and trample them^ and 
 their treasures toe, into the mire. Yes, and had it not 
 been for a better watch than our own, at this day, like 
 the -wietched Irish, we should have been trampled 
 mto the mire of slavery; groaning under heavy bur 
 dens to enrich our task-masters ; and doomed on 
 every fruitless attempt at freedom, to fatten th« 
 buzzards with our gibbeted carcasses. 
 
 For lack of this habitual military preparation on 
 our part, in a few days after the fall of Charleston, 
 Col. Tarleton, with only one hundred and fifty horse, 
 galloped up to Georgetown, through the most popu- 
 lous part of the state, with as much hauteur as an 
 overseer and his boys would gallop through a negro 
 plantation ! To me this was the signal for clearing- out. 
 Accordingly, though still in much pain from the rheu 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 8.^ 
 
 matism, I mounted my horse, and with sword and 
 pistol by my side, set out for the northward, in quest 
 of friendly powers to aid our fallen eause. In passing 
 through Georgetown, I saw a distant group of peo- 
 ple, to whom I rode up, and with great civiiitif^ as I 
 thought, asked the nnu.s. To Avhich a young fellow 
 very scornfully replied, that " Cc.lonel Taileton wns 
 coming, and that ihe country, llrank God, would soon 
 be cleared of the continental colonels." 
 
 I was within an ace of drawing a pistol and shoot- 
 ing the voung slave dead upon the spot. But God was 
 pleased to give me patience to hear up under that hea- 
 vy cross; for which I have since very heartily thank- 
 ed him a thousand times and more. And indeed, on 
 thinking over the matter, it has often struck me, that 
 the man who could speak in that v/ay to one who had 
 on, as he saw, the American uniform, must be a sa- 
 vage, and therefore not an object of anger, but of pity. 
 But though my anger was soon over, nothing could 
 cure the melancholy into which this affiiir thrcw^ me. 
 To see my native country thus prostrate under fo- 
 reign usurpers, the generality quite disheartened, and 
 the few, who dared to take her part, thus publicly in- 
 sulted, was a shock I was not prepared for, and which, 
 therefore, sunk my spirits to the lowest ebb of despon- 
 dence. Such was the frame of mind wherein I left 
 my native state, and set out, sick and alone, for the 
 northward, with scarce a hope of ever seeing bettei 
 days. About the middle of the second day, as I beat 
 my solitary road, slowly winding through the silent, 
 gloomy woods of North Carolina, I discovered, just 
 htforc me, a stranger and his servant. Instantly my 
 heart sprang afresh for the pleasures of society, anc^ 
 quickening my pace, I soon overtook the gentleman, 
 wh.en lo ! who should it be but the man first of all ii> 
 my wishes, though the last in my expectations ; who 
 I say, should it be but Marion ! Our mutual surprise 
 was great. " Good heavens I'' we both exclaimed Iv 
 
84 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the same moment, " Is that colonel Marion ?" " Is 
 that Horry ?" After tlie first transports of that joy, 
 which those who have been long absent from dear 
 friends, can better conceive than I describe, we be- 
 gan to inquire into each other's destinations, which 
 was found to be the same ; both flying to the north 
 for troops to fight the British. We had not rode far 
 when Marion, after looking up to the sun, who was 
 now past his half-way house, came suddenly to a halt, 
 and said, " Well, come Horry, I feel both peckish 
 and weary, and here is a fine shade, so let us go down 
 and rest, and refresh ourselves awhile." 
 
 Where'ipon I dismounted; and with the help of his 
 servant, for his ankle was yet very crazy, got him down 
 too. Then, sitting side by side, on the trunk of a 
 fallen pine, we talked over the mournful state of our 
 country ; and came at last, as we had always ^ jne, to 
 this solemn conclusion, that we would stand jy her 
 like true children, and either conquer or die "w th her. 
 
 After this, a piece of dried beef was paraded, from 
 Marion's saddle-bags, with a loaf "of Indian bread and 
 a bottle of brandy. The wealthy reader may smile at 
 this bill of fare ; but to me it was a feast indeed. For 
 joy, like a cordial, had so raised my spirits, and re- 
 mvigorated my system, that I fed like a thresher. 
 
 I shall never forget an expression which Marion 
 let fall dvixing otir repast, and which, as things have 
 turned out, clearly shows what an intimate acquaint- 
 ance he had with human nature. I happened to say 
 that I was afraid '' our happy days were all gone." 
 
 " Pshaw, Horry," he replied, *"' don't give way to 
 such idle fears. Our happu daijs are not all gone. On 
 the contrary, the victory is still sure. The enemy, it 
 is true, have all the trumps in their hands, and if 
 they had but spirit to play a generous game^ would 
 certainly ruin us. But they have no idea of that 
 game ; but will treat the people cruelly. And thiM 
 ene thing will ruin them, and save Amertca."' 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 85 
 
 " 1 pray God," said I, " it may be so." 
 
 " Well, don't be afmid," replied he, ^' you will aS' 
 htiredly see it,'''' 
 
 Having despatched our simple dinner, we mounted 
 again and pursued our journey, but with feelings so 
 difTerent from what I had before this meeting, as made 
 me more sensible than ever ^Y^v<it a divine thing friend 
 ship is. And well indeed it was for us that our hearts 
 were so ricii in fneiiclHlup^ for our pockets were as 
 bare of gold and silver as if there were no such metals 
 on earth. And but for carrying a knife, or a horse- 
 fleam, or a p;un-flint, we liad no more use for a pocket 
 than a Highlander has for a knee-buckle. As to hard 
 money, we had not seen a dollar for years ; and of old 
 continental, bad as it was, we had received but little, 
 and that little was gone away like a flash ; as the rea- 
 der may well suppose, when he comes to learn, that 
 a bottle of rum would sweep fifty dollars. 
 
 And so here were two continental colonels of us, 
 just started on a journey of several hundre-J miles, 
 without a cent in pocket! But though poor in gold, 
 we were rich in faith. Burning patriots ourselves, v/e 
 h'c^d counted on it as a certainty, that every body we 
 met, out of )-each of the British, were as fiery as we 
 and that the first sight of our uniforms would com 
 mand smiling countenances, and hot suj^pers, an(i 
 downy beds, and mint slings ; and in short, every thing 
 that our hearts could wish. But, alas and alack the 
 mistake ! For instead of being smiled on every where 
 along the road as the champions of liberty, we were 
 often grinned at as if v/c had been hor.se thieves. In 
 place of being hailed ^vith benedictions, we w^ere fre- 
 '[uently in danger from the brick bats; and in lieu of 
 hot diimers and suppers, we were actually on the point 
 u{ starving, both we and our horses ! For in conse- 
 quence of candidly telling the publicans that '''"(.veluid 
 notlizny to paii,^'' tliev as candidly declared, ''Ulicy had 
 notf'wi^ to q-roC'-''^ and that *^ those that had no tnone'^ 
 H2 
 
66 THE LIFE OF 
 
 had no busrness to travel.''^ At length we came tt the 
 resolution to say nothing about our poverty^ but, after 
 getting such things as we wanted, to give our due bills 
 In this we felt ourselves perfectly warranted ; for wt; 
 had, both of us, thank God, very sufficient estates; 
 and besides, turning out, as we did, to fight for our 
 countiy, we thought we had, even by sacred precept, 
 a very fair claim on that country for a little food. 
 
 I remember, one evening, after dark, we reached a 
 tavern, the owner of which at first seemed very fond 
 of accommodating us. But as soon as a lighted wood 
 torch had given him a glimpse of our regimentals, 
 ^\ie rogue began to hem and ha^to tell us of 3. mighty 
 Hne tavern about five miles further on. 
 
 We begged him to recollect that it was night, and 
 also very rainy, and as dark as pitch. 
 
 " Oh /'' quoth he, " the road in rnighty plain ; you 
 cmi't viiss your zvayS'' 
 
 -' But consider, sir, we are sti-angers.'' 
 
 " C^'^ , ^ never liked strangerfi in all my life.'''* 
 
 *' But, i>ir, we are your countrymen, American offi* 
 cers, going to the north for men to fight your battles." 
 
 " Oh ! I wants nobody to fight my battles ; king 
 George is good enough for me." 
 
 " But, sir, we have travelled all day long without 
 a mouthful for ourselves or horses." 
 
 To this also the brute was preparing some fit an- 
 swer, when his wife, who appeared to be a very gen- 
 teel woman, with a couple of charming girls, her 
 daughters, ran out and declared that " take us in he 
 could, and should, that he should; and that he might as 
 well consent at first, for they would not be said nay." 
 
 Even against all this, he stood out for some time ; 
 'will at length his wife reminded him, that though the 
 British were carrying every thing before them in 
 South Carolina, yet that Washington \|'as still in the 
 field, and the issue of the war unknown ; and that at 
 arv rate it was srood t.n hm\*' q friend at court. 
 
Page 86. 
 
 The Author and Marion expostulating zi^icn lJi& 
 Innkeeper, 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. S# 
 
 On this he came to a pause ; and at length rcluc 
 tantly drawled out, " Well — I suppose — you must— 
 tronie — in." 
 
 I have related this story, partly to show what a sa- 
 vage man would be without that softening, polishing 
 friend, a good wife. 
 
 Observing that we were wet and cold, this amiable 
 woman and her daughters soon had kindled up for us a 
 fine sparkling fire, to which their own sweetly smiling 
 looks gave tenfold cheerfulness and comfort. And 
 while the husband went poking about the house, si- 
 lent and surly as an ill-natured slave, the ladies dis- 
 played towards us the most endearing attentions. The 
 mother brought out from her closet a bottle of nice 
 family cordial, to warm and cheer us ; while the girls 
 presented basins of water and towels, that we might 
 wash and refresh ourselves after our fatigue. And 
 all these seasonable hospitalities they did, not with 
 that ungracious silence and reserve, which so often 
 depress the traveller's spirits, but with the charming 
 alacrity of daughters or sisters, so sweetening every 
 thing with smiles and sprightly chat as almost made 
 us feel ourselves at home. 
 
 As with deep struck thought, I compared our pre- 
 sent happy condition with that a few minutes before, 
 benig-htcd^ wet and wavij^ I could not help exclaim 
 i-ng, '' O my God ! what pity it is that among so many 
 labours which poor mortals take under the sun, they 
 do not labour more for that which alone deserves their 
 care, I mean that lovc^ which at once diffuses and 
 enjoys all the happiness both of earth and heaven." 
 
 At supper, the poor creature of a husband strove 
 very hard to draw Marion into a dispute, about what 
 he was pleased to call our " rebellion." I expect- 
 ed to have heard him lashed very severely for such 
 brutality; for few men ever excelled Marion in the 
 retort abrupt. But every time the subject was intro- 
 duced, he contrived very handsomely to waive it,bv 
 
89 THE LIFE OF 
 
 some pretty turn to the ladies, which happily relieved 
 their terrors, and gave a fresh spring to general and 
 sprightly conversation. 
 
 As our excellent hostess and her fair daughters 
 were about to retire, we bade them ^^ood n'li^Jit^ and 
 also adieu^ telling them that we meant to ride very 
 early in the morning. To this thev stoutly objected; 
 urging that, from our fatigue and fasting, we ought to 
 pass a day or t>vo with them, and refresh ourselves. 
 But if we could not do this, wc must at any rate stay 
 and give them the pleasure of our company at break- 
 fast. 
 
 When we retired to our chamber, I asked Marion 
 why he had not given that brute, our landlord, a 
 proper act down. 
 
 '^ I am surprised at you, Horry," he replied ; "when 
 3'ou see that your fellow man is WTctched, can't you 
 give him quarter ? You must have observed, ever 
 since we darkened his door, that w4th spleen and tory- 
 ism, this poor gentleman is in the condition of him in 
 the parable^ who was possessed of seven devils. Since 
 we have not the power to cast them out., let us not 
 torvient him before his time. Besides, this excellent 
 woman his wife; these charming girls his ^!^?^^7z/er*. 
 They love him, no doubt, and therefore, to us, a| 
 least, he ought to be sacred, because surrounded by 
 their affections." 
 
 The next morning while breakfast Avas preparing, 
 the churl renewed his hostilities, by telling us, with 
 a malignant pleasure in his face, that he and his 
 neighbours were mtiking ready to go to South Caro- 
 lina for negroes. 
 
 " For negroes !" replied Marion; "pray sir, what 
 do you mean by that." 
 
 " Why, sir," returned he, " Soutli Carolina is no^v 
 all one as conquered by the British, and why may wc 
 not go and pick up what negroes we can? They 
 would help me in my cora-field yonder." 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 89 
 
 Marion asked him whether, if he were to find his 
 negroes, he would think it right to take them ? 
 
 " To be sure I would," answered he. " You great 
 men who choose to fight against your king, are all 
 now running away. And why may I not go and catch 
 your negroes as well as any body else ?" 
 
 " My God !" replied Marion, with a deep sigh, 
 *' what will this world come to V and turned the con 
 versation. 
 
 Soon as breakfast was over, we took leave of this 
 most unequally yoked couple, and their lovely daugh- 
 ters, and continued our journey. We had not got far 
 from the house when Marion's servant rode up, and, 
 with a very smirking face, told his master that he be- 
 lieved the gentlewoman where we stayed last night. 
 must hti IX monstrous Jine lady! Marion asked him 
 why he thought so. " Why, sir," replied he, " she 
 not only made me almost burst myself with eating 
 and drinking, and all of the very iDCst, but she has 
 gone and filled my portmanteau too, filled it up chock 
 full, sir ! A fine ham of bacon, sir, and a pair of 
 roasted fowls, with two bottles of brandy, and a mat- 
 ter of a peck of biscuit." 
 
 " God bless the dear lady !" w^e both exclaimed at 
 the same moment. And I trust God did bless her. 
 For indeed to us she was a kind angel, who not only 
 refreshed our bodies, but still more, feasted our souls. 
 
 And though e^ght and twenty long years have 
 rolled away since that time, I can still see that angel 
 smile which brightened on her face towards us, and 
 the memory of which springs a joy in my heart be- 
 yond what the memory of his money bags ever gave 
 to the miser. 
 
 On the evening of the same day that we left this 
 charming family, (I mean the fairer part of it) we 
 reached the house of colonel Thatcher, one of the no- 
 blest whigs in North Carolina. His eyes seemed as 
 though they would never tire in gazing on our regi- 
 
90 THE LIFE OF 
 
 mentals. We soon gave him tlie history of our tra- 
 vels through his native state, and of tlie very uncivil 
 manner in which his countrymen had treated us. He 
 smiled, and bid us be thankful, for that it was en- 
 tirely of God's mercy that we had comt off ^"^o ivell. 
 ** Those people," continued he, " are mere Hotten- 
 tots; a set of unenlightened miserable tories, who 
 know nothing of the grounds of the war ; nothing of 
 the rights and blessings we are contending for ; nor 
 of the corruptions and cruelties of the British minis- 
 try; and are therefore just as ready to fall into theii 
 destructive jaws, as young cat-birds are to run into 
 the mouth cf a rattle-snake." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Glorious 7iexvs — a brave army of continentals comtng 
 up — Mario7i and the author hasten to meet them ai 
 Roanoke-— fortunately get introduced to the baron de 
 Kalb — polite reception by that amiable ofjicer — curi" 
 ous and interesting conversation. 
 
 AFTER spending two days of very welcome re- 
 pose with the elegant colonel Thatcher, we took leave 
 and set out for Hillsborough, where we met general 
 Huger and colonel W. White, of the horse, who told 
 us the glorious news, that " Washington had sent on 
 a gallant detachment of continentals, who were now 
 in full march to aid South Carolina." 
 
 Our hearts leaped for joy at the news. So great 
 was our impatience to see what our hearts had so long 
 and so fondly dwelt on, a?! army of friends ^ih^t we 
 could not wait until they came up, but hurried off in 
 ptantly to meet them at Roanoke, where it w^as said 
 they were crossing. On reaching the river, we found 
 lliat they had all got over, and had just formed their 
 line of march. O ! how lovelv is the sisrht of fri<"jids 
 n the day of our danger I We have had many mill 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION 91 
 
 tary corps, but none had ever interested us like ihis. 
 in shiniiij^ regimentals and glittering arms, they 
 moved before the eye of the glowing fancy like a host 
 of heroes. 
 
 Thrice happy for man, that a veil, dark as the grave, 
 is thrown over iuturc events ! For how could we, 
 who had seen one nne army butchered at Savannah 
 and another captured at Charleston, have borne uj) 
 under the dreadful prospect of having this gallant 
 armament also destroyed in a few days ! 
 
 Soon as our first paroxysm of joy had a little sub- 
 sided, we moved toward head quarters^ where we 
 had the good fortune to fall in with our old friend Col. 
 Semp, who appeared overjoyed to see us, and imme- 
 diately offered to introduce us to the general. His ex- 
 cellency Horatio Gates was the commander in chief 
 but as he had not yet arrived, the command rested on 
 that brave old German general, the baron de Kalb. 
 
 It was to this officer that colonel Semp introduced 
 us, and, as was usual with him, in very flattering 
 terms; styling us " continental colonels, and two of 
 the wealthiest and most distinguished patriots o( 
 South Carolina !" 
 
 I shall ne^'ei forget what I felt when introduced 
 to this gontluman. He appeared to be rather elderly. 
 But though the snow of winter was on his locks, h*8 
 cliecks vvei'i still reddt^ned over with the bloom of 
 spring. His person was large and manly, above the. 
 common size, with great nerve and activity ; whih; 
 (lis fine blue eyes expressed the mild radiance of in- 
 telligence and goodness. 
 
 He received us very politely, saying he was giaa to 
 ^ee us, '' especially as we were tiie first Carolinians ih.r*. 
 he had seen ; which had not a little surprised him." 
 
 Observing, 1 suppose, that we laboured undei ra- 
 ther loo nr.ich of our national weakness, 1 mean mo- 
 desly, lie kindly redoubled his attentions to us, ami 
 soon succeeded in curing us of our reserve. 
 
9« THE LIIE OF 
 
 "I thought,'* said he, " that British tyranny woo/j 
 have sent great numbers of the South Carolinians to 
 join our arms. But, so far from it, they are all, as 
 we have been told, running to take British protec- 
 tions. Surely they are not tired already of fighting 
 for liberty." 
 
 We told him the reason was very plain to us, v/ho 
 were inhabitants of that country, and knew very well 
 the state of things there. 
 
 "Aye," replied he, "well, Avhat can the reason 
 be?" 
 
 "Why, sir," answered Marion, "the people of 
 Carolina form but two classes, the rich and the poor. 
 The poor are generally very poor, because, not being 
 necessary to the rich, who have slaves to do all their 
 work, they get no employment from them. Being 
 thus unsupported by the rich, they continue poor and 
 low spirited. They seldom get money ; and indeed, 
 what little they do get, is laid out in brandy to raise 
 their spirits, and not on books and newspapers to ^^iX 
 information. Hence they know nothing of the com- 
 parative blessings of their ov/n country, nor of the 
 great dangers which threaten it, and therefore care 
 nothinf^ about it. As to the other class, the rich, 
 they aie generally very rich, and consequently afraid 
 to stir, unless a fair chance offer, lest the British 
 ould burn their houses ana furniture, and carry olf 
 eir negroes and stock. But permit me to assure 
 u, sir, that though thus kept under by fear, they 
 11 mortally hate the British, and will, I ain conti 
 cnt, the moment they see an army of friends at their 
 oor, fly to their standard, like a generous pack to 
 he sound of the horn that calls them to the chase of 
 hated wolf." 
 
 The baron de Kalb smiled, and said he hoped it 
 #v'oul(i be found so. 
 *^No doubt of it at all sir," replied Marion. 
 The baron Uien jiivitcii us to dine witli him, but 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION, fiS 
 
 Muded^ smiling, that he hoped we had good military 
 Riomachs that could relish and digest plain fare, 
 which was all he could promise us, and perhaps 
 hardly enough of that. 
 
 On sitting doAvn to ta1)le, we found that his predic 
 tion about the bill oT tare, was most unuelcomely 
 true. Olu' dinner was just naif a side of a miserably 
 poor hog,, as miserably cooked ; and in such small 
 quantity, tha* before we were done there was nothing 
 of it left but a ras'ner, f(M* i^-ood nuuDicr.'-!'' .sah^e. And 
 as to bread, tnere was not even a hoc-cakc ! It is true, 
 that, by way of substitute, xve had a trencher or two 
 of sweet potaioes paraded. Our drink was admirably 
 suited to the ainner; apj)le brandy with river water. 
 
 God forbid that I should be unmindful of his fa- 
 vours ! For well do I know that the least of them is 
 much better than the best of us deserv^e. On the con- 
 trary, I mention it rather as a compliment t^o his 
 heavenly bounty, which is wont to spread our tables 
 with so many dainties, as to cause even roast pigs 
 and sweet potatoes to pass for a sorry meal. 
 
 Soon as dinner was over, all of us who could pa- 
 rade a segar or a pipe, began to comfort our olfacto- 
 ries with a puff, not forgetting our brandy the while 
 so that b}' the time we had got well entrenched ii» 
 clouds of fragrant kite-foot, we were in admirable cue 
 for a dish of chat. De Kalb led the way ; and, as 
 nearly as I can recollect, in the following words. 
 
 " Colonel Marion," said he, pressing the tobacco 
 in his pipe at the same time," can you answer me one. 
 question .'"' 
 
 " Most gladly, general, and a thousand if I can!" 
 
 " Thank you, colonel, but one will do." 
 
 " Be pleased then, sir, to say on." 
 
 " Well, colonel, can you tell me how old I am ?" 
 
 "That's a tough question, general." 
 
 " Tcwir/i, colonel ! pray how do you make that out?'' 
 
 'Why, sir, there is a stranj^e Janujiry and May sort 
 
94 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of contrast between your locks and your looks thai 
 quite confuses me. By your locks you seem to be in 
 tlie winter, by your looks in the summer of your days." 
 
 '"'• Well but, colonel, striking the balance between 
 li\e two, whereabouts do you take me to be ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, in the spring and prime of life ; abou 
 forty." 
 
 " Good heavens, y^r^/ /" 
 
 " Yes, sir, that's the mark ; ther« or thereabouts * 
 
 "What! no more?" 
 
 " No, sir, not a day more ; not an hour." 
 
 " Upon honour ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, upon honour ; upon a soldier's honour." 
 
 ** Ha ! — ha ! — ha !— Well, colonel, I would not foi 
 a thousand guineas that your riflemen shot as wide, 
 off the mark as you g-iiess. I'he Biitish would not 
 dread them as they do. Forty years old, indeed ! wh 
 what will you say, colonel, when I tell you that 
 have been two and fortv years a soldier." 
 
 Here we all exclaimed, " Impossible, general ! im- 1 
 possible." 
 
 " I ask your pardon, gentlemen," replied he, " it 
 is not at all impossible, but very certain. Very cer- 
 tain that I have been two and forty years a soldier in 
 the service of the king of France ;" ' 
 
 " O wonderful ! two and forty years ! W«ll then, 
 at that rate, and pray how old, general, may you take 
 yourself to be ?" 
 
 " Why, gentlemen," replied he, " man and boy, I 
 am now about sixtv-three." 
 
 " Good heaven ! sixty-three ! and yet such bloom, 
 such flesh and blood !" 
 
 " If you are so surprised, ge lOemen, at my look^ 
 at sixty-three^ what would you have thought had you 
 seen my father at eighty-seven." 
 
 " Your father, general ! he cannot be alive yet 
 sure." 
 
 ^^ Alive! yes, thank God, and alive like to he, I 
 
GKN. FRANCIS MARION. 95 
 
 hdpe, 1 jr many a good year to come yet. Now, gen- 
 tlemen, let me tell you a little story of my father. The 
 very Christmas before I sailed for America, I went 
 to see him. It was three hundred miles, at least, from 
 Paris. On arriving at the liouse I found my dear old 
 mother at her wheel, in her eighty-third year, mind 
 gentlemen I ! spinning very gaily, while one of ?»er 
 great grandaughters carded the wool and sung a 
 hymn for her. Soon as the first transport of meeting 
 was over, I eagerly asked for my father. ' Do not 
 be uneasy, my son,' said she, 'your father is only 
 gone to the woods with his three little great grand- 
 children, to cut some fuel for the fire, and they will 
 all be here pi;esently, I'll be bound !' And so it 
 proved ; for in a very short time I heard them coming 
 along. My father was the foremost, with his axe under 
 his arm, and a stout billet on his shoulder ; and the 
 children, each with his little load, staggering along, 
 and prattling to my fatlier with all their might. l>e 
 assured, gentlemen, that this was a most delicious 
 moment to me. Thus after a long absence, to meet a 
 beloved father, not only alive, but in health and dear 
 domestic happiness above the lot of kings : also to see 
 the two extremes of human life, youth and age, thus 
 SAveetly meeting and mingling in that cordial love, 
 which turns the cottage into a paradise," 
 
 In telling this little story of his aged father and his 
 young relatives, the general's fine countenance cauj,"ht 
 Hn animation which perfectly charmed us all. 
 
 The eyes of IVIurion sparkled with pleasure. " Ge- 
 neral,'* said he, ""^ the picture which you have given 
 us of your father, and his little great grandchildren, 
 though shcrt, is extremely interesting and delightful. 
 It confirms mc in an opinion which I have long en- 
 tertained, which is, that there is more happiness in 
 low life than in high life ; in a cottage than in a castle. 
 Pray give us, general, your opinion of that matter." 
 
 " Why," replied De Kalb, " this opinion cf vours, 
 12 
 
S6 THE LIFE OF 
 
 colonel, is not a novel one by any means. It was t\iu 
 opinion of Rousseau, Fenelon, and of many other great 
 men, and elegant writers. But notwithstanding such 
 high authority, I mast still beg leave to be a dissenter. 
 I have seen so many people happy and also unhappy, 
 ooth in cottages and castles, that I cannot but con- 
 clude, that happiness does not belong, peculiarly, to 
 ":id"ier condition, but depends on something very dif- 
 /erent from, and inlinitely superior to both." 
 
 We eagerly asked what he alluded to. 
 
 " Why, gentlemen," replied he, " since you have 
 been so ]m lite as to ask my opinion, I will as frankb' 
 give it, tiiough I am afraid it will seem, very odd, e» 
 pecially coming from a soldier. However, be that as 
 it may, my opinion you hu\'e asked, and my opinion 
 you shall have; which is, that religion is the only 
 thing to make a man happy in cottages or courts." 
 
 The }'ounf; f.fHcers began to stare. 
 
 Gathering from their looks, that some of the com 
 pany did not relish this kind of philosophy, he quick- 
 ly thus resumed his speech. 
 
 " Pardon ! gentlemen, I beg pardon ! I must not lie 
 misimderstnod. By religion^ I don't mean priest- 
 craft. 1 don't mean that superstitious grimace ; that 
 rolling up of white eyes, and spreading of sanctified 
 palms; with '' d'lsjign red faces and long' prayers^ and 
 all the rest of that hol;^ trumpery., ■which, so far from 
 making people cheerful, tends but to throw them into 
 die dumps. But I mean, by religion^ that divine ef- 
 fort of the soul, which rises and embraces the great 
 author of its being with filial ardour., and walks and 
 converses with him, as a dutiful child with his revered 
 father. Now gentlemen, 1 would ask, all prejudice 
 «/»«n\ what is there can so exalt the mind and gladden 
 the heart, ai? this high friendship with heaven, and 
 those immortal hopes that spring from religion ?" 
 
 Here one of the company, half blushing, as palpa- 
 bly convicted by the truth of the gener?.l's argument 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 9r 
 
 martly called out — ^^ WcU but, general, don't you 
 think \vc can do pretty well here in camp^ withom 
 religion .<^^' 
 
 " What !'' replied De Kalb," would you give it alt 
 up to the priests V 
 
 " Yes, to be sure I woiikl," said the young of^t^ev 
 " for I am for every man's following his own trade, 
 general. They are priests, and we are soldiers. So 
 let them do all ihe prayings and we will do ail the 
 Jightingr 
 
 " \Vh/, as to the fighting part,"' i'ejoined De Kalb, 
 ' I have no objection to doing all that for the priests, 
 especially as their profession does not allov/ them to 
 fight for diemselves. But as to givin.p, them up all 
 die devotion^ I confess I am not so liberal. No ! no ! 
 gentlemen, charity begins at home : and I am not 
 for parting with pleasure so easily. '' 
 
 "Pleasure!" replied the young officer with a 
 sneer. 
 
 " Yes, ^lY^ plcasvre^'' returned De Kalb. "Accord- 
 ing to my creed, sir, piety and pleasure are synony 
 mous terms ; and 1 should just as soon think of living 
 physically, without bread, as of living pleasantly, 
 without religion. For what is religi'.^n, as I said be- 
 fore, but habitual friendship winiGoD? And 
 what can the heart conceive so delightful ? Or what 
 can so gratify it in all its best and strongest desires 
 For example, gentlemen, we are all fond of honour. 
 I, for my part, am fond of the friendship of the king 
 of France. You glory in the friendship of the great 
 Washington. Then what must be the glory of him 
 who is in friendship with God ? Again, gentlemen, 
 we are all born to love, to admire, to adore. If a 
 man have no love, he is gloomy, li he love a worth- 
 less object, he is mortified. But if he love a truly 
 worthy object, his face shines, his eyes sparkle, his 
 voice becomes sweet, and his whole air expressive of 
 cheerfulness. And as this happy feelijj^ must, br fM 
 
$8 THE LIFE OF 
 
 nature of things, keep pace with the excellence of tKj 
 object that is beloved, then what must be the cheerful- 
 ness of him who loves the greatest, best, and loveliest 
 of all beings, whose eternal perfections and goodness 
 can for ever make him happier than heart can ask or 
 
 think I 1 ,. 1 
 
 " In a word, gentlemen, though I am a soldier, and 
 soldiers you kno\v are seldom enthusiasts in this way, 
 vet I verilv believe, as I said before, that a man of 
 enlightened and fervent piety must be infinitely hap- 
 oier in a cottage, than an irreligious emperor in hn 
 pahice." 
 
 In the height of this extraordinary conversation, 
 ^n officer stepped in and announced the arrival of 
 general Gates. 
 
 And here, as I have in this chapter given the reader 
 what the jockics caW 3. firetty lon^ heat.l beg leave to 
 order a halt and allow him a little time to breathe. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Gen. Gates — bo?i mot of British general Lee — hoxu an 
 anrw ought not to march — De Kalb prophecies-^ 
 chickens\ounted before they are hatched, alias, Ma- 
 rion and the author sent by Gen. Gates to prevent 
 the escape of Corn-wallis, 'before he had run— the 
 British and American armies 7neet — Gates and his 
 militia-men leave De Kalb in the lurch—his gallant 
 behaviour, and glorious death. 
 
 V\ HEN a poor fellow is going down hill, it is but 
 too jommon, they say, for every body to give him a 
 kick. 
 
 " liCl dojs delight to bark and bite, 
 " For heaven hath made them so." 
 
 But, if I know myself aright, I can truly say, that 
 toothing of this vile spirit suggests a syllable of wual 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 99 
 
 I now write of the unfortunate general Gates. On 
 the contrary'', I feel an ardent wish to speak hand- 
 somely of him ; and in one view of him I can so speak. 
 As a gentleman, few camps or courts ever produced 
 his superior. But though a perfect Chesterfield at 
 court, in camp he was certainly but a Paris. 'Tis 
 true, at Saratoga he got his temples stuck round with 
 laurels as thick as a May-day queen with gaudy flow- 
 ers. And though the greater part of this was certain- 
 ly the gallant workmanship of Arnold and Morgan, 
 yet did it so hoist general Gates in the opinion of the 
 nation,, that many of his dear friends, with a prudent 
 regard, no doubt, to their own dearer selves, had the 
 courage to bring him forward on the military turf 
 and run him for the generalissimoship against the 
 great Washington. But though they were not able to 
 prosper him in this mad attempt, yet they so far suc- 
 ceeded as to get him the command of the army of 
 Caiolina, where his short and calamitous career soon 
 caused every good patriot to thank God for continu- 
 ing to his servant Washington the commLMd of th»- 
 American armies. 
 
 On his way from the northern states, genera 
 Gates passed through Fredericksburg, where he fell 
 in with general Charles Lee, who, in his frank man- 
 ner, asked him where he was going. 
 
 "Why, to take Cornwallis." 
 
 " I am afraid," quoth Lee, " you will find him a 
 tough piece of English beef." 
 
 " Tough, sir," replied Gates ; ^' tough ! then begad 
 I'll tender him. I'll make j&i/i^o of him, sir, in three 
 hours after I set eyes upon him." 
 
 "Aye! will you indeed?" returned Lee. "Well 
 then send for me, and I will go and help you to «at 
 him." 
 
 Gates smiled; and bidding him adieu, ro«le off. 
 L^e bawled after him,'* Take care, Gates \ take care! 
 
100 THE LIFE OF 
 
 or your northern laurels will degenerate into south- 
 ern willows." 
 
 The truth is, though general Lee was extremely 
 splenetic, other than which, such a miserable old ^«* 
 chelor and infidel could hardly be, yet he certainly had 
 a knack of telling people's fortunes. By virtue of this 
 faculty, he presently discovered that general Gates 
 was no Fabius; but on the contrary, too much inclin 
 ed to the fatal rashness of hi.i unfortunate colleague. 
 
 And so it turned out. For, from the moment he 
 joined the army, he appeared to act like one who 
 thought of nothing but to have it proclaimed of him 
 in all the newspapers on the continent, that in so many 
 )lays, hours, minutes, and seconds, he flew from Phi- 
 ladelphia to South Carolina, .saxuy fought., and coii' 
 fucrtd Cornwallis; and flew back again with the tro- 
 phies of a second British army vanquished. Instead 
 of moving on as old De Kalb had done, with a pru- 
 dent regard to the health and refreshment of the 
 troops, he, Jehu like, drove them on without regard 
 to either. He would not take the lower road, as De 
 Kalb earnestly advised, through a rich and plentiful 
 country. Oh no ; that was too round about ; would 
 too long have delayed his promised glory. 
 
 Like an eagle shaking his bold pinions in the clouds 
 of his pride, he must dash down at once upon his prey; 
 and so, for a near cut, take us through a pine barren^ 
 sufficient tohave starved a forlorn hope of caterpillars. 
 I shall make no attempt to describe the sufferings of 
 rhe army. For, admitting that I should not lack words, 
 my reader would, I am sure, lack faith. Indeed, at 
 this season, when the old crop was gone, and the new 
 not quite come in, what had we to expect, especially 
 in such a miserable country, where many a family goes 
 without dinner, unless the father can knock down a 
 squirrel in the v/oods, or his pale sickly boy pick up a 
 terrapin in the swamps ? We did, indeed, sometimes 
 full in with a little corn; but dien, thtt poor, skinny 
 
G'K.N. rUANClS MAitiON. 101 
 
 iun-bunit women, with long uncombed tresses, and 
 shrivelled breasts haniijing down, would run scream- 
 ing to us, with tears in their eyes, declaring tliat if we 
 took away their corn, they and their ciiildren must 
 perish. Such times I never saw, and 1 pniy Gou I 
 may never sec nor hear of again ; for, to this day, the 
 hare thought of it depresses my spirits. But perhap 
 I ought to ihink of it, and often too, that 1 may be tit 
 more thankful to him who never, but in <hat one in 
 stance, permitted me to suller, except in ih'uiLiii}^ of it 
 
 There was one case in particular which I shall 
 never forget. Almost spent with fatigue and fasting, 
 we halted one evening near the house of a man, whose 
 plantation bespoke him a tolerably good liver. He met 
 us with a countenance strongly marked with tenor, 
 and begged for God's sake we would not ruin him, for 
 that he had a large family of children to maintain. 
 We told him that we were soldiers fighting for the 
 country, and that it would never do for ns to starve. 
 Understanding ii'om this that we meant to forage upon 
 him that night, he heaved a deep sigh, and turnmg 
 jvbout, went ofl" without saying another word. 1 must 
 confess I could not help feeling very sensibly for him, 
 especially when we saw his little white-headed chil 
 dren, in melancholy groups, peeping at us around the 
 corners of the house. 
 
 His young corn, which seemed to cover about fifty 
 acres, was just in the primc^ roastuig ear .v/a/(?, and 
 lie had also a couple of beautiful orchards of peach 
 and apple trees, loaded v/ith young fruit. Scarcely 
 were our tents pitched, ])efore the whole army, loot 
 And horse, turned in to destrov. The trees were all 
 threshed in a trice : after which the soldiers fell, like 
 a herd of wild boars, upon the roasting ears, and the 
 horses upon the blades and stalks, so that by morn- 
 ing light there was no sign or symptom left that corn 
 had ever grown there since the creiition of the world. 
 VVbat became of the poor man an 1 hi& children God 
 
02 THE LIFE OF 
 
 only knows, for by sunrise we were all under march 
 ing orders again, bending for the south. 1 said all 
 but I only meant all that were able. For numbers 
 were knocked up every night by aj^^ues^ Jinxes^ .md 
 other maladies, brought on by excessive fatigue and 
 lack of food. 
 
 I once before observed how highly die baron de 
 Kalb had been pleased to think of Marion and mys':lf 
 travelling so far to meet him. His liking for us grew 
 so fast, that we had not been with him more than two 
 days, before he appointed us his supernumerary aids- 
 We were, of course, much in his company, and en 
 trusted, I believe, with every thought of his bosom 
 that related to the good of the army. He made no 
 scruple to tell us how utterly unmilitary those pro- 
 ceedings were; and frequently foretold the ruin that 
 would ensue. 
 
 " Here," said he, '' we are hurrying to attack an 
 enemy, who, if they but knew our condition, would 
 !ong for nothing so much as our arrival. JFe, two- 
 thirds at least, raw militia ; tht.'i/^ all regulars. We, 
 fatigued ; they, fresh. We, feeble and faint through 
 long fasting; they, from high keeping, as strong and 
 fierce as game cocks or butchers' bull dogs. It does 
 not signify, gendemen; it is all over with us; our 
 army is lost as sure as ever it comes into contact 
 with the British. I have hinted these things mor«» 
 than once to general Gates, but he is an oflicer wh-i 
 will take iio courisel but his own." 
 
 The truth is, genera) Gates was one of that crazy 
 brained quality, to whom it is a misfortune to be 
 fortunate. The least drmn of success would intoxi- 
 cate and m.ake Kimjhol hardij. He could never bring 
 himself to believe, as he used to say, that ^^ lord 
 Cornwallis would dare to look him in the face " 
 
 So confident, indeed, was he of victory, that on the 
 morning before the fatal action, he ordered Marion 
 djid myself to hasten on to Santee river, and destroy 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. loa 
 
 eve>*y 4tmv^ boat^ or canoe^ that could assist an Eng- 
 lishman In his flight to Charleston ! 
 
 Immedkitely on receiving orders, we waited on 
 the good old De Kalb to take leave ; and also to a« 
 6ure him of our deep regret at parting with him. 
 
 " It is with equal regret, my dear sirs," said he 
 " that I part with you, because I feel a presentimenr, 
 that we part to meet no more." 
 
 We tcld him we hoped better things. 
 
 " Oh mp !" replied he, " it is impossible. War is sk 
 kind of game, and has itsnxed rules ^ whereby, when 
 we are v/ell acquainted with them, we can pretty cor • 
 rectly tell how the trial will go. T'o-morrow it seems, 
 the die is to be cast, and in my judgment, without 
 the least chance on our side. The militia Avill, I sup- 
 pose, as usual, play the back-game^ that is, get out of 
 the scrape as last as their legs can carry them. Bui. 
 that, you knovr, won't do for me. I am an old soldier 
 and cannot run : and I believe I have with me soma 
 brave fellows that will stand by me to the last. So 
 that, when you hear of our battle, you will probablv 
 hear that your old friend De Kalb is at rest." 
 
 I do not know that I was ever more affected in ray 
 life. I looked at Marion and saw that his eyes were 
 watery. De Kalb saw it too, and taking us by th# 
 hand, with a firm tone, and animated look, said, " No * 
 no ! gentlemen ; no emotions for me but those of con- 
 gratulation. I am happy. To die is the irreversible 
 decree of him who made us. Then what joy to be 
 able to meet his decree v/ithout dismay ! This, thank 
 God, is my case. The happiness of m,an is my v/ish 
 that happiness I deem inconsistent with slavery. -^ 
 And to avert sri great an evil from an innocent peo 
 pie, I will gladly meet the British to-morrov/, at any 
 odds whatever." 
 
 As he spoke this, I saw a something in his eyes 
 which at once demonstrated the divinity of virtue 
 Rad the immortality of the soul 
 K 
 
iOt THE LIFE OF 
 
 With sorrowful hearts we then left him, and witn 
 feelings which I shall never forget, while memory 
 maintains her place in this my aged brain. 
 
 " Oh my God !" said Marion, as we rode off, " what 
 a difference does education make between man and 
 man! Enlightened b\ her sacred ray, see here is the 
 native of a distant country, come to fight for oui 
 fiberty and happiness, while many of our own people, 
 for lad of education^ are actually aiding the Brit'sh 
 to heap chains and curses upon themselves and chih 
 dren." 
 
 It was on the morning of August the 15th, 1780, 
 that we left the army in a good pasition near Ruge- 
 ley's mills, twelve miles from Camden, where the 
 enemy lay. About ten o'clock that night orders were 
 given to march to surprise the enemy, who had at 
 the same time commenced their march, to surprise- 
 the Americans. To their mutual astonishment, the 
 advance of the two armies met about two o'clock, and 
 began to fire on each other. The firing, however, was 
 soon discontinued by both parties, who appeared verv 
 willing to leave the matter to be decided by daylight. 
 A council of war was called; in which De Kalb ad- 
 vised I hat the army should fail back to Rugeley's mills, 
 und there, in a good position, wait to be attacked. — 
 But Gates not only rejected this excellent counseL 
 but threw out suspicions that it originated from fear. 
 Upon ibis, the brave old De Kalb called to his ser- 
 vant to t.tke his horse, and leaping on the ground., 
 placed himself at the head of his command, on foot 
 To this indecent expression of general Gates, he also 
 retorted with considerable warmth, " Well, sir, a few 
 hours perhaps will let us see who are the brave." 
 
 It should be recorded for the benefit of our officers, 
 many of whose laurels have been blasted by the fumes 
 of brandy, that general Gates was rather too fond of 
 his r.octurnal glass. 
 
 • ', wonder where we «hall dine to-morrow ?" saiJ 
 
GEN. i^RANCIS MARION* lOf 
 
 •»iic of his officers, as, in the dark, they sat on their 
 ileepy horses, waiting for the day. 
 
 *' Dine, sir!" replied the confident Gates, "why, 
 jit Camden, sir, to he sure. Begad ! I would not give 
 a pinch of snu5F, sir, to be insured a beef-steak to-mor 
 row in Camden, and lord Cornwallis at my table." 
 
 Presently day appeared ; and, as the dawning light 
 increased, the frighted militia began to discover the 
 woods reddening over like crimson with the long ex- 
 tended lines of the British army, which soon, with 
 rattling drums and thundering cannon, came rushing 
 on to the charge. The militia, scarcely waiting to 
 give them a distant fire, broke and fled in the utmost 
 precipitation. Whereupon Gates clapped spurs t« 
 his horse, and pushed hard after them, as he said,"tf 
 bring the rascals hack." • But he took care never to 
 bring himself back, nor indeed to stop until he had 
 fairly reached Charlotte, eighty miles from the field 
 of battle. I remember it was common to talk in those 
 days, that he killed three hor.ses in his flight. 
 
 Gates and the militia, composing two-thirds of the 
 army, having thus shamefully taken themselves off, 
 the brave old De Kalb, and his handful of continen- 
 tals, were left alone to try the f oitune of the day. And 
 never did men display a more determined valour! 
 For though outnumbered more than txvo to one, they 
 sustained the shock of the enemy's whole force, fof 
 upwards of an hour. With equal fury the ranks-sweep- 
 ing cannon and muskets were employed by both sides, 
 until the contending legions were nearly mixed. Then 
 quitting this slower mode of slaughter, with rage- 
 blackened faces and fiery eyeballs, they plunge for- 
 ward on each other, to the swifter vengeance of the 
 bayonet. Far and wide the woods resound with the 
 clang of steel, while the red reeking weapons, like 
 stings of infernal serpents, are seen piercing the bo« 
 dies of the combatants. Some, on receiving the fatal 
 stabj let drop their useless arms, and with dying fixs 
 
tC6 THE LIFE OF 
 
 gers clasped tlie hostile steel that's cold in their bo^A 
 els. Others, faintly crying out, "O God I am slain!** 
 sank pale, quivering to the ground, while the vital 
 current gushed in hissing streams from their bursted 
 bosoms. Oflicers, as well as men, now mingle in the 
 uproarhig strife, and snatching the v/eapons of the 
 slain, swell the horrid carnage. Glojying in his con- 
 tinentals, the brave De Kalb towers before them, like 
 a pillar of lire. His burning face is like a red star, 
 guiding their destructive course ; his voice^ as the 
 horn that kindles the young pack in the chase of bKood. 
 •A British grenadier, of giant size, rushes on him with 
 a fixed bayonet. De IT alb parries the furious blow, 
 and plunges his sword in the Briton's breast; then, 
 seizing his falling arms, he deals death around him 
 on the crowding foe.' Loud rise the shouts of the 
 Americans ; but louder still the shouts of the more 
 numerous enemy. The battle burns anew along all 
 the fierce conflicting line. There, the distant Com- 
 Wallis pushes on his fresh regiments, like red clouds, 
 bursting in thunder on the Americans ; and here^ con- 
 densing his diminished legions, the brave De Kalb 
 still maintains the unequal contest. But, alas ! what 
 Can valour do against equal valour, aided by such fear- 
 ful odds ? The sons of freedom bleed on ever)' side. 
 With grief their gallant leader marks the fall of hia 
 heroes; soon himself to fall. For, as with a face aU 
 inflamed in the fight, he bends forward animating hii 
 men, he receives eleven xuoiinds I Fainting with loss 
 of blood, he falls to the ground. Several brave men^ 
 Britons and Americans, were killed over him, as they 
 furiously strove to destroy or to defend. In the midst 
 of the clashing bayonets, his only surviving aid, Men- 
 sier du Buyson, ran to him, ami stretching his arms 
 over the fallen hero, called out, " Save the baron de 
 K'\li»! Save the baron de Kalb !'' The British officers 
 interposed, and prevented his immediate destruction. 
 It has been said that lord Coruwaliis was so stri^*:li 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. lOT 
 
 with the i)ravcry of De Kalb, that he generously au- 
 perintcnded while his wounds v/ere dressed, by Ki» 
 own surgeons. It has also been said, that he appoint 
 ed him to be bui'.ed with the honours of war. British 
 officers have been often known to do such noble 
 deeds, but that lord Cornwallis was capable of acting 
 80 honourably, is doubtful. 
 
 De Kail) died as he had lived, the unconquercd 
 friend of liberty. For, being kindly condoled with 
 by a British olFicer for his misfortune^ he replied, " I 
 thank you, sir, for your generous sympathy ; but I die 
 the death I always prayed for; the death of a soldier 
 fighting for the rights of man.'' 
 
 His last moments were spent in dictating a letter 
 to a friend concerning his continentals, of whom he 
 said, he " had no words that could sufficiently expresf 
 his love, and his admiration of their valour." He sur. 
 vived the action but a few hours, and was buried in 
 the plains of Camden, near which his last battle was 
 fought. 
 
 When the great Washington, many years after- 
 wards, came on a visit to Camden, he eagerly in- 
 quired for the grave of De Kalb. It was shown to 
 him. After looking on it a while, v> ith a countenance 
 marked v/ith thought, he breathed a deep sigh, and 
 exclaimed — " So, there lies the brave De Kail) ; the 
 generous stranger, who came from a di.stant land, to 
 fight our battles, and to water, with his blood, the 
 tree of our lil)erty. Would to God he had lived to 
 share with us its fruits !" 
 
 Congress ordered him a monument. But the friend 
 of St. Tammany still sleeps '* witliout his fame." I 
 have seen the place of his rest. It was the lowest 
 spot of the plain. No sculpture.! warrior mourned 
 at his low-laid head ; no cypres? decked his A^r/. But 
 the tall corn stood in darkening -anKS around him, 
 and seemed to shake their greer ,ciiv«a w*^ i"V over 
 liis narrow dwelliujii. 
 K 'Z 
 
108 THE LIFE OF 
 
 But the roar of his hvittle is not yet quite passed 
 away, nor his ghastly wounds forjjotten. The citizens 
 of Camden have lately enclosed his grave, and placed 
 on it a handsome marble, v/ith an epitaph gratefully 
 descriptive of hi-^ virtues and si r vices, that the 
 people of future days may, like V\ ashington, heave 
 the sigh when they read of " the generous strangei 
 who came from a distant land to fight their battles* 
 -and to water, with his blood, the tree of their liber- 
 ties." 
 
 Fair Camden*s plains his glorious dust ii^.hume. 
 Where annual Ceres shades her hwo's tomb. 
 
 CHAPTER Kill. 
 
 Marion and the author very biisij in dtstroying' the 
 rice^makers^ boats on Santee— first ^ot the neivs of 
 the defeat cf our armij^ and death of the brave Di 
 Kalb — Marion addresses his followers — their ^at 
 lant reply. 
 
 MARION and myself, as yet ip;r*orant of the fate 
 of the army, were on the waters of the Santee, very 
 busily executing our boat-burning orders. Not con- 
 tent with destroying the common scows and flats of 
 tlie ferries, we went on to SAveep the river of every 
 skiir and canoe that we could lay hands on ; nay, had 
 the harmless wonkopkins been able to feny an Eng- 
 lishman over the river, we should certainly have de 
 clared war and hurled our firebrands among them, 
 
 The reader may be sure we gained no gOv)d will by 
 our zeal in this affair ; fu- *t was a serious tKhig to the? 
 planters: and their wrar waxed excecd'n.v>.]y ho^ 
 against us. Among that fi. t-t of boats and liars that 
 perished by our firebrands or r.atchets. tn^re were two * 
 that beir»nged to my e>icellem eld uncle colonel E. 
 Horry. Ibe o?<l g;cnt3*.*man c^uld hardly believe h>5 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION fQ9 
 
 wrg;roes, when they tokl him that we were destroying 
 his hoats. However, to be satisfied of the matter, he 
 mounted his horse, and galloped down to the river to 
 see. We had completely done for his scow, and were 
 just giving the finishing blows to his boat as he hove 
 in sight ; whereupon, clapping whip and spur to his 
 horse, he came on as hard as he could drive. Soon as 
 he was within hailing distance of an ordinary speak- 
 ing trumpet, he began to bawi — "Hold! hold! for 
 God's sake hold !^' 
 
 Then dashing up, with cheeks red as fire coals, and 
 his mouth all in aiuther, he roared out, ^' Why, what? 
 what ? what are vou about here ?'' 
 
 " We are only trying to kidnap the British, uncle," 
 said I. 
 
 ^* Kidnap the d — l," he replied. 
 
 Then looking around, and seeing how completely 
 we had snivered his line new boat and scow, he ripped 
 out again — '' Well ! licre is a pretty spot of work ! a 
 pretty spot of work ! A branding new scow and boat, 
 that cost me, only last spring, thi-ee hundred dollars' 
 every farthing of it : and here now all cut to smash \ 
 rumed ! not worth a chew of tobacco ! why ! did mor 
 tal flesh ever see the like of this' Breaking up oui 
 boats! why, how are we to harve-ji: our rice?" 
 
 '" Uncle," said I, ''you had better think less of har 
 vesting your rice, and more of catching the musk 
 rats," meaning the British. 
 
 Here, darting at ir,e an eve of inexpressible asto 
 nishment and rage, he exclaimed — '■*' Wb.y, certainly 
 the d — 1 is in the young man ! catch the British r 
 vv hy, have you not heard that the British are carrying 
 every thing before them; have broke up our army; 
 cut the regulars to pieces; scattered the militia; and 
 chased general Gates to Jericho, and to the d — 1 for 
 what I care ?" 
 
 *' God forbid !" said Marion. 
 
 "Nay, that is past praying for," replied my uncle; 
 
no THE LIFE OF 
 
 " and if you had any interest in heaven, you oughl 
 jjo have made it sooner. It is too late now.'* 
 
 " Great God!" returned Marion ; " and so our ar- 
 my is lost!" 
 
 " Yes," continued my uncle ; " lost, as sure as a 
 gun: and that is not all ; for De Kalb is killed; Sump- 
 ter surprised and cut to pieces ; and Charleston illu- 
 minated every night for joy." 
 
 We could neither of us utter a word. 
 
 Presently my uncle, casting a searching eye around 
 jn our men, about thirty in number, asked where oui 
 *voops were. 
 
 I told him those were all the troops we had. 
 
 I thought the good old gentleman would have gon« 
 into fits. He rolled up his eyes to heaven; smacked 
 his hands together, and bringing them by a sudden 
 jerk to his breast, with a shrill whistle exclaimed, 
 " Mad ! — mad ! — the young fellow is as mad as a 
 March hare — Well, I'll tell you what, nephew of mine, 
 you may go about on the river, chopping the planters' 
 boats at this rate, but I would not be in your coat, my 
 lad, for your jacket, though it was stiff with gold." 
 
 I asked him what he meant by that ? 
 
 " Why, I mean," replied he, " that if you are not, 
 all of you, knocked on the head in three hours, it will 
 be a wonder." 
 
 " Aye! what makes you think so, uncle?*' said L 
 
 He answered ; *^ You know my old waiting man, 
 Tom, don't you ?" 
 
 "To be sure I do," said I ; " I have 'known Tom 
 ever since I was a boy, and should be confounded sor- 
 ry to hear Tom prophesy any harm of me ; for I have 
 always taken him to be a verv true man of his v/ord." 
 
 "Yes, I'll warrant him," said my uncle; "* foi 
 though Tom is a negro, and as black as old Nkk, yev 
 I would as soon take Tom's word as that of any whitf; 
 man in Carolina. Weil, Tom, you know, has a wife 
 
 at Mr. 's, as rank a tory as we have hereabouts. 
 
 On coming Wine this morning, he shook liia nead and 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Ill 
 
 ibid he was mighty 'fraid you and Col. Marion were 
 in a bad box; for, tliat he got it from one of the black 
 waiters in the house, who overheard the talk, that 
 there are three companies of tories now moulding 
 the'r buUeto, and making ready to cut you off." 
 
 I looked at Marion and saw battle in his face. 
 
 BIy uncle was about to inv^ite us to the house ; but 
 Marion interrupted him hy sayiiig, "This is no time 
 to think of visiting;" and turning to his trumpeter, 
 ordered him to wind his licrn, which was instantly 
 done. Th?,n placing himself at our head, he dashed 
 off at a charging lope ; with equal speed we followed 
 and soon lost sight of my uncle Horry. 
 
 On reaching the woods, Marion ordered the troop 
 to halt and form ; when, v/ith his usual modesty, he 
 thus addressed us: 
 
 " Weil, gentif men, you see our situation ! widely 
 different from what it once was. Yes, once we were 
 a happy people ! Liberty shone upon our land, bright 
 as the sun that gilds yon fields ; v/hile we and our 
 fathers rejoiced in its lovely beams, gay as the birds 
 that enliven our forests. But, alas ! those golden days 
 are gone, and the cloud of war nov/ hangs dark and 
 lowering over our heads. Our once peaceful land is 
 now filled with uproar and death. Foreign ruffians, 
 braving us up to our very firesides and altars, leave 
 us no alternative but slavery or death. Two gallant 
 armies have been marched to our assistance ; but, for 
 lack of competent commanders, both have been lost. 
 That under general Lincoln, after having been duped 
 and butchered at Savannah, was at last completely 
 trapped at Charleston. And that under general Gates, 
 after having been imprudently overmarched, is now 
 cut up at Camden. Thus are all our hopes from the 
 north entirely at an end ; and poor Carolina is left to 
 shift for herself. A sad shift indeed, when not one 
 in a thousand of her ov/n children will rise to take her 
 part ; but, on the contrary, are madly taking part with 
 the enemy against her. And now, my countrymen, X 
 
a« THE LIFE OF 
 
 «yant to know your minds. As to my own, that has 
 long been made up. I consider my life as but a mo- 
 ment. But I also consider, that to fill that moment 
 with dutif^ is my all. To guard my innocent country 
 against the evils of slavery, seems now my greatest 
 duty ; and, therefore, I am determined, that while 1 
 live, she ^^bi!? never be enslaved. She maif come tc 
 that wretched state for what I knovv, but my eye? 
 shall never behold it. Never shall she clank hei 
 chains in my cars, and pointing to the ignominious 
 badge, exclaim, " it was your cowardice thai 
 
 BROUGHT ME TO THIS." 
 
 In answer to this v/e unanimously assured him, that 
 those sewtiments and resolutions were exactly our 
 own ; and that we were steadfastly determined to die 
 with him, or conquer for our country. 
 
 " Well then, my brave friends,*' said he, ^' draw 
 your swords ! Now for a circle, emblematical of out 
 eternal union I and pointing your blades to heaven, 
 the bright throne of Him who made us free, swear 
 you will never be slaves of Britain." 
 
 Which was all most devoutly done. 
 
 Soon as this patriotic rite was performed, we all dis- 
 mounted ; and taking our seats on the trunks of two 
 fallen pines that lay conveniently parallel, we made 
 our simple dinner of cold roots ; and for our beverage 
 drank of the lucid stream that softly murmured by. 
 
 The reader will please to keep in mind, that our 
 troops consisted of but thirty mounted militia; chief- 
 y gentlemen volunteers, armed with muskets and 
 swords, but almost without powder and ball. How 
 Marion came to be at the head of this littly party, \l 
 may be amusing to the reader to hear. 
 
 Some short time before this date, 1779 — SO, when 
 the war began to rage in South Carolina, a British 
 oaptain by the name of ArdeisofF came up to George- 
 town in an armed vessel, and filled the country with 
 printed proclamations from lord Cornwallis, calling 
 on the GOOD people of South Carolina to submit ax&d 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Jt 
 
 fake royal protections ! ! Numbers of the ignorant and 
 pusillanimous sort closed with the offer. But the no- 
 bler ones of the district, (Williamsburgh) having no 
 notion of selling their liberties for a pig" in a poke^ 
 called a caucus of their own, from whom they select- 
 ed captain John James, and sent him down to master 
 captain ArdeisoiT, to know what he would be at This 
 cap.tain James, by birth an Irishman, had rendered 
 himself so popular in the district, that he was made a 
 militia captain under the royal government. But in 
 '75, soon as he found that the ministry were deter- 
 mined to tax the Americans, without allowing then 
 the common British right of representaUon^ he brave* 
 ly threw up his commission, declaring that he would 
 never serve a tyrant. Such was the gentleman 
 chosen by the aforesaid liberty caucus, to go on the 
 embassy before mentioned. In the garb of a pla-ia 
 planter, James presented himself before the haughty 
 captain Ardeisolf, and politely asked " on what terms 
 himself and friends must submit ?" 
 
 " What terms, sir !" replied the angry Briton, 
 " what term.s ! why, no other terms, you may be sure, 
 than unconditional submission.*' 
 
 " Well but, sir,*' answered James, very calmly, 
 " are we not to be allowed to stay at home in peace 
 Bnd quiet V 
 
 *' In peace and quiet, indeed !" replied Ardeisof^ 
 with a sarcastic grin ; " a pretty story, truly ! Stay 
 at home in peace and quiet, heh ? No, no, sir, you 
 have all rebelled against your king; and if treated as 
 you deserve, would now be dancing like dogs at the 
 arms of the gallows. But his majesty is merciful, sir; 
 and now that he has graciously pardoned you, he ex- 
 pects you will immediately take up arms and turn 
 out in support of his cause." 
 
 " You are very candid, sir," said James ; " and now 
 I hope you will not be displeased with me for being 
 equally plain. Permit me, tlien, sir, to tell you that 
 
tU THE LIFE OF 
 
 such terms will never go down with the gectlefaifiii 
 whom I have the honour to represent." 
 
 *' The gentlemen you have the honour to represecLt| 
 you d — n — d rebel !" 
 
 Vesuvius! iEtna! and Strumbolo ! whataie^fXt 
 fires and flames, compared with these that raged ia 
 the bosom of James, when he heard himself called a 
 d — n — d rebel ! 
 
 Instantly springing up, with eyes of lightning, he 
 snatched up his chair, and, regardless of consequences, 
 laid the audacious Ardeisoff sprawling on the floor; 
 then flying to his horse, he mounted and made his 
 escape. Learning from him, at his return, what they 
 had to understand by British protections^ his gallant 
 constituents came at once to the resolution to artn and 
 fight till death, rather than hold life on such ignomini- 
 ous terms. Immediately the whole force of the district, 
 about two hundred, able to bear arms, were mustered 
 and placed under captains William M'Coltery, John 
 M^Cawley, Henry Mowizon, and our brave captain 
 James, who was appointed major and captain general 
 of the whole. Feeling that distrust in themselves 
 which is common with raw troops, and learn mg that 
 the northern army was just entering South Carolina, 
 they despatched a messenger to general Gates, to re- 
 quest that he would send them an officer who had seen 
 service. Governor Rutledge, who happened at that 
 time to be in camp, advised general Gates by all means 
 to send Marion. Marion was accordingly sent ; but 
 with orders, as we have seen, to destrov, on his route, 
 all the boats on the Santee river, lest lord Cornwallis 
 should make his escape. At the time of leaving ge- 
 neral Gates, Marion had but ten men with him ; but 
 on reaching Santee, we were joined by major John 
 James, with about twenty gallant gentlemen volua* 
 teers, making his whole force about thirty. 
 
 A slender force to ])e sure, to oppose to the tremen 
 dous powers which INIarion had to encounter ! But, 
 **the Loixi is king, the victory is his!" and when he 
 
Pacre 114, 
 
 Captam Txmcs, knocking dowji Caplmi Arddsoff 
 7joiik c Chair. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. HIS 
 
 pleasei J\ j^ivc it t(> an oppressed people, he can make 
 the few lAtul feeble overcome the many and mighty- 
 As the brave major Jarnes laay perhaps be men- 
 tioned no more in this history, I must gratify the 
 r.ader by informing him, that the noble major los( 
 nothing by his attachment to dat)^ and the rights (J 
 man. He lived to see Cornwallis, Tarletcu, and Raw« 
 don, laid as low as the insolent Ardeisoff ; and after 
 enjoying many years of sweet repose, under the plea- 
 sant shade of peace and plenty, he sunk gently to 
 rest. But though now fallen asleep, he still lives in 
 his country's gratitude, and in the virtues of his son, 
 who fills one of the highest places in the judiciary of 
 bis native state. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Carolina apparently lost — Marion almost alone, keep, 
 the field — beg'ins to figure — surprises a strong Bri- 
 tish parti/ at Nelson'' s old field — scourges x.he tories 
 at Black Mingo — again smites them hip erd thigh 
 on Pedee. 
 
 THK historv of the American revolution is a ftis- 
 tory of miracles, all bearing, like sunbeams, on thL* 
 heavenly /«/: "America shall be free !" 
 
 Some oi our chimney-corner philosophers can 
 hardly believe, when they read of Sampson making 
 such a smash among the Philistines with the jaw- 
 bone of an ass. Then how wuU they believe what I 
 am going to tell them of Marion? How will they be- 
 lieve that, at a time when the British had completely 
 overrun South Carolina ; their head nuarters at 
 Charleston ; a victorious army at Camden ; strong 
 garrisons at Georgetown and Jacksonborough, with 
 swarms of thievish and bloody minded tories, filling 
 up all between ; and the spirits of the poor whigs so 
 completelv cowed; that they w«re fairly knocked un 
 
U6 THE LIFE OF 
 
 dcr to the civil and military yoke of the Briti«l<< 
 who, I ask »gain, will believe, that in this desperate 
 state of things, one little, swarth)'', French-phizzed 
 Carolinian, with only thirty of his ragged country- 
 men, issuing out of the swamps, should have dared 
 to turn his horse's head towards tliis all conquering 
 foe ? 
 
 Well, Marion was that man. He it was, who, with 
 his feeble force, dared to dash up at once to Nelson's 
 ferry, on the great war path between the British ar- 
 mies at Charleston and Camden. 
 
 " Now, my gallant friends,'' yaid he, at sight of the 
 road, and with a face burning for battle, **■ now look 
 sharp ! here are the British wagon tracks, with the 
 sand still falling in ! and here are the steps of their 
 troops passing and repassing. We shall not long be 
 idle here I" 
 
 And so it turned out. For scarcely had we reached 
 our hiding place in the swamp, before in came our 
 scouts at half speed, stating that a British guard, with 
 a world of American prisoners, were on their march 
 for Charleston. 
 
 " How many prisoners do you suppose there were?' 
 said Marion. 
 
 •* Near two hundred," replied the scouts. 
 
 " And what do you imagine was the number of the 
 British guard?" 
 
 *' Why, sir, we counted about ninety." 
 
 "Ninety!" said Marion with a smile; "ninety! Well, 
 that will do. And now, gentlemen, if you will only 
 stand by me, I've a good hope that we thirty will have 
 those ninety by to-morrow's sunrise." 
 
 We told hifia to lead on, for that we were resolved to 
 die by his side. 
 
 Soon as the dusky night came on, we went down to 
 the ferry, and passing for a party of good loyalists, 
 we casrily go' set over. The enemy, with their prison- 
 ers, having just eilected the passage of <he river as 
 the sun went down lialted at the tirst tavern gene 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. iU 
 
 'alh' ««ft!^cd *' the Blue House," where the officers or 
 Jercfft suopcr. In front of the building, was a large 
 arbour., whcyein the topers were wont to sit, and spend 
 the jocund night away in songs and gleeful draughts 
 of ajDple brandy grog. In this arbour, flushed with 
 their late success, sat the British guard ; and tickler 
 after tickler swilling, roared it away to the tune of 
 '* Britannia strike home :" till overcome with fatigue, 
 and the opiate juice, down they sunk, deliciously 
 bcastified, to the ground. 
 
 Just as the cock had winded his last horn for day 
 we approached the house in perfect concealment, be- 
 hind a string of fence, within a few yards of it. But 
 in spite of all our address, we could not elFect a com- 
 plete surprisal of them. Their sentinels took the 
 alarm, and firing their pieces, fled into the yard. Swift 
 as lightning we entered with them, and seizing their 
 muskets, which were all stacked near the gate, we 
 made prisoners of the whole party, without having 
 been obliged to kill more than three of them. 
 
 Had Washington and his whole army been upon 
 the survivors, they could hardly have roared out 
 couder for quarter. After securing their arms, Ma- 
 rion called for their captain ; but he was not to be 
 found, high nor low, among the living or dead. 
 However, after a hot search, he was found up the 
 chimney ! He begged very hard that we would not 
 let his men know where he had concealed himself 
 Nothing could equal the mortification of the British, 
 when they came to sec what a handful of militia-men 
 had taken them, nnd recovered all their prisoners. 
 
 Marion was at first in high hopes, that the Ameri- 
 can regulars, whom hehad so gallantly rescued, would, 
 to a man, have joined his arms, and fought hard to 
 avenge their late defeat. But equally to hh surprise 
 and their ozun disgrace, not one of them could be pre- 
 vailed on to shoulder a musket ! " Wheie is the use," 
 said they, " of fighting now, when all is lost ?" 
 
 Tlii« was the general impression. And indeed^ 
 L2 
 
118 THE LIFE OF 
 
 except these unconquerable spirits, IMarion and 
 Sumpter, with a few others of the same heroic stamp, 
 who kept the field, Carolina was no better than a 
 British province. 
 
 In our late attack on the enemy, we had but four 
 rounds of powder and ball ; and not a single sword 
 that deserved the name. But Marion soon remedied 
 that defect. He bought up all the old saw blades 
 from the mills, and gave them to the smiths, who 
 presently manufactured for us a parcel of substantial 
 broadswords, sufficient, as I have often seen, to kill 
 a man at a single blow. 
 
 From our prisoners in the late action, we got com- 
 pletely armed ; a couple of English muskets, with 
 bayonets and cartouch-boxes, to each of us, with 
 which we retreated into Britton's Neck. 
 
 We had not been there above twenty-four hours 
 before the news was brought us by a triisti/ friend^ 
 that the tories, on Pedee, were mustering, in force, 
 under a captain Barfield. This, as we learnt after- 
 wards, was one of the companies that my uncle's old 
 coachman had been so troubled abcut. We were 
 quickly on horseback; and after a brisk ride ot forty 
 miles, came upon their encampment, at three o'clock 
 in the morning. Their surprise was so complete, that 
 they did not fire a single shot ! Of forty-nine men, 
 who composed their company, we killed and took 
 about thirty. The arms, ammunition, and horses, of 
 the whole party, fell into our hands, with which we 
 returned to Britton's Neck, without the loss of a 
 man. 
 
 The rumour of these two exploits soon reached the 
 British and their friendf; the tories, who presently 
 despatched three stout r '»mpanies to attack us. Two 
 of the parties were British ; one of them commanded 
 by major Weymies, of house-burning memory. The 
 third party v/ere altogether toric?. We fled before 
 them towards North Carolina. Supposing they had 
 entirely scouted us, they gave over the chase, and r 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 119 
 
 treated for their respective stations ; the British to 
 Georgetown, and the tories to Black Mingo. Learn- 
 ing this, from the tiwift mounted scouts whom he al- 
 ways kept close hanging upon their march, Marion 
 ordered us to face about, and dog them to their en- 
 campment, which we attacked with great fury. Our 
 fire commenced on them at but a short distance, and 
 with great effect ; but outnumbering us, at least two 
 to one, they stood their ground and fought despe- 
 rately. But losing their commander, and being hard 
 pressed, they at length gave way, and fied in the ut- 
 most precipitation, leaving upwards of two-thirds of 
 their number, killed and wounded, on the ground. — 
 The surprise and destruction of the tories would 
 have been complete, had it not been for the alarm 
 given by our horses' feet in passing Black Mingo 
 bridge, near which they were encamped. Marion 
 never afterwards suffered us to cross a bridge in the 
 night, until we had first spread our blankets on it, to 
 prevent noise. 
 
 This third exploit of Marion rendered his name 
 very dear to the poor ivhigs^ but utterly abominable 
 to the enemy, particularly the tories, who were so 
 terrified at this last handling, that, on their retreat, 
 they would not halt a moment at Georgetown, 
 though twenty miles from the field of battle ; but 
 continued their flight, not thinking themselves safe, 
 until they had got Sanree river lietween him and 
 them. 
 
 These three spirited charges, having cost us a great 
 deal of rapid marching and fatigue, Marion said he 
 w^ould give us " a little rcst^ So he led us down into 
 VVaccamaw, where he knew we had some excellent 
 friends ; among whom were the Hugers and Trapiers, 
 find Alstons ; fine fellows! rich as Jews, and hearty 
 as we could wish : indeed the wealdiy captain, now 
 colonel William Alston, was one of Marion's aids. 
 
 These grejit people all received us as though we 
 had been their "brothers, threw open the gates of thei(r 
 
ISO THE LIFE OF 
 
 elegant yards for our cavalry, hurried \i3 u^ then 
 princely steps; and, notwithstandinj^ cur di»t and 
 rags, ushered us into their grand saloons and dining 
 rooms, where the famous mahogany sideboards were 
 quickly covered with pitchers of old amb\ir coloured 
 brandy, and sugar dishes o^ double rrfined^ with honey, 
 far drams and juleps. Our horses were up to the 
 eyes in corn and sweet-scented fodder ; while, as to 
 ourselves, nothing that air, land, or water could fur- 
 nish, was good enough for us. Fish, ilesh, and fowl, 
 all of the fatte.H and finest^ and sweetly graced with 
 the smiles of the great ladies, were spread before us, 
 as though we had been kings : while Congress and 
 Washington went round in sparkling bumpers, from 
 old demijohns that had not left the garret for many a 
 year. 
 
 This was feasting indeed ! It was a feasting of the 
 sou. as well as of the sense. To have drawn the 
 sword for liberty and dear country's sake, was, of 
 Itself, no mean reward to honest republicans ; but, 
 beside that, to be so honoured and caressed, by thi 
 great ones of the land, was like throwing the zone of 
 Venus over the waist of Minerva, or like crowning 
 profit with pleasure, and duty with delight. 
 
 In consequence of the three fortunate blows "vvhich 
 he had lately struck, Marion, as before observed, was 
 getting the enviable honour to be looked up to as the 
 raHijrig- point of the poor whigs ; insomuch, that al- 
 though afraid as mice to stir themselves, yet, if they 
 found out that the tories and British were any where 
 Forming encampments about r.he country, they would 
 rtiount their boys and push tb.em off to Marion to let 
 him know. Here I must give the reader an instance 
 wn the spot. 
 
 We had just got ourselves well braced up again, by 
 
 rest and high feeding, among the noble whigs of 
 
 Waccamnvr, when a likely young fellow at half speed 
 
 drove up one morning to the house, and asked for 
 
 eneral Marion. 
 
GEN FRANCIS MARION. 121 
 
 Marion \vcnt to the door. 
 
 " Well, my son, \vh:it do yo\i >A'ant with me ?" 
 "Why, sir Koneral,''' replied the yoalh, "daddy 
 sent me down to let you kuov/, lis how there is to bcf 
 a mighty gathering of the tories, in our parts, to-mor- 
 row night." 
 
 *• Aye indeed ! and pray whereabouts, my son, may 
 your parts be ?'' 
 
 " Pleigh, sir general I don't you know where oui 
 parts is ? I thought every body knowed where daddy 
 lives." 
 
 " No, my son, I don't ; but, I've a notion he lives 
 somewhere on Pedee ; ])erhaps a good way up." 
 
 " Yes, by jing, does he live a good way up ! a mat- 
 ter of seventy miles ; clean away up there, up on Little 
 Pedee." 
 
 " Very well, my son, I tliank your daddy, and you 
 too, for letting me know it. And, I believe, I must 
 try to meet the tories there." 
 
 " O la, sir general, trif to meet 'em indeed! yes, to 
 be sure ! dear me, sirs, hearts alive, that you must, sir 
 jreneral ! for daddy says, as how, he is quite sartin, if 
 you'll be there to-morrow night, you may make a pro- 
 per smash among the tories ; for they'll be there thick 
 and threefold. I'hey have heard, so they say, of your 
 doin^Sy and are going to hold this great meeting, on 
 purpose to come ail the way down here after ?/c«." 
 " After me ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed are they, sir general ! and you had 
 better keep a sharp look out, I tell you now ; for thev 
 have just been down to the British, there at George- 
 tcwn, and brought up a matter of two wagon loads of 
 guns ; great big English muskets ! I can turn my 
 thumb in them easv encurifh ! And, besides them 
 plaguy guns, they have got a tanial nation sig-ht of 
 pistols ! and bagonets ! and swords ! and saddles ' 
 and bridles ! and the dear knov/s what else besides ! 
 so they are in a mighty good fix, you may depend, 
 «r general." 
 
122 THE LIFE OF 
 
 •* Well, perhaps you and I may have some of theh 
 fine things to-morrow night. What say you to it, my 
 son r 
 
 " Bv jing, I should like it proper well ! But, to be 
 sure, now, sir general, you look iikt; a mighty small 
 man to tight them great big tories there, on I^dee. 
 But daddy says as how the heart is all : and he «ays, 
 too, that though \'ou are but a little man, you h?>ve a 
 monstrous great heart." 
 
 Marion smiled, and went out among his men, to 
 whom he related the bov's errand ; and desired them 
 to question him, so that there might be no trick m the 
 matter. But every scruple of that sort was quickly 
 removed ; for several of our party were well acquaint- 
 ed with the lad's father, and knew him to be an ex- 
 cellent whig. 
 
 Having put our firearms in prime order for an at- 
 tack, Ave mounted ; and giving our friends three 
 cheers, dashed off, just as the broad-faced moon 
 arose ; and by daybreak next morning, had gained a 
 very convenient swamp, within len miles of the grand 
 tory rendezvous. To avoid giving alarm, wc struck 
 into the swamp, and there, man and horse, lay snug 
 all day. About eleven o'clock, Marion sent ®ut a 
 couple of nimble-footed young men, to conceal them- 
 selves near the main ruad, and take good heed to 
 Avliat was going on. In the evening they returned 
 and brought word, that the road had been constantly 
 alive with horsemen, tories they supposed, armed 
 with new guns, and all moving on verv gaily towards 
 the place the lad had told us of. Soon as it was 
 dark, we mounted, and took the track at a sweeping 
 gallop, which, by early supper time, brought us in 
 sight of their fires. Then leaving our horses under 
 a small guard, we advanced quite near them, in the 
 dark without being disc'^eTc' • for so little thouo-ht 
 had they of Mc/ion, that they h'.id not placed a single 
 sentinel : but were, all hands, gathered about the 
 tire: some eookinj^, »om3 fiddling and dancicg, aiK> 
 
GEN. FKANCIS MARION. 123 
 
 eome playing cards, as wc could hear them every 
 now and then bawling out, " llivzza^ at him ai^a'tn 
 damme! aije, t/nif's the (iainhj I i^hj tricky hrgdii T'' 
 
 Poor wretches, little did they think how near the 
 fates wertt grinninj;- around ihttni. 
 
 Observing* that they had three largi^ fires, Marion 
 divided our little ]nirty of sixty men into three com- 
 panies, each opposite to a fire, then bidding us to lake 
 aim, with his pistol he gave tin* sij';nal for a general 
 discharge. In a moment the woods were \\\\ in a bla/.e, 
 as by a ilash of lightning, accompanied l)y a tremen- 
 dous da]) of tliunder. Down tumbled the dead ; oiF 
 bolted the living; loud screamed tlie wounded ; while 
 far anrl wide, all over the woods, nothing was to be 
 heard but the running of tories, and the snorting of 
 wild bounding horses, snapping the saplings. Such a 
 tragi-comedy was hardly ever seen. On running up 
 to their fires, we foimd we had killed twnnty-three, 
 and badly wounded as many more ; thirteen we made 
 prisoners ; jioor fellows who had not been gra'/,(.;d by 
 a bullet, but were so frightened that they could not 
 budge a peg. We got eighty-four stand of arms, chiefly 
 English nuiskets and bavonets, one hundred horses, 
 with new saddles and bridles, :dl Knglish too, with a 
 good deal of ammunition and baggage. The conster- 
 nation of the tories was so great that they never 
 dreamt of carrying off any thing. Even their fiddles 
 and fiddle bows, and ])laying cards, were all left 
 strewed around their fires. One of the ^>;:»mblers, (it 
 is a .s'triotis truth^ tliough shot dead, still held tiie 
 cai'ds hard griped in his hands. Led l\v curiosity to 
 nspect this strange sight, a dead g'(imhlt')\ we found 
 that the cards which he held were ace, deuce, and 
 jack. Clul)s were trumps. Molding high, low, jack, 
 and the game, in his own hand, he seemed to be in a 
 lair way to do well ; but Marion came down upon 
 him with a trump that spoiled his sport, and non 
 iuited him for ever. 
 
 But the most comfortable sight of all, wa» the fire 
 
23(1 THE LIFE OF 
 
 supper which the tories had cooked ! three fat roasted 
 pigs, and six turkeys, with piles of nice journey-cakes. 
 Tis true, the dead bodies hiy very thick round the 
 fires: but having rode seventy miles, and eating no- 
 thing since the night before, vre were too keen set to 
 Aink of standing on trifles ; so fell upon the poor 
 tories' provisions, and made the heartiest supper i» 
 the world. And, to crown all, we found among the 
 spoil, upwards of half a barrel of fine old peach 
 brandy. 
 
 " Ah, this brand}'!" said Marion, '' was the worst 
 foe these poor rogues ever had. But FU take care it 
 shall be no foe to us." So, after ordering half a pint 
 to each man, he had the balance put under guard. 
 And I must observe, by way of justice to my honour- 
 ed friend, that success never seemed to elate him; 
 nor did ever he lose sight of safety in the blaze of 
 victory. For instantly after the defeat, our guns were 
 all loaded and our sentinels set, as ii an enemy had 
 been in force in the neighbourhood. 
 
 CHAPTER X\ 
 
 The zuhig-s in hig-h spirits on account of our successes — . 
 an exf)res:'i from Governor Rutledgc — promotioJiS'-' 
 British and tories in PTeat rvrut/i — sketch of their 
 treatment oj tne patriots. 
 
 THE nev/s of this fourth overthrow of the enemy, 
 was soon spread far and wide among both our friends 
 and foes ; producing every where the liveliest emo- 
 tions of joy or sorrow, according as the hearers hap- 
 pened to be well or ill affected towards us. The im- 
 pression which it made on our honoured execiuivc, 
 was sweeter to our thoughts than honey or the honey- 
 comb. For on the fifth day after our last flagellation 
 of the tories, in came an express from governor Rut- 
 ledge, with a commission of brigadier geneml for Ma- 
 
GEN. FRANCIS^ MARION. t2J 
 
 » ion, and a full coloneVs commission for me. Having 
 always looked up to my country as to a beloved mo- 
 ther,' whose liberty and prosperity were inseparably 
 connected with my own, it is no wonder that I should 
 have been so deligh-ted at hearmg her say, by her fa- 
 vourite son, governor Rutledge, th;xt, reposing- especial 
 trust in mif couruge^ conduct^ and attention to her in- 
 terestSy she had appointed me a colonel in her armies, 
 kz. &c. 
 
 Scarcely had I perused my commission, before Ma- 
 rion reached me his ; and with a smile, desired me to 
 read it. Soon as I came to his new title, " brigadiei 
 general," I snatched his hand and exclaimed,'^ Huzza! 
 God save my friend ! my noble General Marion ! 
 general! general 1 Aye that will do ! that will clo! that 
 sounds somewhat in unison v/ith your deserts." 
 
 " Well, but what do you think of the stifle^'' replied 
 he, " and of the prerogative — is it not prodigiously in 
 the pompous ?" 
 
 " Not at all,'' said I. 
 
 " No," continued he ; " why now to my notion, it is 
 very much in the turgid, in the Asiatic. It gives me 
 dominions from river to river, and from the mountains 
 to the great sea, like Tamerlane or Ghenghis Khan ; 
 or like George III. ' by the grace of God, king of 
 Great Britain, France,' &c. &c. whereas, poor 
 George dares not set a foot there, even to pick up a 
 or^riwinkle !" 
 
 " Well, but general," said I, " as the English gav< 
 France to George I:ecause they wish him to have it, 
 so I suppose the good governoi gives you this vast:"'"' 
 district for the same reason." 
 
 " Perhaps so^"' replied Marion. 
 
 Tht truth is, governor Rutledge was a most ardent 
 lever of his country ; and, therefore, almost adored 
 6uch an unconc^uerable piitriot as Marion. 
 
 Hence, when he found, that notwithstanding the 
 many follies and failures of northern generals and ar- 
 mies ; Qotwithst-uxding: the victoiies, and proclanui* 
 M 
 
126 THE LIFE Of 
 
 tions,and threats of Cornwallis andTarjcton, Mario« 
 still stood his ground, and fought and conquered for 
 Carolina; his whole soul was so filled wiUi love of 
 him, that I verilv believe he would have given him 
 ** all the kingdoms of the earth and the glory thereof/' 
 had they been in his gift. Indeed what he did give 
 him was sketched o\ii with a prodlgiouslv bold hand. 
 He ga\e him all that territory, comprehended within 
 a line drawn from Cliarleston along the sea, to Cieorge- 
 town i thence westerly to Camden; and thence to 
 Charleston again ; making a domain of extent, po- 
 pulation, and wealth, immense ; but over which the 
 excellent governor had no more power to grant mili- 
 tary jurisdiction, than to give kingdoms in the moun ; 
 for the whole of it was in the hands of the British, 
 and their friends the tories ; so that the governor had 
 not a foot to give Marion : nor did INIarion hold a 
 foot of it but by his own vigilance and valour; which 
 were so extraordinary, that his enemies, with all theii 
 men, money, and malice, could never drive him ou 
 /it. 
 
 J5ut while governor Rutledge, with all the good 
 s^higs of the state, were thus heartily rejoicing with 
 JVIarion for his victories, the British and tories were 
 lis madly gnashing their teeth upon him for the same. 
 To be struck four such severe blows, in so short a 
 'time, and all rising one over another in such cursed 
 -climax of bad to worse ; to be losing, in this manner, 
 their dear allies, with all their subsidies of arms, am- 
 :munition, and money; to have their best friends thus 
 •cooled ; their worst enemies thus heated ; and rank 
 rebellion a-gain breaking up, out of a soil where they 
 nad promised themselves nothing but the richest fruits 
 'of passive obedience : and all this by a little, ugly 
 ^Rpa^vn of a Frenchman ! It M'as too much ! they could 
 not stand it. Revenge they n\ust and would have; 
 that was ceitain : and since, with all t!\eir enorts, they 
 •could not get at Marlon, tb.e hated trunk and root of 
 all, they were determined to Inirn and sweat hi 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 127 
 
 branches, the p"or uhlgs, i. e. to carry *he curses of 
 fire and sword rhroujjh all their families and habita 
 tions. 
 
 Now, had this savage spirit appeared among a few 
 poor British cadets ^ or p'vieifil'ood tones, it would not 
 have been so lamentable. Their ignorance of those 
 divine truths, which exalt the soul above such hellish 
 passions, would have furnished some plea for them, 
 But, that a British general, and tliat general a nobltv- 
 man ! a lord ! with an archlnshop for his brother, and 
 hot-pressed bibles, and morocco prayer books, and all 
 such excellent helps, to teach him that " God is love," 
 and *^ mercy his delight ;" that such a one, I say, 
 should have originated the infernal warfare, of plun- 
 dering, burning, and hanging the American patriots, 
 is most HORRIBLE. And yet, if possible, more trud 
 than horrible. Yes, sure as the day of doom, when 
 that fearful day shall come, and lord Cornwallis, stript 
 of his " brief authority," shall stand, a trembling ghost 
 before that equal bar : then shall the evil spirit, from 
 the black budget of his crimes, snatch the foUoTving 
 bloody oj'd(f)\ and grinning an insulting smile, flash it 
 before his lordship^s terrified optics. 
 
 August 13, 1780. 
 To lieutenant colonel Cru^er^ commandant at the Bn- 
 
 thh garrison at Ninetij-Six. 
 Sir, 
 
 I have given orders that all the inhabitants of thiJ* 
 province, who had submitted, and who have taken a 
 part in this revolt, shall ho. punished xv'ith the greatest 
 rigour ; that they shall be imprisoned^ and their whole 
 property taken from them or destroijed. I have like- 
 wise directed, that compensation should be made oat 
 of their effects, to persons who have been plundered 
 and oppressed by them. I have ordered, in the most 
 positive manner^ that every militia-man who had 
 borne arms with us, and had afterwards joined tlie 
 •ncmy. bhould be inimcdiutely hanged* I have now 
 
sir, onjy to desire that you will take tiie most .vigor- 
 ous measures to extinguish the rebellion in the dis- 
 trict which you comniand, and thiit you will obey^ in 
 the strictest maimer^ the directions I have given id 
 this letter, relative to the treatment of this country. 
 
 This order of lord Cornwallis proved to South Ca- 
 oliha like the opening of Pandora's box. Instantly 
 there broke forth a torrent of cruellies and crimes 
 never before heard of in our simple forests. Lord 
 Rawdon acted, as we shall see, a shameful part in 
 these bloody tragedies, and so did colonel Tarleton. 
 But the officer who figured most in executing the de- 
 testable orders of Cornwallis, M'^as a major Weymies 
 This man was, by birth, a Scotsman ; but, in princi- 
 ple and practice, a IMohawk. So totally destitute was 
 he of that amiable sympathy which belongs to his 
 nation, that, in sailing up Winyaw bay, and Wacca- 
 maw and Pedee rivers, he landed, and pillaged, and 
 burnt every house he durst approach ! Such was the 
 style of his entry upon our afHicted state, and such the 
 spirit of his doings throughout: for wherever he went, 
 an unsparing destruction awaited upon his footsteps. 
 Unhappily, our country had but too many pupils 
 that fitted exactly such a preceptor. '.Vhe lazy, draai- 
 drinking, plunder-loving tories, all gloried in major 
 Weymies : and were ever ready, at the winding of 
 his horn, to rush forth with him, like hungry blood- 
 hounds, on his predatory excursions. The dogs of 
 iiell were all now completely imcoupled, and every 
 devilish passion in man had its proper game to fly at 
 Here was a fine time for malice to feed her ancient 
 grudges ; for avar'ce to cram her maw with plunder; 
 and revf.nge to pay off her old scores, with bloody 
 interest. 
 
 A thievish tory, who had been publicly whipped 
 by a whig magistrate, or had long coveted his silver 
 tankard, or his handsome rifle, or his elegant horse, 
 had Init to point out his house to major Weymies, 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 129 
 
 •mi! say, "Tliere lives a d — d rebel." The amiable 
 ^ajor and his myrinidoiis, would surround the noble 
 building in a trice; and after gutting it of all its rich 
 furniture, would reduce it to ashes. It was in vain 
 that the poor delicate mother and her children, on 
 bended knees, with wringing hands and tear-swim- 
 ming eyes implored him to pity, and not to burn their 
 house over their heads. Such elot[uence, which has 
 often m.oved the breasts of savages, was all lost on 
 nipjor Weymies and his banditti. They no more re- 
 garded the sacred cries of angel-watched children 
 than the Indians do the cries of the young beavers, 
 whose houses they are breaking up. 
 
 But, oh, joy eternal! *'" the Loud is king." His 
 law is love, and they who sin against this law, soon or 
 late, shall find that they have sinned against their own 
 souls. 
 
 A planter, in his fields, accidentally turning toward* 
 his house, suddenly discovers a vast column of smoke 
 bursting forth, and ascending in black curling volumes 
 to heaven. " Oh my God ! my house !" he exclaims, 
 " my poor wife and children !" Then, half bereft of 
 his senses, he sets oiT and runs towards his house. — 
 Still, as he cuts the air, he groans out, ^' Oh, my pooi 
 wife and children '" Presently he hears their cries ; 
 ?ie sec s them at a distance with outstretched arms 
 flying towards him. Oh, pa! pa! pa! his children 
 tremblingly exclaim , while his wife, all pale and ou 
 of breath, falls on his bosom, and, feebly crying out. 
 " The British ! oh the British^'' sinks into a swoon 
 
 Who can tell the feelings of the father and the has 
 bai^d ! His wife convulsed in his arms ! his little beg- 
 gared children screaming around him ! and his pro- 
 perty all sinking to ruin, by merciless enemies .' Pre- 
 sently his wife, after a strong fit, with a deep sigh* 
 comes to herself; lie wipes her tears; he embraces 
 and hushes his children. By and by, supposing thi 
 British to be gone, arm in arm the mournful group 
 tW^ ^at ah. ^^?5i^ing sifiht I their Qnc<5 stately 
 
ISO THE LIFE OF 
 
 maQsion which shone so beauteous on the plain, tJie 
 pride and pleasure of their eyes, is now the prey of 
 devouring flames. Their slaves have all disappeared ; 
 dieir stock, part is taken away, part lies bleeding in 
 the yard, stabbed by bayonets ; their elegant furniture, 
 tables, glasses, clocks, beds, all is swallowed up. An 
 army of passing demons could have done no worse. 
 But while with tearful eye they are looking round on 
 the wide-spread ruin, undermined by the fire, down 
 €omes the tall building with thundering crash to the 
 ground. The frightened mourners start aghast from 
 the hideous squelch, and weep afresh to see all the 
 hopes and glories of their state thus suddenly ended 
 in smoke and ashes. 
 
 It was in this way exactly that the British treated 
 my brother, major Hugh Horry, as brave a soldier as 
 ever fought in America. They laid in ashes all his 
 dwelling houses, his barns of clean rice, and even his 
 rice stacks / Destroyed his cattle ; carried off eighty 
 negroes, which were all he had, not leaving him 
 one to bake him a cake. Thus, in one hour, as the 
 wild Arabs served Job, did the British serve my 
 poor brother, breaking him up root and branch ; and, 
 from a state of afHuence, reduced him to a dunghill. 
 
 These savage examples, first set by the British, and 
 followed by the tories, soon produced the effect which 
 Marion had all along predicted. They filled the hearts 
 of the suflferers with the deadliest hate of the British ; 
 and brought them, in crowds, to join his standard, 
 with muskets in their hands, and vows of revenge 
 eternal in their mouths. 
 
 Hence it was that nothing so pleased Marion as to 
 hear of British cruelty to his countrymen. 
 
 " 'Tis a harsh medicintf^'''' he used to say, *'' but it is 
 necessary; for there is nothing else that will 7uork 
 them. And unless they are well -vorktid and scoured 
 of their mother milk, or hfastling partiality to the 
 English, they are lost. Our country is like a man who 
 has swallowed a mortal poison. Give him an anodyne 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION" 131 
 
 t(» keep him easy, and he's a dead ma?:. But 'if yoa 
 can only knock him about, and so put the poison in 
 motion as to make him deadly sick at the stomach, and 
 heave like a dog with a bone in his throat,, he is safe, 
 Cornwallis hiis all this time been lulling them by his 
 proclamations, and protections, and lies. But, thank 
 God, that time is pretty well over now ; for these un- 
 feeling monsters, these children of the devil, have let 
 out the cloven foot, and the thing is now beginning to 
 work as I expected. Our long deluded people are 
 opening their eyes, and beginning to see and smell the 
 blood and burnings of that Tophet, that political hell 
 of slavery and ruin, to which the British army is now 
 endeavouring, by murder and rapine, to reduce 
 them." 
 
 This was truly the case : for, every day the whigs 
 were coming into Marion's camp. Those who were 
 too old to fight themselves, would call upon their 
 sturdy boys to " turn out and join general Marion^"* 
 
 It was diverting to see how they v/ould come 
 staving upon their tackles ; belted round with their 
 powderhorns and shotbags, with rides in hand, and 
 their hum.ble homespun streaming in the air. The 
 finely curling smile brightened in the face of Ma- 
 rion ; and his eye beamed that laughing joy, with 
 which a father meets his thoughtless boy, returning 
 dirty and beaten by blackguards, from whose dan- 
 gerous company he had sought in vain a thousand 
 times to wean him. 
 
 " Well, my son !" Marion would say, " and v/hat 
 good news do you bring us V 
 
 " Why, why, why, sir general," replies the youth, 
 half cocked with rage, and stammering for words, 
 ** as I was overlooking my father's negroes in the rice 
 grounds, the British and tories came and took them 
 and carried them all away ; and I only am left alone 
 to tell you." 
 
 Presently another comes 5SS[^ says: "As I w^ 
 driving the horses and catC?§ (^i>wij li th® f.l 
 
 „>H* 
 
Uli THK LIFE OF 
 
 ^ic British and torics fell upon them, and carried 
 iicm all away ; and I alone am left to tell you/* 
 
 While he was yet speaking, another comes and 
 says; ^* The British and tories cann *>vifh fire and 
 burnt our houses and goods, and have driven my 
 mother and the children into the woods; and 1 only 
 am left alone to tell you." 
 
 Ntxt comes another, who says : '" My father and 
 niyseif were ploughing together in the iield, and the 
 British and tories came upon us and shot my father* 
 and I only am left alone to tell you." 
 
 Another comes and tells, that "lord Rawdon is 
 taking the whig prisoners every week, out of the jail 
 in Camden, and hanging them up by half dozens, neai 
 the v/indows, like dead crows in a corn-field, to tright* 
 "^n the rest, and make good tories of them." 
 
 Another states, that " colonel Charles Pinckney, 
 prisoner in Charleston, for striking a couple of inse 
 lent ncg'roes^ was cursed by the British officers »is a 
 d — d rebels and driven with kicks Mid blows into the 
 house, for daring to strike his Britannic 3Iaje^tifs 
 auhjccts:"''* 
 
 Here Marlon snapped his fingers for joy, and shout- 
 •'(\,'^Jl!rzza/ that's right I that's right! O my noble 
 '*^ritons, lay on ! lay on the spaniels stoutly I they want 
 jrA^itish protections, do they I O the rogues I show 
 them no quarter, but give it to them handsomely! 
 break their backs like dogs! cut them over the face 
 and eyes like cats ! bang them like asses ! tliank ye ? 
 thank ye, Cornv.-allis and Rawdon ! most noble lords, 
 I thank ye ! you ha\e at last brought the wry face 
 upon my countrymen, the cold siueat^ the sardonic 
 grin. Thank God! the potion begins to work' 
 huzza, my sons ! heave ! heave I aye, there comes the 
 bile; the atrabi liar i/ ; the black voiniting which por- 
 tends death to the enemy. Now Britons, look to your 
 ships, for Carolina will soon be tOM hot to hold you.* 
 
GKN. FRANCIS MARION. 13.' 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Colonel Tynes^ the famous ton/ partisan^ attejnpts to 
 surprise 3Ianon — is himself surprised and taken^ 
 %vith nearlu all his partij — the author^ zvit/i thirtif 
 choice cavaliers^ sent by JIarion to reconnoitre — de- 
 ft 2t of a British partij a f horse — anecdote of Scotch 
 Macdonald — surprise and slaughter of the torles — 
 captain Lewis is killed — anecdote of an extraordi 
 niry led. 
 
 SOON after this last victory on Pedee, Marion 
 moved down into the neighbourhood of Black river ; 
 where he irxStantly got notice, that a large body of 
 tories under the celebrated Col. Tynes, vv^ere making 
 great preparations to attack him. I'his Tynes was a 
 man of valour and address worthy of a better cause. 
 In several contests with the w?iigs, he had handled 
 them very roughly ; and was become such a terror to 
 the friends of liberty in that part of the world, that 
 they were greatly alarmed on finding that he was 
 mustering all his forces to attack Marion. We were 
 scarcely encamped, before three expresses arrived 
 from the whi|; settlements on Black river, stating 
 colonel Tynes^ movements; and advising to keep a 
 g'ood look out, for that he was a very artful and dan- 
 gerous flic-iv. According to tbcir conjectures, colonel 
 Tynes must have had no less than one hundred and 
 fifty men: our number did not quite reach ninety; 
 but they were all volunteers, and exceedingly chafed 
 and desperate in their minds, by the barbarous usage 
 of the Britifih and tories. Having, by this clay's 
 march of fifty miles, got within twenty miles of the 
 enemy, who supposed that we were still on Pedee. 
 Marion instantly resolved to attack him that night. 
 Nr> sooner was this made known to the troops, than 
 the fatigues of the day appeared to be entirely for« 
 gotten. All hands fell to work, currying, rubbing and 
 feeding their norses, like young men preparing for a 
 
f«4 THK LIFE OF 
 
 ball or barhacue. Then after a hearty supper ami a 
 few hours' sleep, we all sprung upon our chargers 
 again, and dashed off about one o'clock, to trv our 
 fortune with colonel I'ynes. Just before day, we came 
 upon tlie enemy, wliom we found buried in sleep. 
 The roar of our guns fu'st broke their slumbers ; and 
 by the time the frightened wretches had got upon their 
 legs, man and horse, we were among them hewing 
 down. Three ajid thirty fell under our swords ; for- 
 ty-six were taken ; the rest, about sixty, made their 
 escape. Colonel Tynes himself, with upwards of one 
 hundred horses, and all the baggage, fell into our 
 hands. 
 
 A day or two after this victor}', the general order 
 ed me to take captain Baxter, lieutenant Postell, and 
 sergeant ^lacdonald, with thirty privates, and see if I 
 could not gain some advantage over the enemy near 
 the lines of Cieorgetown. About midnight we cross- 
 ed Black river ; and, pushing on in great silence 
 through the dark woods, arrived at dawn of day near 
 the enemy's sentries, where we lay in ambush close 
 on the road. Just after the usual hour of breakfast, 
 a chair, with a couple of young ladies, 'squired by a 
 brace of British oHicers elegantly mounted, came 
 along at a sweeping rate from Georgetown. 
 
 They had not passed us more than fifty steps, before 
 they stopped short. I was confoundedly afraid at first 
 that they had, somehow or other, smelt a rat; hut it 
 turned out, as ^^'e afterwards learned, that thift wa» 
 only a little courting party, going into the country to 
 dine. On getting into the gloom\' woods, the girla 
 w<*re taken with a quaking fit f;)r their sweethearts, 
 lest that vile *•" swamp fox," as thev called INIarion, 
 should come across tlicm. \\'hereupon the halt afore- 
 said was ordered, and a consultation held ; the result 
 of which was, that the girls should go on to their 
 friend's house, and the officers back to town for a par- 
 ty of tlrago/)ns. Accordingly tlic chair proceeded, and 
 the ctliccrs giUope^d b;\ck by us, \mdi:»turbed} fbr wi 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 135 
 
 6\d not think it worth while to risk an ahirrn for the 
 sakt! of a couple of ofTucrs. Picsciuly !>ci>iMiiin^- to 
 feel ver}' luintyrv, for wt- had ti:i\'cllcil all iii;;iit and 
 eaten nothinH;, we agreed to retire to tiie house of a 
 neii^hhoin iiijL;* planter, wb.o was known to be a good 
 vvliig. As we entered the vard, what should we see 
 hut the i\l'.-'ntir;'i chair that had ])assed us a ilttle ho 
 fore! — a . - vcpping into the liouse, heliold the 
 verv same w ' -j ladies! Thev were richly chesscd, 
 and well fornu-d, and would no dou^t have appeared 
 nandsome, but for the hostile passions which glantd 
 fron) their eyes, and ^ave their whole piu'sio^';noniy 
 a fury-like ex])ression. They asked us, with unreal 
 pertness, "what business we had there ? The gentle- 
 man of the house,'' continued they, " is not at h'jme, 
 and there are no provisions here for you, and to he 
 cure, yoa are too much of gentlemen to think of 
 frightening a family of poor helpless women!" 
 
 Happily I made no reply ; for while these young 
 viragoes were catechising us at this rate, I discover- 
 ed with much pleasure, that the lady of the liouse 
 «lid not utter a word, hut walKed the room backward 
 iind ibrward with a smiling countenance. Presentlv 
 she went out; and showing herself at an opposite win- 
 dow, beckoned me to come to her ; when she said, lu 
 Hi low voice, " Go back hito the house, I'll be there 
 liirectly. On my ste])ping lu you must demand pro- 
 visions ; I will deny that I h.ave a::? v. You must then 
 get into a violent ])assion, and sw^ea*' vou will have 
 them, or set the house on hre. I wid then throw 
 down the keys, and you can take just wl:at you v/ant; 
 for thank (Sod, there is enough, both for you and 
 your horses." 
 
 Such was the farce, which the whigs in those days, 
 6oth ladies and gentlemen, were obliged to play, when 
 they had any of their tory acfjuaintance about them. 
 We now played it, and with the desired success ; for 
 the troughs in the yard were all ])resently fdled with 
 corn and fodder for our cavalry ; while for ourselves 
 
156 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the good-natured cook wenches soon served up a most 
 welcome repast of fried bacon and eggs, with nice 
 hearth cal:es and butter and milk. " God be praised," 
 said we ; and down we sat, and made a breakfast, of 
 v/hich even kings, without exercise and keen appe- 
 tites, can form no idea. 
 
 Just as we had got completely refreshed, and braced 
 up again, what should we hear but the iiring of out 
 sentinels. ""Ti? liorse! to horse I mif brave fello~v!i T^ 
 was the cry of one and all. Quick as thought, we 
 were all mounted and formed, when in came our sen- 
 tinels, with the British dragoons hard after them, 
 smack up to the fence. Charge boys, charge ! was 
 the word. In a moment the yard was bright with tlie 
 shining of our swords. The tciy girls shrieked out 
 for their sweethearts — "OA tlie British I the British.' 
 murder! murder! Oh!'''' Then off we went, all at 
 once, in solid column. The enemy took to their heels, 
 and we pursued. Over the fence we bounded like 
 stags. Down the hill went the British. Down the 
 hill went we ; helter-skelter, man and horse, v/e flew : 
 roaring through the woods like the sound of distant 
 thunder. 
 
 Ve v/ere all excellently mounted ; but there v/as 
 flo horse that could hold the way with Selim. He 
 <vas the hindmost of all when the chase began ; and 
 V wondered at first whnt had become of Selim ; but 
 presentlv I saw him and Macdonald coming up on my 
 right like a thundergust. Indeed, with his v/ide- 
 spread nostrils, and long extended neck, and glaring 
 eyeballs, he seemed as a flying dragon in chase of his 
 prey. He soon had his master up with the enemy. 
 I sn.w when Macdonald drew his claymore. The 
 shining of his steel was terrible, as, rising on his stir- 
 rups, with high-lifted arm, he waved it three times 
 m fiery circles over his head, as if to call up all his 
 strength. Then, with a voice of thunder, he poured 
 his charg-ifig shout ^ dreadful as the roar of the lion 
 when, close up to his game, with hideous paws un 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 137 
 
 clenched, he makes his last spring on the fat buffaloes 
 of his chase. 
 
 ITiough their mortal enemy, I could not but pity 
 the poor fugitives, for I saw that their death was at 
 hand. One of the British officers fired a pistol at 
 him, but without effect: before he could tryanoUier, 
 he was cut down by Macdonald. After this, at a 
 blow a piece, he sealed the eyes of three dragoons 
 m lasting sleep. Two fell beneath the steel of the 
 strong-handed Snipes ; nor did my sword return 
 bloodless to its scabbard. In short, of the whole 
 party, consisting of twenty-five, not a man escaped, 
 except one officer, who, in the heat of the chase 
 and carnage, cunningly shot off, at right angles, for 
 a swamp, which he luckily gained, and so cleared 
 himself. 
 
 The name of this officer was Meriot, and as finish- 
 ed a gentleman he was too, as I ever saw. * I got ac- 
 quainted with him after the war, at New York. Soon 
 as t'le ceremony of introduction was over, he smiled, 
 and asked if I were not in the skirmish just related ? 
 On being answered in the affirmative, he again in- 
 quired, if I did not recollect how handsomely one of 
 the British officers gave me the slip that day ? I told 
 iiini I did. " Well,'* continued he, " I was that offi- 
 cer ; and of all the frights I ever had in my life, that 
 was the most complete. Will j^ou believe me, sir, 
 when I assure you, that I went out that morning, with 
 my locks of as bright an auburn as ever curled upon 
 the forehead of youth ; and by the time I had crawl- 
 ed out of the swamp, into Georgetown, that night, 
 they v/ere as gray as a badger ! I was well nigh 
 taking an oath never to forgive you, during breath, 
 for frightening me so confoundedly. But, away with 
 all malice ! let it go to the devil, where it belongs. 
 So come, you must go dine with me, and I'll show 
 you a lo^'elier woman than either of those that rode 
 m the chair that day." 
 
 I went with him, and was introduced to his wife, 
 N 
 
1^8^ THE LIFE OF 
 
 a lovely woman indeed ! to whom, with great glee, 
 he related the whole history of the chase, and his own 
 narrow escape, and then laughed very heartily. Bui 
 not so his gentle partner. For, as he told of the 
 shrill whizzing of our swords close behind him, and 
 of the groans of his dragoons as they fell, cut down 
 from their horses, her face turned pale, and pensive; 
 then, looking at him with great tenderness, she heaved 
 a deep sigh, to think how near her husband had been 
 to death. 
 
 Meriot looked with pleasure on the troubled coun- 
 tenance of his lovely wife, because he well knew the 
 fond source of her troubles. Then, snatclYing up a 
 goblet of sangree, richly mantled over with nutmeg, 
 he presented it to her ruby lips, saying, " Come, my j 
 dear, drink, and forget the past!'' Then, taking my ' 
 hand with great cordiality, he exclaimed, ^'Well, colo- 
 nel Horry, we have been foes, but thank God, we are 
 good friends again. And now let me drink to you a 
 sentiment of my heart. Here's friendship i?i inurbky 
 enmitij in dustT | 
 
 The behaviour of this noble Englishman, has often 
 served to deepen my abhorrence of war, which too 
 frequently sets those to cutting each other's throats, 
 who were born to be brothers. 
 
 But to return to our story. " Meriot," you'll say, 
 "and his brother officer, brought their pigs to a bad 
 market.'''* Yes, mdeed: but not a jot worse than some 
 of their friends came to the very day afterwards. On 
 the morning of that day, Marion, now concealed in 
 the swamps, near Georgetown, was pleased to order 
 me out on a second excursion. " Take captain 
 ►Snipes," said he, " with thirty men, and proceed 
 down the Sandpit road, in quest of the enemy. The 
 moment you discover them, whether British or to- 
 lies^ charge with spirit, and I'll warrant your suc- 
 cess." 
 
 As we approached <he bridge, still moving on very 
 circumspectly, in the woods, ^'e disco^re/ed at a short 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. tB9 
 
 distance, a body of horsemen, perhaps a hundred, ap- 
 parently in great confusion, and very anxious to form. 
 Instantly we took the road, and clapping spurs to our 
 horses, dashed upon them at full speed, at the same 
 time shouting as we rushed on. The enemy broke 
 and fled in all directions. We pursued. Then you 
 might have seen the woods all covered with armed 
 men; some flying, others pursuing; and with muskets, . 
 and pistols, and swords, shooting and cutting down 
 as fast as they could. 
 
 From the unevenness of the ground, and rapidity of 
 the charge, my men v/ere all soon out of sight, leav-' 
 ing with me but a lad of fourteen, named Gwinn, whr# 
 carried a musket. At that instant, a party of nine or 
 t^n men were seen advancing, whom I took for whigs.^ 
 and challenged as such, askingif they were not friends ? 
 " Friends ! O yes !" replied their captain, (one Lewis) 
 " friends to be sure ; friends to king George!" 
 
 Quick as thought, off went Gwinn's musket, close 
 by roy side, and down tumbled captain Lewis from 
 his horse, with a heavy squelch, to the ground. But 
 in the very instant of receiving his death, his musket, 
 which was raised to kill mt, took fire and shot my 
 horse dead on the spot. Seeing my horse drop, Gwinn 
 dismounted, and led his horse up to me in a moment. 
 
 Happily for us both, captain Snipes heard the re- 
 port of our pieces, and thinking that we might be in 
 danger, dashed on to our aid, with several of my 
 troop, whooping and huzzaing as they came on. The 
 tory party then fired at us, but without effect, and fled, 
 leaving four of Marion's men, whom they had just 
 taken, and beaten very barbarously with the butts of 
 their muskets. 
 
 This was a fatal day to the tories, who must have 
 lost more than half their number. For I had with me 
 not only Macdonald and Snipes, but several other 
 very strong and brave men, whose families had suf- 
 fered very severely, by British and tory cruelty ; and. 
 I am afraid, ihey did not forget this, when their 
 
f «0 THE LIFE OF 
 
 «words were hanging over the heiids of the fugitives. 
 At any rate, they took but few prisoners. 
 
 In the course of this day's fighting, there happened 
 an affair which served to amuse us> not a little on our 
 return to our camp that night. The tories, who, from 
 time to time had fallen into our hands, v/ere often 
 easing their vexation, by saying, that it was true, 
 ** Marion had proved *oo cunning for colonel Tynes 
 and captain Barfield, and other British and loyal offi- 
 cers, whom he had attacked ; but that there was still 
 one left behind, who, they were sure, if he could 
 come forward, would soon show us quite a difi'eient 
 sort of play; and that was colonel Gainey, from the 
 head waters of Pedee." We answered, that it was 
 all very well ; and that v/e should be glad to see col >• 
 nel Gainey. Now, as God v/as pleased to have it^ 
 who should it be, that with one-third of his number, 
 we had been chasing so to-day, but colonel Gainey ; 
 a stout officer-looking fellov/ he was too, and most 
 nobly mounted. Macdonald made a dash at him, in 
 full confidence of getting a gallant charger. But the 
 good book tells us, that " the race is not always to the 
 swift ;" and owing partly to the fleetness of his horsej 
 and partly to a most extraordinary sort of accident, 
 colonel Gainey made his escape from our Scotsman. 
 The chase was towards Georgetown, distant little 
 more than two miles. Never on earth did two horses 
 or horsemen make greater exertions. Fear impelling 
 the one, fury urging the other. Macdonald declared, 
 that in the chase he passed several tories whom he 
 could easily have cut down, but like the lion in pur- 
 suit of a favourite buffalo, he took no notice of them. 
 His eye was fixed on colonel Gainey. Just as they 
 turned Richmond corner, Selim had brought his mas- 
 ter near enough to his prey to make a stroke at him 
 with his bayonet. By a sudden jerk, it is supposed, 
 the weapon turned ; so that when Macdonald drew 
 NlcIe the carbine, he left the bayonet up to the hilt in 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 141 
 
 his back. In this way colonel Gainey rode into town 
 prodigiously to his own and the mortification of hi* 
 friends the British and tories. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 S!pirit of the tories — assassination of lieutenant Marion 
 '■'—the murderer murdered — Marion! s refections on 
 the death of his nephew — his manner of rexvardint^ 
 extraordinary courage among his men — sketch ofikf 
 brave boy Gwinn* 
 
 . ■»' 
 **If moital hands thy peace destroy, * 
 
 O'j friendship's gifts bestow. 
 Wilt thou to man ascribe the joy 
 To man impute the •vvo? 
 
 " 'Tis CiOD, whose thoughts for wisest ends 
 
 The human lots disjjose ; 
 Around thee plants assisting friends. 
 
 Or heaps cnastising foes. 
 
 "Not from the bow the deaths procecvl. 
 
 But from the Arclier^s skill. 
 He lends the winged shaft its jpeed. 
 
 And gives it power to kill/' 
 
 AND here I must relate a tragical afTair that befel 
 us that day, and which filled us all with grief, because 
 of our beloved general. I mean the barbarous murder 
 of his nephew. Of all men who ever drew the sword, 
 Marion was one of the most humane. He not only 
 prevented all cruelty, In his own presence, but strictly 
 forbade it in his absence. I have known him to talk 
 f<br a quarter of an liour together, with one of his men, 
 for striking over the head, a horse that had started ; 
 and to punish another for taking away from a negro, 
 his ragged chicken. To reascn ihcalike men, one 
 would suppose that he was the last person on whom 
 N2 
 
142 THE LIFE OF 
 
 such a cruel blow as the murder of a favourite nephew 
 should have fallen. Bat thanks to God, for that most 
 comfortable doctrine, that not even a sparrow can die 
 until his death-warrant has been signed in heaven; 
 Jnd, since this young man did d^e at that time, there 
 can be no doubt but that was the right time. 
 
 The manner of his death was this. We have told 
 the reader, that, in the course of this day's fighting, 
 we retook from the tories four of Marion's men, whom 
 they had very barbarously beaten with the butts of 
 their guns. On being asked how they came to fall 
 into such bad company, they said, that immediately 
 after sending me oil", in the morning, Marion ^-ot in- 
 formation that a party of tories were encamped not 
 far distant, on a plantation of colonel Alston's, called 
 
 " The Penns." Captain M was despatched to 
 
 surprise them ; but he played his cards so badly, that, 
 instead of surprising thern^ they surprised him^ killed 
 several of his men, and took the others. Among the 
 prisoners was the general's nephew, lieutenant Gabriel 
 Marion, of the continentals, who, happening at that 
 time on a visit to his uncle, turned out a volunteer, 
 and was taken. The tories murdered several of their 
 unfortunate prisoners in cold blood, by first beating 
 them over the head v/ith the butts of their muskets, 
 and then shooting them. They said that lieutenant 
 Marion, at sight of such horrid scenes, appeared much 
 shocked; and seeing among them a man who had 
 often been entertained at his uncle's table, he hew to 
 him for protection, and threw himself into his arms, 
 The man seemed greatly distressed, and tried hard to 
 save him ; but the others roared out, that " he v/aa 
 one of the breed of that d — d old rebel," and that 
 they would have his hearfs blood. They, moreover, 
 swore, Avith the most horrid onths, that if the man 
 did not instantly push young Marion from him, they 
 would bloxu him throwQ-h also. The imfortunate vouth 
 being then thrust from the side of his friend, waa im 
 mediately destroyed. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. t43 
 
 I hope the tender mercies of God are so great as 
 
 not to let our iimvorthlness prevent him from always 
 doing v/hat is exactly right and good for us. We ought 
 not, therefore, to breathe a wish different from the will 
 and order of Providence. But stiil, to us, it seems a 
 
 great pity we did not get notice of captain M 's 
 
 advancing. We could have made a handsome joint 
 attack of it, and thereby not only have prevented the 
 horrid murders above related, but have scourged 
 those barbarians, as they deserved. For we heard 
 the firing, but thought it was colonel Alston's people 
 killing beeves. 
 
 Among the very few prisoners that we made in our 
 last action, was a mulatto fellow, who was suspected 
 ^o be one of those who had murdered the general's 
 nephew. Whether the suspicion was well or ill found- 
 ed, I cannot say: but, certain it is, that the indigna- 
 tion excited against him, on that account, soon proved 
 his destruction. For, as we were crossing the swamps 
 of Black river that night, an officer rode up to him, 
 while marching in the line of prisoners under guard, 
 and with a pistol, shot him dead on the spot. The 
 captain of the guard was instantly sent for. and se- 
 verely reprimanded by the general, for not having 
 killed the author of that savage deed. 
 
 It was said t'nQ officer had offered a bottle of rum 
 to have the mulatto shot, but, finding none that would 
 do it, he did it himself. I do not give this as a fact, 
 but, I know it v/as the talk in camp, though carefully 
 kept from the general, as every body knew it would 
 have given him great pain. lie often said, " he truly 
 lamented the untimely death of his nephew ; and that 
 he had been told, that this poor man was his murderer. 
 But that, as a prisoner, his life ought to have been 
 held most sacred ; especially as the charge against 
 him was witJiout evidence, and, perhaps, no better 
 than conjectiue. As to my nephew," continued he, 
 ** I believe he was cruelly murdered : but living vir- 
 tuously, as he did, and then dying fighting for the 
 
THE LIFE OP 
 
 l?J||nCi^iwi3lian,he is, no doubt, happy ; an3 this is mf 
 comfort" 
 
 The next day Marion ordered the troops t 
 arms, and formed them into a large circle, all frontm^j 
 the centre. While we were wondering what could be 
 <he meaning of this strange manoeuvre, a sergeant was 
 seen leading into the circle an elegant horse, under 
 saddle and bridle, with portmanteau, sword, pistols, 
 and musket. This was the horse, furniture, and arms 
 of captain Lewis, whom the lad Gwinn, so fortunate- 
 ly for me, had killed in the action three days before. 
 Marion then called Gwinn from the ranks. 
 
 The boy approached him with his hat off. 
 
 The general, placing his hand upon his head, in the 
 presence of the whole squadron, pronounced him " a 
 brave little man ; and there," pointing to the horse and 
 furniture, " there is the reward of your gallantry." 
 
 " Gwinn, sir," said I, " is not a good soldier, he 
 fired without orders." 
 
 " That's very true," replied he, " but I am sure, 
 colonel, you are the last that ought to blame me, on 
 that account; for if I had not fired and killed captain 
 Lewis, exactly as I did, he would have killed you, 
 and besides, his saying he was the friend of George 
 the thirds was enough for me ; I did not think I could 
 fire too quick on such a man as that." 
 
 But when the sergeant, at the order of Marion, led 
 up to him the horse, richly furnitured, as aforesaid, 
 the confusion and grimace of the lad were truly di- 
 verting. He blushed, he chuckled, he looked around 
 and around upon his comrades, as if at a loss how to 
 contain himself, or what to do. At length he made 
 shift to reach out his hand to the bridle, though deep- 
 ly blushing, and said, " Dear me now! well la! what 
 will mammy think, and the children, when they come 
 to see me, riding up here on this famous horse, and 
 all these /?«<f things ! I know well enough how mam- 
 my will have a hearty cry, that's what she will ; for 
 she will think I staled him. But if any of the folks 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. W5 
 
 up our way should go to jinv about me, at that rate^ 
 I trust as Ikxu^ r;eneral, you will take my part, and 
 set 'em straight." 
 
 Marion smiled, and commended him for a good 
 boy, and told him to give his compliments to his 
 mother, and also his thanks to her, for being such a 
 irite mother to her children, in bringing them up so 
 honestly. 
 
 But the general was told the next day, that Gwinn 
 had said, "he always hated the tories, because they 
 woujd not fight for their country; and, since the ge- 
 neral had paid him so well for killing one of them, he 
 was determined to try if he could not kill more." 
 
 And he did kill more too, I'll warrant him, for he 
 was with us to the end of the war, in many a hard 
 brush. A-xd then he was such a dead shot with a 
 rifle ! Standing, running, or flying, it was all one to 
 Gwinn. lie would make nothing, at a hundred 
 yards, to stop you a buck, at full tilt through the 
 woods, as hard as he could crack it ; and at every 
 clip, to bring down the squirrels from the tops of the 
 tallest trees in the forest. 
 
146 THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVni. 
 
 Mutiny in our camp — Marion suppresses it — his ad' 
 dress to the oncers* 
 
 THIS war, though on our part a war of virtue^ vraa 
 not always so pleasant as might have been expected. 
 Instances of human weakness often occurred to dis- 
 turb our harmony, and fill good men's hearts with 
 sorrow. For how, without grief, could we behold a 
 man fighting by our side to-day like a hcro^ for the 
 rights of bleeding humanity; to-morrow, like a head* 
 strong child, or a headlong beast, trampling them im- 
 der foot ! And oh ! how sad to see nature's good- 
 liest gifts, of manly size, and strength, and courage^ 
 set off, too, in the proudest ornaments of war, 3ie 
 fierce cocked hat, the flaming regimentals, and gold- 
 en shoulderknots, all defeated of their power to 
 charm, nay, all turned into pity and contempt, in con- 
 sequence of our knowing the o*vvners to be gamblers, 
 swindlers, and villains ! 
 
 Such was the truly pitiable case of some, in tliia 
 our glorious war of liberty. For want of a good edu- 
 cation, I mean the early precepts of virtue, from a 
 parent's lips, with a few excellent bool'S, to lift the 
 noble kindlings of the soul, the fiame could not ascend 
 to what was heavenly and just; but with inverted 
 point, stuck downward to selfishness and vice. Men 
 of this character, though enlisted in the war of liberty, 
 were not her soldiers, felt not her enthusiasm, nor her 
 consolations. They did not walk the camp, glorying 
 in themselves, as men called to the honour of hum- 
 bling the tyrant, and of establishing the golden reign 
 of equal laws, in their own dear country, and thence, 
 perhaps over all the earth. Alas ! no ! strangers to 
 these divine views and wishes, they look no higher 
 than sordid gain / and as there was but little of that 
 kind of pay to be had, they were often gloomy and low 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 147 
 
 ffpinted. ** Their life,' ' they were wont murmuringly 
 to say, " was wearing away ; tlicir country gave them 
 nothing, and they must e'en try to do something for 
 themselves." 
 
 In truth, plunder^ plunder^ was what they were 
 spelling for. They were continually darting their 
 greedy eyes upon every piece of merchandise that 
 came in their way. They had the heart not only to 
 plunder the tories, and to bring their unoffending 
 children to want ; but also to rob and ruin their own 
 fi;iends the whigs, if they could but do it with impu- 
 nit)% 
 
 1 am led to these reflections by a most shameful 
 affair, which happened in our camp about this time, 
 and which threatened cousequences as serious as their 
 source was shameful. 
 
 We were encamped rjear the house of a rich man 
 by the name of Cross. His wife, in sense and domes- 
 tic virtues, was an Aljigail; while as to her hus- 
 band, his wches, though great, were his least recom- 
 mendation, for he possessed all the generosity and 
 honour of the noblest patriot. His soul delighted in 
 Marion, whom he called the jOzV/ar of our cause. Oft 
 Bs he took leave of us, for battle, his bosom v/ould 
 heave, his visage swell, and the tear would start into 
 his eye. And when he saw us return again, loaded 
 with the spoils of victory, he would rush to meet us, 
 with all a brother's transports on his face. His flocks 
 and herds, his meat-houses and corn-fields, were all 
 our own ; while his generous looks would tell us that 
 he still wished for more to give. Indeed, often at the 
 most imminent risk of his life, he used to send us in- 
 telligence, and also furnish us with powder and ball. 
 But this most amiable of men, was not permitted to 
 see our cause triumphant; for in the midstof his sighs 
 and tears for his struggling country, God took him to 
 his own rest. The messenger of death came to him. 
 in the character of a nervous fever. As the phvsi- 
 
148 THE LIFE OF 
 
 clans did not lilce to visit him on his plantation, hft 
 vas carried into Georgetown to be near them. 
 
 Marion went to see him the morning he set out; 
 And immediately after his departure, fixed a guard at 
 rlis house, that nothing might be difiturbed. One 
 would indeed have supposed it unnecessary to place 
 a guard over such a house as his. But alas ! what 
 will not a base heart-hardening avarice do ! And I 
 blush while I relate, that, the very day after our ge- 
 nerous friend was carried off, pale and hollow-eyed, 
 to Georgetown, whence he never more returned, two 
 of our officers, one of them a Major, went to his 
 house to pillage it ! 
 
 The guard, of course, opposed : but they dammed 
 him for an " impertinent rascal," and swore that if he 
 opened his mouth again, they would spit him on the 
 spot. Then bursting the door, they went in, and after 
 forcing the desks, drawers, and trunks, they rifled 
 them of whatever they wanted. 
 
 This most unsoldierly and detestable transaction 
 was communicated to me by Mrs. Cross herself; 
 whose servant came to me next morning with her 
 compliments, and requested that I would go down to 
 her, where she was sitting in her carriage at the road. 
 I waited on her at once ; and greatly to my grief, 
 found her in tears. I entreated to know the cause. 
 
 "Oh, sir," replied she, "we are ruined! we are 
 ruined! Poor Mr. Cross is, I fear, on his deathbed. 
 And then what will become of me and my poor chil- 
 dren, when he is gone, and every thing is taken from 
 us !" She then reminded me of her husband's love 
 to general Marion and his people, from v/hom he 
 withheld nothing, but gladly imparted of all he had, 
 though often at the risk of his utter destruction from, 
 the British and tories. " And yet, after all," said 
 she, " soon as my poor sick husband's back is turned, 
 your people can go and break him up !" 
 
 ''Madam," I replied, "I hope 'tis no offence to 
 ask your pardon ; for i really cannot admit a suspi- 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 149 
 
 cion so disgraceful to our troop : and to n\y certain 
 Knowledge, general IMarion placed a guard over your 
 house the moroeiitMr. Cross left it." 
 
 *' Yes, sir," said^ she, " that's very true. And it 
 was like general Marion. But some of our ofKcevs 
 have forced the guard and broken open the house, 
 and this instant I saw one of them with Prlr. Cross's 
 sword bv his side." 
 
 I never felt more mortified in my life. Then, after 
 entreating her to be perfectly easy about her house 
 and furniture in future, I took leave of this excellent 
 lady, and flew to the guard to sec if what I had heard 
 were true. 
 
 He told 5ne it was too true ; mentioned the names 
 of the officers ; axid even wQiit so far as to show me 
 one of them struttiive about with the sword bv his 
 side I 
 
 It was well for tKe wretch, that I did not possess 
 the eyes of a basiK'i:k, for I should certainly have 
 blasted him en the spot. Pausing, however, one 
 salutary moment, to confirm myself in the love of 
 virtue, by noting how abominable a villain looks, I 
 hasted to the general v/ith the hateful tale ; which ex- 
 cited in his hcnest bosom the indignation Vvhich I 
 had expected. Then calling one of his aids, he said, 
 
 " Go to major , and desire him to send me Mr. 
 
 Cross's sword immediately." 
 
 The aid v/as presently back, but without the sword. 
 On being asked by the general, why he had not 
 brought it, he replied ; " The major says, sir, that the 
 sword does nnt belong to Mr. Cross. He says, 
 moreover, that if you v/ant the sword, you must go 
 for it yourself." 
 
 "Well, f-o back," said the general, "and desire 
 those two officers to come to me." 
 
 It was not for suc!2 an affair as this to be kept se- 
 cret. It took wind in a moment; and by the time 
 the two ofHcers were arrived, almost all the field olTi" 
 O 
 
1 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ccrs had come together to the general's quarters, to 
 ste how he would act on this extraordinary occasion. 
 
 Inferring from the looks of the two culprits, that 
 they meant to test his firmness ; and, wiUing that 
 the company should fully understand the merits of 
 the case, he thus addressed us : 
 
 " You well know, gentlemen," said he," how like 
 a brother the proprietor of this plantation has always 
 treated us. We never gained a victory, but it caused 
 him tears of joy ; and however starved by others, by 
 him we have ever been feasted. You also know, that 
 he is now gone, sick, to Georgetown — there, perhaps, 
 to die. Soon as he left us, I placed a guard over his 
 house ; but, at the same time, blushed for the reflec- 
 Cion cast on my men ; all of whom, as I thought, 
 would, instead of robbing, have defended it with 
 their lives. But, equally to my astonishment and 
 grief, I find I was mistaken. Yes, gentlemen, our 
 friend has been robbed, not by the poor untutored 
 privates in the ranks, but by my officers ! by those 
 who ought to have abhorred such an act! Yes, gen 
 tiemen, two of our brethren in arms — two of our offi- 
 cers — forgetting what they owed to you, what they 
 owed to me, and, most of all, to their country and to 
 themselves, have done this odious deed ! And one of 
 them (here he pointed to the major) now wears by 
 his side the sword of our sick and injured friend. 
 
 " Well knowing that all men, even the best, have 
 too often ' done those things which they ought not to 
 have done,' I felt it my duty to be as tender with this 
 gentleman as possible ; and therefore, sent him a po- 
 lite request that he would return the sword : to which 
 he was pleased to reply, that * if I wanted it, I must 
 come and take it myseUV Still wishing to settle the 
 affair m a way as much to his credit as possible, I 
 sent for him to come to me. And now, sir, (address* 
 ing the major) I entreat of you, for the last time, to 
 give me up that sword,** 
 
 With cjreat rudeness he swore he v:ould not. In- 
 
■y. GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 151 
 
 Btui y every face was dark : anH, biting his lip with 
 rage, each ofRcer laid his hand upon his sword and 
 looked to the general. One word, nay, one asscmtzii^ 
 look^ and the brute would have been hewed to mince- 
 meat in a moment. For my own part, whether I felt 
 more, or governed myself less than the rest, I cannot 
 say : but looking to the general, I broke out with an 
 oath, that if I commanded as he did, / would have 
 that fellow Imng in frje minutes. 
 
 "This is no business of yours, sir," replied he, ra- 
 ther sternly ; " they are now before me." 
 
 Then looking at the major, still with great benigr 
 nity, he said — ^'' And do you really mean, sir, not t\. 
 give me up that sword ?" 
 
 " Sir, I will not I" replied the major. 
 
 " Sergeant of the guard !" said the general, " bring 
 me instantly a file of soldiers I" 
 
 Upon this, the major's colleague, who stood by 
 was seen to touch him. 
 
 Seeing the guard coming up with tlieir naked 
 weapons, and much anger in their looks, the major 
 lost his courage, turned pale, and, in a sadlv altered 
 tone, whined out, " Geneial, you needed not to have 
 called in the guard. I will deliver up the sword. 
 Here it is." 
 
 " No, sir, I will not accept it at your hands. Give 
 it to the sergeant." 
 
 To this humiliating order, with much shame and 
 blushing, the poor major was constrained to comply. 
 
 Thus, happily, were extinpuished the ftrst sparks 
 of a mutiny, Avhich, it was once thought, would have 
 broken out into a dangerous flame. The cool, dis- 
 passionate address which effected this, did not fail to 
 produce a proper impression on us all. 7'his the 
 general easily perceived iu our looks; and tliereiinon 
 as was common with him, when any sucn occasion 
 served, he arose and .addressed us, in, as nearlv as I 
 can recollect, the icSA: ^^'!uig words : 
 
 *' When, gcutlemcL u% fi.V wi. catch the spirit of ouy 
 
t52 rilE LIFE OF 
 
 profession; tlie spirit of men fighting for a repub2ici 
 a commomvealth of brothers ! that gov eminent most 
 glorious, ^yhere God alone is king! that government 
 most pleasant^ v.-liere men inake and obey their own 
 laws ! and that government most prosperous^ where 
 men, reaping as they sow, feel the utmost stimulus 
 to every virtue that can exalt the human character 
 and condition ! This government, the glori) of the 
 earthy has ever been the desire of the wise and good 
 of ail nations. For this, the Platos of Greece, the 
 Catos of Rome, tlie Tells of Switzerland, the Sidneys 
 of England, and the Washington s of America, have 
 sighed and reasoned, have fought and died. In this 
 grand army, gentlemen, we are now enlisted ; and 
 are combating under the same banners with those 
 excellent men of the earth. Then let self-gratulation 
 gladden our every heart, and swell each high-toned 
 nerve. With such v/orthies by our sides, with such 
 a CAUSE before our eyes, let us move on with joy to 
 the battle, and charge like the honoured champions 
 of God and of human rights. But, in the moment 
 of victory, let the supplicating enemy find us as 
 lovely in mercy, as we are terrible in valour. Our 
 enemies are blind. Tliey neither understand nor de- 
 sire the happiness of inank'iud. Ignorant, therefore, 
 as children, they claim our pity for themselves. And 
 as to their widows and little ones, the very thought 
 of them should fdi our souls with tenderness. The 
 crib that contains their corn, the cow that gives them 
 milk, the cabin tliat shelters their feeble heads from 
 the storm, should be sacred in our eyes. Weak and 
 helpless, as they are, still they are the nurslings of 
 heaven — our best intercessors with the Almighty. 
 Let them but give us their blessings, and I care not 
 how much the British curse. Let their prayers as- 
 cend up before God in our behalf, and Cornwallis 
 and Tarleton shall yet flee before us, like frightened 
 wolves before the well armed shepherds !" 
 
 Such were the words of Marion, in the day wrhei 
 
Faofe 153. 
 
 General Marion feast htg the British OJiceron swecc 
 potatoes. 
 
 ft 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 15S 
 
 Jie saw in our looks, that our hearts were prepared for 
 instruction. And such was the epilogue to the mutiny. 
 The satisfaction which it gave to tne officers was so 
 general and sincere, that I often heard them say after- 
 wards, that since the mutiny v/as suppressed, they 
 were giad it happened ; for it had given them an op- 
 portunity to hear a lecture, which they hoped would 
 make them better men and braver soldiers too, as 
 long as they lived. 
 
 About this time we received a flag from the ene- 
 my in Georgetown; the object of which was, to make 
 some arrangements ?bout the exchange of prisoners. 
 The flag, after the usual ceremony of blindfolding, 
 was conducted into Marion's encampment. Having 
 heard great talk about general Marion, his fancy had, 
 naturally enough, sketched out for him some stout 
 figure of a warrior, such as O'Hara or Cornwallis 
 himself, of martial aspect and flaming regimentals. 
 But what was his surprise, when, led into Marion's 
 presence, and the bandage taken from his eyes, he 
 beheld in our hero, a swarthy, smoke-dried little 
 man, with scarce enough of threadbare homespun to 
 cover his nakedness ! and in place of tall ranks, of 
 gaily dressed soldiers, a handful of sunburnt yeliow- 
 legged miiitia-men ; some roasting potatoes and some 
 asleep, with their black firelocks and powderhorns 
 lying by them on the logs I Having recovered a little 
 from his surprise, he presented his letter to general 
 Marion; who perused it^, and soon settled every thing 
 to his satisfaction. 
 
 The ofiicer took up his hat to retire 
 
 " Oh no '' said ^ia^ion ; it is novv^ about our time 
 of dining; and I hope, sir, you will give us the plea- 
 sure of your company to dinner." 
 
 At mention of the word dinner^ the British ofHcer 
 looked around him ; but to his great mortification, 
 could see no sign of a pot, pan, Dutch-oven, or any 
 other cooking utensil that could raise the spirits of a 
 hungr}' man. 
 
 
154 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " Well, Tom," said the general to one of his men 
 " come, give us our dinner." 
 
 The dinner, to which he alluded, was no other than 
 a heap of sweet potatoes, that were very snugly roast- 
 ing under the embers, and which Tom, with his pine 
 stick poker, soon liberated from their ashy confine- 
 ment; pinching them, every now and then, with his 
 fingers, especially the big ones, to see whether they 
 were well done or not. Then having cleansed them 
 oi the ashes, partly by blowing them with his breath, 
 and partly by brushing them with the sleeve of his 
 old cotton shirt, he piled some of the best on a large 
 piece of bark, and placed tht.ii between the British 
 officer and Marion, on the trunk of the fallen pine on 
 which they sat. 
 
 " I fear, sir," said the general, " our dinner will 
 not prove so palatable to you as I could wish ; but it 
 is the best we have." 
 
 The officer, who was a well bred man, took up one 
 of the potatoes and affected to feed, as if he had found 
 a great dainty; but it was very plain, that he ate 
 more from good manners than good appetite. 
 
 Presentlv he broke out into a hearty laugh. Ma- 
 rion looked surprised.-,"! beg pardon, general," 
 said he : "but one cannot, you know, always com- 
 mand his conceits. I was thinking how drolly some 
 of my brother officers w^ould look, if our government 
 were to give them such a bill of fare as this." 
 
 " I suppose," replied Marion, " it is not equal to 
 their style of dining." 
 
 " No, indeed," quoth the officer ; " and this, I ima- 
 gine, is one of your accidental lent dinners ; a sort of 
 a ban ijan. In general, no doubt, you live a greal 
 deal better." 
 
 " Rather v/orse," answered the general : " for often 
 we don't get enough of this." 
 
 " Heavens !" rejoined the officer. " Bat probably, 
 what you lose in meal you make up in malt i thongb 
 sti-nted in provisions^ you draw nohie pat^ ? 
 
 i'JV 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 155 
 
 **Not a cent, sir," said [Marion, " not a cent." 
 
 " Heavens and earth ! then you must be in a bad 
 hxDX. I don't see, general, how you can stand it." 
 
 " Why, sir," replied Marion, with a smile of self- 
 approbation, " these things depend on feeling." 
 
 The Englishman said, he " did not believe that it 
 would be an easy matter to reconcile his feelb\^s to a 
 soldier's life on general Marion's terms ; all fighting 
 and no pay I and 7io promsicns but potatoes f 
 
 " Why, sir," answered the general, " the h^art is 
 all; and, when that is much interested, a man can 
 do ^Ay thing. Many a youth would think it hard to 
 indent himself a slave for fourteen years. But let 
 him be over head and cars in love, and with such a 
 beauteous sweetheart as Rachel, and he will think no 
 more of fourteen years' servitude than young Jacob 
 did. Well, now, this is exactly my case. I am in 
 love; and my sweetheart is Lidert\". Be that hea- 
 venly nymph my companion,, and these v/ikls and 
 woods shall have charms beyond London and Paris 
 m slavery. To have no proud monarch driving 
 over me v;ith his gilt coaches ; nor his host of ex- 
 cise-men and tax-gatherers insulting and robbing me; 
 but to be my own master, my own prince and sove- 
 reign, gloriously preserving rny national dignity, and 
 pursuing my true happiness ; planting my vineyards, 
 and eating their luscious fruits ; and sov/ing my fields, 
 and reaping the golden grain : and seeing millions of 
 brothers all around me, equally free and happy as my» 
 self. This, sir, is what I long for." 
 
 The oiTicer replied, that both as a man and a Bri- 
 ton, he must certainly subscribe to this as a happy 
 state of things. 
 
 "Happy!" quoth Marion; ^' yes, happy indeed! 
 and I had rather light for such blessings for my coun- 
 try, and feed on roots, than keep aloof, though wal- 
 lowing in all the luxuries of Solomon. For now, sir, 
 I walk the soil that gave me birth, and exult in the 
 thought that I am not unworthy of it. I look upon 
 
156 THE LIFE OF 
 
 these venerable trees around me, and feel that I i* 
 not dishonour them. I think of my own sacrtd 
 rights, and rejoice that I have not basely deserted 
 them. And when I look forward to the long agei 
 of posterit)', I glory in the thought that I am Rghting 
 their battles. The children of distant generations 
 may never hear my name ; but still it gladdens my 
 heart to think that I am now contending for their 
 Jreedom^ and all its countless blessings." 
 
 I looked at Marion as h,e uttered these sentiments, 
 and fancied I felt as when I heard the last v/ords of 
 the brave De Kalb. The Englishman hung his ho- 
 nest head, and looked, I thought, as if he had seen 
 the upbraiding ghosts of his illustrious countrymen, 
 Sidney and Hampden. 
 
 On his return to Georgetown, he was asked bv 
 colonel Watson why he looked so serious ? 
 
 " I have cause, sir," said he, *' to look serious." 
 
 " ^\Tiat ! has general Marion refused to treat ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Well, then, has old Washington defeated sir 
 Henr\' Clinton, and broke up our army ?" 
 
 " No, sir, not that neither ; but ivorsep 
 
 " Ah ! what can be worse ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, I have seen an American general and 
 his officers, without pay, and almost without clothes, 
 living on roots and drinking water ; and all for Li- 
 berty! What chance have v/e against such men!" 
 
 It is said colonel Watson was not much obliged to 
 him for this speech. But the young ofncer was so 
 struck with Marion's sentiments, that he never rested 
 until he threw up his commission, and retired from 
 the service. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ^ IS? 
 : ' CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 * Ah brandy ! brandv I bane of lifc« 
 ** Sprins," cf tumait — source of strife : 
 » Could I but half thy curses teil, 
 "The wise would wish thee safe at he'll.* 
 
 Curious and Instructhe Anecdotes, 
 
 THAT great poet, John Milton, who scents to 
 liHve known him well, assures us that the devil was 
 ihe inventor of gunpv'wder. But, for my own part, 
 -^ere I in the humour to ascribe any particular inven- 
 tion to the author of all evil, it should be that of dis 
 tilling apple-brandy. Wt have scripture for it, thai 
 he began his capers with the apple ; then, why no* 
 go on vath the brandy, wnich is but the fiery juice 
 of the apple ? 
 
 At any rate, I am pretty sure I shall hardly ever 
 De able to think of it again with luicrable patience, as 
 kOng as I live. For, it was that vilc iikhy poison that 
 cut me out of one of the finest pluTr^^^i that I ever ex* 
 ected to feather my cap with. 
 1 nc case stands Lrieliy thus. 1 have told the 
 reader, that Marion surprised and captuied the cele* 
 brated tory partisan, colonel Tynes, after killing the 
 major part cf his men. For safe keepijig, he wcu? 
 dent into North Carolina; whence he made hid es- 
 cape — got back jnto the forests of Black rivtr, and 
 I collected a stout force to try his fortune a st\,o*id 
 j time with Marion. 
 
 ! But, getting knowledge of the thing, Marion made 
 j one of his forced marches, fell upon him, unawares, 
 j and broke him up worse than before ; killing and 
 ' Caking his whole party^ Tynes w?*. btnt again to 
 ! North Carolina; whence he contrived agr»in to make. 
 nis escape; and, returning to his old haunts, soou 
 , rallied a form^idable force, for a third trial. This 
 j news was ioon brought to general Marion, who there- 
 upon, dsi^ rT(". rac \^ take foity of our best cavaliersi 
 
15B THE LIFE OF 
 
 and see if \ye could not scourge colonel Tynes once 
 more. 
 
 About sunset we mounted, and travelled hard all 
 that night and until the middle of next day, when we 
 halted, for refreshment, at the house of one who was 
 truly a " publican and sinner,'' for he was a great tory 
 
 Not knowing what secret intelligence the man 
 might convey to the enemy, who were but fifteen 
 miles off, I had him taken up and put under guard. 
 We then got dinner, for which we honourably paid 
 the poor woman his v/ife. And now comes my woful 
 story. While, after dinner, I was busily employed 
 in catechising my prisoner, how should the devil be 
 employed, but in tempting my men with the distilled 
 juice of the apple ? Having, by some ill luck, found | 
 out that there v/as a barrel of it in the house, they 
 hastened to the poor landlady, who not only gave 
 them a full dose for the present, but tilled their bot- 
 tles and canteens. 
 
 As we pushed on, after dinner, in high spirits, foi 
 the enemy, I could not but remark how constantly 
 the men were turning up their canteens. 
 
 '' What the plague have you got there, boys," said 
 I, " that you are so eternally drinking." 
 
 " Water ! sir, water ! nothing but water !" Tht 
 rogues were drinking brandy all the time ; but, bv 
 way of whipping the devil round the stump, they 
 called it xvater I that is, apple water. 
 
 Presently, finding, from their gaiety and froiick* 
 someness, what they had been after, I ordered a halt, 
 and set myself to harangue them for such unsoldierly 
 conduct. But I m.ight as well have talked to a troop 
 of drunken Yahoos. For, some of them grinned in 
 my face like monkeys ; others looked as stupid as 
 asses ; while the greater part chattered like magpies . 
 each boasted what a clever fellow he was, and what 
 mighty things he could do, yet reeling all the time, 
 and scarcely able to sit his horse. Indeed our guide, 
 
GEN. FRANClb -j^AUION. 159 
 
 X fat jolter-heade:^ ''ellow, fetching one of his heavy 
 lee lurches, got so far beyond his perpendicular, that 
 he could not right again ; but fell olT, and came to 
 the ground as helpless as a miller^s bag. In short, 
 among my whole corps there was but one sober man, 
 and that was captain Neilson. 
 
 It is not for language to express one thousandth 
 part of my mortification and rage. To have made 
 such an extraordinary march, and at the head of such 
 choice fellows too; to have come almost within sight 
 of the enemy ; an enemy that I was eager to humble, 
 and which would have yielded me so complete and 
 glorious a victory ; and yet to have lost all so shame- 
 fully: and thus like a fool to be sent back to my 
 general, v/ith my finger in my mouth.- v/as, indeed, 
 almost beyond endurance. But I was obliged to en- 
 dure it. For, to have led my men into action, in that 
 condition, would have been no better than murdering 
 them. And to have kept them there until they could 
 have cooled off, was utterly out of the question. For 
 there was no-t a family in that whole district that 
 would, with their good will, have given us an hour's 
 repose, or a morsel of bread. I therefore instantly 
 ordered a retreat, which was made with all the noise 
 and irregularity that might h?.ve been expected from 
 a troop of drunkards, each of whom mistaking him- 
 self for commander in chief, gave orders according to 
 his own mad humour ; and whooped and hallooed at 
 such a rate, that I verily believed, no bull-drivers 
 ever made half the racket. 
 
 That we should have obtained a most complettj 
 victory, is very certain. For in a few days after this, 
 we laid hands upon some of those very same toriesi^ 
 who stated, that in consequ«?ace of the noise which 
 we made that night, colonel Tynes despatched some 
 of his cavalry up the road next morning, to see what 
 was the matter. On comiiig to tbe spot, where I ha I 
 vainly endeavoured to form my drunken dogs, the / 
 P 
 
160 THE LIFE OF 
 
 found on the ground some of our plumes ; which 
 colorel T\Ties no sooner saw than he bawled out, 
 " Marion I Marion /" then, leaping on their horses^ 
 ofTthey went, whip and spur. 
 
 *'' Well, where is colonel Tynes V said the general, 
 as I entered his presence. This was the question 
 which I had expected, and, indeed, blushed for the 
 answer. But after hearing my doleful story, he re- 
 plied with his usual philosophy : " WelL you did right 
 to retreat ; but pray keep a careful eye on the apple 
 water next time." 
 
 But to give the devil his due, I must confess there 
 was one instance, in which I thought some good was 
 done by brandy. This was in the case of captain 
 Snipes and his command, which by way of farce to 
 Biy own tragedy, I beg leave to relate. 
 
 Hearing of a tory camp-meeting not far distant, 
 Marion despatched the brave captain Snipes with a 
 party to chastise them* They had scarcely got upon 
 the tory cruising-ground, before, at a short turn in the 
 road, they came full butt upon a large body of horse- 
 men. Supposing them to be tories, Snipes instantly 
 gave the word to charge ; himself leading the way 
 with his usual impetuosity. The supposed tories, 
 wheeling about, took to the sands, and went off, as 
 hard as their horses could stave ; and thus, crack and 
 crack, they had it for a])Out two miles. 
 
 Finding that Snipes was gaining upon them, the 
 runagates began tol/ghten themselvf'.s of every thing 
 they could spare, r.nd the road was presently strewed 
 with blankets apj knapsacks. One of them, it seems, 
 carried a five gallon keg of brandy, which he could 
 not think of parting vv'ith ; and being well mounted, he 
 stood a g'ood pull for the tv/o first miles. But finding 
 he was dropping astern very fast, he slyly cut the straps 
 jf his mail pillion, and so let his keg, brandy and all 
 go by the run, over his horse's rump. Captain Snipes. 
 nrho led the chase, found uu difficulty \\\ passing the 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARKVN. 161 
 
 keg s Iriit his men coming up instantly, luoachcd to, ai& 
 standiiig; for tbey could no more ya&s by a keg (vj 
 brandy, than young monkeys could pass a basket oi 
 apples. 
 
 Snipes cursed and raved like a madman, but all is- 
 vain : for they swore they tniiat have a dram. "W^hile 
 they were devising ways and means how to get mUv 
 the keg, the supposed tories, now a good distance 
 fthead, carne to a halt, and their captain fortunately re- 
 flecting that their pursuers might not be <'r)emies, sen! 
 ' back a flag. The result was, the very joyful disrovery, 
 that the owners of the keg were good whigs coming 
 lojoin general Marion. Thus, to a moral certainty^ 
 this keg of brandy was made, of kind heaven, the 
 happy means of preventing much blood.-^hed that day 
 \ Having given tM^o cases of Inandy, the one good, 
 the oiher bad, I will now give a third, which the reader, 
 I if he pleases, may call hid'ijfcrent^ and which runs as 
 I follows. 
 
 General Marion, still encamped in the neighbour- 
 ' hood of Georgetown, ordered captain Withers to 
 I take sergeant Macdonald, v/ith four volunteers, and 
 \ go on the enemy's lines to see what they were doing. 
 ' (3n approaching the tov.m, they met an old tory ; one 
 I of your haii-witted fellows, whom neither side re- 
 garded any more than a Jew does a pig, and there- 
 I fore sulleredhim to stroll Avhen and where he pleased. 
 I The old man knew captain Withers very well ; and 
 j as soon as he had got near enough to recollect him, 
 I he bawled out, " God's mercy, master Withers ! why, 
 I where are you going this course ?" 
 
 " Going, old daddy ! why to the devil, perhaps," 
 1 replied Withers. 
 
 : " Well faith ! that's like enough, captain," said the 
 J old man, " especially if you keep on this tack much 
 longer. But before you go any further, suppose you 
 take a pull with me uf this holding up a stout tickler 
 
162 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of brandy, mayhap you may not gel such good liqctoi* 
 where you are going." 
 
 " WitJi all my heart, daddy," answered Withers, 
 and twigg'd the tickler to the tune of a deep dram : 
 tlien passed it on to Macdonald, who also twigg'd it, 
 " and Tom Iwigg'd it, and Dick twigg'd it, and Har- 
 ry twigg'd it, and so they all tv/igg'd it." In the 
 mean time the chat went round very briskly, and 
 dram after dram, die brandy, until the tickler was 
 drained to the bottom. And then the subtle spirit 
 of the brandy, ascending into their noddles, worked 
 such wonders, that they all began to feel themselves 
 as big as field officers. Macdonald, for his part, wi-th 
 a face as red as a comet, reined up Sellm, and draw- 
 ing his claymore, began to pitch and prance about, 
 cutting and slashing the empty air, as if he had a score 
 of enemies befoie him, and ever and anx)n, roaring 
 out — "Huzza, boys! daniine, let's charge!" 
 
 " Charge, boys ! charge !" cried all the rest, rein- 
 ing up their horses, and flourishing their swords. 
 
 **• Where tne plague are you going to charge ?*' 
 asked the old tory. 
 
 " Why, into Georgetown, right off," replied they. 
 
 " Well, you had better have a care boys, how you 
 charge there, for I'll be blamed if you do not get 
 yourselves into business pretty quick : for the town 
 is chock full of red coats." 
 
 " Red coats !" on-e and all the}' roared out, " red 
 coats ! egad, that's just what we want. Charge, 
 boys ! charge ! huzza for the red coats, damme !" 
 
 Then, clapping spurs to their steeds, off went these 
 six young mad-caps, huzzaing and flourishing their 
 swords, and charging at full tilt, into a British gar* 
 risen town of three hundred men ! I 
 
 The enemy, supposing that this was only our nd 
 vame^ and that general IVIarion, witli his whole force, 
 would presently be upon them, fiew with all speed to 
 their redoubt, and there iav% as snug as fie;i.i in a 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MATtlON . ,161 
 
 shccp'Skin. But all of them were not quite so lucky, 
 for several were overtaken and cut down in the streets, 
 among whom was a sergeant major, a stout greasy 
 fellow, who strove hard to waddle away with his 
 bacon; but Selim was too quick for him: and Mac- 
 donald, with a back-handed stroke of his claymore, 
 sent his frightened ghost to join the majority. 
 
 Having thus cleared the streets, our young troo^t- 
 ers then called at the houses of their friends ; asi;*-:! 
 the nexus ; and drank their grog v/ith great unconcern. 
 
 The British, after having for some time vainly 
 looked for Marion, began to smell the trick, and in 
 great wrath sallied forth for vengeance. Our adven- 
 turers then, in turn, were fain to scamper oiF as fast 
 as thev had made the others before, but with better 
 success ; for though hundreds of muskets Avere fire(i 
 after them, they got clear without receiving a scratch. 
 
 But nothing ever so mortilied the British, as did 
 this mad frolic. " That half a dozen d-n-d young 
 rebels," they said, '^ should thus dash in among us in 
 open daylight, and fall to cutting and slashing the 
 king^'^s troops at this rate. And after all, to gallop 
 away without the least harm in hair or hide. 'Tis 
 high time to turn our bayonets into pitch forks, and 
 go to foddering the cows." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 History of captain Snipes — wanton destruction of his 
 property by thetories — his own miraculous escape — 
 admirable fidelity of his negro driver Cudjo. 
 
 CAPTAIN SNIPES, who made such a figure in 
 the wars of Marion, was a Carolinian, of uncommon 
 strength and courage ; both of which he exerted with 
 great good will, against the British and tories ; from 
 principle partly, and partly from revenge. But though 
 a choice soldier, he was no philosopher. He did not 
 consider that to fight for duty, people must love it • 
 P2 
 
!64 THE LIFE OF 
 
 that to love it, they must understand it ; that to un- 
 derstand it, they must possess letters and religion : 
 that the British and tories, poor fellows ! possessing 
 neither of these, were not to have been expected to 
 *ict any other than the savage and thievish part they 
 did act; and therefore, no more to be hated for it 
 llian the cats are for teazing the canary birds. 
 
 But captain Snipes had no turn for investigations 
 of this sort. Knovidedge, by intuition, v/as all that 
 he cared for ; and having it, by instinct, that an 
 " Englishman ought never to fight against liberty," 
 nor an *' American against his own country," he 
 looked on them, to use his own phrase, as a " pack 
 of d-n-d rascals, whom it was doing God service to 
 kill wherever he could find them." 
 
 But Snipes was not the aggressor. He kept in, 
 very decently, till the enemy began to let out, as they 
 did, in plundering^ burnings and hanging the poor 
 whigs ; and then, indeed, like a consuming fire, his 
 smothered hate broke forth : 
 
 " That hate which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign, 
 " The souls of royal slaves untimely slain." 
 
 Afraid, in fair fight, to m.eet that sword which had 
 ^o often shivered their friends, they determined to 
 take him as the Philistines did Sampson, by surprise ; 
 and having learned from their spies, that he was at 
 home, they came upon him in force about midnight. 
 His complete destruction, both of life anc^ property, 
 was their horrid aiiti. Happily, his driver, or black 
 overseer, overheard their approach ; and fiving to his 
 master with terror-struck looks, cries out " Run ! run ' 
 massa, run ! de enemy 'pon you." 
 
 Snipes, stark nakedt save his shirt, darted out a* 
 swift as his legs could carry him. 
 
 " But whore shall I run, Cudjo ? into the bam ?" 
 " Oh no, massa I dey burn de barn, dat sure ting !'* 
 " Well,where shall I run then ?" 
 ** Take de bush massa ! take de brf^r bush." 
 
GEN FRANCIS MARION. 165 
 
 Within fifty yards of the house was a clump of 
 briers, so thick set, that one would have thought a 
 frightened cat would scarcely have squeezed herself 
 into it from the hot pursuing dogs. But what will 
 not fear enable a man to do ? Captain Snipes, big as 
 he was, slipped into it with the facility of a v/easel 
 through the chinks of a chicken-coop ; but lost even/ 
 thread and thrum of his shirt; and moreover, got 
 his hide so scratched and torn by the briers, that the 
 blood trickled from him fast as gravy from a fat 
 green goose. 
 
 Scarcely had he gained his hiding-place, before the 
 tories, with horrid oaths, burst into his house, with 
 their guns cocked, ready to shoot him. But oh ! 
 death to their hopes ! he was gone : the nest was there, 
 and ivann^ but the bird was flown I 
 
 Then seizing poor Cudjo by the throat, they bawl- 
 ed out: " You d — d rascal, where's your master?" 
 
 He told them he did not know. 
 
 " You lie I you black son of a b-t-h ! you lie." 
 
 But he still asserted he knew nothing of his master. 
 
 Suspecting that he must be in some one or other 
 of his buildings, they set fire to them all ; to his 
 dwelling house, his kitchen, his stables, and even his 
 negro cabins, watching all the while, with their 
 muskets ready to shoot him as he Y:xn out. From 
 their nearness to his lurking place, the l^eat of his 
 burni:«ig houses was so intense as to parch his skin 
 mto blisters. But it was death to stir, for he would 
 certainly have been seen. 
 
 Not having made the discovery they so much wish- 
 ed, they again seized Cudjo ; and, with their cocked 
 pieces at his breast, swore if he did not instantly tell 
 tliem where his master was, they would put him to 
 death. 
 
 He still declared he did not know where he waa. 
 
 Then they clapped a halter round his aeck, and tol'' 
 
166 THE LIFE OF 
 
 iiim to " (lov/n on his knees, and say his prayers il 
 once, for he had bat two minutes to live !" 
 
 He replied, that he " did not want to say hi« 
 prayers nozu^ for that he was no thief ^ and had always 
 been a true slave to his master." 
 
 - This fme sentiment of the poor black was entirely 
 lost on our malignant ivhites ; who, throwing the end 
 of the halter over the limb of an oak, tucked him up 
 as though he had been a mad dog. He hung till h«-; 
 was nearly dead ; when one of them called out, 
 " D — n him, cut him down, I'll be bound he'll tell \ii 
 now." Cudjo was accordingly cut down ; and, as 
 soon as a little recovered, questioned again about hia 
 7naster. Buthe still declared he knew nothing of him. 
 He was then^'^isted a second time ; and a second time, 
 when nearly dead, cut down and questioned as before : 
 but still asserted his ignorance. I'he same inhuman 
 part was acte'^ on him a third time^ but with no bccicr 
 success ; for the brave fellow still continued faithful 
 to his master, who squatted and trembled in his place 
 of torment, his brier bush, and saw and heard all that 
 was passing. 
 
 Persuaded now that Cudjo really knew nothing of 
 his master, they gave up the shameful contest, and 
 went off, leaving him half dead on the ground, but 
 covered with glory. 
 
 It is not easy to conceive a situation more severely 
 torturing than this of captain Snipes. His house, with 
 all his furniture, his kitchen, his barn and rice-stacks, 
 his stables, with several fine horses, and his negro 
 houses, ;'dl wrapped in flames ; himself scorched and 
 blistered with the furious heat, yet not daring to stirj 
 his retreat well known to a poor slave ; and that 
 slave alone^ in the hands of an enraged banditti, with 
 their muskets at his breast, imprecating the most hor- 
 rid curses on themselves, if they did not instantly 
 murder him unless he disclosed the secret ! What 
 had he to expect of this poor slave, but that he would 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 167 
 
 Bink under the dreadful trial, and to sa\e himself 
 would sacrifice his master. But Snipes was safe. T( 
 discover his hiding-place, death sta/ed his slave it 
 \he face, hut, happily, his slave possessed for him thai 
 ** love which is stronger than death." 
 
 Captain Snipes and his man Cudjo had been brought 
 up from childhood together ; and the father of our 
 hero being a professor of Christianity, a Baptist 
 preacher, whose main excellence is '''' to teach little 
 children to love one another," had taken great p-ains 
 to inspire his son with love towards his little slave. 
 Nor did that love pass unrequited. For Cudjo used 
 every day to follow his young master to school, car- 
 rying his basket for him, prattling as he went ; and 
 smiling, would remind him of the coming Saturday^ 
 and what fine fishing and hunting they v/ouldhave that 
 day. Many a time had they wrestled, and slept side 
 by side on the green ; and tbence springing up again 
 \ with renovated strength, set out in full march for some 
 I favourite fruit tree, or some cooling pond, there to 
 I swim and gambol in the refreshing £^od. And when 
 ' the time of dinner came, Cudjo was not scornfully 
 left to sigh and to gnaw his nails alone, but would 
 \ play and sing about the door till his young master 
 I was done, and then he was sure to receive a good 
 \ plate full for himself. Love, thus early ingrafied on 
 I his heart, grew U'p with daily increasing strength to 
 I manhood ; when Snipes, by the death of his lather, 
 became master of the estate, made Cudjo his driver 
 or overseer, and thus rivetted on his honest bosom 
 that sacred friendship v/hich, as we have seen, enabled 
 him to triumph in one of the severest trials that hu- 
 man nature was ever put to. 
 
 The above is a solemn fact, and the wise will lay 
 't to heart 
 
X68 THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Mation pursues major Muckleworth—Jine anecdote jj 
 the major — Mar'zoiCs generosity to him. 
 
 LEARNING that a detachment of the British wer*5 
 marching up Black river towards Statesburgh and 
 Camden, general Marion gave orders to chase ; which 
 was coiiducted, as usual, with such rapidity, that 
 about suxTset of the second day we came up with them. 
 Our advance^ composed of choice fellows, instantly 
 began to skirmish with the enemy, of whom xhty 
 killed tight or nine. A few on both sides, rather 
 badly wounded, were made prisoners. Marion, 
 coming up, gave orders to call off the troops, meaning 
 to give the enemy a serious brush in the morning.— 
 But of this gratification they entirely disappointed us, 
 hy striking their tents and pushing off in silence be- 
 fore day. 
 
 Soon as light returned, and the retreat of the British 
 %va3 announced, we renewed the pursuit ; and by late 
 breakfast-time, reached the house at which the enemy 
 had refreshed themselves. This house belonged to a 
 poor, but excellent old lady, well known to Marion. 
 
 The general was hardly alighted from his horse, be- 
 fore the old lady had him by the hand, declaring how 
 happy she had ahuays been to see him, "but now,'' 
 continued she, " if I an't right down sorry to see you, 
 then I'll be hanged." 
 
 Marion, v/ith a look of surprise, asked her why she 
 was son-y to see him 7ioxu. 
 
 '* Oh I don't I know you too well, general ? don't I 
 knoAV that old Scratch lumself can't keep you from 
 fiifhiiug- P And now you are hurrying along here, 
 with all your men, only to fight the British. An't il 
 so now, general i"'' 
 
 jVlarion lold her, that thai was indeed his business. 
 
 "Well, dear me now! and did I not tell you soi 
 Bat pray now, my dear gen^*-«'l Marion, let me bcij 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 160 
 
 6f you, don't you do any harm to that dear good man 
 that major Muckle^vorth, who went from here a little 
 while ago: for O ! he^s the sweetest-spoken, mildes. 
 lookmg, noblest-spirited Englishman 1 ever saw in all 
 my born days. As to that Rawdon and Tartletou 
 God's curse upon the thieves and blackguards ' 1 
 would not care if you could kill a thousand of them 
 But t), at good major Muckleworth! indeed, indeed 
 now general, you m.ust not hurt a hair of his head 
 lor It vrould be such a crying sin." ' 
 
 IMarlon asked her in what respects was he better 
 than other British officers. 
 
 " Better than other British officers !" replied the old 
 w^;""''^^"^^*^, bless your dear soul, general Marion ! 
 Well, come along, come along with me, and 1^11 let 
 you see." 
 
 ^ We followed the old lady, who, tripping along 
 mmble as a gn-1, conducted us into a clean lookinf^ 
 cabm, wherein sat a middle-aged man very genteelly 
 dressed, and several wounded persons lying before 
 him, on pallets on the floor. Marion saluted the 
 stranger, who informed us that he was " a surgeon in 
 the service of his Britannic majesty, and left by major 
 Muckleworth to take care of the wounded ; of whom 
 6ir I believe that nearly one half are your oiun vien "' 
 Here ihe old lady's face brightened up towards 
 
 • rfc";,"^?'-^ ^''''"S ^'''''^' "^ '^^^^' significant look, she 
 said. Ah ha, general ! didn't I tell vou so f" 
 
 Then diving her withered h'jnd in her pocket, she 
 scooped up a shining parcel of English guineas, and 
 cxultingly cried out, '^ See there, general < see there's 
 a sight for you ? and every penny of it given me bv 
 that dear good gentleman, major Muckleworth ; everv 
 penny of it, sir. Yes, and if you will but believe me 
 general, when I and my daughters were getting 
 breakfast for him and his people, if he didn't come 
 Here himself with his sergeants, and had this place 
 swept out all so sweet and clean for them poor sick 
 people ; and, with his owa dear hands too, helped that 
 
170 THE LIFE OF 
 
 gentleman there to dress and doctor the poor things 
 that he did. 
 
 " And then besides all that, general, he was such a 
 sweet spoken gentleman ! for when I asked him how 
 his men came to be* hurt so, he did not, like that beast 
 Tarleton, turn black and blue in the face, and fall to 
 cursing the d — d rebels. Oh no ! not he indeed. Bm 
 he said with a smile, We got them wounded last 
 night, madam, in a little brush with your brave coun- 
 tryman, general Marion. 
 
 "Now only think of that, general! And besides, 
 when he was going away, what do you think he did? 
 Why, sir, he sent for me and said, Weil, my good 
 madam, and what shall I pay you for all the trouble 
 we have given you, and also for taking care of the 
 doctor I am going to leave v/ith you, and the sick peo- 
 ple, who may be on your l>ands for a fortnight yet? 
 
 " I told him it was no business of mine to fix a price. 
 
 " He seemed surprised, and asked me Vi'hat I meant 
 Dy that. 
 
 " I answered that I was now all one as his prisoner^ 
 and prisoners had nothing they could call their own. 
 
 "My king, said he, madam, does not make war 
 against widows. 
 
 " I told him I wished to God all his countrymen had 
 remembered that I it would have saved the hunger and 
 nakedness, and cries and tears of many a poor widow 
 and orphan. At this he seemed mightily hurt. 
 
 '• I then told him tli.it many of the British ofHcers, 
 after eating and drinking all that they wanted, for 
 themselves and people, and horses, instead of turn- 
 ing round to paij^ as he had done, kad turned in to 
 ■fjlujider^ and then set fire to the houses, not leaving 
 the widows and children a cover over their heads, 
 Dor a bit of bread for their mouths, nor a stitch of 
 clothes for their backs. 
 
 " My God ! said he, and is this the way that my 
 countrym.en have come here to carry on war ! Well 
 madam, (so he went on,) my king does not know any 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. t7l 
 
 thing of this, nor does the English nation, I am sure, 
 [f they did, they %vouM certainly call those officers to 
 Account. Such men will ruin our cause. For the 
 word of God assures us, that his ear is always open 
 to the cry of the widow and orphan ; and believe me, 
 madam, I dread their cry more than I do the shouts 
 of an enemy's army, Hovrever, madam, (continued 
 he,) I have not a moment to lose, for I am sure 
 general Marion is pursuing me as hard as he can, so 
 let me know wiiat I owe you. 
 
 "I told him again, I made no charge ; but since he 
 was so good as to insist on giving me something, I 
 begged to leave the matter entirely to himself. Upon 
 which, after a moment's study, he looked at me and 
 said, Well, madam, suppose we say sixpence stt^rling 
 ;>pie»ce man and horse, all around, will that do ? I 
 replied that v/as too much, a great deal too much, for 
 such a poor bi>eakfast as I had given him and his 
 men. Not a pciwy too much^ madani^ said he, /ii'c* and 
 let live is the royal law, madam, and here's your mo- 
 ney. With that he put all these guineas here, into 
 my hand! and said moreover, that if the doctor and 
 sick people should be longer with me, and give nie 
 more trouble and cost than we had counted on, then i 
 must sena a note to him, at such a house in Charles- 
 ton, and he would send me the money. And now, 
 . general, would it not be a burning shame to go kill 
 such a dear good gentleman as that?" 
 
 P/Iarion listened v/ith delight to the old lady's his- 
 tory of this amiable omcer ; but on her leaving him 
 to hasten our breakfast, he looked very pensive, and 
 at a loss what to do. However, as soon as the troops 
 were refreshed, he ordered my brother, colonel H. 
 Horry, who led the advance, to remount, and push 
 after the enemy with all speed. We ibliowed close 
 in the rear. For an hour the general did not open 
 Kis mouth, but rode on like one absorbed in thought. 
 At length heaving adeep sigh, he said " Well, I sup» 
 
ira THE LlFK OF 
 
 pose I feel now very much as I should feel, were X 
 m jjursuit of a brother to kill him." 
 
 About three oYlock our advance came up with the 
 enemy, near the wealthy and hospitable captain John 
 Singleton's mills, where the firing instantly com« 
 menced, and was as spiritedly returned by the BritisK 
 still retreating. Our marksmen presently stopped oni 
 of iVIuckle worth's captains, and several of his mer., 
 who lay dead on the ground at the very spot where 
 we happened to join the advance. The sight of these 
 poor fellows lying in their blood, gave the general's 
 wavering mind the casting vote in favour of generosi- 
 ty ; for he immediately cried out, ''^Call off the troops ! 
 call off the troops .'" Then turning to his aid he said, 
 *' I cannot stand it any longer ; we owe yon English- 
 men to our injured country ; but there is an angel 
 that guards them. Ten righteous Lots would have 
 saved Sodom. One generous Muckle worth shall save 
 this handful. Let us turn and fight other enemies." 
 
 The general's orders were quicklv passed on to the 
 troops to cease firing. And to their credit be it 
 spoken, they never, I believe, obeyed his orders with 
 more alacrity than on this occasion. Indeed I heard 
 many of them say, afterwards, that major Muckle- 
 worth's generosity to their wounded comrades and 
 to the poor widow, had so won tkeir hearts to him, 
 that they had none left wherewith t^ fight against 
 him ; and they said also, that, for their parts, they 
 had rather kill a thousand such savages as Rawdon 
 and Taileton, than hurt a hair of major Muckl&^ 
 worth's head. 
 
 From the effect produced on our troops, by this 
 amia?de officer's conduct, I have been often led to 
 think favourably of a saying common with Marion, 
 viz. hf>>d the Bricish officers but acted as became a 
 wise and magnanimous enemy, they might easily 
 have recovered the revolted colonies. 
 
 Never did the pulse of l-ove towards a parent state 
 beat stronger in human hai?aiTJs than in those of the 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARIOlNr. 173 
 
 Carolinians towards Britain. We looked on her as 
 indeed our mother, and on her children as our bro- 
 thers. And ah ! had their government but treated 
 us with corresponde-nt kindness, Carolina would have 
 been with them to a man. Had they said to the peo- 
 ple, as they might easily have done, (for there was 
 time, and a long time too, when the whole state was 
 entirely at their feet,) had they then said to us, " We 
 are far richer, far stronger, than you ; we can easily 
 burn your houses, take your provisions, carry off your 
 cattle, and sweep your country with the besom of 
 destruction ; but we abhor the idea. Your houses, 
 your women, your children, are all sacred in our eyes ; 
 and even of your goods we will touch nothing with- 
 out giving you a reasonable price." Had they but 
 said this, Carolina would, to a certainty, have been 
 divorced from Congress, and re-wedded to Britain, 
 
 We may lay what emphasis we please on the term 
 countri/?ne?iy countrif77ien I but after all, as Christ says, 
 " he is our countryman who showeth mercy unto us." 
 
 A British officer, a major Muckle worth, for exam- 
 ple, calls at my plantation, and takes my fine horses 
 and fat beeves, my pigs, poultry and grain ; but at 
 parting, launches out for me a fist full of yellow boys! 
 On the ether hand, an American officer calls and 
 sweeps me of every thing, and then lugs out a bundle 
 of continental proc ! such trash, that hardly a cow 
 would give a corn shock for a horse load of it. 
 
 The Englishman leaves me richer than he found 
 me, and abler to educate and provide for my chil- 
 dren : the American leaves me and my family half 
 ruined. Now I wish to know where, in such a self- 
 ish world as this, where is there a man in a million, 
 but would take part with the generous Englishman, 
 and fight for him ? 
 
 This was the theory of Marion ; and it was the. 
 practice of Muckleworth, whom it certainly saved to 
 the British ; and would, if universal, have saved Ca- 
 ?fc>lina and Georgia to them tooj aad perhaps, all 
 
tU THE LIFE OF 
 
 America. But so little idea had they of this mode of 
 conciliating' to conquer.^ that when the good majoi 
 Muckleworth rtiturned to Charleston, he was hooted 
 at by the British officers, who said he might do well 
 enough for a chaplain, or a methodist preacher, for 
 what they knew, but they'd be d — n — d if he were fit 
 to be a British major. 
 
 The truth is, such divine philosophy was too refined 
 for such coarse and vulgar characters, as Cornwallis, 
 Rawdon, Tarleton, Balfour, and Weymies ; monsters 
 who disgraced the brave and generous nation they 
 represented, and completely damned the cause they 
 were sent to save. But what better was to have been 
 expected of those, who, from early life, if tradition 
 say true, discovered a total dislike to the ennobling 
 pleasures of literature anJ devotion, hut a boundless 
 passion for the brutalizing sports of the bear-garden 
 and cockpit? Bull-baiters, cock-fighters, and dog 
 worriers, turned officers, had no idea of conquering 
 the Americans, but by " cutting their throats or 
 knocking out their brains ;" or as the tender hearted 
 Cornwallis commanded, by "hanging them, and tak- 
 ing away, or destroying their goods." 
 
 Now iSatan himself could have counselled my lorci: 
 better than that; as any msn vci2i.j see^ who will bu3^ 
 open his bible and turn to the bo^ok of Job, chap, tk- 
 1st, verse 6th, and so on. There Moses informs^ thas) 
 when Satan, whose effrontery is up to any thin^. pre' 
 sented himself at the grand levee, the Almighty vory 
 civilly asked him, (now mind thai, saints, in youjf 
 speech to poor sinners) — the Almighty, I say, verj 
 civilly asked him " where he had been of late." 
 
 To this, his royal highness, the brimstone king, re- 
 plied, that he had been only ta.king a turn or two *' up 
 and down the earth." 
 
 The divine voice again interrogated : " Hast thou 
 «.onsidered my servant Job ? an excellent man, is hf 
 not ; one who ieareth God and escheweth evil ?" 
 
 " Job's well enough," replied Satan^ rather pertly 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 1/5 
 
 *' but where's the wonder of Al that ? You have done 
 great things for the fellow ; you have planted a hedge 
 around him, and around all that he hath on every side. 
 You have blessed the works of his hands, and his 
 substance is increased in the land ; and if, after all 
 this, he cannot afford you a little gratitude, he must 
 be a poor devil indeed. j3ut put forth thine hand iiow^ 
 iind touch all that lie hath^ and he'' II curse thee to thy 
 faceP 
 
 This was the deviPs logic as to ]oh : but the British 
 general had not the wit to reason in that style towards 
 the Americans. Fur my lord Cornwallis said unto 
 my lord Rawdon ; and my lord Rawdon said unto 
 my ivould-be lord, colonel Tarleton; and colone) 
 Tarleton said unto major Weymies ; and m.ajor 
 Weymies said unto Will Cunningham, and imto the 
 British soldiers with their tory negro allies ; ^' Put 
 forth your hands, boys, and burn, and plunder the 
 d-n-d rebels ; and instead of cursing you to your face, 
 they will fall down and kiss your feet.'' 
 
 " Experieace," says Doctor Franklin, '* is a drar 
 school: hut fools will learn in no other, and hardly 
 in that.^' And what right had lord North to expect 
 success in America, when for oPiicers he sent such 
 fools as would take no lesson either from God or devil. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Colonel Watsmi aitemt)ts to surprise ^larion-^^is oitt- 
 generated^ and after much losa driven back to George" 
 t07vn, 
 
 IN consequence of his incessant attacks on the 
 British and tories, Marion was, I believe, heartily 
 hated hv them, as ever Sampson v/as by the Philis- 
 tines, "JT George White field by the devil. Nutiierous 
 were tL^ attempts made by their best officers to sur- 
 prise him ; but such was his ovv'n vigilance and the 
 ] fidelity of his whig; friends^ that )ie seldom failed ^o 
 
176 THE LIFE OF 
 
 get the first blow at them, and to take their unwary 
 feet in the same evil net which they had spread for him. 
 His methofJ to anticipate the meditated malice of 
 his enemies, is well worthv of notice. He always had 
 in his service a parcel of active young men, generally 
 selected from the best whig families, and of tried 
 courage and fidelity. Tliese, mounted on the swiftest 
 horses, he v/ould station in the neighbourhood of those 
 places where the British and tories were embodied in 
 force, as Camden, Georgetown, &c. with instructions 
 to leave no stratagem untried to find out the intended 
 movements of the enemy. Instantly as this informa- 
 tion was obtained, (whether by climbing tall trees 
 that overlooked the garrisons, or ixova friench acting 
 as market people) they were to mount and push oif 
 at full speed to the nearest of a chain of posts estab- 
 lished at short and convenient distances, with fleet 
 horses ready saddled and bridled, to bear the intelli- 
 gence with equal speed, the first to the second, the 
 second to the third, and so on. In this expeditious? 
 method, as by a telegraph, Marion was presently no 
 tified of the designs of the enemy. Of the exceeding 
 importance of such a plan, we had a very striking 
 proof at this time. Exasperated against Marion, for 
 the infinite harm he did the royal cause in Carolina, 
 the British general, in Camden, determined to surprise 
 him at his old place of retreat, Snow's Island; and 
 thus destroy or oreak him up completely. To this end 
 he despatched a couple of favourite ofHcers, colonels 
 Watson and Doyle, with a heavy force, both cavaln' 
 and infantry, to seize the lower bridge on Black river 
 and thereby eifectually prevent our escape. But the 
 vigilance and activity of his scouts frustrated thisi 
 well-concerted plan entiiely. Ciettirg early notice of 
 this manoeuvre by captain, now general Canty, Ma- 
 Hon instantly started his troops, composed chiefly of 
 mounted riflemen and light dragoons, and pushed hard 
 for the same point. By taking a nearer cut, v/e had 
 the good fortune to gain the bridge before the enemv^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 17f 
 
 and having destroyed it as soon as we crossed, we 
 concealed ourselves in the dark swamp, anxiously 
 waiting their arrival. In a short time, they came in 
 full view on the opposite hill, and there encamped.— 
 Presently, unapprchen&,ve of danger, for they saw 
 nothing of us, two of their men came down for water 
 to the river. Unable to resist such a temptation, two 
 of our noted marksmen instantly drew their sights and 
 let fly. The two Englishmen fell ; one of them was 
 killed dead ; the other badly v^ounded, and so fright- 
 ened, that he bellovv'ed like a bull-calf for help. Seve- 
 ral of his gallant comrades ran to his assistance, but 
 they were shot down as fast as they got to him. 
 
 The next morning colonel Watson sent a flag over 
 to Marion, whom he charged witln carrying on war in 
 , a manner entirely different from all civilized nations. 
 I " Why sir," said he to Marion, " you must certainly 
 ( command a horde of savages, who delight in nothing 
 j but murder. I can't cross a swamp or a bridge, but I 
 I am waylaid and shot at as if I were a mad dog. 
 I Even my sentries are iired at and killed on their 
 I posts. Why, my God, sir ! this is not the way that 
 Christians ought to fight !" 
 
 To this Marion replied, that " he was sorry to be 
 obliged to say, that from what he had knov/n of them, 
 the British officers were the last men on earth who 
 I had any right to preach about iionour and humanity. 
 I'hat for men to come three thousand miles to plun- 
 der and hang an innocent people, and then to tell that 
 peijple lio^u theij ou^ht tofig^Iit^ betrayed an ignorance 
 and impudence which he fain would hope had no pa- 
 rallel in the history of man. That for his part, he al- 
 ways believed, and still did believe that he should be 
 iloing God and his country good service to surprise 
 and kill such men, while they continued this diaboli- 
 cal warfare, as he would the v/oives and panthers of 
 the forest." 
 
 Thus ended the correspondence for that time. 
 « While things remained in this state between the 
 
J^?8 THE LIFE OF 
 
 hostile parties, Macdonald, as usual, was employing 
 himself in a close and bold reconnoitre of the enemy's 
 camp. Having found out the situation of their sen- 
 tries, and the times of relieving them, he climbed up 
 into a bushy tree, and thence, with a musket loaded 
 with pistol bullets, cracked away at their guard 
 as they passed by; of whom he killed one man, and 
 badly wounded the lieutenant, whose name was Tor- 
 quano ; then sliding down the tree, he mounted his 
 swift-footed Selim, and made his escape. 
 
 The next morning colonel Watson sent another flag 
 to Marion, requesting that he would grant a passport 
 to his lieutenant Torquano, who was badly wounded, 
 and wished to be carried to Charleston. On receiving 
 the flag, which happened while I was by him, Marion 
 turned to me, and with a smile said, " Well, this note 
 of colonel Watson looks a little as if he were coming 
 to his senses. But who is lieutenant Torquano ?" 
 
 I replied that he was a young Englishman, who had 
 been quartered in Charleston, at the house of that 
 good whig lady, Mrs. Bnainford and her daughters, 
 whom he had treated very politely, and often pro- 
 tected from insults. 
 
 " Well," said he, "if that be lieutenant Torquano, he 
 must be a very clever fellow ; and shall certainly have 
 a passport to Charleston, or even to Paradise, if I 
 had the keys of St. Peter." 
 
 On repassing Black river in haste, Macdonald had 
 left his clothes behind him at a poor woman's house, 
 where the enemy seized them. By the return of the 
 flag just mentioned, he sent word to colonel Watson^ 
 that if he did not immediately send back his clothes, 
 he would kill eight of his men to pay for them. 
 
 Several of Watson's officers who were present when 
 «he message was delivered, advised him by all ineana 
 to return his clothes, for that they knew him to be a 
 most desperate fellozv, one who would stop at nothing 
 he set his head uponj witness his late daring act ol 
 
GEN'. FRANCIS MARION. 179 
 
 ♦limbing like a cougar, into a tree, to kill his passing 
 enemies. V/atson sent him back his wallet of clothes. 
 
 Soon after this, the enemy decamped silently in 
 cne night, and took the road towards Santee. On the 
 return of day announcing their flight, Marion order- 
 ed me to take the mounted rifiem.en, thirty in number, 
 with fifty horse, and pursue and harass the enemy as 
 much as possible, till he could come up with the in- 
 fantry. 
 
 Aiaout night I approached their encampment, and 
 halted ma neighbouring sv/amp ; whence I continued 
 to send out small parties, frequently relieved, with 
 orders to pop away at their sentinels, and keep them 
 alarmed and under arms all night. At daybreak 
 they pushed bard for the sandpit bridge. We follow- 
 ed close in the rear, constantly firing on them from 
 every thicket and swamp ; and often, in spite of their 
 field pieces, making false charges. Never did I see 
 a body of infantry ply their legs so briskly. The 
 rogues were constantly in a dog trot, except when they 
 occasionally halted to give us a blast, which they did 
 from their whole line. But though their bullets made 
 a confounded whizzing and clatter among the branches 
 over our heads, yet thar.k God they did no harm, save 
 that of scratching some three or four of us. 
 
 On coming within a few miles of it, we made a 
 rapid push for the bridge, v/hich v/e quickly rendered 
 impassable, by throwing off the plank and sleepers. 
 ITien having posted my riflem.en in the thick woods, 
 within fifty yards of the ford, under command of 
 lieutenant Scott, I drew up my cavalry close in the 
 rear, and v/aited impatiently for the enemy, hoping to 
 give a handsome Bunker's Kill account of them. 
 
 The enen'iy were presently in sight, and formed in 
 dose column, began to push through the fording 
 place, though full waist deep. My heart now throb- 
 bed with anxiety ; looking every moment for a stream 
 of fire to burst upon the British, spreading destruction 
 U:irough their ranks. 
 
180 THE LIFE OF 
 
 But, to my infinite mortification, no lightnings 
 bursted forth ; no thunders roared ; no enemy fell. 
 As, half choked v/ith grief and rage, I looked around 
 for the cause, behold ! my brave lieutenant Scott, at 
 the head of the riflemen, came stooping- along with 
 his gun in his hand, and the black marks of shame 
 and cowardice on his sheepish face. " Infamous pOf 
 troon^'* said I, shaking my sword over his head, 
 ^^ where is that hecatomb of robbers and murderers due 
 to the vengeance of your injured country P^^ 
 
 He began to stammer out some apology, which I 
 quickly suppressed, by ordering him out of my sight. 
 It is worthy of remark, that his men, instead of apo- 
 logising for him, called him a coward to his face, and 
 declared that it was he who had restrained them by 
 telling them they were flanked by the enemy, who 
 would assuredly cut them to pieces if they fired a shot. 
 
 As the advance of the British were thus undisturb- 
 edly passing on, a heavy firing was suddenly heard in 
 the rear. It was Marion ; who, having come up with 
 the enemy, had attacked him with great fury. The 
 British did not halt, but continued a running fight 
 through the woods till they gained the open fields; 
 where, by means of their artillery, they kept us at a 
 distance. In this rencontre, Watson had his horse kill- 
 ed under him, and left about twenty of his men dead 
 on the ground. His wounded filled several wagons. 
 
 He did not halt a moment, but pushed hard for 
 Georgetown ; and late at night encamped on the 
 plantation of Mr. Trapier, to whom he told a dread- 
 ful story about Marion and his damned rebels^ who 
 would not, as he said, sleep and fight like gentlemen^ 
 but, like savages, were eternally firing and whooping 
 around him by night; and by day, waylaying and 
 popping at him from behind every tree he went by. 
 
 As it was too late to pursue the enemy, Marion 
 encamped for the night near the field of battle, and 
 next morning marched for his old post. Snow's Island^ 
 whei^e hi? allowed us a few days of welcome repose. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION, iSl 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 f\j>inctifm of 3Irs. Jenkins — colonel Watson^ colonel 
 Doyle^, (I *id the tor'ics^ make alarming advances uton 
 general . Clarion — his men begin to desert him — A?r- 
 ry turns orator^ and harangues the troops — they re- 
 peat theii assurances of patriotism and attachment to 
 Marion-" 'he dashes out again upon the enemy — pros 
 fitects brighten — and the good old cause begins to 
 look lip ai^ain. 
 
 ST was not for the British and Marion to lie long 
 itk rest in tlie same neighbourhood. After a short 
 rcj^ose, colouel Watson, with a stout force of regulars 
 and tories, made an inroad upon Pedee ; which was 
 no sooner krown in our camp, than Marion pushed 
 after him. We presently struck their trail ; and after 
 a liandsome day's run, pitched our tents near the 
 house of the excellent widow Jenkins, and on the very 
 spot which the British had left in the morning. Co 
 lonel Watson, it seems, had taken his quarters that 
 night in her house ; and learning that she had three 
 sons with Marion, all active young men, he sent for 
 her after supper, and desired her to sit down and take 
 a glass of wine with him. To this request, a good 
 old lady of taste and manners could have no objec- 
 tion : so waiting upon the colonel, and taking a chair 
 which he handed her, she sat down and emptied her 
 glass to his health. He then commenced the follow- 
 ing conversation with her. 
 
 " So, madam, they tell me you have several sons in 
 general Marion's camp ; I hope it is not true." 
 
 She said it was very true, and was only sorry that 
 it was not a thousand times truer. 
 
 '' A thousand times truer, madam /" replied he with 
 great surprise, ^^pray what can be your meaning in 
 that r' 
 
 " Why, sir, I am only sorry that in place of three^ 
 l have not three thousand svns with general Marion." 
 
 ^^ Aye indevd> v/ell then madam, begging your 
 
t92 THE LIFE OF 
 
 pardon, you had better send for them immcdiatdf^ 
 to come in and join his majesty's troops under m}f' 
 command ; for as they are rebels now in arms aji^ainst 
 their king, should they be taken they will be hung as 
 sure as ever thev were born." 
 
 " Why, sir," said the old lady, " you are very con- 
 siderate of my sons; for which at any rate I thank 
 you. But, as you have begged my pardon for giving 
 me this advice, I must beg yours for not taking it. 
 My sons, sir, are of age, and must and will act for 
 themselves. And as to their being in a state of re- 
 bellion against their king^ I must take the liberty, sir, 
 to deny thatP 
 
 *'^What^ madam C'' replied he, ";?of in rebellion 
 against their king ? shooting at and killing his majes- 
 ty's subjects like wolves ! don't you call that rebellion 
 against their king, madam ?" 
 
 " No, sir," answered she : " they are only doing 
 iheir duty^ as God and nature commanded them, sir." 
 
 " The d — / theu are^ madam /" 
 
 " Yes, sir," continued she, •'' and what you and 
 every man in England would glory to do against the 
 King, were he to dare to tax you contrary to your 
 own consent and the constitution of the realm. 'Tis 
 the king, sir, v/ho is in rebellion against my sons, and 
 not they against him. And could right prevai 
 against might, he would as certainly lose his head, as 
 ever king Charles the First did." 
 
 Colonel Watson could hardly keep his chair under 
 the smart of this speech : but thinking it v»^oald never 
 do for a British colonel to be rude to a lady, he filled 
 her glass, and saying, "he'd be d — n — d if she were 
 not a veiy plain-spoken woman at any rate," insisted 
 she would drink a toast with him for all. 
 
 She replied she had no objection. 
 
 Tlien filling the glasses round, he looked at hi^r 
 with a constrained smile, and said, " Well, madam^ 
 -re's George the Thirty 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 183 
 
 ^ Wl^ all my heart, sir !" and turned ofFher buni» 
 p^tc* wivli a good grace. 
 
 Atter a decent interval of sprightly conversation 
 he called on the widow for a toast; who very smartly 
 retorted, '" S¥ell, sir^ here's George Washington /" At 
 which he c^ar^ened a little, but drank it off with an 
 officer-lik^i poHieness. 
 
 The next moining early, we left the good Mrs, 
 Jenkins ; and buniijjig with impatience to give Wat- 
 son another racey v*c drove on Jehu-like. 
 
 We encamped tnat night almost within sight of the 
 enemy's fires : but foi^iid them too much on the alert 
 for surprise. We kept, nowever, a good look out, and 
 learning next morninf> . tliat a roosting party were out, 
 , Marion detached my brother colonel Horry, with 
 1 some choice cavaliers, to talack them ; which he did 
 j with such spirit, that at the iirst onset he killed nine,, 
 I and made the balance, sixaeen, all pri.soners. The 
 ( rogues were so ovcrloade^l! with plunder that for 
 their lives they could not rcvv^tin their camp, thoug'h 
 i in full view of it v,'hcn the\ were charged. This 
 I brilliant stroke of my brother, threw the enemy's 
 camp into the utmost hurry and uproar ; and their 
 dragoons were quickly mounred, dashing out to res- 
 cue their comrades ; but in vain, for my brother 
 brought them, all oiT in safety to our camp. 
 
 Our strength at this time was far inferior to that oJt 
 the enemy. But it soon became alarmingly reduced. 
 For learning that, besides this heavy force under 
 Watson, there v/as another from Camden under colo- 
 nel Doyle, and also of mounted tories from Pedee, 
 all in full march against us, our men took a panic and 
 began to desert, and those who staid behind looked 
 very serious, and talked as if certain ruin both to 
 themselves and fam.ilies vv-^ould follow from their con- 
 tinuing to light in so hopeless a cause. 
 
 In answer to these desponding gentlemen, I re^^ 
 plied, that I was ashamed and grieved too, to h&ax 
 !hfim talk at that rate. 
 R 
 
184 THE LIFfe OF 
 
 " OurpYOspecU^'* said I, " gentlemen, are to be sure 
 dark, very dark ; yet thank God, they are not despe- 
 rate. We have often before now seen as heavy 
 clouds hanging- over us ; and yet with heaven's bless- 
 ing on our arms those clouds have been dispersedy 
 and golden days restored. And who knows but we 
 may shcrdy see it so again ? I am sure we have good 
 reason to expect itj and also to hope that God will 
 assist us, who are only lighting to make ourselves 
 free and happy, according to his own most blessed 
 will. And will it not be a most sweet cordial to your 
 spirits as long as you live, to think that, in such try- 
 ing times as these, you stood up for your country, 
 and fought and won for yourselves and children ail 
 the blessings of liberty. 
 
 " And, besides," said I, " do not the tories, who 
 are more than half the authors of your misfortunes, 
 possess large estates ? And have you not arms in your 
 hands, wherewith to pay yourselves out of theii ill- 
 saved treasur.es V 
 
 This speech seemed to raise their spirits a good deal. 
 
 I then went to see the general, who with his hands 
 behind him, was walking backwards and forwards in 
 front of his tent, meditating no doubt on the deser- 
 tion of his men ; whose numbers, from more than two 
 hundred, v/ere now reduced to less than seventy. 
 
 " General Marion," said I, " I am sorry to tell you 
 that our men are v.ow so fexv ; especially since, ac- 
 cording to report, we shall soon want so vianijP 
 
 " Why," replied he, " that is the very thing I have 
 been grieving at ; but it will signify nothing for us to 
 stand here sighing and croaking ; so pray go and or- 
 der a muster of the men, that I may say a few words 
 to them before they all run off and leave me." 
 
 Soon as the troops were all paraded around the 
 door of his tent, he stepped upon the trunk of a fall- 
 en pmc, and in his plain but impressive manner, ad' 
 dressed us nearly as follows ;■— 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. IBS 
 
 •* Gentlemen and fdloiv-soldters. 
 
 " It is not for words to express what I feel when I 
 look around upon your diminished numbers. Yester- 
 day I commanded 200 men ; men whom I gloried in^ 
 and who I fondly thought, would have followed me 
 thtoagh my dangers for their country. And, now, 
 when their country most n-jxds their services, they 
 are nearly all gone i And even those of you who re- 
 main, are, if report be true, quite out of heart ; and 
 talk, that you and your families must be ruined if you 
 resist any longer ! But, my friends, if we shall be 
 ruined for bravely resisting our tyrants, what will be 
 done to us if we tamely lie down and submit to them \ 
 In that event, what can we expect but to see our own 
 eternal disgrace, and the wide-spread ruin of our 
 country ; when our bravest and best citizens shall be 
 hung up like dogs, and .heir property confiscated to 
 enrich those villains wno deserted tb.eir country, and 
 joined her enemies ; when Cornwallis, Rawdon, and 
 Tarleton, after so long plundering and murdering 
 your friends, shall, in reward of such services, be set 
 Dver you as your governors and lord lieutenants, with 
 princely salaries out of your labours; when foreign 
 . bishops and their hireling clergy shall be poured 
 upon you like hosts of consecrated locusts, consuming 
 the tithes and fat of the land ; when British princes, 
 and nobles, and judges, shall swarm over your devot- 
 ed country, thick as eagles over a new-fallen carcass ; 
 when an insatiate king, looking en your country as 
 his plantation, and on your children as his slaves, 
 shall take away your substance, every year, for his 
 pomps and pleasures ; and to keep you under for ever, 
 shall Ml your land with armies ; and when those ar- 
 mies, viewing you v/ith malignant eyes, shall constant- 
 ly be insulting you as conquered rebels ; and under 
 pretence of discovering among you the seeds of ano- 
 ther rebellion, shall be perpetually harassing and 
 giving up to military execution the best and worthiest 
 of your fellow-citizens \ 
 
t^ THE LIFE OF 
 
 *' Now my brave brethren in arms, is there a mau 
 among you, v/ho can bear the thought of living to see 
 his dear country and friends in so degraded and 
 wretched a state as this ? If there be, then kt that 
 man leave me and retire to his home. I ask not his 
 aid. But, thanks to God, I have, now no fears about 
 you: judging by your looks, I feel that there is no 
 such man among us. For my owd part I look upon 
 such a state of things as a thousand times worse than 
 death. And God is my judge this day, that if I 
 could die a thousand deaths, most gladly Vv^ould I die 
 them all, rather tiinn live to see my dear country in 
 such a state of degradation and wretchedness.'' 
 
 In reply to this speech of our honoured general, we 
 told him, in brief, it was on account of his noble sen- 
 timents we had always so highly esteemed him ; that 
 it was on account of these we had already suffered so 
 much, and were ready to suffer more ; and that rather 
 than see our country in that wretched state which he 
 had so feelingly described, and which, with him, v/e 
 firmly believed would be the case if the British were 
 to get the upper hand, we had made up our minds to 
 fight by his side to a glorious death. 
 
 I never saw such a change on the face of a human 
 being, as then took place on tliat of Marion. His 
 eyes sparkled with pleasure, while in transport he 
 exclaimed — ••' Vv^ell, now colonel Doyle, look sharp, 
 for you shall presently feel the edge of our swords.'' 
 
 Soon as night came on we mounted, and took the 
 swamps of Lynche's creek, though swimm.ing deep, 
 and after a long tim.e spent in plunging and splashing 
 through the dark floods, we got over, at least about 
 two-thirds of us. The rest, driven down by the force 
 of the current, were cast ashore on hills and high 
 banks, which by the freshet were converted into 
 islands ; and there they continued whooping and hal- 
 looing to each other all night. When the welcome 
 4- light returned, they plunged again into the furious 
 stream, and though swept down a good way bv thfr 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 18? 
 
 force of the current, arrived safely on our side, where 
 we had prepared some largr: fires to dry their clothes 
 and muskets, and plenty of roasted roots and Indian 
 cakes for breakfast. 
 
 As God was pleased to have it, none of us lost our 
 lives, though many did their great coats, blankets, and 
 saddles, and some few their pieces. As to myself, I 
 must needs say, I was never so near the other v/orld 
 in my life. For, as we were borne along down the 
 stream in the dark, mv horse and I were carried un- 
 der the limb of a tree hung thick with wild vines, 
 which soon caught me by the head like Absalom, and 
 there held me fast, dangling in the furious flood, while 
 my horse was swept from under me. I hallooed for 
 some time like a lusty fellov/, without getting any an- 
 swer, which made me begin to think my chance was 
 bad. And, God forgive me for it ! I could not help 
 thinking it a sad thing, that after so many fierce frays 
 and hard knocks vnth the British and tories, I should 
 come at last to be choked like a blind puppy, in this 
 dirty swamp : but God be praised for his good angel^ 
 who had brought me through six dangers, and now 
 took me out of the seventh. For, as I was near giv' 
 ing out, a bold young fellow of the company over- 
 heard me bav/ling, and having the advantage of a stout 
 horse, dashed in and took me safely oft. 
 
 I was afraid at first that my horse was drowned — 
 but sagaciously following the rest of the horses, he 
 made his way good, but lost my saddle, great coat, 
 and clothes. But what grieved me most of all was 
 the loss of my holsters, with a pair of elegant silver 
 mounted pistols, a present from Macdonald, and 
 which he had taken from a British oificer whom he 
 killed near Georgetown. 
 
 Soon as our firearms were dried, and ourselves and 
 horses well refreshed, we mounted and rode hard all 
 that day, to surprise colonel Doyle. About midnight 
 we had approached the house of a good whig, who 
 lold us thatDoisde had been there, but that v/arned by 
 
188 THE LIFE OF 
 
 an express from CamaeR,he had started in great liaste, 
 and was certainly by that time far beyond our reach. 
 We wej'e much puzzled in our minds for the mean- 
 ing of this precipitate retreat of colonel Doyle ; how- 
 ever, after one day of welcome rest and high cheer, 
 we faced about, fully determined, notwithstanding our 
 inferiority of force, once more to try our fortune with 
 colonel Watson. But in reaching the ground where 
 we had left him encamped, we got advice that he too, 
 with all his troops, were gone off, at a tangent, as 
 hard as he could drive. While we were wondering 
 what could have possessed the British to scamper 
 thus in every direction, captain Conyers, of Lee's le- 
 gion, hove in sight, with the welcome news that the 
 brave colonel Lee was at hand, coming up full tilt to 
 join us ; and also that general Green, with a choice 
 detachment from the great Washington, was bending 
 towards Camden, to recover the laurels which the in- 
 cautious Gates had lost. These glorious tidings at 
 once explained the cause of the enemy's flight, and 
 inspired us with a joy which the reader can better 
 coiKeive than I express. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 MariorCs method of managing the militia — sends the 
 author en another expedition against the tories — 
 anecdote of Mr. F. Kinloch — curious dream of black 
 Jonathan^ and fortunate escape of Mr. Kinloch — the 
 author^s party surprised by the jBriiish, but come off 
 
 ' with flying colours. 
 
 THE world, perhaps, never contained a partisan 
 officer who better understood the management of 
 militia than did 'general Marion. He was never foi 
 dragooning a m-an into the service. ''''God loves a 
 cheerful giver ^ and so do /," said he, *'^ a iviirvig sol- 
 dier. To have him such you must convince him that 
 it is his interest, for interest is QwtYyia^'i pole star 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 
 
 Every man wishes to be happy, and thereto wishes 
 a happy wife and child];-en, a happy country and 
 friends. Convince him that all these invaluable 
 blessings cannot be had without siveet liberty^ and 
 you shall have a soldier as brave as Washington. — 
 For no man, worthy of the name, could ever yet bear 
 to see his wife, ciiildren and friends, enslaved and 
 miserable/' Such was Marion's method of making 
 soldiers. And what with this, and the cruelty of the 
 British and tories, he had with him, perhaps, some of 
 as brave and desperate men as ever fought. 
 
 " Never ride a free horse to death," he used to say 
 to his officers ; " push, while he is fresh, but soon as 
 he begins to lag, then lie by and feed high is your play." 
 
 For this purpose he always kept a snug hiding- 
 place in reserve for us ; which was Snov/'s Island, a 
 most romantic spot, and admirably fitted to our use. 
 Nature had guarded it, nearly all around, with deep 
 waters and inaccessible marshes; and the neighbour- 
 ing gentlemen were ail rich, and hearty whigs, who 
 acted by us the double part of generous stewards and 
 faithful spies, so that, while there, we lived at once 
 in safety and plenty. 
 
 We bad reposed ourselves but two days in the. 
 pleasant wilds of Snow's Island, before Marion, learn- 
 ing that a part of the enemy were in the neighbour- 
 hood, desired me to take captains Clarke and Irvin, 
 with fifty men, and try if I could not bring him a 
 good account of them. 
 
 We encamped the iirst night on the plantation of 
 Mr. John Withers, where hearing that Mr. F. Kin- 
 loch, our member of Congress, was at a neighbouring 
 house, I sent him the following note. 
 
 Honourable Sir, 
 
 If in these dangeious times you can think yourselt 
 safe among a handful of militia-men, I shall be very 
 glad to see you at our camp. As to supper, thank 
 God we can give you a trencher of fat pork and po- 
 
190 THE LIFE OF 
 
 tatoes, but for bed and furniture, we can promise you 
 nothing better than earth and sky. I shall place a 
 sentinel on the road to conduct you to, 
 Honourable Sir, your friend, 
 
 Peter Horry. 
 
 Mr. Kinloch, who was one of the cleverest men in 
 the world, instantly set out to come to us, but unluck- 
 ily missed our sentinel, and went several miles belou- 
 us to Mr. Alexander Rose's plantation, managed bv 
 a mulatto driver named j onathan. The day being 
 nearly spent, Jonathan very politely urged Mr. Kin 
 loch to alight and spend the night there, promisinghim 
 a xuarm supper and 2l good bed. Mr. Kinloch accept- 
 ed Jonathan's offer very cheerfully, and after taking 
 part of a nice fowl and a cup of coffee, went to bed. 
 He had not slept long before Jonathan waked him up, 
 and, with great terror in his looks, told him, " he was 
 mighty 'fraid there was harm a brewing." 
 
 " Aye, Jonathan! why so, my good Jad ?" 
 
 " Oh, sir," replied Jonathan, •■' such a dream as I 
 have had, sir! a mxarvellous bad dream about the 
 enemy's coming upon you to-night, sir !" 
 
 " Poh !" quoth Mr. Kinloch, turning himself over 
 for another nap : I have dreamed nothing about it, 
 Jonathan. And I'm sure such a dream ouglit to have 
 com.e to me, and not to you ; so we'll even go to sleep 
 again, and trust to heaven." 
 
 Accordingly he fell asleep a second time ; but had 
 not long enjoyed that sweetest of opiates, before 
 Jonathan comes again, and awakes him v/ith the old 
 story of his dream. 
 
 " Well, Jonathan," said Mr. Kiiiloch, very good- 
 naturedly, " if you are determined to turn me out of 
 doors, I suppose I must go. But where can I get to 
 this time of night ?" 
 
 " Why," sir, quoth Jonathan, " I'll get your horse 
 and go with you to the main road, sir, and from the 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION 191 
 
 you can't miss your way back to the house you came 
 from this afternoon." 
 
 On Jonathan's return from the short distance he 
 had conducted Mr. Kinloch, he found the yard fdled 
 with the British light horse! 
 
 These dreams are drojl thing.". ; but they some- 
 times come so well attested, that there is no doubting 
 them. Ke who made our frame, can certainly speak 
 to us as well asleep as awake ; and the wise will feel 
 the importance of making a friend of Him, who can 
 cause an airy dream to defend us as effectually as a 
 legion of angels. 
 
 The next night, just as we were about to encamp, 
 we lighted on a negro fellow, belonging to Mr. Joseph 
 Alston, whom I quickly had by the heels, lest he 
 should give intelligence to the enemy. But, as the 
 devil would have it, just before day, the sergeant of 
 the guard, overcome by the negro's importunities, 
 loosened him and let him go. And, mark now, young 
 officers, what conies from disobeying orders. This 
 villain of a blackamoor had not gone above three 
 miles before he fell in with the British, to whom, 
 Judas-like, he betrayed us oif hand! and they as 
 quickly took horse, and pushed on to surprise us. 
 
 By sunrise I had all my men mounted; captain 
 Clarke leading the advance, myself and captain Irvin 
 bringing up the rest of the corps. 
 
 The British first discovered captain Clarke, which 
 they did in the way of a glimpse, through an opening 
 in the woods; then sounding their bugles, they rush- 
 ed on to the charge. Unfortunately, Clarke had not 
 yet seen the enemy, and mistaking their bugles for 
 the huntsmen's horns, ordered a halt to see the deer 
 go by. But instead of a herd of flying deer, behold * 
 a column of British cavalry all at once bursting into 
 the road, and shouting and rushing on with drawn 
 swords to the chanr^. In a moment, as :f themselves 
 metamorphosed into deer, Clarke and his advance 
 
192 THE LIFE OF 
 
 wheeled about, and giving their horses " the tim 
 Der,"* flew back upon our main l^ody, roaring out as 
 they came in sight — " The British ! the British !" 
 
 Quick as thought my men caught the panic, and 
 facing about, took to their heels, and went olT as if thts 
 d — 1 had been behind them. I bav/led after them <ts 
 loud as I could roar, " Hah I Halt /" but I might as 
 well have bawled to the whirlwinds, for it appeared 
 ^o me the louder I bawled, the swifter the rascals 
 flew. Whereupon I clapped spurs to my young 
 Janus, and went off after them at full stretch, hoping 
 to gain their front and so bring them to. Being 
 ■mounted on a young full-blooded charger, fresh and 
 strong from the stable, I bid fair to gain my point too. 
 for I was coming up with them hand over hand.— 
 But, in that very juncture of time, as the Lord was 
 pleased to order it, my girth gave way, my saddle 
 turned, and my charger fetching a ground start, threw 
 me, saddle, holsters, and all, full ten feet over his 
 head^ and then ran off. I received no harm, God be 
 praised for it, but recovering my legs in an instant, 
 bawled out again to my men to halt and form. 
 
 Happily for me, at the very moment of my dis- 
 aster, the enemy, suspecting our flight to be only a 
 iinesse, had halted, while only sixteen dragoons un- 
 der colonel Camp, continued the chase. 
 
 Scorning to fly from such a handful, some of my 
 more resolute fellows, thirteen in number, faced 
 about, and very deliberately taking their aim at th« 
 enemy as they came up, gave them a spanker^ which 
 killed upwards of half their number. The rest took 
 to flight, leaving their colonel, vv^hose horse was slain, 
 to shift for himself, which he quickly did by running 
 into the woods. 
 
 ♦ This 16 a Carolina plu'ase for slashmg. If aliusband should so 
 lar forget himself as to beat his vv-^it'e ! w-liicii, thank God, is vci^ 
 rare, his neigh.bours, with great sconi, say of hun as he pokes li:s 
 h3ted face along, Aye, that's the jockey that gives iiis wife the 
 timber. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 193 
 
 ySits British were so near us when they received 
 rile fire of my men, that one of them, a stout fellow, 
 as he wtiecled to go off, came so close to me, where 
 I stood on the ground, that he was lifting his hroad 
 sword for a hack-handed stroke, which would proba- 
 bly have Favcd me the trouble of writing this history, 
 had I not, w\ch one of my pistols, which I took from 
 the saddle wtien my horse left me, anticipated his* 
 kindness, by driving a bullet through his shoulder, 
 wnich brought him to the ground. Then mounting 
 his horse, while my men caught the horses of thoGe 
 that were killed, we galloped oif, very well satisfied 
 that the affair had turned out no worse. 
 
 On returning to Marion, I could not help com- 
 plaining to him of my men, whose behaviour, I said, 
 111 this last affair, had been so very dastardly, that I 
 was much afraid, I should never again put confidence 
 \n them, nor gain any credit by commanding them. 
 "Pshaw!" said he, with a smile, "it is because you 
 do not understand the management of them : you 
 command militia ; it will not do to expect too much 
 from that sort of soldiers. If, on turning out against 
 ^e enemy, yoa find your men in high spirits, with 
 Jiurning eyes all kindling around you, that's your time • 
 then in close columns, with sounding bugles and 
 «hining swords, dash on, and I'll warrant your men 
 will follow you, eager as the lion's whelps bounding 
 with their sire to the chase of the buffaloes. But on 
 the other hand, if by any unlooked-for providence 
 they get dismayed, and begin to run, you are not to 
 fly in a passion with them, and show yourself as mad 
 lis they are cov/ardly. No ! you must learn to run 
 too: and as fast as they; n^y faster, that you may 
 get into the front, and encourage them to rally. 
 
 " And a.5 to the credit that you are to get by com- 
 manding them, I find, my dear fellow, that you are 
 entirely in the wrong there also. Our country can- 
 not expect us to cope with British regulars. War is 
 an art, the deepest of ail artSj because the greatest of 
 
/94 THE LIFE OF 
 
 allea/thl)^ coii.seqaences depend on it. And none can 
 expect to be masters of that terrible art, but such as 
 serve a long apprenticeship to it. But as we have 
 served no apprenticeship, we can knov/ but little 
 about it in comparison with our enemies, who in dis- 
 cipline and experience have greatly the advantage of 
 us. But, thank God, we have oiu* advantap-es too.- — 
 We are far better riders, better woodsmen, and bet- 
 ter marksmen than they. These are noble advan- 
 tages. Let us but improve them by redoubled acti- 
 vity and vigilance, and kindness to our men, and 
 especially by often conversing with them on the 
 grounds of the war, the merits of our cause, and the 
 vast consequences depending. Let us, I say, in this 
 way, make them soldiers in principle, and fond of 
 their officers, and all will be well yet. By cutting off 
 the enemy's foraging parties, drav/ing them into am- 
 buscades and falling upon them by surprise, we shall, 
 I hope, so harass and consume them, as to make them 
 glad to get out of our country. And then, the per- 
 formance of such a noble act wdll bring us credit, and 
 credit enough too, in the eyes of good men ; w^hile as 
 to ourselves, the remembrance of having .done so 
 much to vindicate the rights of man, and make pos- 
 terity the happier for us, w^i^ alTord us a pleasure that 
 may outlive this momentary beinq." 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Colonel Harry Leejovis gaieral Marion — Georgetoxvn 
 surprued- — colonel Campbell made prisoner — majot 
 Jrvifi killed — adjutant Crookshanks miraculously 
 saved bif his siueet heart — -force of female affection 
 — Am.erican generositij coiitrasted ivith British bar* 
 barism—interesttJig anecdotes of Mr. Cusac^ young 
 Gales and Dinkins, colonel Lee^s little bup'lery John 
 Wiley ^ Peter 7'arnal^ young- M'^Coy^ major Broxvii^ 
 colonel Haynes.^ and lord Raivdoii, 
 
 THE next day, colonel Lee with his legion came 
 up, to the inexpressible joy of us all ; partly on ac- 
 count of his cavalry, which to be sure, was the hand- 
 somest we had ever seen ; but much more on account 
 of himself, of whom we had heard that, in deep art 
 and undaunted courage, he was a second Marion.-— 
 This, our high opinion of him, was greatly exalted by 
 his own gallant conduct, for he had been with us but 
 a few days before he proposed the surprise of George- 
 town, which was very cordially concurred with by 
 general Marion. 
 
 The infantry and cavalry employed on the occa- 
 sion, were to apjiroach the to>vn at -iifferent points, 
 after midnight, and at a signal ffom the latter, to 
 commence the attack. Unfortun^itely, the cavalry 
 did not get up in time, owing to s«me fault of their 
 guide. I'he infantry arrived at the appointed mo- 
 ment, and dreading the dangers of delay, charged at 
 once into the town, which they found utterly unpre- 
 pared for an attack. Colonel Campbell, the com- 
 mander, was made prisoner in his bed; adjutant 
 Crookshanks, major Irvin, and other officers were 
 sound asleep at a tavern belonging to a genteel fami- 
 ly, with whom they had spent the evening with great 
 hilarity. A detachment of our men approached the 
 house and surrounded it. Soon as the alarm waa 
 given, the officers leaped out of bed, and not waiting^ 
 flew into the piazza, flourishing their pistob 
 
196 THE Lir£ OF 
 
 ana shouting to the charge. Major Irvin, with mo^ 
 '•ourage than discretion, fired a pistol, and would havi 
 tried another, but just as he had cocked it, he was 
 stopped short by the stroke .)f a bayonet, which end- 
 ed him and his courage together. Adjutant Crook- 
 shanks, acting in the same htroic style, would have 
 shared the same fate, had it lot been for an angel of 
 a young woman, daught 'r '^f the gentleman of the 
 house. This charming gii" was engaged to be mar* 
 ried to Crookshanks. Wakt'I by the firing and hor- 
 rid din of battle in the piazza, •'he was at ti/st almost 
 'reft of her senses by the fright But the moment she 
 heard her lover's voice, all her ♦errors vanished, and 
 instead of hiding herself under the bedclothes, she 
 .rushed into the piazza am dst the mortal fray, with 
 sno armour but her love, no ^.overing but her flowing 
 tresses. Happily for her lov^er, she got to him just 
 "in time to throw her arms around his neck and scream 
 •out, "Oh save! save major Crookshanks !" Thus, 
 •^vith her own sweet body shielding him against the 
 uplifted swords of her enraged countrymen ! 
 
 Crookshanks yielded himself our prisoner; but wc 
 paroled him on the spot, and kft him to those deli- 
 cious sentiments which he must have felt in the arms 
 •of an elegant young woman, who had saved his life 
 oy an effort of love sufficient to endear her to him to 
 all eternity. 
 
 It was told us afterwards of this charming girl, 
 that as soon as we were gone, and, of course, the 
 •danger past and the tumult of her bosom subsided, 
 :jihe fell into a swoon, from which it was with difli- 
 'culty that she was recovered. Her extreme fright, on 
 ;being waked by the firing and horrid uproar of battle 
 .in the house, and her strong sympathy in her lover's 
 tdanger, together with the alarm occasioned by find- 
 ling herself in his arms, were too much for her deli- 
 cate frame. 
 
 There is a beauty in generous actions which charms 
 ihe souls of men? and a sweetness, wliich like thai 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 197 
 
 immortal love whence it flows, can never die. The 
 eyes of all, even the poorest soldiers in our camp, 
 sparkled with pleasure whenever they talked, as they 
 often did, of this charming woman, and of our gene- 
 rosity to major Crookshanks ; and to this day, even 
 after a lapse of thirty years, I never think of it but 
 with pleasure ; a pleasure as exquisite, perhaps, as 
 what I felt at the first moment of that transaction. 
 
 And it is a matter of great satisfaction to me, to 
 think how nobly different in this respect was our con- 
 duct from that of the British. 1 speak not of the 
 British iiation^ which I hold most 77iug'nanimou>'i ; but 
 of their officers in Carolina, such as Cornwallis, Raw« 
 don, Tarleton, Weymies, Brown, and Balfour, who 
 instead of treating their prisoners as we did Crook- 
 shanks, have often been known to butcher them ia 
 cold blood; though theiry^^^Ae^r.s", mothers and children^ 
 on bended knees, with wringing hands and streaming 
 eves, have been imploring pity for them. 
 
 There was Mr. Adam Cusac, of Williamsburg dis 
 
 trictj this brave man, 
 
 " This buckskin Hampden ; that, witli dauntless breast, 
 *' Tne base invttders ot his rigliis withstood/* 
 
 was surprised in his own house by major WeymieSj 
 *vho tore him away from his shrieking wife and chil- 
 dren, marched him up to Cheraw court-hcaise, and 
 after exposing him to the insults of a sham trial, had 
 him condemned and hung ! The only charge evei 
 exhibited against him was, that he had shot across 
 Black river at one ol Weymies' tory captains. 
 
 There was that gallant lad of liberty. Kit Gales, 
 with his brave companion, Sam Dinkins : these two 
 heroic youths were dogged to the house of a whig 
 friend, near the hills of Santsc, where they were sur- 
 prised in their beds by a party of tories, who hurried 
 them away to lord Rawdon, then on his march from 
 Charleston to Camden. Rawdon quickly had them, 
 Recording to his favourite phrase, '^knocked into 
 #"^3," and marched on under guaid with his troopft* 
 
198 THE LIFE OF 
 
 On halting for breakfast, young Gales was tucked up 
 to a tree, and choked with as little ceremony as if he 
 had been a mad dog. He and young Dinkins had, 
 it seems, the day before, with their horses and rifles, 
 ventured alone, so near the British army, as to fire 
 several shots at them ! For such heroic daring' in de- 
 fence of their country, in place of receiving applause 
 from lord Rawdon, Gales, as we have seen, received 
 his bloody death. His gallant young friend, Dinkins, 
 was very near drawing his rations of a like doleful 
 dish, for lord Rawdon had him mounted upon the 
 same cart with the halter round his neck, ready for 
 a launch into eternity , when the tories suggested to 
 his lordship their serious apprehensions that a terrible 
 vengeance might follow : this saved his life. 
 
 Every body has heard the mournful story of colo- 
 nel Lee's little bugler, and how he was murdered by 
 colonel Tarleton. This '* poor beardless boy," as 
 Lee, in his pathetic account of that horrid transaction, 
 calls him, had been mounted on a very fleet horse ; 
 but to gratify a countryman who had brought some 
 news of the British, and was afraid of falling into 
 their hands, Lee ordered the boy to exchange his 
 horse, a moment, for that of the countryman, which 
 happened to be a miserable brute. This Lee did in 
 his simplicity, npt even dreaming that any thing in 
 the shape of civilized man could think of harming 
 such a child. Scarcely had Lee left hmi, when he 
 was overtaken by Tarleton's troopers, who dashed up 
 to him with looks of death, brandishing their swords 
 over his head. In vain his tender cheeks, reminding 
 them of their own youthful brotheu, sought to touch 
 their pity ; in vain, with feeble voice, and as long as 
 he was able, he continued to cry for quarter. They 
 struck their cruel swords into his face and arms, 
 which they gashed with so many mortal wounds 
 that he died the next day. 
 
 •' Is your name Wiley :?" said one of Tarleton's cap- 
 tains, whose name was Tucic-, to Mr. John Wiley, 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 19» 
 
 ••herifT of Camden, who had lately whipped and crop- 
 ped a acted horse thief, named Smart. *' Is your 
 name Wiley V said captain Tuck to the young man, 
 *t whose door he rode up and asked the question.— 
 ' Yes, sir," replied Mr. Wiley. " Well, then, sir, 
 y'ou are a d — n — d rascal^'' rejoined cajjtain Tuck, 
 E^iving him at the same time a cruel blov/ over the 
 forehead v/ith his broadsword. Young Wiley, tho'igh 
 doomed to die, being not yet slain, raised his naked 
 arm to screen the blow. This, though no more than 
 a common instinct of poor human nature in the mo • 
 ment of terror, served but to redouble the fury of 
 captain Tuck, who continued his blows at the bleed- 
 ing, staggering youth, until death kindly placed him 
 beyond the reach of human malice. 
 
 All this was done within a few hundred paces of 
 lord Cornwallis, who never punished captain Tuck. 
 But poor P^ter Yarnall's case seems still more de- 
 plorable. This hard fated man, a simple, inoffensive 
 quaker, lived near Camden. Having urgent business 
 with a man, v/ho, as he understood, was with general 
 Sumpter, on the opposite side of the Catawba, he 
 went over to him. The man happened, at that mo- 
 ment, to be keeping guard over some torij prisoners. 
 A paper which Yarnall wanted to see was, it seems, 
 in a jacket pocket in the man's tent hard by. " Hold 
 my piece a moment, sir," said he to Yarnall, "and 
 I'll bring the paper.* Yarnall, though averse, as a 
 quaker, from all killing of enemies with a gun, yet 
 saw no objection to holding one a moment. The 
 next day, a day for ever black in the American calen- 
 dar, witnessed the surprised of general Sumpter and 
 the release of the tory prisoners, one of whom imme- 
 diately went his way and told colonel Tarleton that 
 he had seen Peter Yarnall, the day before, keeping 
 g-ucird ovQT the k'nig'^s friends^ r)Y\sor\QYS, to the r:;hels. 
 The poor man's house was quicklv s'lrrounded by the 
 Britisli cav-alry. Vain were all his ovm explanations, 
 his wife's entreaties, or his children's cries. He v/as 
 
200 THE LIFK OF 
 
 ilragged to Camden, and thrust into prison. Every 
 morning, his wife and daughter, a girl or about fif- 
 teen, rode into town in an old chair, to see him, and 
 to bring him milk and fruits, which must have been 
 highly acceptable to one crammed, in the dogdays, 
 into a small prison, with one hundred and sixty-three 
 half-stifled wretches. On the fourth day, an amia- 
 ble young lady. Miss Charlton, living near the prison, 
 had heard of poor Yarnall's fate that morning. Soon 
 therefore as she saw Mrs. Yarnall and her daughter 
 coming along as usual, with their little present to 
 their husband and father, she bursted into tears. 
 Mrs. Yarnall alighted at the door of the jail, and beg- 
 ged to see her husband. " Follow me," said one of 
 the guard, " and I'll show you your husband." As 
 she turned the corner, ^' There he is, madam," said 
 the soldier, pointing to her husband as he hung dead 
 on a beam from the window. The daughter sunk to 
 the ground ; but her mother, as if petrified at the 
 sight, stood silent and motionless, gazing on her 
 dead husband with that wild keen eye of unutterable 
 wo, which pierces all hearts. Presently, as if braced 
 up with despair, she seemed quite recovered, afid 
 calmly begged one of the soldiers to assist her to 
 take down the corpse and lay it in the bottom of the 
 chair. Then taking her seat, with her daughter sob- 
 bing by her side, and her husband dead at her feet, 
 she drove home apparently quite unmoved ; and dur- 
 ing the whole time she was preparing his coffin and 
 nerforming the funeral duties, she preserved the 
 »ame firm unaltered looks. But soon as the grave 
 had shut its mouth on her husband, and divorced 
 him for ever from her sight, the remembrance of the 
 past rushed upon her thoughts with a weight too 
 heavy for her feeble nature to bear. Then claspinc 
 her hands in agony, she shrieked out, " Poor me 1 
 poor me I I have no husband, no friend now •'" and 
 immediately ran raving mad, and died in that state. 
 There was young M'CQVi the eye of humanity 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 201 
 
 must weep often, as she turns the page that tells how 
 this amiable youth was murdered. His father was 
 one of the most active of our militia captains. A» 
 none better understood American rights, so none 
 more deepiy resented British aggressions, than did 
 captain IVrCoy. His just views and strong feel- 
 ings, were carefully instilled into his boy, who, 
 though but fifteen, shouldered his musket, and, in 
 spite of his mother's tears, followed his father to war. 
 Many a gallant Englishman received his death at their 
 hands. For, being well acquainted with the river, 
 and bravely supported by their friends, they often 
 fired upon the enemy's boats, killing their crews and 
 intercepting their provisions. This so enraged co- 
 lonel Brown, the British commander at Augusta, that 
 he made several attempts to destroy captain M^Coy. 
 Once, in particular, he despatched a captain and fifty 
 men to surprise him. But M'Coy kept so good a 
 look out, that he surprised and killed the captain and 
 twenty of his men. The rest, by giving good leg 
 hail^ made their escape. Young M'Coy fought by 
 the side of his father in this and many other rencon- 
 tres, in one of which he had the great good fortune 
 to save his father's life. 
 
 At the head of some gallant friends, they fell in 
 with a strong party of tories, near Brier creek, com- 
 manded by a British officer. As usual, an obstinate 
 and bloody contest ensued. The combatants quickly 
 coming to close quarters, M'Coy grappled with the 
 officer ; but not possessing strength equal to his 
 courage, he was overpowered and thrown on the 
 ground. The youth, who had just fired his piece 
 into the bosom of a tory, seeing his father's danger, 
 flew to his aid, and with the butt of his gun knocked 
 out the brains of the officer, at the very instant he 
 was lifting his dirk for the destruction of his father 
 
 In a skirmish, in which his party were victorious, 
 captain M'Coy was mortally wounded, and died ex- 
 horting his son still to fight undauntedly for the lilaer* 
 
202 THE LIFE QF 
 
 ties of his countr}^ After the death of his fadie*, 
 
 voung M'Coy joined the brave captain Clarke. 1b 
 an expedition against colonel Brown, Clarke was de- 
 feated, and young Ai'Coy made prisoner. Hearing 
 of his miijfortune, his mother hastened to Augusta, 
 but arrived only in time to meet him with colonel 
 Brown and a guard, carrying him out to the gallows. 
 Vv'^ith gushing tears, she fell upon his neck, and bit- 
 terly mourned her lot, as wretched above all women, 
 in thus losing her husband and only son. 
 
 The behaviour of young M'Coy, it is said, was he- 
 roic beyond his years. Instead of melting with his 
 disconsolate mother, he exhorted her like one who 
 had acted on principle, and now felt its divine conso» 
 lations stronger than death. 
 
 He entreated his mother not to weep for him, nor 
 for his father. " In the course of nature, mother," 
 said he, *'' we were to part. Our parting indeed, ia 
 early ; but it is glorious. My father was like a lion 
 in battle for his country. As a young lion, I fought 
 by his side. And often, when the battle was over, 
 did he embrace and call me his boy ! his own brave 
 hoy ! and said I was worthy of you both. He has 
 just gone before, and I now follow him, leaving you 
 the joy to remember, that your son and husband have 
 attained the highest honour on earth ; the honour of 
 fighting and dying for the rights of man." 
 
 Anxious to save the life of so dear a son, poor Mrs. 
 M'Coy fell on her knees to colonel Brown, and with 
 all the widowed mother agonizing in her looks, plead 
 for his life. But in vain. With the dark features 
 of a soul horribly triumphant over the cries of mercy, 
 he repulsed her suit, and ordered the executioner to 
 do his office ! He hung up the young man before the 
 eyes of his mother! and then, with savage joy, suf- 
 fered his Indians, in her presence, to strike theii 
 tomahawks into his forehead ; that forehead which 
 she had so often pressed to her bosom, and kisseO 
 with all the transports of a doating xDoiher. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 303 
 
 Who, without tears, can think of the hard fate of 
 poor colonel Haynes and his family. 
 
 Soon as the will of heaven had thrown Charleston 
 into the hands of the British, lord Cornwallls, famed 
 for pompous proclamations, began to publish. The 
 tenour of his gasconade was, that Carolina was now, 
 to all intents and purposes, subjugated ; that the ene- 
 mies of his lord the king were all at his mercy ; and 
 that though, by the war rubrick for conquered rebels 
 he had a right to send fire and sword before him, with 
 blood and tears following in his course ; though he 
 had a right to feed the birds of heaven with rebel 
 carcasses, and to fatten his soldiers with their confis- 
 cated goods, yet he meant not to use that dreadful 
 right. No indeed ! Far from him was all such odious 
 thoughts. On the contrary he wished to be merciful ; 
 and as proof of his sincerity, all that he asked of the 
 poor deluded people of his majesty's colony of South 
 Carolina was, that they should no longer take nart nor 
 lot in the contest, but cojitinue peaceablu at their homes. 
 And that, in reward thereof, they should be most 
 sacredly protected m property and person. 
 
 This proclamation was accompanied with an in- 
 strument of neutrality, as an " outward and visible 
 sign of an inward and spiritual grace," in my lord 
 Cornwallis towards the Carolinians ; and which in- 
 strument they were invited to sign, that they might 
 have a covenant right to the aforesaid promised bless- 
 ings oi protection^ both in property and person. 
 
 The heart of colonel Haynes was with his country- 
 men, and fervently did he pray that his hands could 
 be with them too. But, these, alas ! were bound up 
 by his wife and children, wdiom, it is said, he loved 
 passing well. Helpless and trembling as they were, 
 how could they be deserted by him in this fearful 
 season, and given up to a i)rutai soldiery .'' And v/hy 
 should he insure the destruction of a larj^e estate, 
 when all opposition seemed hopeless .'' In short, 
 with thousands of others, he went and signed an in 
 
204 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Btrument, which pron^ised security to his family and 
 fortune. But alas ! from that fatal moment he nevei 
 morf> enjoyed peace. To hate the ministerial mea 
 sures as he did, and yet thus tamely to have submit- 
 ted to them ; to love his country as heartily as he did, 
 and to know that she was now fighting-, with her all 
 at stake, and yet thus to have deserted her ! 
 
 These keen self-condemning reflections harrowed 
 every root of quiet from his soul. If he went to his 
 couch, it was only to groan, sleepless and tossing, all 
 the restless night. If he got up, it was but to sit, or 
 walk to and fro in his family, with dark and woful 
 looks, like one whom trouble had overcome. 
 
 In the midst of these anguishing reflections, which 
 appeared to be wearing him fast to the grave, a res- 
 pite was afl'orded, and by a hand from which it was 
 least expected. Lord Cornwallis, having by his first 
 proclamation, obtained to the instrument of neutrality 
 aforesaid, the signativ/es of many thousands of the 
 citizens of South Carolina, then came out with a ,9^- 
 cond proclamation, in which he nominates the paper 
 above not an instrument of neu-trality, but a bond of 
 allegiance to the king, and calls upon all who had 
 signed it, to take up arms against the rebels ! — threat- 
 ening to treat as deserters those who refused ! 
 
 This fraud of my lord Cornwallis, excited in all 
 honest men the deepest indignation. It completely 
 revived colonel Haynes. To his unspeakable joy, he 
 now saw opened a door of honrnirabk return to duty 
 and happiness. And ^ince, contrary to the most so- 
 lemn compact, he was compelled to fight^ he very na- 
 turally determined to fight the British, rather than his 
 own countrymen. He fled to his countrymen, who 
 received him with joy, and ga\e him a command of 
 horse. He was surprised and carried to Charleston, 
 where lord Rav/don, then commandant, ordered him, 
 in his favourite phrase, to be knocked into irons. A 
 mock trial, dignified with the name of court martialf 
 was held over him, and colorsel Haynes was scnt<^Y>csd 
 
to l)« Mtn^: Everybody In Charleston, Britons . 
 WcUaa Americans, all heard this sentence with horror, 
 except colonel Haynes himself. On his cheek alone, 
 all agree, it produced no change. It appeared that 
 the deed which he had done, signing that accursed 
 paper, had run him desperate. Though the largei 
 part, even of his enemies, believing that it was done 
 merely from, sympathy with his wife and children, felt 
 the generous disposition to forgive him., yet he could 
 never forgive himself. It had inflicted on his mind 
 % wound too ghastly to be healed. 
 
 To their own, and to the great honour of human 
 nature, numbers of the British and loyalists, "with 
 governor Bull at their head, preferred a petition to 
 lOrd Rawdon in his behalf. But the petition was not 
 noticed. The ladies then came lorward in his favour 
 with a petition, couched in the most delicate and 
 moving terms, and signed by all the principal females 
 of Charleston, tories as well as whigs. But all to no 
 purpose. It was then suggested by the friends of 
 humanity, that if the colonel's little children, for they 
 had no mother, she, poor woman ! crushed under the 
 double weight of grief and the small-pox, was just 
 8unk at rest in the grave. It was suggested, I say, 
 that if the colonel's little children, dressed in raourn- 
 ing, were to fall at the knees of lord Rawdon, he 
 would pity their motherless condition, and give to 
 their prayers their only surviving parent. They 
 were accordingly dressed in black, and introduced 
 into his presence ; they fell down at his knees, and, 
 with clasped hands and tear-streaming eyes, lisped 
 iheir father's name, and beggwl his life : but in vain. 
 
 So many efforts to save him, both by friends and 
 generous foes, could not be made, unknown to colo- 
 nel Haynes. But he appeared perfectly indiiferent 
 about the result ; and when told that they had all 
 failed, he replied with the utmost unconcern— *' Well, 
 thank God, lord Rawdon cannot hurt mti. He can- 
 
206 THE LIFE OF 
 
 not be more anxious to take my life tnan 1 am to lay 
 it down " 
 
 With his son, a youth of thirteen, who was per 
 mitted to stay with him in the prison, colonel Haynes 
 used often to converse, in order to fortify him a2;ains^ 
 the sad trial that was at hand. And indeed it was 
 necessary, for seldom has a heavier load been laid on 
 a tender-hearted youth. War, like a thick cloud, had 
 darkened up the gay morning of his days ; the grave 
 had just closed her mouth on a mother who doated 
 on him; and he now beheld his only parent, a be- 
 loved father, in the power of his enemies, loaded with 
 irons, and condemned to die. With cheeks wet with 
 tears, he sat continually by his father's side, and look- 
 ed at him with eyes so piercing and sad, as often 
 wrung tears of blood from his heart. 
 
 " Why," said he, " my son, will you thus break 
 your father's heart with unavailing sorrow ? Have 1 
 not often told you, that we came into this world but 
 to prepare for a better ? For that better life, my dear 
 bo}'', your father is prepared. Instead then of weep- 
 ing, rejoice with me, my son, that my troubles are so 
 near an end. To-morrow, I set out for immortality. 
 You will accompany me to the place of my execution ; 
 and when I am dead, take and bury me by the side 
 of your mother." 
 
 The youth here fell on his father's neck, crying 
 ' Oh my father! my father! I will die with you! . 
 will die with you!" 
 
 Colonel Haynes would have returned the strong 
 embrace of his son ; but, alas ! his hands were loaded 
 with irons. " Live," said he, " my son, live to honour 
 God by a good life ; live to serve your country ; and 
 live to take care of your brother and little sisters !" 
 
 The next morning colonel Haynes was conducted 
 to the place of execution. His son accompanied him. 
 Soon as tney came in sight of the gallows, the father 
 strengthened himself and said — " JVbzo, my son, shou 
 yourself a man. That tree is the ^fmindanj of my Ufe 
 
Page 206. 
 
 Oh ny father ! my father! J will die with you. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. HOT 
 
 and of all my life's sorrows. Beyond that, the tmcked 
 ,cease from troubling and the tvcary are at rest, Dori^t 
 lay too much to heart our separation from you; it will 
 be but short. ' Twas but lately your dear mother died. 
 To-day I die. And you, my son, though but youngs 
 must shortly follow us.^^ 
 
 " Yes, my father," replied the broken-hearted youth, 
 " I shall shortly follow you : for indeed I feel that I 
 cannot live long." And so it happened unto him. 
 For on seeing his father in the hands of the execu- 
 tioner, and then struggling in the halter, he stood like 
 one transfixed and motionless with horror. Till then 
 he had wept incessantly ; but soon as he saw that 
 sight, the fountain of his tears was staunched, and 
 he never wept more. It was thought that grief, like 
 a fever, burnt inwardly, and scorched his brain, for 
 he became indifferent to every thing around him, and 
 often wandered as one disordered in his mind. . At 
 times, he took lessons from a fencing master, and 
 talked of going to England to fight the murderer of 
 his father. But he who made him had pity on him, 
 and sent death to his relief. Pie died insane, and in 
 his last moments often called on the name of his father, 
 in terms that brought tears from the hardest hearts. 
 
 I hope my reader will not suppose, from these odi- 
 ous truths which I have been telling him about the 
 British and tories, that I look on them as worse than 
 other men ; or that I would have him bear an eternal 
 hatred against them. No, God forbid. On the con- 
 trary, I have no doubt on my mind, that the British 
 and tories are men of tlie same passions with our- 
 selves. And I also as firmly believe, that, if placed 
 in their circumstances, we should have acted just as 
 they did. Upon honour this is my conviction now; 
 but it was not always so ; for I confess there was a 
 time, when I had my prejudices against them, and 
 prejudices too as strong as those of any other man, 
 Jet him be who he would. But thank God those pre- 
 judices, so dishonourable to tlie head, and so uneasy 
 
208 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to the heart, are done away from me now. And from 
 this most happy deliverance, I am, through the divine 
 goodness, principally indebted to my honoured friend, 
 general Marion, of whose noble sentiments, on these 
 subjects, I beg leave to give the reader some little 
 specimen in the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Short and sweet — -or^ a curious dialogue between gent- 
 ral Marion and captain Snipes^ on retaliation, 
 
 ** No radiant pearls that crested fortune wears, 
 No gem that sparkling hangs in beauty's ears ; 
 Not the bright stars that night's blue arch adorn, 
 Nor opening suns that gild the vernal mora, 
 Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows 
 Down virtue's manly cheeks, for others' woes." 
 
 WHAT gigantic form is that which stalks thus 
 awfully before the eyes of my memory; his face, 
 rough and dark as the cloud of winter, and his eye- 
 balls burning like coals of fire ? 'Tis the impetuous 
 captain Snipes. He is just returned from the quarter 
 house near Charleston, where he and captain M'Cau- 
 ley, with Macdonald and forty men, have recently 
 surprised and cut to pieces a large party of the ene- 
 my. He looks as if the fury of the battle had not j'^et 
 subsided in his wrathful countenance. His steps are 
 towards Marion, and as he presents a packet, he ex- 
 claims in an angry tone, " There, sir, is a Charleston 
 paper. You'll see there how those villains are going 
 on yet. Not satisfied with all the murders they had 
 committed before, they have gone now and murder- 
 ed colonel Haynes." Here he gave the heads of that 
 dis^aceful act, seasoning his speech every now and 
 then, as he went along, with sundry very bitter im- 
 precations on lord Rawdon. 
 
 " Ah shame ! shame upon him !" replied the gene- 
 »al with a sigh^and shaking his head ; " shame upon 
 lord Rawdon !" 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 209 
 
 " Shame !'' answered captain Snipes, his eyes flash- 
 log fire ; " shame ! I hope something heavier than 
 sname will light upon him for it soon. The Ameri- 
 can officers have sworn never again to give quartci 
 to the British or tories.'' 
 
 Marion. God forbid that my countrymen should 
 have taken such an oath as that ! 
 
 iS'nipes. Why, general Marion, would you have the 
 enemy go on at this rate, and v/e take no revenge ? 
 
 M. Revenge ? O yes, to be sure, sir ; revenge is 
 sweet, and by all means let us have it; but let it b& 
 of the right kind. 
 
 S. Of the right kind, sir ! what do you call revenge 
 of the ri-ght kind ? 
 
 M» Why, sir, I am for taking that kind of revenge 
 which will make our enemies ashamed of their con- 
 duct, and abandon it for ever. 
 
 S. Ashamed of their conduct ! 3Ionsters I they are 
 not capable of shame. 
 
 M. Pshaw ! don't talk so, captain Snipes ! our ene- 
 mies, sir, are men, and just such men as we are ; and 
 as :apable of generous actions, if we will but show 
 them the way. 
 
 S. Well then, general Marion, how do you account 
 for that great difference between us and them in point 
 of spirits ? We have never yet killed any of their 
 men, except in fair fight, that I have heard of; but 
 they have often murdered ours. Yes, the cowardly 
 rascals ! they have often done it, and that in cold 
 blood too. 
 
 M' Granted. And I am very glad that when we 
 have had them in cur power, v/e have always treated 
 them so much more generously. But, I suppose the 
 reason of svich barbarity on iheir part, lb, they have 
 iiad, or v/hich is the same tl^ig, :iave tliGUght they 
 had gi'eater provocations. 
 
 *S*. They be d — n — d, they and tneir provocations 
 loo ! Are not -ivv the persons who have been invaded, 
 T2 
 
:^10 THE LIFE OF 
 
 9nd plundered and murdered by them^ and not they by 
 us P How then can they have greater provocations ? 
 
 Jkf. Why, sir, sprung originally from them, and al- 
 ways looked on by them as their children, our turning 
 now and fighting against them, must appear, in their 
 sight, a very great provocation ; as great perhaps as 
 that of children fighting against their parents. And 
 again, our shaking off what they glory in, as the wisest, 
 and freest, and happiest government on earth, must 
 make us seem to them as no better than the vilest 
 traitors and rebels ; which cannot otherwise than prove 
 another very great provocation. And again, after 
 having been ftrst settled in this country b'lj them, as 
 they will have it, and afterwards, so long and liberally 
 assisted with their best blood and treasure, in hope 
 that some day or other we should be of service to 
 them ; that now, at the very time when, by our im- 
 mense population, we were just arrived to the so long 
 desired point, to swell their wealth and spread their 
 commerce and arms over the world, we should sepa- 
 rate from them, blast all their fond hopes, and throw 
 them back to the former level } this, I say, you will 
 certainly allow, must be a very severe provocation. 
 Now, sir, putting all these provocations together, and 
 '"*lso taking poor human nature inK) the account, is ir 
 to be wondered at, that the British should be so muc?i 
 more angry, and consequently m.ore violent than we I 
 
 S. Why, certainly, general Marion, you have al- 
 ways a very fine knack at setting off your arguments^ 
 But still, sir, I can't see things in that light. For a 
 man, sir, to go and trump up a pack of claims against 
 me, and all of them because I can't credit him in the 
 abominable extent he wishes, to fall upon me and kill 
 and murder me, as the British and tories have done 
 with us, and we not stop them bv '•evenge ! why, my 
 God ! sir, it will never do. For, -aI this rate, whom 
 shall we have livmg m all this country, in a little time, 
 but the British, and their friends the tories and ne* 
 groes ? 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2ff 
 
 M* My brave captain let me tell you again, I am 
 dis anxious to stop them as you can possibly wish me 
 to be ; but I am for doing it in v/hat I think the right 
 way, I mean the way of policy and humanity. 
 
 S» Policy, sir I can their be policy in letting our 
 best men be murdered by these savages ! I'm sure 
 general Washington did not think so. For, though 
 I am no man of learning myself, yet I have been told 
 by those that are, that, on its being threatened by 
 general Gage to hang an American soldier, he instant 
 ly wrote him word, that if he dared to do such a thing, 
 the life of a British soldier should pay for it. And, 
 It is well known, that he kept the British army and 
 nation too, in a fright for three months together, with 
 the halter constantly around the neck of captain As- 
 gil, expecting every day to be hung for the murder 
 of captain Huddy. 
 
 M. True ; general Washington did act so. And it 
 was policy to act against a foreign enemy. But our 
 standing with the tories is quite a different case, and 
 requires a very different course. The tories are our 
 countrymen, a part of our own population and 
 strength, so that every man of them that is killed, is 
 a man for ever lost to ourselves. Now, since the 
 British have put them up to murder us, if we go, out 
 of revenge, to murder them again, why, in the course 
 of a little time our population will be so cut up, as to 
 allow the British ministry, with ease, to take our 
 country, and make slaves of us all ; which is just 
 what lord North desires. 
 
 S. Yes, I dare say it is. But I hope he'll be dis- 
 appointed yet. 
 
 M. No doubt of it, sir ; if v/e shall be wise and 
 magnanimous enough to follow the true policy, which 
 s no other than humanity to these deluded people, 
 the tories . and to this we have every inducement 
 that generous spirits could desire. The tories and 
 ourselves are brothers ; many of us went to the same 
 school together ; and a thousand times have ate and 
 
212 THE LIFE OF 
 
 drank in each other's houses. And as to the quan«4 
 in which we are now unfortunately engaged, though 
 not the most, still we are much in fault. We made no 
 allowances for those follies of theirs which led to it. 
 They thought — Firsts That we were too nearly allied 
 to England to go to war with her: this was a weak* 
 ness, but there was something amiable in it. — *S(?- 
 coiidly^ They thought the British were much too war- 
 like and powerful to be resisted by us : this was an 
 error, but it was learned in the nursery. — Thirdly 
 They wished to keep in with the British, merely that 
 they might save their property : this was altogethei 
 from fear^ and therefore claimed some commiseration. 
 But no ! we could not grant one grain of indulgence 
 V) any of their mistakes. 'SYe would have it, they 
 all proceeded from the vilest of motives. We called 
 them traitors J and cowards^ and scoundrels ; and load* 
 edthem with a thousand indignities besides. Well, 
 the consequences were, as might have been expected 
 from human weakness and passion. Wrought to des- 
 peration, and caring not what they did, they have 
 gone and joined our enemies, and many valuable lives 
 have been lost on both sides. Surely 'tis high time 
 now that we should set about doing something to 
 end it. 
 
 S. Well ! let them set about ending it themselves. 
 They were the first to begin it. 
 
 M. But would you have the tories to lead to glory ? 
 
 S. Glory ! I should think it meanness to be the 
 first to make overtures to such rascals ! 
 
 M. Vv'ell, but, captain Snipes, when brethren, as we 
 are, fall out, is it policy to go on to exasperate and cut 
 h other's throats, until our enemy comes and takes 
 away a line country, of which, by such madness, we 
 had rendered ourselves unworthy T Would it not be 
 much better policy to truce back all our v/rong stepa 
 of passion and revenge, and making hearty friends 
 xgain, and joining our forces against the common ene- 
 my, drive him out of our country; and then bv estab* 
 
GEN, FRANCIS MARION. sna 
 
 lishing a free government, and encouraging agricul- 
 ture and commerce, and learning, and religion, make 
 ourselves a great and happy people again ; would not 
 this, I say, be the true policy ? 
 
 S. Why yes, I confess, general Marion, it would 
 be a noble thing, and very desirable, if it could be 
 done. But I cannot bear to think of being the first to 
 make terms with the tories, after they have been 
 burning, and plundering, .and murdering our best 
 friends. It is too hard, sir, for mortal flesh and blood. 
 
 3f. It is a great trial, I confess; but "the heavier 
 the cross the brighter the crown," you know, sir. And 
 as to the dtfficulti) of the undertaking, that's the very 
 thing that should make us jump at it ; the glory of 
 showing ourselves wiser and better men than our 
 enemy. . And besides, let us recollect that the glory 
 of this exploit all now lies with us : for if we do not 
 pluck up courage and do it, it will never be done. — 
 The tories are, generally, an ignorant people ; and 
 therefore not much of wise or good is to be expected 
 ^om that quarter. They have also, in many instances, 
 acted a very savage part by us : their consciousness 
 of this can have no tendency to make them court re- 
 conciliation with us. Since, then, but little is to be 
 expected from them^ it seems incumbent on us to do 
 t^ne more. We have better information, and we have 
 also a much better cause. These are great advantages 
 which God has given us; and now it becomes us to 
 improve them, to his glory and to our own honour, by 
 showing a conciliatory and magnanimous spirit to- 
 wards our enemies. And though it should cost us 
 labour to win such a victory, ijet^ I am confident, that 
 when won, it will appear to us the most glorious that 
 we ever achieved. To conquer an enemy by the 
 sword, is, no doubt, honourable ; but still it is nothing 
 in comparison of conquering him by generosity. As 
 arguing both superior virtue and courage, it com- 
 mands higher admiration from the v/^orld,'and is re- 
 flected on bj'^ ourselves with far more self-esteem and 
 
214 THE LIFE OF 
 
 applause. ^. And then, sir, only consider how such 
 conduct will gild the future scenes of life. This un- 
 fortunate quarrel betwixt us and our countrymen, the 
 tories, is not to last for ever. It was only the act of 
 a wicked ministry, attempting, by an unconstitutional 
 tax to enslave an affectionate part of the nation. God 
 can never suffer such an attempt to prosper. It must 
 be but a momentary quarrel ; and we ought to ac- 
 custom ourselves to think of it as such, and to look 
 beyond it to the happy days that are to succeed. And 
 since the storm of war is soon to subside into tha 
 calm of peace, let us do nothing novf, that may thr«w 
 a cloud over the coming sunshine. Let us net even 
 talk of exterminating' war J that unnatural crime which 
 would harrow up our souls Avith the pangs of remorse, 
 and haunt our repose with the dread of retaliation — « 
 which would draw down upon our cause the curse of 
 heaven, and make our ver}- name the odium of all 
 generations. But, far differently, let us act the gener- 
 ous part of those who, though now at variance, are 
 yet brothers, and soon to be good friends again. And 
 then, when peace returns, we shall be in proper frame 
 to enjoy it. No poor woman that we meet will seem 
 to upbraid us for the slaughter of her husband; no 
 naked child, for robbing him of his father ; no field 
 will cry against us for a brother's blood. On the 
 contrary, whenever the battles which we are now fight- 
 ing, shall recur to our thoughts, with the frightened 
 enemy grounding their arms and crying for quarter, 
 we shall remember how we heard their cries and stop- 
 ped the uplifted sword. Joy will spring in our bo- 
 soms, and all around will smile with approbation.-— 
 The faces of the aged will shine upon us, because we 
 spared their sons ; bright-eyed females will bless us 
 for their surviving husbands : and even the lips of 
 the children v/ill lisp our praises. Thus with a heaven 
 of delighted feeling in our hearts, and tlie smiles both 
 of God and man on our heads, we shall pass the even- 
 ing of our days in glorious oe»ce. And when death 
 
GEN. FRANCIS IMARION. 213 
 
 shall call us to that better world, we shall obey with- 
 out reluctance. Conscious of neither dread nor hate 
 towards any of the blessed people that dwell there, 
 we shall go in strong hope of witnessing the bright 
 realities of that state, where all is immortality and 
 love. Perhaps we shall there meet many of those 
 whom it has been our sad destiny to fight with here ; 
 not in their present imperfect state, but in their state 
 of exaltation, clad in robes brighter than the stars, 
 and their faces outshiriing the sun in his noonday 
 splendours. Perhaps at sight of us, these glorious 
 spirits may rush with ne v/-flushed beauties, to embrace 
 us, and in the presence of crowding angels, recount 
 our kindness to them in the days of their mortality ; 
 while all the dazzling throngs, listening delighted, 
 shall fix on us their eyes of love, inspiring those joys 
 which none but strong iimnortala could sustain. Are 
 not these, O my friends, hopes worth contending for I 
 Is revenge to be cherished that would rob us of such 
 honours I Can gencrositij be dear that would ensure 
 to us so great rev/ards ? Then let us not think bene- 
 volence was enjoined in vain, which is to conduct us 
 to such immortal felicities." 
 
 As Marion spoke these words, his countenance, 
 which in general was melancholy, caught an anima- 
 tion beyond tJie reader's fancy to conceive. The 
 charms of goodness, and the bright rewards which 
 await it, were painted in such living colours on his 
 face, that not even the stranger could have beheld it 
 unmoved. On me, who almost adored Marion for 
 his godlike virtues, its effects were past describing. 
 My bosom heaved with emotions unutterable, while 
 the tear of delicious admiration swelled in my eyes. 
 As to captain Snipes, he appeared equally affected. 
 His eyes were riveted on the general, and towards 
 the close of the speech his breath seemed suspended ; 
 his colour went and cam.e; and his face reddened 
 and swelled J as under the powerful eloquence of the 
 pulpit. 
 
^16 THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Marion and Lee attack and take fort Watson and f on 
 Lee — interesting anecdotes. 
 
 FROM Georgetown, Marion proceeded with colo- 
 nel Lee to attack the British post ou Scott's lake, 
 generally called fort Watson. The situation of this 
 fort was romantic and beautiful in the extreme. — 
 Overlooking the glassy level of the lake, it stood on 
 a mighty barrow or tomb like a mount, formed of the 
 bones of Indian nations, there heaped up from time 
 immemorial, and covered with earth and herbage. — 
 Finding that the fort mounted no artillery, Marion 
 resolved to make his approaches in a \fz.y that 
 should give his riflemen a fair chance against their 
 musqueteers. For this purpose, large quantities of 
 pine logs were cut, and as soon as dark came on, were 
 carried in perfect silence, within point blank shot of 
 the fort, and run up in the shape of large pens or 
 chimney-stacks, considerably higher than the enemy's 
 parapets. Great, no doubt, was the consternation of 
 the garrison next morning, to see themselves thus 
 suddenly overlooked by this strange kind of steeple* 
 pouring down upon them from its blazing top inces- 
 sant showers of rifie bullets. Nor were they idle th*» 
 while, but returned the blaze with equal fury, pre* 
 senting to us, who lay at a distance, a very interesting; 
 scene — as of two volcanoes that had suddenly broke 
 out into fiery strife, singeing the neighbouring pines. 
 
 Though their enemy, yet I could not but pity the 
 British, when I saw the great disadvantage under 
 which they fought. For our riflemen, lying above 
 them and firing through loopholes, were seldom 
 hurt; while the British, obliged, ^very time they 
 fired, to shov/ their heads, were frequently killed.— 
 Increasing still the awkwardness of their situation, 
 their well,, which was on the outside of the fort, v/as 
 so entirely in the reach of our rifles, that they could 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 217 
 
 not get a pail of water for cofFee or grog, without the 
 utmost hazard. After a gallant resistance, they sur« 
 rendered themselves prisoners of war ; o«ie hundred 
 and twenty in number. 
 
 This fort had been very judiciously fixed in a coun- 
 try exceedingly fertile, and on a lake aboanding with 
 fine fisii, and from its contiguity to the river Santee, 
 forming an admirable deposite for their upland posts. 
 From their military storehouse, Aii-hich was on the 
 outside of the fort, the British attencipted, at the com- 
 mencement of our attack, to get out their goods, and 
 to roll them up into the fort. But in this exposed 
 state, their men were picked off so fs st by our sharp- 
 shooters, that they were soon oblig ed to quit suck 
 hot work. 
 
 The sight of their casks and bales , rolled out and 
 shining so richly on the side of the hi] 1, set the fingers 
 of our ragged militia-men on such an itch, that tnere 
 was no resisting it. And presently a squad of three 
 of them were seen pushing out, v/ith out leave or ii* 
 cense, to attack a large hogshead, that lay very invit* 
 ingly on the outside of the rest. The enemy seeing 
 the approach of our buccaneers, rcsei ved their fire 
 until they had got pretty near up to the intended 
 prize; then all at once cut loose upon them with a 
 thundering clap, which killed one, cripp ^ed a second, 
 and so frightened tlie third, that he foi got the cask, 
 and turning tail, thought of nothing bu t to save his 
 Dacon ! which he did by such extrjiordii: ary running 
 and jumping, as threw us all into a most immoderate 
 laugh. 
 
 Presently up comes my black v.^aiter, B illy, with a 
 broad grin on his face, and says, " Why,m aster, them 
 militia men there, sir, are tarnal fools : tl ley do not 
 know nothing at all about stecdhi^. But .if you will 
 please, sir, to let me try my hand, I can fet* :h off that 
 hogshead there, mighty easy, sir." 
 
 "No, no, Billy!" said I, shaking my hea .d, "that 
 
Sid THE LIFE OF 
 
 will never do, my lad. I value you much too highly, 
 Billy, to let you be knocked on the head, so foolishly 
 as all that comes to." 
 
 " Lord bless you, sir," replied he, smiling, " there 
 is no more danger in it, than in eating when a body is 
 hungry. ' And if you will only please let me try my 
 hand, sir, if you see any danger, why then, master, 
 you may call me back, you know, sir." 
 
 Upon this he started. Fortunately for him our 
 riflemen, seeing what he was after, made a noble di- 
 version in his favour, by throwing a galling fire into 
 the fort. On getting within thirty yards of the hogs- 
 head, he fell fiat on his face, and dragged himself along 
 on his belly until he reached it. Then seizing the 
 hogshead w4th a hand on each chine he worked it back- 
 wards and backwards, like an alligator pulling a dog 
 into the river, until he had fairly rolled his prize to the 
 brink of the hill, where, giving it a sudden jerk by 
 way of a start, and at the same time j umping up, ho 
 ran with all his might down the precipice, the hogs- 
 head hard after him, and was soon out of all danger. 
 Numbers of shot were fired at him, but not one 
 touched him, "which gave great joy to our encamp- 
 ment, who were all anxious spectators of the trans- 
 action, and seemed to take a deep interest in Billy's 
 success. And no wonder ; for he was a most noble- 
 hearted fellow, and exceedingly useful in camp. Offi- 
 cers or soldiers, cadets or colonels, no matter who 
 they were, tliat asked Billy a favour, they were sure 
 to have it done for them ; and with such a cheerful 
 air, as did them more good than the service itself. 
 So that I much question, whether there was a man in 
 all our camp, whose good luck would have given 
 more general satisfaction than his. 
 
 On opening Bill's hogshead, which indeed was no 
 hogshead, but rather a puncheon, as big as two hogs- 
 heads, there was a prodigious stare among our men 
 at the si^ht of so much wealth. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 219 
 
 100 Strong; white shirts for soldiers, 
 50 Ene do. do. for officers, 
 50 camp blankets, 
 
 100 black stocks, '' 
 
 100 knapsacks, and 
 6 dragoon's cloaks, 
 vrcre the valuable contents of };illy's cask. The na- 
 tive genius of the poor fellow instantly broke out in 
 a stream of generous actions, which never stopped, 
 until the hogshead v/as completely emptied. First of 
 all, he began with me, to whom he presented half a 
 dozen of the fine shirts and black stocks, v/ith a dra- 
 goon's cloak. Tlicn to the general he made a present^ 
 also to the officers of his family. To his fellow-ser- 
 vants, who messed with him, he gave two shirts 
 a-piece. But what pleased mo most in Billy's dona- 
 tions, was his generosity to the two men who had 
 miscarried'in their attempt on the same cask. Seeing 
 that they were much mortified at their ozvn failure^ 
 and a little perhaps at his success, he desired them to 
 come and help themselves to what theij liked. Hear- 
 ing him then express a wish that he knew what to d( 
 with the balance, I told him. that many of our dragoons. 
 Were poor men, and much in want of shirts. *" Aye^ 
 sure €71011 gh^"* said he, and immediately handed them 
 out a shirt a-piece, until all were gone. 
 
 For this generosity of Billy's, general Mitrion dub- 
 bed him " captain Billy," a name which he went by 
 ever afterwards. Nothing was ever more seasonable 
 than this supply, purchased by Billy's valour ; for be- 
 fore that, we were all as ragged as young rooks. 
 There was not an officer in camp, except colonel Lee 
 and his staff, who was so rich as to ov\^n two shirts. 
 I am very sure that Marion's aids had but ono 
 a-piece. And yet so independent of wxalth is cheer- 
 fulness, that I have often seen our officers in their 
 naked buffs,near a branch, singing and dancing around 
 ihelr shirts, which they had just washed, and hung on 
 the bushes to diy. 
 
220 THE LIFE OF 
 
 % 
 
 TFrom the reduction of fort Watson, we set out im- 
 mediately in high spirits, for the still nobler attack 
 on foit Motte. For the sake of fine air, and water, 
 and handsome accommodations, the British had erect- 
 ed this fort in the yard of Mrs. Motte's elegant new 
 hou3e,which was nearly enclosed in their works. But 
 alas I so little do poor mortals know what they are 
 about ! the fme house, which they had rudely taken 
 from poor Mrs. Motte, proved to the British, what 
 his gay shirt did to Hercules. It wrought their down- 
 fall. For, after a fierce contest, in which many valu- 
 able lives were lost on both sides, through the sharp 
 shooting of the yaugers, and die still closer cutting of 
 our riflemen, it struck Marion that he could quickly 
 drive the enemy out of the fort, by setting the house 
 on fire. But poor Mrs. Motte ! a lone widow, whose 
 plantation had been so long ravaged by the war, her- 
 self turned into a log cabin, her negroes dispersed, 
 and her stock, grain, &c. nearly all ruined ! must she 
 now lose her elegant buildings too ? Such scruples 
 were honourable to the general ; but they showed his 
 total unacquaintedness with the excellent widow. For 
 at the first glimpse of the proposition, she exclaimed, 
 ^ O ! burn it ! burn it, general Marion ! God forbid I 
 should bestow a single thought on my little concerns, 
 when the independence of my country is at stake.— 
 No sir, if it were a palace it should go." She ihen 
 stepped to her closet and brought out a curious bow 
 with a quiver of arrows, which a poor African boy 
 purchased from on board a Guineaman, had formerly 
 presented her, and said, "" Here, general, here is what 
 will serve your purpose to a hair." The arrows, 
 pointed with iron, and charged with lighted combus-" 
 tibles, were shot on top of the house, to which they 
 stuck, and quickly communicated the flames. The 
 British, two hundred in number, besides a good many 
 tories, instantly hung out a white flag in sign of sub-, 
 mission. 
 
 The excellent Mr?. Motte was present when hei 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 221 
 
 fine new house, supposed to be worth six thousand 
 dollars, took lire; and without a sigh, beheld the red 
 spiry billov/s prevailing over all its grandeur. 
 
 The day after the destruction of her house, she 
 invited general Marion with all the oincers, British 
 as well as American, to dine v/ith her. Having now 
 no better place of accommodation, she entertained 
 us under a large arbour built in front of her log cabin, 
 where, with great pleasure, I observed that the same 
 lady could one day act the Spartan, and the next the 
 Parisian : thus uniting in herself, the rare qualities 
 of the heroine and the (shristian. For my life I could 
 not keep my eyes from her. To think what an irre- 
 parable injury these officers had done her ! v.nd yet 
 to see her, regardless of her own appetite, selecting 
 the choicest pieces of the dish, and helping them v/ith 
 the endearing air of a sister, appeared to me one of 
 the loveliest spectacles I had ever beheld. It produced 
 the happiest eifect on us all. Catching her amiable 
 spirit, we seemed to have entirely forgotten our past 
 animosities ; and Britons and Americans mmgled to- 
 gether, in smiles and cheerful chat, like brothers. I 
 do not recollect a transaction in the whole war, in 
 which I can think that God looked dov/n with higher 
 complacency than on ti:is. And to the day of my 
 death, I shall believe, thai God enabled us to beat the 
 British in- arms, because v/e had so far bea.ten them 
 in generosity. Men, who under such cruel provoca- 
 tions, could display such m.oderation as we did, must 
 certainly have given our Maker good hope, that we 
 were equal to the glorious business of seIf-ifover?i~ 
 ment; or, in other words, of living luider a republic, 
 which must certainly be his delight, because both im- 
 plying and producing more wisdom and virtue, than 
 any other government among men. 
 
 The name of the British comm.andant, our prisoner^ 
 
 was Fergunon ; and a very pleasant gentleman he was 
 
 too, as I found on getting acquainted with him, which 
 
 I soon did. After talking over our various adventures 
 
 U2 
 
S28 THE LIFE Oh 
 
 in the war, he aske^ me it I did not command the 
 cavalry, in the late skirmishing between Watson and 
 Marion. I told him I did. " Well," replied he, " you 
 made a very lucky escape that day : for do you know 
 that we were twelve hundred strong, owing to colone) 
 Small's joining us in the march ?" 
 
 " Then truly," said I, *' if that were the case, I 
 made a lucky escape, sure enough." 
 
 " And where were you," he asked again, " when 
 general Marion so completely surprised our guard at 
 Nelson's old fields : were you there ?" 
 
 I told him I was not, but that my brother, Hugh 
 Horry, was. 
 
 ** Well," continued he, laughing heartily, " that was 
 my lucky day. I had a command there that morning 
 of about thirty men, as an advance. We had not left 
 the guard more than five minutes before the Ameri- 
 cans charged and swept all. The moment we heard the 
 firing and the cries of our people, we squatted in the 
 high grass like so many rabbits, then running on the 
 stoop, till we gained the woods, we cleared ourselves." 
 I laughed, and asked how many men he supposed 
 Marion had that morning. 
 
 He replied, he really did not know, but supposed 
 he must have had three or four hundred. 
 
 " Well, sir," said I, " he had exactly thirty." 
 
 The reader may perhaps conceive Ferguson's as- 
 tonishment : I cannot describe it. 
 
 Soon as the dishes were removed, we were present- 
 ed with a spectacle to which our eyes had long been 
 strangers, a brave parade of excellent wine : several 
 hampers of which had been received at the fort the 
 very day before we commenced the attack. To poor 
 soldiers like us, who, for years, had hardly quenched 
 our thirst on any thing better than Vv'ater or apple 
 brandy grog, this v/as a bight immensely refreshing. 
 Whether it was owing to the virtues of this noble cor- 
 dial, with the recollection of our late glorious victo- 
 ries ; or whether it was the happy result of our gene- 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 223 
 
 tosity to the enemy, and of their correspondent 
 politeness to us, I do not know; but certain it is, we 
 were all very gay. But in the midst of «^ur enjoy 
 ments, which none seemed to relish with a higher 
 glee than general Marion, a British soldier came up 
 and tv^hispered to one of their officers, who instantly 
 coming round to the general, told him in a low voice, 
 that the Americans were hanging the tories who had 
 been taken in the fort ! 
 
 In a mom.ent he sprang up, in a violent passion, and 
 snatching his sword, ran down towards our encamp- 
 ment. We all followed him, though without knowing 
 the cause. On turning the corner of the garden which 
 had concealed their cruel deeds, we discovered a sight 
 most shocking to humanity, a poor man hanging in the 
 air to the beam of a gate, and struggling hard in the 
 agonies of death. " Cut him down ! cut him down !" 
 cried the general, as soon as he had got near enough 
 to be heard, which was instantlv done. Then running 
 up, with cheeks as red as fire coals, and half choked 
 with rage, he bawled out, " In the name of God ! what 
 are you about, what are you about liere !" 
 
 " Only hanging a few tories, sir,"" replied captain 
 Harrison of Lee's legion. 
 
 " WTio gave you a right, sir, to touch the tories ?" 
 
 To this, young M'Corde, of the same corps, replied, 
 that it was only three or four rascals of them that 
 they meant to hang ; and that they had not supposed 
 the general xvould mtndthat. 
 
 " What ! not mind murdering the prisoners. ^VTiy, 
 my God ! what do you take me to be ? do you take 
 me for a devil ?" 
 
 Then, after placing a guard over the tories, and 
 vowing to make an example of the first man who 
 should dare to offer them violence, he returned with 
 the company to Mrs. Motte's table. 
 
 Of the three unfortunate tories that were hung dead^ 
 one was naired Hugh Mizcally. The name of the per- 
 son so timely cut down was Levi Smith, a most furi- 
 
224 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ous tory. This title produced him such respect among 
 those degenerate Britons, that they appointed him 
 gatekeeper of Charleston, a circumstance that ope- 
 rated much against the poor whigs in the country. 
 For Smith soon broke up a pious kind of fraud, -v^hijcfc 
 the wives and daughters of the tories had for some 
 time carried on at a bold rate. 
 
 ' To the immortal honour of the ladies of South Ca 
 rolina, they were much more whiggishly given thav 
 the men ; insomuch that though married to tories, 
 they would be whigs still. 
 
 These fair ladies, in consequence of their relation 
 to the tories, could, at pleasure, pass into Charleston ; 
 which they never left without bringing off quantities 
 of broadcloth cut and jumped into petticoats, and art- 
 fully hid under their gowns. The broad cloth, thus 
 brought off, was for regimentals for our officers.— 
 Things went on swimmingly in this way for a long 
 time, till Smith, getting one day more groggy and 
 impudent than usual, swore that some young women 
 who were gomg out at the gate, looked much bigger 
 over the hips than they had need, and insisted on a 
 search. The truth is, these fair patriots, preparing 
 for a great wedding in the country, had thus spoiled 
 their shape, and brought themselves to all this dis- 
 grace by tlieir over greediness for finery. But Mr. 
 tory Smith affected to be so enraged by this trick, 
 which the girls had attempted to play on him, that he 
 would never afterv/ards suffer a woman to pass with* 
 out first pulling up her clothes. 
 
 He carried his zeal to such length, as one day very 
 grossly to insult a genteel old lady, a Mrs. M'Corde. 
 
 Her son, who was a dragoon in Lee's legion, swore 
 vengeance againstSmith, and v.'ould, as we have seen, 
 have taken his life, had not Gen. Marion interposed. 
 
 In the Charleston papers of that day, ITSl, Smith 
 gives thehistoiy of his escape from Marion, wherein 
 be relates an anecdote, which, if it be ti'ue, and I see 
 
GEN. FRANCIS AL^R-iOX. 22S 
 
 no reasoFx to doubt it, shows clear enough that his 
 ton-ism cost hiiTi clear. 
 
 In his confinement at Motte' s house, he was exces* 
 sively uneasy. Well knowing that the whig;s owed 
 him no good will, and fearing that the next time thev 
 got a halter round his neck, he might find no Marion 
 to take his part, he determined if possible to run off. 
 The tories were all handcuited two and two, and con- 
 fined together under a centinel, in what was called a 
 bull-pen^ made of pine trees, cat down so judgmati- 
 cally as to form, by their fall, a pen or enclosure. It 
 was Smith's fortune to have for his yokefellow a poor 
 sickly creature of a tory, who, though hardly able to 
 go high-lov/, was prevailed on to desert v»-ith him. 
 They had not travelled far into the woods, before his 
 sick companion, quite overcome with fatigue, declared 
 he could go no farther, and presently fell down in a 
 swoon. Confined by the handcuiTs, Smith was obliged 
 to lie by him in the woods, two days and nights, 
 without meat or drink ! and his comrade frequently 
 in convulsions! On the third day he died. Unable 
 to bepr it anv longer. Smith drew his knife and se- 
 parated himself from the dead man, by cutting oHf 
 his arm at the elbow, v\*hich he bore with him to 
 Charleston. 
 
 The British heaitily congratulated his return, and 
 restored him to his ancient honour of sitting, Morde- 
 cai-like, at the king's gate, v.-here, it is said, he be- 
 haved verv decently ever afterwards. 
 
 Smith's friends sav of him, that in his ov^'n countr}' 
 (South Carolina) he hardly possessed money enough 
 to buv a pig, but when he got to England, after the 
 war, lie made out as if the rehth had robbed him of 
 as manv flocks and herds as the wild Arabs did Job. 
 The British government, remarkable for generosity 
 to their friends in distress, gave him money enough 
 to return to South Carolina with a pretty assortment 
 of merchandise. And he is now, I am told, as weal- 
 
226 ^ THE LIFE OF 
 
 thy as a Jew, and, which is still more to his credit 
 as courteous as a christian. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVni. 
 
 T^he author congratulates Jus dear coufitry on her late 
 glorious victories — recapitulates British cruelties^ 
 drazuing after them^ judicialhj^ a succession of ter* 
 rible overthroivs, 
 
 HAPPY Carolina ! I exclaimed, as our late victo- 
 ries passed over my delighted thoughts ; happy Caro- 
 lina! dear native country, hail ! long and dismal has 
 been the night of thy affliction : but now rise and 
 sing, for thy " light is breaking forth, and the da^VIl 
 of thy redemption is brightening around. '* 
 
 For opposing the curses of slavery, thy noblest citi- 
 zens have been branded as rebels^ and treated with a 
 barbarity unknown amongst civilized nations. They 
 have been taken from their beds and weeping fami- 
 lies, and transported, to pine and die in a land ot 
 strangers. 
 
 They have been crowded into rnidsuinmer jails 
 and dungeons^^^ there, unpitied, to perish amidst suf- 
 focation and stench ; while their wives and children, 
 in mournful groups around the walls, were asking 
 with tears for their husbands and fathers ! 
 
 They have been wantonly murdered v/ith swords 
 and bayonets,! or hung up like dogs to ignominious 
 gibbets. 
 
 * All Europe was filled with horror at the history of the ono 
 hundred and twenty uni'oitun ate Englishmen that' were sutfc- 
 cated in the black hole at Calcutta. Little was it thouglit that 
 an English noblemim (lord Rawdon) would so soon liave repeated 
 that crime, by crowding one hundred and sixty-fom' unfortunaw 
 Americans into a small prison in C'amden, in the dogdays. 
 
 \ A Bi*other ot" that excellent man, major Linning. of Charle*' 
 ton, was taken trom his plantation on Ashley liver, by one i** 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 327 
 
 They have been stirred up and exasperated against 
 »ach other, to the most unnatural and bloody strifes 
 * Fathers to kill their sona^ and brothers to put bro 
 thers to death /" 
 
 Such were the deeds of Cornwallis and his officer: 
 in Carolina! And while the churches in England were, 
 every where, resounding with prayers to Almighty 
 God, " to spare the effusion of human blood," those 
 monsters were shedding it with the most savage wan- 
 tonness ! While all the good people in Britain v/ere 
 praying, day and night, for a speedy restoration of 
 the former happy friendship between England and 
 America, those wretches were taking the surest steps 
 to drive all friendship from the American bosom, and 
 to kindle the flames of everlasting hatred ! 
 
 But, blessed be God, the tears of the widows an6 
 orphans have prevailed against them, and the rig-hte- 
 ous Jud^e of all the earth is rising up to make inqui- 
 sition for the innocent blood which they have shed. 
 And never was his hand more visibly displayed in 
 the casting down of the wicked, than in humbling 
 Cornwallis and his bloody crevv'. 
 
 At this period, 1780, the western extremities were 
 the only parts of the state that remainted free. To 
 swallow these up, Cornwallis sent Col. Ferguson, a fa- 
 vourite ofncer, with fourteen hundred men. Hearing 
 of the approach of the enemy, and of their horrible 
 cruelties, the hardy mountaineers rose up as one man 
 from Dan to Beersheba. They took their faithful rifle? 
 They mounted their horses, and with each his bagoi 
 oats, and a scrap of victuals, they set forth to find th<. 
 enemy. They had no plan, no general leader. The 
 
 the enemy's galleys, and thnist down into the hold. At night the 
 officei'S began to drink and sing, and kept it up till twelve o'clock, 
 when, by wav of {relic, they had him brouglit, though sick, into 
 their cabin, held a ccm*t mariial over him, sentenced him to 
 death, very deliberately executed^ the sentence by stabbing him 
 with bayonets, and then tlirew his mangled body into tlic rivel 
 Cor tlie &hai-ks and crabs to devour . 
 
«28 THE LIFE OF 
 
 youth of each district, gathering around their own 
 brave colonei, rushed to battle. But though seemingly 
 blind and headlong as their own mountain streams 
 yet there was a hand unseen that guided their course, 
 rhey all met, 6'.v bij chcuice^ near the King's moun« 
 tain, where the ill-fated Ferguson encamped. Their 
 numbers counted, made three thousand. That the 
 work and victory m.ay be seen to be of God, they 
 5f.nt back all but one thousand chosen men. 
 
 A thousand men on mountains b^et'-, 
 
 "V^'itli rifles all so bright, 
 Who knew full well, in time of need, 
 
 To aim their guns aright. 
 
 At parting, the ruddy warriors shook hands with 
 their returning friends, and sent their love. '' Tell 
 oui fathers," said they, "" that we shall think of them, 
 jn the battle, and draw our sights the truer !''^ 
 
 Then led on by the brave colonels Campbell, Cleve- 
 land, Shelby, Sevier, and Williams, they ascended the 
 hill and comm.enced the attack. Like Sinai of old, the 
 top of the mountain was soon M'rapped in smoke and 
 flames ; the leaden deaths came whizzing from all 
 quarters ; and in forty minutes Ferguson was slain, 
 and the whole of his party killed, wounded or taken* 
 
 To avenge this mortifying blow, Cornwallis des- 
 patched colonel Tarleton with thirteen hundred and 
 fifty picked troops, against Morgan, who had but 
 nine hundred men, and these more than half militia. 
 At the first onset, the militia fled, leaving Morgan 
 with only four hundred to contend against thirteen 
 hundred and fifty, rushing on furiously as to certain 
 victory. What spectator of this scene must not have 
 given up all for lost, and with tears resigned this lit- 
 tle forlorn, to that unsparing slaughter which colonel 
 Tarleton delighted in ? But, contrary t® all human 
 expectation, the devoted handful stood their ground, 
 and, in a short time, killed and captured aearly the 
 whole of their proud assailants ! 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 229 
 
 Raging like a wounded tiger, Cornwallis destroys 
 all his heavy baggage, and pushes hard after Morgan. 
 I'he pursuit is urged with unimaginable fury: and 
 Cornwallis gains so fast upon the Americans, encum- 
 bf'vcd with their prisoners, that on the evening of the 
 ninth day he came up to the banks of the Catawba, 
 just as Morgan's rear had crossed at a deep ford. 
 Before the wished-for morning returned, the river 
 was so sv^olien by a heavy rain, that Cornwallis could 
 not pass. Adoring the hand of Heaven, the Ameri- 
 cans continued their flight. On the morning of the 
 third day, Cornwallis renev/ed the pursuit with redou 
 bled fury, and by the ninth evening, came up to the 
 banks of the Yadkin, just as Morgan's last rifle corp\ 
 was about to take the ford. ' Presently the rain came 
 rushing down in torrents, and by the morning light 
 the furious river was impassable ! Who so blind as 
 not to acknowledge the hand of God in all this ? 
 
 Soon as he could get over, the wrathful Cornwallis 
 renewed the pursuit ; but before he could overtake 
 them at Gut Iclford court-house^ the Americans, joined 
 by their countrymen, gave him battle, and killed on*^ 
 third of his army. Cornwallis then, in turn, fled bc« 
 fore the Americans ; and as he had outmarched them 
 before, he outran them now, and escaped safely to 
 Wilmington. With largely recruited force he re- 
 turned to Virginia, where four hundred deluded men, 
 (tcries) under colonel Pyles, came forward to join 
 him. On their way they fell in with Col. Lee and his 
 legion. Mistaking thern for Tarleton and his cavalry, 
 they \iave tiieir hats and cry out, *^ God save the 
 king! God save the king!" Lee encourages the mis- 
 take, until they are all intermixed with his dragoons, 
 who at a signal given, dravv' their swords and hew the 
 wretches to pieces. Only one hundred make their 
 escape. Tliee^e tall in, the next day, with colonel 
 Tarleton, v.iio, raistak.ng them for what he called 
 ^ damned rebels," ordered his troops to charge^ which 
 ihey did J and regardless of their repeated cries, that 
 
230 THE LIFE OF 
 
 •* they were the king's best friends," put most of then* 
 to death. 
 
 Thus wondeifully did God bafile lord Cornvvallis, 
 and visit a sudden and bloody destruction upon those 
 unnatural wretches, who were going forth to plunge 
 their swords into the bowels of their own country ! 
 
 After this, being joined by all the British troops in 
 that quarter, he rolled on like an angry flood to Wil- 
 liamsburgh and York, where God sent his servant 
 Washington, who presently captured him and his 
 fleet and army, near ten thousand strong. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 The British evacuate Charleston — great joy of the, 
 citizens — patriotism of the Charleston ladies, 
 
 AS when a lion that has long kept at bay the fierce 
 assaulting shepherds, receives at last his mortal wound, 
 suddenly the monster trembles under the deadly 
 stroke ; and, sadly howling, looks around with wistful 
 eye towards his native v/oods. Such was the shock 
 given to the British, when the sword of heaven-aided 
 justice struck down the bloody Cornwallis. With 
 him fell the hopes of the enemy throughout our state. 
 
 In Charleston, their officers were seen standing to- 
 gether in groups, shaking their heads as they talked 
 of the dreadful news. While those who had marched 
 up so boldly into the country, now panic-struck, were 
 every where busied in demolishing their works, blow- 
 ing up their magazines, and hurrying back to town in 
 the utmost dismay. Hard pressing upon the rear, 
 we followed the steps of their flight, joyfully chasing 
 them from a country which they had stained with 
 blood, and pursuing them to the very gates of Charles- 
 ton. As we approached the ^ity, our eyes were pre- 
 sented with scenes of desolation sufficient to damp all 
 hearts, and to inspire the deepest sense of the horror* 
 
GEN, FRAKCIS iVURION. 231 
 
 of war. Robbed of all animal and vegetable life, the 
 neighbouring plantations seemed but as dreary de- 
 serts, compared with what they once were, when, co- 
 vered with sportive flocks and herds, and rice and 
 corn, they smiled with plenteousness and joy. In the 
 fields, the eyes beheld no sign of cheerful crops, nor 
 in the woods any shape of living beast or bird, except 
 a few mournful buzzards, silently devouring the un- 
 buried flesh of some poor wretched mortals, who had 
 fallen in the late rencontres between the English and 
 Americans. Indeed, had those days continued, no flesh 
 could have been saved ; but blessed be God, who 
 shortened them, by chastising the aggressors (the 
 British) as we have seen. 
 
 On the memorable 14th of December, 1782, we en- 
 tered and took possession of our capital, after it had 
 been two years seven months and two days in the 
 hands of the enemy. The style of our entry was 
 quite novel and romantic. On condition of not being 
 molested while embarking, the British had ofl'ered to 
 leave the town unhurt. Accordingly, at the firing of 
 a signal gun in the morning, as agreed on, they quit- 
 ted their advanced works, near the town gate, while 
 the Americans, moving on close in the rear, follow- 
 ed them all along through the city down to the 
 water's edge, where they embarked on board their 
 three hundred ships, which, moored out in the bay in 
 the shape of an immense half moon, presented a most 
 magnificent appearance. 
 
 The morning was as lovely as pure wintry air and 
 cloudless sunbeams could render it ; but rendered far 
 lovelier still by our procession^ if I may so call it, 
 which was well calculated to awaken the most plea- 
 surable feelings. In front, were the humble remains 
 of that proud army, which, one and thirty months ago, 
 captured our city, and thence, \\\ the drunkenness of 
 victory, had hurled menaces and cruelties disgraceful 
 to the British name:—^A\\(\. close in the rear, was 
 oar band of patriots, bending forward with martial 
 
23^ THE LIFE OF 
 
 music and flying colours, to play the last joyful act m 
 the drama oflheir country's deliverance ; to proclaim 
 libfTtv lo the cantive ; to recall the smile on the cheek 
 of aorrow; and to make the heart ci the widow leap 
 for joy. Numbers, who, for years, had been confined 
 to a single room in their own elegant h(>uses, could 
 now throw open their long-locked doors, and breathe 
 and walk at large in these beloved apartments, irom 
 which they had been so long excluded. Numbers, 
 who, for years, had mourned their separation from 
 children, wives, and sires, were now seen rushing, 
 with trembling joy, to the long-coveted embrace. Oh ' 
 it was a day of jubilee indeed ! a day of rejoicing 
 never to be forgotten. Smiles and tears were on every 
 face. For who could remain unmoved, when they saw 
 the little children running v/ith outstretched arms to 
 embrace their long absent fathers ; when they saw the 
 aged trembling v/ith years and aifection, clasping their 
 warrior sons, glorious in arms, and those sons, vv^ith 
 pleasure-sparkling eyes, returning the pious embrace. 
 and congratulating the deliverance of their fathets ; 
 while all along the streets, as we moved in clouds of 
 joy-rolling dust, nothing v/as to be heard but shouts 
 of, Liberty and America tor ever; and nothing 
 was to be seen but crov/ds of citizens shaking hands 
 and thanking God for bringing them to see that hap- 
 py day. And to crown all, on both sides of us, as we 
 marched in shining rows, stood our beauteous coun- 
 try women, mingling their congratulations. The day 
 was precious to all, but none I believe enjoyed it so 
 highly as did the ladies of Charleston. Being, great 
 numbers of them at least, v/omen of fortune and libe- 
 ral education, they had early discovered the deformi- 
 ty of lord North's enslaving principles, " iinconditi07id\ 
 taxation^'' which they abhorred v.'orse than the yav/s ; 
 and hating the measure, they could not but dislike the 
 men who were come to execute it. In common with 
 their sex, they were sufhciemiy partial to soldiers of 
 honour. But alas ! they were not permitted the ple;*^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 
 
 sure to contemplate the British In that prepossessing 
 light. On the contrary, compelled to view them as 
 mere ^q-h ting" machmes^ venal wretches, who for pay 
 and ]:)lunder, had degraded the man into the brute, 
 tne Briton into the buccaneer, how could they 
 otherwise than detest them ? 
 
 Nor were the manners of the British officers at all 
 calculated to remove those antipathies. Coming to 
 America, under the impression that the past genera- 
 tion were convicts^ and the present rebels^ they looked 
 on and treated their daughters only as pretty Creoles^ 
 whom it was doing great honour to smile on ! 
 
 But this prejudice against the British officers, found- 
 t(\.Jirst on their sordidness^ then, secondly^ fed by their 
 insolence^ was, thirdly and lastly^ matured l^y their 
 cruelty. To see the heads of their first families, 
 without even a charge of crime, dragged from their 
 beds at midnight, and packed off like slaves to St. 
 Augustine ; to see one of their most esteemed coun- 
 trymen, the amiable colonel Haynes, hang up like a 
 dog befoie their eyes ; and to hear continuallv, from 
 all parts, ov the horrid house-burnings and murders 
 committed by Kawdon, Tarleton, \V'eymies, and their 
 toryand negro allies, filled up the measure of female 
 detestation of the British officers. They scorned to 
 be seen in the same public walks with them ; would 
 not touch a glove or snuff-box from their hands ; and 
 in short, turned away from them as from the com- 
 monest felons or cut-threats. And on the other hand, 
 to be treated thus by buckskin girh\ the rebel daught- 
 ers of convict parents, was more than the British offi- 
 cers could put up with. The whig ladies, of course, 
 were often insulted, and that very grossly too ; and 
 not only often threatened, but actually thrown into the 
 frovost or bastile. No wonder then that they were 
 nrghly delighted to see such rude enemies, after re- 
 peated overthrows in the countr)'-, chased back to 
 town, and theiice, covered ^vivb disgi-ace, embarking 
 to leave the country for ever. No wonder that, on 
 V2 
 
THE LIFE OF 
 
 hearing of our line of march tliat morning, they ha^ 
 decked themselves in their richest habi4:s, and at the 
 first sound of our drums, flew to their doors, windowsv, 
 and balconies, to welcome our return. 
 
 Never before had thev appeared half so charmiiig. 
 Sv/eet are the flowers of the liekl at every season ot 
 the year, but doubly sweet, when, after long icy win- 
 *er, they spread all their blossoms to the sprinj^tide 
 sun. Even so the daughters of Charleston, though 
 always fair, yet never seemed so passing fair as now, 
 when after sustaining the long wintry storms of Bri- 
 tish oppression, they came forth m all their patriot 
 charms to greet the welcon;e beams of returning li- 
 berty. And never shall I forget the accents of those 
 lovely lips, which, from behind their waving handker- 
 chiefs, that but half concealed their angel blushes, 
 exclaiming, " God bless you, gentlemen ! God bless 
 you ! welcome ! welcome to your homes xigain !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Marion returns to his plcmtation — is appointed a mem" 
 her of the legislature — some valuable anecdotes oj 
 him — his marriage — and retirement. 
 
 AFTER the retreat of the British from Carolina, 
 Marion sheathed his ^wordfir lacJc of argument^ and 
 went up to cultivate his little plantation in St. John's 
 parish, where he was born. But the gratitude of his 
 countrv'men did not long allow him to enjoy the 
 sweets of that rural life, of which he v/as uncom- 
 monly fond. At the next election, he was in some 
 sort compelled to stand as a candidate for the legisla- 
 ture, to which, by an unanim.ous voice, he was sent, 
 to aid with his coimsel, the operations of that govern- 
 ment, to whose freedom his sword had so largely con- 
 tributed. The friends of humanity were all highly 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 
 
 f!>Heasevl with his call to the legislature. From his well 
 known generosity to bis enemies, during the war, the} 
 fondly hoped he would do every thing in his powei 
 .to extinguish that horrid flame of revenge, which still 
 glovy'cd in the bosoms of many against the tories. Nor 
 did .Marion disappoint their hopes. His face was al- 
 ways, and undauntedUv, set against every proposition 
 that savoured of severity to the tories, whom he used 
 to call his " poor deluded countrymen." The reader 
 may form some idea of general Marion from the fol- 
 lowing anecdote, which was related to me by the 
 honourable Benjamin liuger, Esq. 
 
 During the furious contests in South Carolina, 
 between the British and Americans, it was very com- 
 mon for men of property to play jack of both sic/eSj 
 for the sake of saving their negroes and cattle. — 
 Among these, a pretty numerous crew, was a wealthy 
 old blade, who had the advantage of one of those very 
 accommodating faces, that could shine with equal 
 lustre on his victorious visitants, whether Britons or 
 buckskins. Marion soon found him out ; and as ijoon 
 gave him a broad hint how heartily he despised such 
 trimming: for at a great public meeting where the 
 old gentleman, v/ith a smirking fai?e, came up and 
 presented his hand, Marion turned from him without 
 deigning to receive it. Everybody was surprised ai 
 this conduct of the general, and some spoke of it in 
 terms of high displeasure. However, it was not long 
 before they caught the old weathercock at one of his 
 tricks, and, soon as the confiscation act was passed, 
 had him down on the black list^ fondly hoping, no 
 doubt, to divide alarge spoil. Marion, who was then 
 a member of the legislatu/e, arose to speak. The aged 
 culprit, who also was present, turned pale and trem- 
 bled at the Sight of Marion, giving up all for lost.— 
 But how great, hov/ agreeable was his surprise, when 
 instead of hearing the general thundering against him 
 for judgment, he heard hini imploring for mercy! 
 pis accusers were, if possible, still, more astonished 
 
.W6 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Having counted on general Marion as his firmest foe 
 they were utterly mortified to find him his fastest 
 friend, and, venting their passion with great freedom, 
 taxed him with inconsistency and fickleness that but 
 illy suited with general Marion's character. 
 
 " It is scarcely eighteen months, sir," said they, 
 " since you treated this old rascal with the most 
 pointed and public contempt, on account of the very 
 crime for which we wish to punish him. And here, 
 now, instead of taking part against him, you have 
 declared in his favour, and have become his warmest 
 advocate with a legislature." 
 
 *'True, gentlemen," replied Marion, "but you 
 should remember that it was war then ; and there- 
 fore my duty to make a difference between the real 
 and pretended friends of my country. But it \s peace 
 now, and we ought to remember the virtues of men, 
 particularly of the old and timid, rather than their 
 fellies. And we ought to remember too, that God 
 has given us the victory, for which we owe him eter- 
 nal gratitude. But cruelty to man is not the way to 
 show our gratitude to heaven." 
 
 Of the same complexion was his behaviour in a 
 large partv at governor Matthew's table, just aft«r 
 the passage of the famous act to confiscate the estates 
 of tlie tories. " Ccme, general, ^^ive us a toa.yt^^ said the 
 governor. The glasses were all filled, and the eyes 
 of the company fixed upc^n the general, who, waving 
 his bumpei in the air, thus nobly called out — " Welly 
 ^entlerrjioi., here'^s damnation to the confiscation actP 
 
 The following anecdote of Marion I have heard 
 from a thousand lips, and every time with that joy 
 on the countenance, which evinced the deep interest 
 which the heart takes in talking of things that are 
 honourable to our countrvmen. 
 
 While Marion was a member of the legislature, a 
 petition was presented to the house for an act of am," 
 nestij of all those arbitrary measures which the Ame- 
 rican ofiicers had been obliged to adopt during the war^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ?37 
 
 iirfi order to get horses, provisions, he. for the arm^' 
 The petition was signed by the names of all the favou- 
 rite ofiicers of the state, and among the rest, by that of 
 our hero. Some of his friends, it seemed, had done it 
 for him, on the supposition that he needed such an 
 act as v/eil as the rest. But Marion, who had listened 
 very attentively to the reading of the petition, on hear- 
 ing his name mentioned as one of the subscribers, in- 
 stantly arose, and insisted that his name should be 
 struck off from that paper. He said " he had no manner 
 of objection to the petition ; on the contrary, he most 
 heartily approved of it, and meant to vote for it ; foi 
 well did he know, he said, that during the war, we 
 had among us a world of ig-7ior amuses, who, for lack 
 of knowing their danger, did not care a lig how the 
 war went, but were sauntering about in the woods, 
 popping at the squirrels, when they ought to have 
 been in the field fi;ghting the British ; that such gen- 
 tlemen, since they did not choose to do any thing for 
 their country themselves; might v/ell afford to let theii 
 cattle do something; and as they had not shed any of 
 their blood for the public service, they might certainly 
 spare a little corn to it: at any rate he had no notion, 
 he said, of turning over to the mercy of these pol- 
 troons, some of the choicest spirits of the nation, to 
 be prosecuted and torn to pieces by them ; but that, 
 nevertheless, he did not like to have his name to the 
 petition, for, thank God, he had no favours to ask of 
 them. And if, during the war for his country, he had 
 done any of them harm, there was he, and yonder 
 his propertif, and let them come forruard, if they darc^ 
 and demand satisfaction.'''* 
 
 And I never heard of any man who ever accused 
 him of the least injury done him during all the war, 
 
 Marion continued a member of the legislature, un- 
 til orders were issued to repair and put in commission 
 Fcrt Joh?ison, to the command of which he was ap- 
 pointed, with the pay of about twenty-two hundred 
 dollars per annum. Though this salary had been 
 
238 THE LIFE OP 
 
 votea him chiefly because of his losses during the Wr* 
 yet it was not continued to him longer than two oi 
 three years, when it was reduced to less than five hun- 
 dred dollars annually. Numbers of people had theii 
 feelings greatly hurt on this occasion, and, I dare say^ 
 much worse than his own. For he was a man who 
 caied very little for money; and besides, about that 
 time he entered into matrimony with that excellent 
 and wealthy lady, Miss Mary Videau, who, with her 
 affections, bestowed on him a fortune sufficient to sa- 
 tisfy his utmost wishes, even though they had been 
 far less moderate than they were. Seeing now no par* 
 ticular obligation on him to continue longer in the 
 public service, he gladly yielded to his sense of what 
 he owed to a generous and beloved companion, and 
 with her, retired to his native parish of St. John's, 
 where, amidst the benedictions of his countrymen^ 
 and the caresses of numerous friends, he spent the 
 short remnant of his days, participating every rural 
 sweet with the dear woman of his choice, feasting on 
 the happy retrospect of a life passed in fighting for 
 THE RIGHTS OF MAN, and fondly cherishing the hopes 
 of a better. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 TTie author'*s last visit to Marion-^-znterestlnq' convert 
 sation on the importance of public injtt ruction-^ 
 free schools shown to be a great saving to a na* 
 tion. 
 
 I OFTEN went to see Marlon. Our evenings were 
 pv.ssed as might have been expected between two old 
 friends, who had spent their better days together in 
 scenes of honourable enterprise and danger. On the 
 mght of tJie last visit I ever made him, observing that 
 the clock was going for ten, I asked him if it were 
 not near his hour o^ -^t. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 239 
 
 • Oh no," said he, " wc must not talk of bed yet, 
 It is but seldom, you know, that we meet. And as 
 this may be our last^ let us take all we can of it in 
 chat. What do you think of the times .^" 
 
 " O glorious times," said I. 
 
 " Yes, thank God !" replied he. " They are glorious 
 times indeed ; and fully equal to all that we had in 
 hope, when we drew our swords for independence. 
 But I am afraid they won't last long." 
 
 I asked him why he thought so. 
 
 " Oh ! knowledge, sir," said he, " is wanting ! know- 
 ledge is wanting ! Israel of old, you know, was de^' 
 atroyedfor lack of knoxvledge ; and all nations, all in- 
 dividuals, have come to naught from the same cause." 
 
 I told him I thought we were too happy to change 
 so soon. 
 
 " Pshaw !" replied he, " that is nothing to the pur- 
 pose. Happiness signifies nothing, if it be not knoxvriy 
 and properly valued, Satan, we are told, was once 
 an angel of light, but for want of duly considering his 
 glorious state, he rebelled and lost all. And how 
 many hundreds of young Carolinians have we not 
 known, whose fathers left them all the means of hap- 
 piness ; elegant estates, handsome wives, and, in 
 shoit, every blessing that the most lidxurious could 
 desire ? Yet they could not rest, until by drinking 
 and gambling'^ they had fooled away their fortunes, 
 parted from their wives, and rendered themselves the 
 veriest beggars and blackguards on earth. 
 
 " Now, why was all this, but for lack of knowledge? 
 For had those silly ones but known the evils of pover- 
 ty, what a vile thing it was to wear a dirty shirt, a 
 long beard, and ragged coat; to go without a dinner, 
 or to spunge for it among growling relations ; or to 
 be bespattered, or run over in the streets, by the sons 
 of those who were once their fathers' overseers ; I say, 
 had those poor boobies, in the days of their prospe- 
 rity, known these things as they now do^ would they 
 have squandered away the precious means of inde- 
 
240 THE LIFE OF 
 
 pendence and pleasure, and have brought themselves 
 to all this shame and sorrow? No, never, never, never. 
 
 "And so it is, most exactly, v/ith nations. If thos^ 
 that 2iVQfyee and happy ^ did but know their blessings, 
 do you think they would ever exchange them for 
 slavery? If the Carthagenians, for example, in the 
 days of their freedom and self-government, when they 
 obeyed no laws but of their own making ; paid no 
 taxes, but for their own benefit ; and, free as air, pur- 
 sued their own interest as they liked ; I say, if that 
 once glorious and happy people had known their 
 blessings, v/ould they have sacrificed them ail, by 
 their accursed factions.^ to tlie Romans, to be ruled, 
 they and their children, with a rod of iron ; to be bur- 
 dened like beasts, and crucified like malefactors ? 
 
 " No, surely they would not. 
 
 " Well, now to bring this home to ourselves. We 
 fought for self-government ; and God hath pleased to 
 give us one, better calculated perhaps to protect our 
 rights^ to foster our virtues^ to call forth our energies, 
 and to advance our condition nearer to perfection 
 and happiness, than any government that was ever 
 framed under the sun. 
 
 " But what signifies even this government, divine 
 as it is, if it be not known and prized as it deserves ?" 
 
 I asked him how he thought this was best to be 
 done ? 
 
 "Wliy, certainly," replied he^^'^hy free schoohJ^^ 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 He observed it, and asked me what I meant by 
 that ? 
 
 I told him I was afraid the legislature would look 
 to their popularity, and dread the expense. 
 
 He exclaimed, " God preserve our legislature from 
 such ^ pcnnif tuit and pound foolishness P What sir! 
 keep a nation in ignorance, rather than vote a little 
 of their own money for education ! Only let such poli- 
 ticians remember, what poor Carolina has already 
 tost through her ignorance* What was it that brought 
 
GEV FRANXIS MARION. 241 
 
 the Br'ulsb, lusi war, to Carolina, but her lack of 
 hio'iuiedf^e ? Had the people been enlightened, they 
 would have been united; and had they been united, 
 they never would have been attacked a second time by 
 the British. For aivtr that drub'oing they got from 
 us at Tort Moultrie, ui 17r6, they would as soon have 
 •attacked the devil as have attacked Carolina aj^ain, 
 had they no< heard that they were ' a houne divided 
 Qi^^ainat it.sflfp or in other words, had amongst us a 
 great num'tjer of Tories ; men, who, through mere 
 ignorance, were disaffected to the cause of liberty, and 
 ready to join the iiritish against their own country- 
 men. Tluis, ignorance begat toryism, and toryism 
 begat losses in Carolina, of wliich few have any idea. 
 
 " According to the best accounts, America spent 
 fti the last war, seventy millions of dollars, which, 
 divided among the states according to their popula- 
 tion, gives to Ca/'>iJna about eight millions ; making, 
 as the war lasted eight years, a million a year. Now, 
 it is generally i;dicvcd, the British, after their loss of 
 Burgoyne and their fine northern army, wotdd soon 
 nave given up the contest, had it not been for the foot- 
 nold they got in Carolina, which protracted the war 
 at least two years longer. And as this two years' 
 ruinous war in Carolina was owing to the encourage- 
 ment the enemy got there, anrl that encouragement to 
 tor)-ism,and thattorylsm to ignorance, ignorance maj 
 fairly he debited to two rriilliuns of loss to Carolina. 
 
 " VVcll, in th.ese tv/o f xtia years of tory-begotten 
 
 war, Carolina lost", at least four thousand men ; and 
 
 among them, a Laun'i.s^ a IViliiams^ a Campbell^ a 
 
 H'.(uuf.s\ and many others, whose worth not the gold 
 
 o^ ();yh)r couKl value. But rated at the price at which 
 
 the prince of Hesse sold his people to George the 
 
 Third, to shoot the Americans, say, thirty pounds 
 
 sterling ahead, or one hundred and fifty dollars, they 
 
 make six luiiKhed thousand dollars, llien count th<r 
 
 nventy-five thousand slaves which Caripiina cert 
 
 IcKjt, and each slave at the moderate price of ihr 
 W 
 
242 THE LIFE OF 
 
 hundred dollars, and yo^ have seven millions five 
 hundred thousand. To this add the houses, barns, 
 and stables that were bu^it ; the plate plundered ; the 
 furniture lost; the hoga sheep and horned cattle kill- 
 ed; the rice, corn and other crops destroyed, and 
 they amount, at the most moderate calculation, to live 
 millions. 
 
 " Now, to say nothing of those losses, which can- 
 not be rated by dollars and cents, such as the destruc- 
 tion of ?norals and the distraction of childless parents 
 and widows, but counting those only that are of the 
 plainest calculations," such as, 
 
 1st. Carolina's loss in the extra two> s^o non OOO 
 year's war, $ »^ > > 
 
 2d. For her four thousand citizens 7 -^^ -.^^ 
 
 , . . , ^ ^. 5- 600,000 
 
 slam in that time, 3 
 
 3d, For twenty-live thousand slaves 7 •rtnrkrvv> 
 
 lost, 3 ' ' 
 
 4th. For buildings, furniture, cattle, ") ^ ^^ ^, - 
 
 grain, he. he. destroyed, J ' ' 
 
 S15,100,00C 
 
 Making the enormous sum of fifteen millions and 
 odd dollars capital; and bearing an annual interest 
 of nearly ten hundred ihousancl. dollars besides! and 
 ail this K)r lack of a lew free schools, which would 
 have cost the state a mere nothing/' 
 
 I sighed, and told him I wished he had not broach- 
 cd the subject, for it h;id nuule me very sud. 
 
 " Yes,'' replied be, *' it is enough in make any ont 
 sad. But it cannot ")e heli.^ed but by a wist-r cr-urse- 
 of things ; for, if r-eop e will not do wh.at will inak*- 
 them ha])py, («c)d will suitl\' chastise thcFU ; and this 
 dreadful loss of nuLli'. proi)ertv is one tokt^ti ot bib 
 displeasure at our ncg ect of public instruction.*'' 
 
 I asked him if this wire realh*- hi- belicl. '" Yes. 
 sir,'' replied he^ i/ilh ^ real cariicstness, "" it ir. v-.y be- 
 lief, and 1 woulij not exchange it for wuihls. li is 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 243 
 
 my firm belief, that every evil under the sun is of the 
 nature of chastisement, and appointed of the infi- 
 nitely good Being for our benefit. When you see a 
 youth, who, but lately, was the picture of bloom and 
 manly beauty, now utterly withered and decayed ; his 
 body bent; his teeth dropping out; his nose consum- 
 ed ; with foetid breath, ichorous eyes, and his whole 
 appearance most putrid, ghastly, and loatnsome, you 
 are tilled with pity and with horror ; you can hardly 
 believe there is a God, or hardly refrain from charg- 
 ing him with cruelty. But, where folly raves, wisdom 
 adores. In this awful scourge of lawless lust^ wisdom 
 discerns the infinite price which heaven sets on con- 
 jugal purity and love. In like manner, the enormous 
 sacrifice of public property, in the last war, being no 
 more, as before observed, than the natural effect of 
 public ignorance^ ought to teach us that of all sinsy 
 there is none so hateful to God as national ignorance ; 
 that unf^iiling spring oi national ingratitude, 
 
 REBELLION, SLAVERY, and WRETCHEDNESS ! 
 
 " But if it be melancholy to think of so many ele 
 gant houses, rich furniture, fat cattle, and precious 
 crops, destroyed for want of that patriotism which 9 
 true knowledge of our interests would have inspired: 
 then how much more melancholy to think of thos<f 
 torrents of precious blood that were shed, those cruel 
 slaughters and massacres, that took place among tlK 
 citi/.cns f.-oni the same cause ! As proof th;)t such hell- 
 ish tragedies would never have been acted, had ou) 
 state but i)een enlightened, oulv let us look at the peo- 
 ple of New England. From Britain, their father!^ had 
 fled to America for religion's sake. Religion had 
 taught them that God credited men to be hdppij ; that 
 %o be haj.ipy they must have virtua ; that virtue is not 
 vo be attained without knoiui^dge^ nor knowledge with- 
 out in.sfnntio'}., nor public instruetion v/ithout Jree 
 schools^ nor free schools without Ifgislativt^ O'-ikr. 
 
 '*■ Among a people who fear God, the knowledge of 
 f^ity is tile same as doing it. Believing it to be th« 
 
244 THE LIFE OF 
 
 first command of God, " let there be light;" and be- 
 lieving it to be the will of God that" all should be in- 
 structed, from the least to the greatest," these wise 
 legislators at once set about public instruction. They 
 did not ask, how will my constituents like this ? won't 
 they turn me out ? shall I not lose my three dollars 
 per day ? No ! but full)-- persuaded that public instruc- 
 tion is God's will, because the people's good, they set 
 about it like the true friends of the people. 
 
 " Now mark the happy consequence. When the 
 war broke out, you heard of no division in New Eng- 
 land, no toryism, nor any of its horrid elTects ; no 
 houses in flames, kindled by the hands of fellow-citi- 
 zens, no neighbours waylaying and shooting their 
 neighbours, plundering their property, carrying off 
 their stock, and aiding the British in the cursed work 
 of American murder and subjugation. But on the con- 
 trary, with minds well informed of their rights, and 
 hearts glowing with love for themselves and posteri- 
 ty, they rose up against the enemy, firm and united, 
 as a band of shepherds against the ravening wolves. 
 
 " And their valour in the field gave glorious proof 
 how men will fight when they know that their all is at 
 stake. See major Pitcaini, on the memorable 19th of 
 April 1775, marching from Boston, with one thousand 
 British regulars, to burn the American scores at Con- 
 cord. Though this heroic excursion was commenced 
 under cover of the night, the farmers soon took the 
 alarm, and gathering around them with their fowling 
 pieces, presently knocked down one-fou.'th of their 
 number, and caused the rest to run, as if, like the 
 swine in the gospel, they had a legion of demls ai 
 their hacks. 
 
 " Now, with sorrowful eyes, let us turn to our owtt 
 sta-te, where no pains were ever taken to enlighten the 
 minds of the poor. There we have seen a j)eople na- 
 turally as brave as the New Englanciers, for mere 
 lack of knowledge of their bleasings posst\-:.secl^ of the 
 dangers threatened^ sufFex lord Cornv/allis, with 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 244f 
 
 otify sixteen hundred men, to chase general Greene 
 upwards of three hundred miles ! In fact, to scout 
 him through the two great states of South and North 
 Carolina as far as Guildford court-house ! and, when 
 Greene, joined at that place by two thousand poor 
 illiterate militia-men, determined at length to fight, 
 what did he gain by them, with all their number, but 
 disappointment and disgrace ? For, though posted 
 very advantageously behind the corn-field fences, they 
 could not stand a single fire from the British, but in 
 spite of their officers, broke and fled like base-born 
 slaves, leaving their loaded muskets sticking in the 
 fence corners ! 
 
 " But, from this shameful sight, turn again to the 
 iVind of free schools ; to Bunker's Hill. There, be- 
 hind a poor ditch of half a night's raising, you be- 
 hold fifteen hundred militia-men waiting the approach 
 of three thousand British regulars xvith a heavy train 
 of artillery ! With such odds against them, such fear- 
 ful odds in numbers, discipline., arms, and martial 
 fame, will they not shrink from the contest, and, 
 like their southern friends, jump up and run ! Oh no ; 
 to a man they have been taught to read; to a man 
 thev have been instructed to knoiv^ and dearer than 
 life to prize, the blessings of treedom. Their bodies 
 are lying behind ditches, but their thoughts are on 
 the v/ing, darting through eternity. The warning 
 voice of God still rings in their ears. The hated 
 forms of proud merciless kings pass before their eyes. 
 They look back to the days of old, and strengthen 
 themselves as they think what their gallant forefathers 
 dared for liberty and for them. They looked 
 forward to their own dear children, and yearn over 
 die unofFending millions, now, in tearful eyes, looking 
 up to them for protection. And shall this infinite 
 host of deathless beings, created in God's own image, 
 and capable by virtue and equal laws, of endless 
 progression in glory and happiness ; shall they be ar- 
 rested in their high career, and from the frettbom 
 W2 
 
846 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sons of God, be degraded into the slaves of man I 
 Maddening at the accursed thought, they grasp their 
 avenging firelocks, and drawing their sights along 
 the death-charged tubes, they long for the coining up 
 of the British thousands. Three times the British 
 tliousands came up ; and three times the dauntless 
 yeomen, waiting their near approach, rectived them 
 in storms of thunder and lightning that shivered theii 
 *"anks, an-d heaped the field with their weltering car- 
 casses. 
 
 *'In short, my dear sir, men will always fight for 
 their government, according to their sense of its 
 value. To value it aright, they must understand it. 
 This they cannot do without education. And as a 
 large portion of the citizens are poor, and can never 
 attain that inestimable blessing, without the aid of 
 government, it is plainly the first duty of government 
 to bestow it freely upon them. And the more per- 
 fect the government, the greater the duty to make it 
 well known. Selfish and oppressive governments, in- 
 deed, as Christ observes, must " hate the light, and 
 fear to come to it, because their deeds are evil." But 
 a fair and cheap government, like our republic, " longs 
 for the light, and rejoices to come to the light, thai 
 it may be manifested to be from God." and well 
 worth all the vigilance and valour that an enlightened 
 nation can rally /or its defence. And, God knows, 
 a good government can hardly ever be half anxious 
 enough to give its citizens a thorough knowledge of 
 its own excellencies. For as some of the most valu- 
 able truths, for lack of careful promulgation, have 
 been lost ; so the best government on earth, if not 
 duly known and prized, may be subverted. Ambi- 
 tious demagogues will rise, and the people, through 
 ignorance^ and love of change^ will follow them. 
 Vast armies will be formed, and bloody battles fought 
 And after desolating their country with all the hor- 
 rors of civil war, the guilty svu'vivors will have tc 
 bend their necks to the iron yoke of some stern 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Ul 
 
 t«#iirper, ar.d like beasts of burden, to drag, unpiiied, 
 ihose galiin^ chains which they huve riveted upon 
 themselves for ever." 
 
 This, as nearly as I can recollect, v/as the substance 
 of the lafit dhilo^ifue I ever had with Marion. It waa 
 spoken v/ith an empliasis which 1 shall never forget. 
 Indeed he described the glorious action at Bunker's 
 Hill, as though he had been one of the combatants. 
 His agitation was great, his voice became altered and 
 broken; and his face kindled over with that living 
 fire with which it was v/orc to Inirn, when he entered 
 the battles of his country. I arose from my seat as he 
 Bpoke ; and on recovering from the magic of his 
 tongue, found myself bending forward to the voice 
 of my friend, and my right hand stretched iw my 
 side ; it was stretched to my side for the sword that 
 was wo-nt to burn in the presence of Marion when 
 battle rose, and the crowding foe was darkening 
 around us. * But thanks to God, 'twas sweet delusion 
 all. No sword hung burning by my side ; no crowd- 
 ing foe darkened around us. In dust or in chains they 
 had all vanished away, and bright in his scabbard 
 rested the swoid cX peace in my own pleasant halls 
 OD Winyaw bay. 
 
24S THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 ITie death of Marion — his character* 
 
 ** Next to Washin^on, O c^lorious shade I 
 " (n page liistoric shiiU thy name have place, 
 
 ** Deep on thy country's memory are portrayed 
 ** Those gallant deeds wliich time shall ne'er erase. 
 
 " Ah ! full of honours^ and of years, farewell ! 
 
 " Thus o'er thy tomb shall Carolina sigh ; 
 *' Each tongue thy valour and thy worth shall tell, 
 
 ^ Which taught the young to Jight^ tlie old to die." 
 
 THE next morning, I set out for my plantation or 
 VVinyaw bay. Marion, as usual, accompanied me to 
 my horse, and, at parting, begged I would come and 
 see him again soon^ for that he felt he had not long 
 to stay. As the reader may suppose, I paid but little 
 heed to this expression, which I looked on as no more 
 than the common cant of the aged. But I soon had 
 cause to remember it with sorrow. For I had been 
 but a few weeks at home, before, opening a Charles- 
 ton paper, I found in a mourning column, "The 
 DEATH OF GENERAL Marion." Ncvcr shall I for- 
 get the heart-sickness of that moment ; never forget 
 what I felt when first I learned that Marion was no 
 more. Though the grave v/as between us, yet his be- 
 loved image seemed to appear before me fresher than 
 ever. All our former friendships, all our former wars 
 returned. But alas ! he who was to me the soul of all 
 the rest ; the foremost in every battle ; the dearest at 
 every feast ; he shall return no more ! " Oh Marion, 
 my friend !" my bursting heart seem.ed to say, " and 
 art thou gone ? Shall I no mere hear that voice which 
 v/as always so sv/eet ; no more see that smile which 
 awakened up such joy in my soul ! Must that beloved 
 form be lost forever among the clods of the valley! 
 And those godlike virtues, shall they pass away like 
 die empty visions of the night !" 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 249 
 
 From this deep gloom which strong atheistic sor- 
 row had poured over my nerves, I was suddenly 
 roused, as by an angePs touch, to the bright hopes of 
 religion. The virtues of my departed friend all il.jsh- 
 ed at once upon my kindling thoughts; his counte- 
 nance so stern with honour; his tongue so sacred to 
 truth ; that heart always so ready to meet death in 
 defence of the injured; that eye ever beaming bene- 
 volence to man, and that whole life so reverential of 
 God. The remembrance, 1 say, of all these things, 
 came in streams of joy to rny heart. 
 
 " O happy Marion I'' I exclaimed, " thcu art safe, 
 my friend ; thcu art safe. No tears of mine shal 
 doubt thy blissful state. Surely rf there be a God, 
 and tliat there is, all nature cries aloud through all 
 her v/orks, he must delight in virtue, and what he de- 
 lights in must be happy." 
 
 Then it was, that i felt %'/hat a benefactor Marion 
 had been to me. How dear his company while liv- 
 ing ; l)OW sweet his memory when dead. Like the 
 sun travelling in brightness, his smiles had ever been 
 my joy, his example my light. And though now set 
 in the grave, yet has he not left me in darkness. His 
 vhrtnefi^ like stars, are lighted up after him. The)' 
 point my hopes to the path of glory ; and proclaim, 
 that, though fallen, he is not extinguished. 
 
 From the physicians and many others who attend- 
 ed him in his last illness, I learned that he had rlied 
 as he had lived, a truly great man. His chamber 
 was not, as is usual with dying persons, a scene of 
 gloom and silent distress, but rather like the cheerful 
 parlour of one who was setting out on an agreea})]e 
 journey. " Some," said he, "have spoken of death 
 as a lerxji in the dark; but for my part, I look on it 
 as a v/elcome ;T.s7/;i_^ /j/.'/fr, where virtuous old age 
 may throw down his pains and aches, wipe oil his ohl 
 scores, and begin anew on an innocent and happy state 
 that shall last for ever. What weakness to wish to 
 live to such ghastly dotaj5;e, as to frighten the chil- 
 
S50 THE MFE OF 
 
 dren, and make even the dogs to 'vaik at us as we 
 totter along the streets. Most certainly then, there is 
 a time when, to a good man^ death is a great mercy 
 even to his body ; and as to his.-'vZ//, why should he 
 tremble about that ? Who can doubt that God created 
 us to be happy ; and thereto made us to love one ano' 
 ther? which is plainly written in our hearts; whose 
 every thought and work of love is happiness, and as 
 plainly written as the gospel ; whose every line 
 breathes love, and every precept enjoins good works. 
 Now, the man who has spent life in bravely denying 
 himself every inclination that would make others 
 miserable, and in courageously doing all in his power 
 to make them happy, what has such a man to fear 
 from death, or rather, what glorious things has he not 
 "vO hope from it V 
 
 Hearing one of his friends say that the methodists 
 and baptists were progressing rapidly in some parts 
 cf the state^ he replied, " Weil, thank God for that ; 
 that is good news." The same gentleman then asked 
 him which he thought was the best religion. " I know 
 but one religion," he ansv/ered, "and that is hearty 
 love ot God and mnn. This is the only true religion ; 
 and I would to (iod our countrv was full of it. ^or 
 it is the only spice to embalm and to immortalize 
 our republic. Any politician can sketch out a finp 
 theory of government, but what is to bind the peo- 
 ple to the practice ? Archimedes ustd co mourn that 
 though his mechanic powers were resistible, yet 
 he could never rcust' the ivorld; b- ase he had nc 
 place in the heavens, whereon to fix o. pullies. Even 
 so, cur republic will never be raised li lOve the shame- 
 ful factions and miserable end of ali other govern- 
 ments, until our citizens come to have thcii hearts 
 like Archimedes' pullies, fixed on heaven. The world 
 sometimes make such bids to ambition, that nothing 
 but heaven can outbid her. Th^i heart is sometimes 
 so embittered^ that nothing but divine love can sweeten 
 It; so enrifgj^d^ that devotion only can becalm it; and 
 
GJEN. FRANCIS MAHION. 251 
 
 so broke down, that it takes all the force of heavenly 
 hope to raise it. In short, religion is the only sove- 
 reign and controlling power over man. Bound b^ 
 that, the rulers will never usurp, nor the people rebel. 
 The former will govern like fathers, and the latter 
 obey like children. And thus moving on, firm and 
 united as a host of brothers, they will continue inviu" 
 cible as long as they continue virtuous." 
 
 When he was rear his end, seeing his lady weep- 
 ing by his bedside, he gave her a look of great ten- 
 derness, and said, ^' My dear, v/eep not for me, I am 
 not afraid to die ; for, thank God, I can lay my hand 
 on my heart and say, that since I came to man's es- 
 tate, I have never intentionally done wrong to any." 
 
 These were nearly his last words, for shortly 
 after uttering them, he closed his eyes in the sleep 
 of death. 
 
 Thus peaceful and happy was the end of general 
 Francis Marion, of whom, as a partisan officer^ ge- 
 neral Greene has often been heard to say, that " the 
 page of history never furnished his equal." And if 
 any higher praise of Marion were necessary, it is to 
 be found in the very remarkable resemblance between 
 :iim and the great Washington. They bodi came 
 orward. volunteers in the service of their country , 
 they both learned the military art in the hard and 
 Hazardous schools of Indian warfare ; they were both 
 such true soldiers in vignlance^ that no enemy could 
 ever surprise them ; and so equal in undaunted va- 
 lour^ that ncthmg could ever dishearten them : v/hile 
 as to the still nobler virtues of patience, disinterest 
 edness, self-government, severity to themselves and 
 gener(»sity to their enemies, it is diOirult to determine 
 whether Marion or Washington most deserve ouf 
 admiration. .VjkI even in the lesser incidents of their 
 lives, the resemblance between these two great men 
 is closer than common. TUev were both born in the 
 Iftme )'ear J both lost their fathers in early life ; botli 
 
THE r.lFE OF GEN. MARION. 
 
 married excellent ancl zvcalthij ladies; both left wi- 
 dows ; and Ijoth died childless. 
 
 The niiine of Marion continues dear to the people 
 of the soiuh; and to this day, whenever his amialile 
 widow ridt'S through the country, she meets tlie 
 most pleasing evidences, that her husband, though 
 dea<l, is nut forgotten. 7'he wealthy every where, 
 treat her vv'ith the respect due to a mother ; while 
 the poor, gath.ering around her carriage, off tn press 
 to shake hands with her, then looking at ea^ \ other 
 with a sigh they exclaim — '* That's thf widov. 
 or oua GLORIOUS old Marion." 
 
 'HE END, 
 
 
 ) n