THE 
 
 P A E T I S A N 
 
 ROMANCE OF THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 BY W. GILMORE SIMMS, 
 
 AUTHOR or "THE YEMASSEE," "GUY RIVERS," "MARTIN FABEIV 
 
 * RICHARD HURDIS," " BORDER BEAGLES," ETC. 
 
 1 And Liberty s vitality, like Truth, 
 Is still undying. Like the sacred fire 
 Nature has shrined in caverns, still it burns 
 Though the storm howls without. 
 
 and -IRe 
 
 OHIOAOO: . 
 
 DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO, 
 
 407-425 DEARBORN STREET 
 
DONOHUE & HENNEBERRY, 
 
 PRINTERS AND BINDER^ 
 CHICAGO. 
 
INTKOPUCTIOW 
 
 TO RICHARD YEADON, ESQ., O* SOUTH CAROLINA. 
 
 id? DEAR YEADON: 
 
 When, hi 1835, I first inscribed this romance with your name 
 we neither of us could have imagined the long list of other volumes which 
 have followed from the same pen. That I have continued a profession in 
 which so few of our people of the South have found it prudent to engage, 
 is in proof of a certain degree of success in my case. Of tins it is 
 scarcely proper that I should make any boast ; but it will not be denied 
 that I should express myself quite satisfied with the encouragements 
 which have attended my career. These have not been so great, in pecu 
 niary respects, as yours. You have grown to fortune. You are one of 
 her favourites ; and it is some satisfaction, that, though her bounties have 
 been withheld from me, they have been so lavishly bestowed on those who 
 are worthy, and whom I rank among my friends friends who have not 
 changed from the beginning, and with whom I mostly bear the same 
 grateful relations which cheered mo in the opening of my career of Ulw. 
 
 A portion of what was said in the preface to the first edition a." " 1 he 
 Partisan," may be properly included in what I have to say now, when, 
 after a lapse of nearly twenty years, I am called upon to revise its pages, 
 ior the eyes of a wholly new generation. The work was originally 
 planned as the first of a Series devoted to tha illustration of tiio war of 
 the Revoluticn in South Carolina. With this object, I laid the found*, 
 lions of this work more deeply and broadly than T should have done, had 
 \ purposed merely the single story. 1 designed, in fact, a .trilogy. Sev 
 
 166357 ~X 
 
VI INTRODUCTION, 
 
 ral of the persons of the story were destined to be the property of the 
 Series. But, with a perfect knowledge of the danger which usually 
 attends such an experiment, I so arranged my material as to make each 
 of the stories independent^ the others. Each was to be wrought out 
 to its separate conclusion. BuTflte preparation of the successors of 
 " The Partisan," was necessarily to depend upon the degree of favor 
 with which that story was received. I need not tell you that I had 
 no reason to complain of this. The work was treated with indulgence 
 by the critics, and was welcomed with kindness by its readers. It fs 
 impossible to enumerate the copies circulated and the number of edi 
 tions through which it passed. It was successful far beyond its 
 merits. Its pages were charged with many crudities there were 
 some serious faults of design and development the stjde was careless, 
 and the incidents charactari/ed by coarseness, and an ambitious effort 
 at effect which declared sufficiently for the unpractised hand, and 
 the imperfect tastes of youth. The censures of criticism, on these 
 points, were all very soon justified to niy own mind, by my own grow 
 ing experience; and I have in this, as in most cases where my writings 
 were the subject, been compelled to recognize the justice of the most 
 severe judgments uttered by my critics I mean by those who were at 
 the pains to examine, and who approached their tasks with equal con 
 scientiousness and capacity. 
 
 It was while spending part of a summer with a friend in the neigh 
 borhood of the once beautiful, but now utterly decayed town of Dor 
 chester, that I availed myself of the opportunity to revisit the ancient 
 rtfins~of the place. When a boy I had frequently rambled over the 
 ground, and listened to its domestic chronicles, from the lips of one 
 now no nioix who had been perfectly conversant with its local his 
 tory, as with a large body of revolutionary and traditional history be 
 sides. 
 
 Many of its little legends were impressed upon my memory, and the 
 fortunes of more than one of its families, of whom no record now 
 remains, but that of the place of burial, were deeply scored upon my 
 mind. These, together with the melancholy transitions through 
 which the place itself had gone finally exchanging all the hum of 
 busy life, for the bleak silence and speaking desolation of the tomb 
 were well calculated to inspire me with sentiments of veneration. It 
 was with the revival of old memories, and the awakening of new im- 
 
INTRODUCTION. Vll 
 
 pulses and sentiments, that I rambled. My aim has been to give a 
 story of events, rather than of persons. The one, of course, could not 
 well be done without the otherf yet it has been my object to make 
 myself as greatly independent as possible of the necessity which 
 would combine them. A sober desire for history the unwritten, the 
 imconsidered, but veracious history has been with me, in this labor, 
 a sort of principle. The phases of a time of errors and of wrongs of 
 fierce courage tenacious patriotism yielding, but struggling virtue, 
 not equal to the pressure of circumstances, and failing for a time, 
 Amseus-like, only for a renewal and recovery of its strength it has 
 been my aim to deliniate, with all the rapidity of one, who, with the 
 mystic lantern, runs his uncouth shapes and varying shadows along 
 the gloomy wall, startling the imagination and enkindling curiosity. 
 The medium through which we now look at these events is, in some 
 respects, that of a glass darkened. The characters rise up before us 
 grimly or indistinctly. We scarcely believe, yet we cannot doubt. 
 The evidence is closed the testimony now irrefutable and imagina 
 tion, however audacious in her own province, only ventures to embody 
 and model those features of the Past, which the sober History has left 
 indistinct, as not within her notice, or unworthy her regard. History, 
 indeed, as we style it somewhat complacently, is quite too apt to over 
 look the best essentials of society such as constitute the moving im,- 
 pulses of men to action in order to dilate on great events, scenes in 
 which men are nearly massed, while a single favorite overtops all the 
 rest, the Hero rising to the Myth, and absorbing within himself all 
 the consideration which a more veracious and philosophical mode of 
 writing would distribute over states and communities, and the 
 humblest walks of life. 
 
 Nor is " The Partisan " merely a local chronicle, embodying tradi 
 tionary heroes only. The persons of the drama, many of them, are 
 names of the nation familiar to our daily reading. Gates, Marion, 
 DeKalb, Cornwallis, Tarleton, and others, are all the property of our 
 histories. In illustrating the career of these persons, and endeavoring 
 to delineate their characteristics, I have followed the best authorities. 
 I have had some before me, besides, which have never been in print. 
 The severity with which I have visited the errors of Gates, and the 
 traits which I have given of his character may be thought harsh, but 
 ; they are sustained by all the best authorities by Otho Williams, Lee, 
 
Vlll rNTKODUCTIOST. 
 
 Johnson, and, to a certain extent, the ancient histories. Something 
 has been said of the questionable propriety of thus reviving these facts, 
 however true, and dwelling upon the faults and foibles of a man con 
 spicuous in our history, and one, too, whose uuine is associated inevi 
 tably with one glorious event m our history. We have been reminded 
 also of the benevolent maxim of the Latins " De mortids nil nisi 
 bonum." But we must take the case out of the application of 
 the maxim in regard to the great necessities of future generations. 
 The individual must be made the example for the benefit of the 
 race. I am decided that a nation gains only in glory and in great 
 ness, as it is resolute to behold and pursue the^truth. I would 
 paint the disasters of my country, where they arose from the obvious 
 error of her sons, in the strongest possible colors. We should then 
 know our sons and servants, alike, should then know how best to 
 avoid them. The rock which has wrecked us once should become the 
 beacon for those who follow. It is only by making it so, that the 
 vicissitudes of life its follies or misfortunes can be made tributary to 
 its triumphs. For this reason I have dwelt earnestly upon our dis 
 asters; and, with a view to the moral, I have somewhat departed from 
 the absolute plan of the story, to dilate upon the dangerous errors of 
 the leading personages in the events drawn upon. The history of the 
 inarch of -k4cla-juany, I have carefully elaborated withThis object; 
 and the reflecting mind will see the parallel position of cause and 
 effect which I have studiously sought to make obvious, wherever it 
 f seemed to me necessary for the purposes of instruction. It is in this 
 way, only, that the novel may be made useful, when it ministers to 
 .morals, to mankind, and to society. 
 But 
 
 " Next to singing the most foolish thing 1 , 
 Is gravely to harangue on what we sing." 
 
 and I have surely said enough for the purposes of explanation. It re 
 mains only to add that my proposed trilogy is now complete, and the 
 
 Partisan warfare of Carolina, \vhichconstilutcs one of the most bril 
 liant chapters in our revolutionary history, will be found illustrated 
 in this volume, and that of the two works by which it will be followed 
 Mellichampe and Katharine Walton. 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 *OL, grievous desolation! look, and see 
 Their sad condition! Tin a piercing sight: 
 A country overthrown and crushed the acytho 
 Gone over it in wrath and sorrowing firief 
 Dumb with her weight of woe." 
 
 OUR narrative begins in South Carolina, during the summer oi 
 1*780. The arms of the 1 British were at that time triumphant 
 throughout the colony. Their armies overran it. Charleston, thft 
 chief city, had stood a siege, and had fallen, after a protracted ana 
 honourable defence of eight weeks ; succumbing finally to famine, 
 rather than the force of arms. One-half of the military strength 
 of the lower country, then the most populous region, had become 
 prisoners of war by this disaster ; and. for the present, were thus 
 incapacitated from giving any assistance to their brethren in arms. 
 Scattered, crushed, .and disheartened by repeated faiLires, the whigs, 
 in numerous instances, hopeless of any better fortune, had given in 
 their adhesion to the enemy, and had received a pledge of British 
 protection. This protection secured them, as it was thought, in 
 their property and persons, and its condition simply called for their 
 neutrality. Many of the more firm and honourably tenacious, scorn 
 ing all compromise with invasion, fled for shelter to the swamps*arid 
 mountains; and, through the former, all Europe could not have 
 tracked their footsteps. In the whole State, at this perio.l, the cause 
 of American liberty had no head, and almost as little hope : all was 
 gloomy and unpromising. Marion, afterwards styled the " Swamp 
 Fox," and Sumter, the " Game Cock " epithets aptly descriptive of 
 
14 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 ..heir several military attributes had not yet properly risen in arms, 
 though both of them had been engaged already in active and suc 
 cessful service. Their places of retreat were at this time unknown ; 
 and, certainly, they were not then looked to, as at an after period, 
 with that anxious reliance which their valour subsequently I aught 
 their countrymen to entertain. Nothing, indeed, could be more 
 deplorably prostrate than were the energies of the colony. Here 
 and there only did some little partisan squad make a st?,ud, or orlei 
 a show of resistance to the incursive British or the marauding and 
 malignant tory disbanding, if not defeated, most usually aftei the 
 temporary object had been obtained, and retreating for security into 
 shelter and inaction. There was no sort of concert, save in feeling, 
 among the many who were still not unwilling for the fight : they 
 doubted or they dreaded one another; they knew not whom to 
 trust. The next door neighbour of the staunch whig was not un fre 
 quently a furious loyalist as devoted to George the Third as the 
 other could have been to the intrinsic beauty of human liberty. 
 The contest of the Revolution, so far as it had gone, had confirmed 
 and made tenacious this pirit of hostility and opposition, until, in 
 the end, patriot and loyalist had drawn the sword against one 
 another, and rebel arid tory were the degrading epithets by which 
 they severally distinguished the individual whose throat they strove 
 to cut. When the metropolis fell into the hands of the British, and 
 their arms extended through the State, the tories alone were active 
 and formidable. These, hitherto outlawed in all the provinces, had 
 mostly sought shelter in Florida; whence they emerged as soon as the 
 British arms had established their ascendency in Georgia and Caro 
 lina. They now took satisfaction for their own previous trials ; and 
 crime was never so dreadful a monster as when they ministered to 
 its appetites. Mingled in with the regular troops of the British, or 
 forming separate bodies of their own, and officered from nmong 
 themselves, they penetrated the well known recesses which gave 
 shelter to the fugitives. If the rebel resisted, they slew hirr with 
 out quarter ; if he submitted, they hung him without benefit of 
 clergy: they spoiled his children of their possessions, and not un fre 
 quently slew them also. But lew sections of t!ie low and middle 
 ixmn-try escaped their search Ft vvas only in the bald regions o* 
 
TAKLETON. 15 
 
 Carolina that the fugitives could find repose; only w licit Jic 
 most miserable poverty took from crime all temptation, that the 
 beaten and maltreated patriots dared to give themselves a breath 
 ing-space from flight. In the same manner the frontier-colony of 
 Georgia had already been overrun and ravaged by the conquerors; 
 and there, as it was less capable of resistance, almost all show of 
 opposition had been long since at an end. 
 
 The invader, deceived by these appearances, declared, in swelling 
 language, to his monarch, that the two colonies were properly sub 
 jugated, and would now return to their obedience. He knew not 
 that, 
 
 "Freedom s battle once begun, 
 Bequeathed from bleeding sire to son, 
 Though baffled oft, is ever won." 
 
 But, though satisfied of the efficiency of his achievements, and 
 himself convinced of the truth of the assurances which he had 
 iiade to this effect, the commander of the British forces did not 
 sutler the slightest relaxation of his vigilance. Earl Corn wallis, one 
 of the best of the many leaders sent by the mother-country to the 
 colonies in that eventful contest, had taken charge of the southern 
 marching army soon after the fall of Charleston. He was too good 
 a soldier to omit, or to sleep in the performance of any of his duties. 
 He proceeded with due diligence to confirm his conquests ; and, 
 aptly sustained by the celerity and savage enterprise of the fierce 
 legionary, Colonel Tarleton, the country was soon swept from the 
 seaboard to the mountains. This active but cruel commander, 
 who enacted the Claverhouse in South Carolina with no small 
 closeness of resemblance to his prototype, was as indefatigable , is 
 unsparing. lie plunged headlong into fight, with a courage the 
 most unscrupulous, with little reflection, seeming rather to confide in 
 the boldness and impetuosity of his onset than to any ingenuity of 
 plan, or careful elaborateness of manoeuvre. Add to this that he 
 was sanguinary in the last degree 1 , when triumphant, and we shall 
 easilv understand the sources of that terror which h;s very namo 
 was found to inspire amon<_>- the undrilled, and, in half the number 
 o f instances, the unarmed niiliim which opposed him. Tarleton s 
 
*<> THK PARTISAN. 
 
 quart ere" WHS the familiar and bitterly-derisive phrase by \*hicL 
 when tl.n \vhigs had opportunities of revenge, his bloodthirsty treat, 
 ment ot the overthrown and captive was remembered and requited. 
 
 The entire colony in his possession all opposition, worthy tin, 
 name, at an end the victor, the better to secure liis conques,, 
 marched an army throughout the county. Uis presence, for tln> 
 time, had the desired effect. His appearance quelled disaffection, 
 overawed all open discontents, and his cavalry, by superior skill am) 
 rapidity of movement, redily dispersed the little bands of Carol 
 uiana that here anc thei o V! i his way. Nor was this exhibition 
 of his power the only proceeding by which he laboured to secure 
 the fruits of his victory. With an excellent judgment, he est.i- 
 blished garrisons in various eligible points of the country, in oi-] ir t 
 overawe by his continual presence : these stations were judiciously 
 chosen for independent and co-operative enterprise alike ; they weie 
 sufficiently nigh for concert sufficiently scattered for the general 
 control of an extensive territory. Rocky Mount, Ninety -Six, C. mi- 
 den. Hanging Rock, Dorchester, and a large number of military 
 posts besides, were thus created; all amply provided with munitions 
 of war, well fortified, and garrisoned by large bodies of troops under 
 experienced officers. 
 
 These precautions for a time compelled submission. Tlie ni \ 
 daring among the patriots were silent the most indulgent of tl e 
 loyalists were active and enterprising. To crown and secure all, Sir 
 Henry Clinton, who was at this period Commander-in-chief of the 
 southern invading army, proclaimed a general pardon, with so;. 
 few exceptions, to all the inhabitants, for their late treasonable 
 offences promising them a full re-instatement of their old immu 
 nities, and requiring nothing in return but that they should remain 
 quietly in their homes. This specious and well-timed indulgent 
 had its due effect; and, in the temporary panic pnxluced by Lin 
 coin s defeat, the fall of the metropolis, the appearanc" of an arn.-y 
 so formidable as that of tho British, and the establishment of mili- 
 xiry posts and fortresses all around them, the people generally put 
 on a show of acquiescence to the authority of the invader, which 
 few in reality felt, and which many were secretly but resolutely 
 determined never to submit to. 
 
GLOOMY PROSPECT. 17 
 
 Tims much is necessary, in a general point of view, to the better 
 ,ompreliension of the narrative which follows. The reader will 
 duly note the situation of the colony of South Carolina; and when 
 we add, that the existing condition of things throughout the UnioK 
 was only not so bad, and the promise of future fortune but little more 
 favourable, all has been said necessary to his proper comprehension 
 of the discouraging circumstances under which the partisan warfare 
 of the South began. With this reference, we shall be better able to 
 appreciate that deliberate valour, that unyielding patriotism, which, 
 in a few spirits, defying danger and above the sense of privation, could 
 keep alive the sacred fires of liberty in the thick swamps and dense 
 und jjflooniy forests of Carolina asking nothing, yielding nothing, 
 -ind only leaving the field the better to renter it for the combat 
 Ijflt of* now proceed to the commencement of our proper narrHtiv<>. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 rfl^eet flow thy waters, Ashley, and pleasant on thy banks 
 The mossy o;ik nud massy pine stand forth in solemn ranka ; 
 They fringe thee in a tilting guise, since with a gentle play. 
 Through bending groves and circling dells thou tak st thy mazy way- 
 Thinu is the summer s loveliness, save when September storms 
 Arouse thee to the angry mood that ail thy face deform- ; 
 And thine the recollection old which makes thee proudly shine, 
 When happy thousands saw thee rove, and Dorchester was thine." 
 
 TICK scene is very much altered now. Dorchester be 1 m%& to 
 Ashley no longer. It is a name a shadow. The people , re gone: 
 the site is distinguished by its ruins only. The owl hoots through 
 the long night from the old church-tower, and the ancient woods 
 and the quiet waters of the river give back, in melancholy echoes, 
 his unnoted cries. The Carolinian looks on the spot, with a saddened 
 spirit. The trees crowd upon the ancient thoroughfare ; the brown 
 viper hisses from the venerable tomb, and the cattle graze along the 
 clustering bricks that distinguish the ancient chimney-places. it 
 is now one of those prospects that kindle poetry in the most insensi 
 ble observer. It is one of the visible dwelling-places of Time; and 
 the ruins that still mock, to a certain extent, his destructive pro 
 gress, have in themselves a painful chronicle of capricious change 
 uid various affliction. They speak for the dead that lie beneath 
 them in no stinted number; they record the leading features of a 
 long history, crowded with vicissitudes. 
 
 But our purpose now is with the past, and not with the present. 
 W- go back to the time when the village of. LkuJ4ester was full of 
 life, and crowded with inhabitants; when the coaches of the wealthy 
 planters of the neighbourhood thronged the highway; when i\\^ 
 bells from the. steeple s\veefly calle 1 to the Sabbath worship; and 
 when, throughout the week, the shops wen; crowded with buyers, 
 ,;iid. the busy hammer of the mechanic,, ai.d the axe ot the labourer, 
 wnt up their crowding noises, imaging, upon a small scale, many rf 
 
FORTRESS OF DORCHESTER, 1 
 
 the more stirring attribute s of the great city, and all of its life^ 
 Dorchester then had several hundred inhabitants. The plan of the 
 place lies before us now a regularly laid out city, of perfect 
 squares, with its market-place, its hotels, a-nd its churches; its busy 
 wharves, and its little craft of sloop and schooner, lying at anchor, 
 or skimming along the clear bosom of the Ashley. It had its gar 
 rison also, and not the smallest portion of its din and bustle arose 
 from the fine body of red-coated and smartly-dressed soldiers then 
 occupying the square fort of tapia-work, which to this day stands 
 upon the hill of Dorchester just where the river bends in with a 
 broad sweep to the village site in a singular state of durability ami 
 preservation. 
 
 This fort commanded the river and village alike. The old bridge 
 of Dorchester, which crossed the Ashley at a little distance above it, 
 was also within its range. The troops at frequent periods paraded 
 in the market-place, and every art was made use of duly to impress 
 upon the people the danger of any resistance to a power so capable 
 to annoy and to punish. This being the case, it was amusing tc 
 perceive how docile, how loyal indeed, are those inhabitants, who, but 
 a few weeks before were in arms against their present rulers and who 
 now only wait a*convenient season to resume the weapons which 
 policy had persuaded them to lay aside. 
 
 None of the villagers were more dutiful or devout in their allegi 
 ance than Richard Humphries Old Dick, sly Dick Holy Dick, 
 as his neighbours capriciously styled him- who kept the u Royal 
 George," then the high tavern of the village. The fat, beefy face of 
 the good-natured Hanoverian hung in yellow before the tavern 
 Uuor, on one of the two main roads leading from the country through 
 the town. The old monarch had, in this exposed situation, under 
 gone repeated trials. At the commencement of the Revolution, the 
 landlord, who, after the proverbial fashion of landlords in all 
 countries, really cared not who was king, had been compelled by 
 public opinion to take down the si^n and replace it with another 
 more congenial to the popular feeling. George, in the mean time, 
 was assigned less conspicuous lodgings ; n an ancient garret. The 
 change of circumstances restored the venerable portrait to its place; 
 <iud under the eyes of the British garrison, there were few moiv 
 
20 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 tliorougn-going loyalists in the village than Richard Humphries. 
 \ He was a sociable old man, fond of drink, who generally filled his 
 own glass whenever called upon to replenish that of his customer. 
 His house was the common thoroughfare of the travelling and the 
 idle. The soldier, not on duty, found it a pleasant lounge ; the 
 tory, confident in the sympathies of the landlord, and solicitous 
 of the good opinion of the ruling powers, made it his regular re 
 sort; and even the whig, compelled to keep down his patriotism, 
 i" order to keep up his credit, not unwisely sauntered about in 
 the same wide hall with the enemy he feared and hated, but whom 
 it was no part of his policy at the present moment to alarm or irri 
 tate. Humphries, from these helping circumstances, distanced, all 
 competition in the village. The opposition house was maintained 
 by a suspected whig one Pryor who was avoided accordingly. 
 Pry or was a sturdy citizen, who asked no favors ; and if he did 
 not avow himself in the language of defiance, at the same time 
 scorned to take any steps to conciliate patronage or do away with 
 suspicion. He simply cocked his hat at the ancient customer, 
 now passing to the other house ; thrust liis hands into the pockets 
 of his breeches, and, with a manful resignation, growled through 
 his teeth as he followed the deserter with his eyes" The white- 
 livered skunk ! He may go and be dMd." 
 
 This sort of philosophy was agreeable enough to Humphries, 
 who, though profligate in some respects, was yet sufficiently world 
 ly to have a close eye to the accumulation of his sixpences. 
 His household was well served ; for, though himself a widower, 
 his daughter Bella, a buxom, lively, coquettish, but gentle-natured 
 creature, proved no common housekeeper. She was but a girl, 
 nowever, but sixteen, and as she had long lacked the restraining 
 presence of a matron, and possessed but little dignity herself, the 
 bouse had its attractions for many, in the freedoms which the old 
 man either did not or would not see, and which the girl herself 
 was quite too young, too innocent, and perhaps too weak, often to 
 find fault with. Her true protection, however, was in a brother 
 not much older tlian herself, a fine manly fellow, and though 
 with the cautious policy of all around him suppressing his predi 
 lections for the time a staunch partisan of American liberty. 
 
THE STRANGER. 21 
 
 It was on a pleasant afternoon in June, that a tall, well made 
 youth, probably twenty-four or twenty-five years of age, rode up to 
 She door of the " Royal George," and tin-owing his bridle to a servant, 
 entered the hotel. Uis person had been observed, and his appear 
 ance duly remarked upon, by several persons already assembled in 
 the hall which he now approached. The new comer, indeed, was 
 not one to pass unnoticed. His person was symmetry itself, and 
 the ease with which he managed his steed, the unhesitating boldness 
 with which he kept on his way and gazed around him at a period 
 and in a place where all were timid and suspicious, could not fail to 
 fix attention. His face too, was significant of a character of com- 
 nand, besides being finely intelligent and tolerably handsome ; and 
 hough he carried no weapons that were visible, there was something 
 exceedingly military in his movement ; and the cap which he wore, 
 made of some native fur and slightly resting upon one side of his 
 lliickly clustering brown hair, imparted a daring expression to his 
 look, which gave confirmation to the idea. Many were the remarks 
 of those in the hall as, boldly dashing down the high road, he left 
 the church to the right, and moving along the market-place, came 
 at once towards the tavern, which stood on the corner of Prince 
 and Bridge streets. 
 
 "A bold chap with his spur^that," exclaimed Sergeant Has 
 tings, of the garrison, who was a frequent guest of the tavern, and 
 had found no small degree of favour with the landlord s daughter. 
 U A bold chap, that do you know him, Humphries ?" 
 
 This question brought the landlord to the window. He 
 looked intently upon the youth as he approached, but seemed 
 at fault. 
 
 "Know him? why yes, I think I do know him, sergeant: 
 that s yes that s bless my soul, I don t know him at all !" 
 
 " Well, be sure now, Humphries," coolly spoke the sergeant. 
 " Such a good-looking fellow ought not to be forgotten. But hu 
 lights, and we shall soon know better." 
 
 A few moments, and the stranger made his appearance. The 
 landlord bustled up to him, and ottered assistance, which the youth 
 declined for himself, but gave directions for his horse s tendance 
 
 "Shall be seen to, captnin," said the landlord. 
 
22 THE PARTISAN . 
 
 " Way do you call me captain ?" demanded the youth, sternly. 
 u Bless me, don t be angry, squire ; but didn t you say you WHS a 
 captain ?" apologetically replied Humphries. 
 " I did not." 
 
 " Well, bless me, but I could have sworn you did now didn t 
 lie, gentlemen ? sergeant, did nt you hear " 
 
 "It matters not," the stranger interrupted; " ; ,t matters not. 
 You were mistaken, and these gentlemen need not be appealed to. 
 Have my horse cared for, if you please. lie has cDine far an/1 fast 
 to-day, and will need a good rubbing. Give him fodder now, but 
 no corn for an hour." 
 
 " It shall be done, captain." 
 
 "Hark ee, my friend," said the youth angrily, " you will not style 
 uie captain again, unless you would have more than you can put uj. 
 with. I am no captain, no colonel, no commander of any soil, and 
 unless you give me the troops, am not willing to wear the title. So, 
 understand me." 
 
 "Ask pardon, squire; but it comes so common ask pardon, 
 sir ;" and the landlord shuffled off, as he spoke, to see after his 
 business. As he retired, Sergeant Hastings made up to the new 
 coiner, and with all the consequence of one having a certain portion 
 of authority, and accustomed to a large degree of deference from 
 those around him, proceeded to address the youth on the subject 
 matter of his momentary annoyance. 
 
 "And with your leave, young master, where s the harm in being 
 captain or colonel ? I don t see that there s any offence in it." 
 
 " None, none in the world, sir, in being captain or colonel, but 
 some, I take it, in being styled such undeservedly. The oflice is 
 good enough, and I have no objections to it; but I have no humour 
 to be called by any nickname." 
 
 " Nickname why, d n it, sir why, what do you mean? Do 
 you pretend that it s a nickname to be called an officer in hi* 
 majesty s troops, sir ? If you do, sir " and the sergeant concludes 
 his swaggering speech with a most stormy stare. 
 
 " Pistols and daggers ? most worthy officer in his majesty s troops 
 do not look so dangerous," replied the youth very coolly. He, sa\> 
 at a glance the sort of Hector with whom he had to deal, anc 
 
o.N Tilfc] CIVIL LIST. 23 
 
 would have answered him with his boot, but that his policy de 
 manded forbearance, lie continued, pacifically : " I have no sort 
 of intention to offend captain or sergeant. I only beg that, as I 
 am neither one nor the other, nobody will force me into their 
 jackets." 
 
 " And why not, young master ?" said the sergeant, scmewhat 
 pacified, but stiil, as he liked not the nonchalance of the strange), 
 seemingly bent to press upon him a more full development of his 
 opinions. u WJiy not ? Is it not honourable, I ask you, to hold 
 his majesty s commission, and would you not, as a loyal subject, be 
 x-ry glad to accept one at his haads 2" 
 
 There was no little interest manifested by the spectators as this 
 <|iit. stion was put. and they gathered more closely about the bei>et 
 stranger, but still keeping at a deferential distance from the sergeant. 
 He, too, looked forward to the reply of the youth with some; interest. 
 1 lis head was advanced and his arms akimbo, and, stationed in 
 front of the person he examined, in the centre of the hall, his clum 
 sy compact person and round rosy face looked exceedingly imposing 
 in every eye but that of the personjGiL. whose especial sight their 
 various terrors had been put 011.^ The_youth seemed annoyed by 
 *Jx- pertinacity of his assailant, but he made an effort at composure, 
 and after a brief pause replied to the inquiry \ 
 
 " Honourable enough, doubtless. I know nothing about the em 
 ployment, and canno-t say. As for taking a commission at his 
 majesty s hands, I don t know that I should do any such ching." 
 
 The declaration produced a visible emotion in the assembly. 
 One or two of the spectators slid away silently, and the rest seemed 
 variously agitated, while at the same time, one person whom tho 
 stranger had not before seen a stout, good-looking man, seemingly 
 in humble life, and not over his own age came forward, and, with 
 nothing ostentatious in his manner, placed himself alongside of the 
 man who had so boldly declared himself. Sergeant Hastings 
 seemed for an instant almost paralysed by what appeared the auda 
 city i.f the stranger. At length, detaching his sword partially from 
 ihe nheath, so that a few inches of the blade became visible, he 
 -ooked round with a potential aspect upon the company, md then 
 proceeded 
 
24 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 5 
 
 " Ha ! no! take a commission from the hands of his majesty ! 
 Phis looks suspicious ! And pray, sir, tell us why you would not 
 accept his majesty s commission ?" 
 
 Unmoved by the solemnity of the proceeding, the youth with the 
 utmost quietness replied 
 
 " For the very best reason in the world I should scarcely know 
 what to do with it." 
 
 " Oh, that s it !" said the sergeant. " And so you are really not 
 an officer ?" 
 
 " No. I ve been telling you and this drinking fellow, the land 
 lord, all the time, that I am no officer, and yet neither of you seems 
 satisfied. Nothing will do, but you will put me in his majesty s 
 commission, and make me a general and what not, whether I will 
 or no. But where s the man ? Here, landlord!" 
 
 " Father s out, can I serve, sir?" said a soft voice, followed by 
 the pretty maid of the inn, the fair Bella Humphries, whose person 
 was now visible behind the bar. 
 
 " Yes, my dear, you can ;" and as the stranger youth spoke, and 
 the maid courtesied, he tapped her gently upon the cheek, and 
 begged that he might be shown his apartment, stating, at the same 
 time, the probability that he would be an inmate for several days 
 of the tavern. The sergeant scowled fiercely at the liberty thus 
 taken, and the youth could not help seeing that the eye of the girl 
 sank under the glance that the former gave her. He said nothing 1 , 
 however, and taking in his hand the little fur valise that he carried, 
 the only furniture, besides saddle and bridle, worn by his horse, be 
 followed the steps of Bella, who soon conducted him to his cham 
 ber, and left him to those ablutions which a long ride along a sandy 
 road had rendered particularly necessary. 
 
 The sergeant meanwhile was not so well satisfied with what had 
 taken place. He was vexed that he had not terrified the youth 
 vexed at his composure vexed that he had tapped Bella Humph rics 
 upon her cheek, and doubly vexed that she had submitted with such 
 excellent grace to the aforesaid tapping. The truth is. Sergeant 
 Hastings claimed some exclusive privileges with the maiden. lie 
 was her regular gallant bestowed upon her the greater part of hit 
 idle time, and had flattered himself that he stood alone in her esti 
 
SUSPICIONS. 25 
 
 mation ; and so, perhaps, he did. His attentions had given him a 
 large degree of influence over her, and what with his big speech, 
 swaggering carriage, and flashy uniform, poor Bella liad lonir since 
 been taught to acknowledge his power over her fancy. But the 
 girl was coquettish, and her very position as maid of the inn had 
 contributed to strengthen and confirm the natural predisposition. 
 The kind words and innocent freedoms of the handsome stranWr 
 were not disagreeable to her, and she felt not that they interfered 
 with the claims of the sergeant, or would be so disagreeable to him, 
 until she beheld the scowling glance with which he sujveyed them. 
 
 In the hall below, to which the landlord had now returned Has 
 tings gave utterance to the spleen which this matter liad occa 
 sioned. 
 
 " That s an impudent fellow a very impudent fellow, i don t 
 like him, at all !" 
 
 The landlord looked up timidly. "And what, sergeant what!" 
 
 " 1 say, I don t like him. I suspect him !" 
 
 " Suspect ! God ha mercy ; and who do you think who do 
 you think he is, sergeant ?" 
 
 " How should I know ? I asked you : you know every thing ; 
 at least, you pretend to. Why are you out here ? Who is he ?" 
 
 " Bless me, I can t say ; I don t know." 
 
 " What do you think he is ?" 
 
 " Think ! I think ! oh ! no ! no ! I don t think." 
 
 " He certainly is an impudent a very suspicious person." 
 
 " Do you think so, sergeant ?" asked one of the persons present, 
 with an air of profound alarm. 
 
 " I do a very suspicious peYson one that should be watched 
 narrowly." 
 
 "I see nothing suspicious about him," said another, tbe same in- 
 dividual who had placed himself beside the stranger when the wrath 
 of the sergeant was expected to burst upon him, and when he had 
 actually laid his hand upon his sword. " I see nothing suspicious 
 about the stranger," said the speaker, boldly, "except that he doesn t 
 like to be troubled with foolish questions." 
 
 " Foolish ouestions foolish questions ! Bless me, John Davis, 
 do you know * i?t you re a saying ?" The landlord spoke in great 
 
26 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 trepidation, an.l placed himself, as he addressed John Davis, between 
 him and the sergeant. 
 
 " Yes, I know perfectly what I say, Master Humphries ; and I 
 Bay it s very unmannerly, the way in which the stranger has been 
 pestered with foolish questions. I say it. and 1 say it again ; and 1 
 don t care who hears it. I m ready to siand up to what J say." 
 
 " Bless me, the boy s mad ! Now, sergeant, don t mind him 
 he s only foolish, you see." 
 
 u Mind him oh no ! Look you, young man, do you see that 
 tree? It won t take much treason to "tuck you up there." 
 
 "Treason, indeed ! I talk no treason, Sergeant Hastings, and I 
 defy you to prove any agin me. I m not to be frightened this time 
 o day, I d have you to know; and though you are a sodger, and 
 wear a red coat, let me tell you there is a tough colt in the woods 
 that your two legs can t straddle. There is no treason in that, for it 
 only concerns one person, and that one person is your own self, 
 and I m as good a man as you any day." 
 
 u You d d rebel, is it so you speak to a sergeant in his ma 
 jesty s service? Take that" and with the words, with his sword 
 drawn at the instant, he made a stroke with the flat of it at the 
 head of tha sturdy disputant, which, as tl*e latter somewhat antici 
 pated the assault, he was prepared to elude. This was done 
 adroitly e lough, and with a huge club which stood conveniently in 
 the corner, lie had prepared himself without fear to guard against 
 a repetitf >n of the attack, when the stranger, about whom the coil 
 liad arisen, suddenly made his appearance, and at once interposed 
 Between the parties. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 h a written bondage writ in itnpes, 
 And lettbr d in our blood. Like beaten hounds, 
 We crouch and cry, bu t t clench not lick the hand 
 That strikes and scourges." 
 
 HASTINGS turned furiously at the interruption ; l>ut tin*. *, anger 
 though entirely unarmed, stood his ground Hrmlv, nod .<<ked on 
 him with composure. 
 
 "That s a bright sword you wear," said he, " but, it is ;oan-.civ :-\ 
 good stroke, and anything but a gallant one, Master Sergv ;l |ii,, 
 which you make with it, How now, is it the fashion wuli British 
 soldiers to draw upon unarmed men ?" 
 
 The person addressed turned upon the speaker with a scowl 
 which seemed to promise that he vvouk- transfer some, portion of 
 his anger to the new comer, lie had nr time, however, to do more 
 than look his wrath at the interruption ; for among the many per 
 sous whom the noise had brought to the scene of action was the 
 Fair Bella Humphries herself. The maid of the inn accustomed 
 probably to quell such contlicts by her beauty and persuasions 
 waited not an instant to place herself between the parties, and, as 
 f her own interest in the persons concerned irave her an esnecml 
 ight in the matter, she fearlessly passed under the raised \\eapon 
 )( Hastings, addressing him imploringly, and with an air of inti- 
 naey, vvnich was, perhaps, the worst feature in the business. So, 
 it least, the individual appeared to think to whose succour she had 
 I Oine.^, His brow blackened still more at her approach, and when 
 die interfered to prevent strife, a muttered curse, half-audible, rose 
 to h s lips. Brandishing the club which he had wielded with no 
 <if,Is -eadiness before, ha seemed more than ever desirous of renew- 
 ,ng tje combat, though with all its disadvantage*. But the partief 
 around generally interfered to pi-event the progress of the stritl 
 
28 THE PARTISAN". 
 
 and Bella, whose mind seemed perfectly assured of Hastings invin 
 cibility, addressed her prayers only to him, and in behalf of the 
 other. 
 
 "Now don t strike, Sergeant don t I pray ! John is only foolish, 
 and don t mean any harm. Strike him not, I beg you! " 
 
 "Beg for yourself, Bella Humphries I don t want any of your 
 begging for me. I m no chicken, and can hold my own any day 
 against him. So don t come between us you in particular you had 
 better keep away." 
 
 The countryman spoke ferociously ; and his dark eye, long black 
 hair, and swarthy check, all combined to give the expression of 
 fierce anger which his words expressed, a lively earnestness not ill- 
 adapted to sustain them. The girl looked on him reproachfully as 
 he spoke, though a close observer might have seen in her features a 
 something of conscious error and injustice. It was evident that 
 the parties had been at one period far more intimate than now ; 
 and the young stranger, about whom the coil began, saw in an 
 instant the true situation of the twain. A smile passed over his 
 features, but did not rest, as his eye took in at a glance the twofold 
 expression of Bella s face, standing between her lovers, preventing 
 the right scowled on furiously by the one, and most affectionately 
 leered at by the other. Her appeal to the sergeant was so compli 
 mentary, that even were he not half-ashamed of whatThe had al 
 ready done in commencing a contest so unequal, he must have 
 yielded to it and forborne. Sonic of his moderation, too, might 
 have arisen from his perceiving the hostile jealousy of spirit with 
 which his rival regarded her preference of himself. His vanity 
 was enlisted in the application of the maiden, and with a becoming 
 fondness of expression in his glance, turning to the coquette, he gave 
 her to understand, while thrusting his sword back into the scabbard, 
 that he consented to mercy on the score of her application. Still, as 
 Davis held out a show of light, and stood snugly ensconded behind 
 his chair defying and even inviting assault, it was necessary that the 
 sergeant should draw oil honourably from the contest. AVliile return 
 ing the weapon to the sheath, therefore! he spoke to his enemy in 
 language of indulgent warning, not unmixed with the military threats 
 common at the period 
 
THREATS. 29 
 
 " Hark you, good fellow you re but a small man to lock co; r ^ 
 danger, and there s too little of you, after all, for me to look af er 
 I let you off this time; but you re on ticklish territory, and if yoi 
 move but one side or the other, you re but a lost man after all. 
 It s not a safe chance to show rebel signs on the kind s hio hw,iv, 
 
 O ^ O * * 
 
 and you have an ugly squinting at disaffection. My eyes are on 
 you now, and if I but see you wink, or hear you hint, treason, ay, 
 treason, rebellion I see it in your eyes, I tell you, but wink it or 
 look it again, and you kno\y it s short work, very short work, 
 and a shorter journey, to the tight rope and the branching -tree." 
 
 The speaker looked round significantly upon the company as lie 
 uttered a warning and threat, which, though addressed particularly 
 to the refractory countryman, were yet evidently as much meant 
 for the benefit of the rest. Not that the worthy sergeant had any 
 reason to*- ittering language which, in all respects, seemed so gra 
 tuitous; but this was of a piece with the wantonly injudicious 
 habit of his superiors, from whom, with the readiness of inferiority 
 and sycophancy, he made free to borrow ; and, with as little dis 
 crimination, quite as frequently employed it, not less fo^ "he grati 
 fication of his vanity than for the exercise of his power. The 
 speech had something of its usual effect, keeping in silence those 
 whose love to talk might have prompted to occasional remark, 
 though without any serious feeling in the matter; and subduing 
 thoroughly all demonstrations of dislike on the part of the few. 
 who, feeling things more deeply, might be disposed rather to act 
 than to speak, when under such provocation. Whatever the per 
 sons around may have felt at the moment, they were generally 
 prudent enough to be silent. Old Humphries alone, with uplifted 
 hands, now somewhat touched with liquor, and seeing all danger 
 over, came forward, and hobbling up to the sergeant, cried out, in 
 reply- 
 
 " Why, bless us, sergeant, you talk as if you were among the ene 
 mies of his majesty, and not among his good friends and well-wishers. 
 Now, I m sure I can answer for all here. There s Jones and Baxter. 
 Lyons and Tom Walker there all for the crown, right loyal good 
 follows, \v)>~ Jrmk the health of King George God bless him ! 
 whenever they can get a drink ; and as for Jack Davis, bless us, .*? 
 2 
 
30 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 geant, there s no better boy in Goose Creek, though he is cross and 
 snappish when his fit s on, and no chicken either, as he says himself. 
 He ll fight for his majesty any day, I know. There s no mistake in 
 him there s no mistake in any of the boys I can answer for all 
 that s here except " and here the landlord paused in one of the 
 longest speeches he had ever made, and his eye rested doubtfully 
 upon the person of the stranger. 
 
 "Except me," said the latter, coming forward, looking Hastings 
 attentively in the face as he spoke, and at the same time placing his 
 hand with some little emphasis upon the shoulders of old Humphries, 
 " except me, Master Humphries, for whom you can say nothing 
 of whom you know nothing but about whom you are excessively 
 curious. You only know I am not a captain, nor yet a colonel ; and 
 as I have not satisfied your desires on* these subjects, of course you 
 cannot answer for my loyalty." 
 
 "Bless me, no ; that I can t, stranger." 
 
 " But I can answer for myself and prefer to do so, Master Hum 
 phries, and that s enough for all parties ; and I can say, as you have 
 already said for these gentlemen, that my loyalty is quite as good as 
 that of any around me, as we shall all see in due season. And now 
 that this quarrel is ended, let me only beg of the worthy sergeant 
 here, that he may not be so quick to draw his weapon upon the man 
 that is unarmed. The action is by no means so creditable to the 
 soldier, and one that he may, most probably, in time, come to be 
 ashamed of." 
 
 The perfect coolness and self-possession of the stranger,* in this 
 brief interlude, confounded Hastings not less than it did the rest. 
 He knew not in what character to behold him, and, but that he was 
 rather stolid than otherwise, might have exhibited traces of that con 
 fusion which his mind certainly felt. But the air of superiority 
 which the other manifested, annoyed him too greatly to give way to 
 doubt or indetermination ; and he was about to answer roughly, 
 when a remark which Davis made, of a churlish nature, to the 
 coquettish Bella Humphries, who still lingered beside the sergeant, 
 attracted the latter s attention, and giving a glance to the speaker, 
 he threw his collected spleen in that quarter, while addressing Ihe 
 girl- 
 
STUBBORN JOHN DAVIS. 31 
 
 il S^e LOW, that s the good you got for saving him from pun sb 
 merit. lie doesn t, thank you at all for what vou ve done." 
 
 4 ( No, that I don t!" cried the incorrigible Davis: "I owe her as 
 utle thanks as I owe you kindness, and I ll pay off both seine 
 ~ % ay. I can hold my own without her help; and as for her begiing, 
 [ < on t want it I won t have it and I despise it." 
 
 "What s that?" cried Hastings, with a show of returning 
 t.bolcr. 
 
 " Nothing, sergeant, nothing ; don t mind what he says ; lie s 
 only foolish, and don t mean any harm. Now take your hand away 
 from the sword, I beg you." 
 
 The girl looked so prettily, as she prayed him to be quiet, that 
 the soldier relented. Her deferential solicitude was all -influential, 
 and softened much of the harsh feeling that might have existed in 
 his bosom. Taking her arm into his own, with a consequential 
 strut, and throwing a look of contempt upon his rival as he passed, 
 the conqueror moved away into the adjoining apartment, to which, 
 as his business seems private at present, we shall not presume to fol 
 low him. 
 
 His departure was the signal for renovated life in several of those 
 persons who, in the previous scene, seemed quiescent enough. They 
 generously came forward to Davis with advice and friendly counsel 
 to keep himself out of harm s way, and submit, most civilly, like a 
 good Christian, to the gratuitous blow and buffet. The mof>t elo 
 quent among them was the landlord. 
 
 "Now, bless me," said he, "John, my dear boy, why will you be 
 after striving with the sergeant ? You know you can t stand against 
 him, and where s the use? He s quite too tough a colt for you to 
 manage, now, T tell you." 
 
 " So you think, Master Humphries so you think. Hut Fin not 
 so sure of it, now, by half. T can stand a thump as well as any 
 ui.v.i and I haint lived so long in Goose Creek not to kii3\v how to 
 give one too. But how you stand it you, I say, Dick Humphries 
 -I don t altogether see." 
 
 " Kh, John how I stand it? Bless us, what do you mean, boy ? 
 !!u don t trouble me he don t threaten me I m a good subject to 
 bw majesty." 
 
32 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 The youth laughed irreverently, and the stranger who had been 
 standing apart, but still within hearing, noted the incident with con 
 siderable show of interest in his countenance. 
 
 "And what do you laugh at, John? Don t boy I pray you, 
 don t. Let s have a glass together, and don t trouble yourself to be 
 laughing again; there s danger in it. Come: a glass. Good old 
 Jamaica! Won t you join us, stranger? " 
 
 The youth declined, and Davis proceeded 
 
 " Why do I laugh, Master Humphries,? In truth I ought not to 
 laugh when I see " 
 
 Here he paused, and with a praiseworthy delicacy, he whispered 
 in the old man s ear his objections to the large degree of intimacy 
 existing between the British sergeant and his pretty daughter. 
 
 " Oh, go, John! there s no harm boy. You se only jealous cause 
 she turned you off.", 
 
 "Turned me off, indeed!" responded the other, indignantly and 
 aloud " turned me off! No, master Humphries not so bad neither. 
 But it s no use talking you ll know all in time, and will wish you 
 had minded what I told you. But go your own gait, you ll grow 
 fatter upon it; " and with this not very nice proverb the disappointed 
 lover turned away without taking the proffered Jamaica. 
 
 This scene had not been lost on the stranger youth, though 
 little regarded by the other personages, who had each made his 
 speech and taken his drink and departure. There was much more 
 spoken that we do not care to record, but which, duly noted by the 
 one observer to whom we have made especial reference, was held not 
 unworthy in his mind of proper consideration. He had seen a 
 dogged disposition on the part of Davis to break and quarrel with 
 the British sergeant; and though he clearly saw that much of this 
 disposition arose, as old Humphries had asserted, from a jealous 
 dislike of the intimacy between Bella and the person in question, 
 he yet perceived that many of the phrases made use of by the 
 countrymen indicated anything but respect or good feeling for the 
 British authority. There was ajslurdy-boldness in his air and man 
 ner, when the other spoke to him of treason, which said that the 
 crime was, after all, a venial one in his mind; and this disposition, 
 perceptible as it must have been to the sergeant, not less than to 
 
BRITISH WISDOM. 33 
 
 stranger, might doubtless have prompted much of that violence on 
 his part which had been so happily and in time arrested. Nor was 
 there anything precipitate or uncommon in what the sergeant had 
 done. Such exhibitions were frequent in the bitter and unscrupulous 
 warfare of the south. The word and the blow, and usually the 
 blow first, was- the habitual mode of silencing, not treason merely, 
 but all manner of opposition; and this was the injudicious course 
 by which the British, regarding South Carolina as a conquered pro 
 vince, revolted the popular feeling from all sympathy with their 
 authority, and provoked that spirit of determined resistance and 
 hostility which, in a few weeks only after this event, blazed up 
 throughout the whole colony, from one end to the other, and com 
 menced that series of harassing operations, the partisan warfare, 
 which, in spite of frequent defeats, cut off the foraging parlies of 
 the British army destroyed its resources, diminished its exercise, con 
 tracted its sphere of operations daily, and in the end, drove the invader 
 to the seaboard, and from thence to his departing vessels. 
 
 Old Humphries followed Davis to the door, and again renewed 
 his exhortation. The landlord seemed to have a good feeling for his 
 guest, who had probably been a crony of his own, and a favoured 
 lover of his daughter, before the British army had made its 
 appearance to compel a change of political sentiment in the one, 
 or a British sergeant, in his red coat and round face, to effect as 
 great a revolution in the bosom of the other. His object seemed to 
 be to persuade Davis into a more cautious utterance, when speaking 
 of the existing powers; and he warned him of the unhesitating 
 nature of the enemy when punishing what they held rebellion, and 
 of the severe kinds of punishment put in exercise on such occa 
 sions. But, whether it was that the youth really felt sorely, too 
 sorely for calm reflection, the loss of his sweetheart or whether the 
 assault of the sergeant had opened his eyes to the doubtful tenure 
 by which the American held his security under the rule that now 
 prevailed throughout the land may not well be said; but there 
 was a reckless audacity in his replies to the friendly suggestions of 
 the landlord, which half frightened the latter personage out of his 
 wits. 
 
 "I d rather cat acorns, now, Master Humphries, I tell you, and 
 
34 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 sleep in the swamps in August, than hush my tongue when I feel 
 it s right to speak. They shan t crow over me, though I die for it; 
 and let them look out; for I tell you now, Dick Humphries, flesh 
 and blood can t stand their parsecutions . There s no chance for 
 life, let lone property. Look how they did Frampton s wife, and 
 she in such a way; and only three days ago they tied up Tom Ray- 
 sor s little boy Ben, and gave him a matter of fifty lashes with 
 hickories thick as my thumb, and all because the boy wouldn t tell 
 where his father was hiding." 
 
 "But you see, John, that all came of the hiding, If Frarnpton 
 and Raysor? had not taken to the swamp, the old lady would have 
 been let alone, and the "boy wouldn t have been whipt. Aint they in 
 arms now against his majesty?" 
 
 "Yes; and if his majesty goes on after this fashion there will be 
 a few more, I can tell you. Now, you yourself, Dick Humphries, T 
 put it to yourself, whether the thing s right, and whether we ought 
 to stand it. Now, I know you of old, and know you re no more a 
 loyalist than " 
 
 " Hush! Bless us, John Davis, how you talk, boy! hush, hush! " 
 and with an air of the greatest trepidation, looking round and per 
 ceiving that, though the stranger appeared to be reading very ear 
 nestly from the pages of the "Royal (Charleston) Gazette," he 
 was yet within hearing, the landlord led his companion farther from 
 the door, and the conversation, as it proceeded to its conclusion, was 
 entirely lost to all ears but their own. It was not long before 
 Humphries returned to the hall, and endeavoured to commence a 
 sort of desultory dialogue with the stranger guest, whose presence 
 have produced the previous quarrel. But this personage seemed to 
 desire no such familiarty, for scarcely had the old man begun, when 
 throwing down the sheet he had been reading, and thrusting upon 
 his head the rakish cap which all the while had rested on his k#ee, 
 he rose from his scat, and moving rapidly to the door of the apart 
 ment, followed the steps of Davis, whom he beheld pursuing his way 
 along the main bridge road and towards the river. The path was 
 clear in this quarter; not a solitary being but themselves was to be 
 seen by them at least. In the centre of the bridge a crazy 
 structure of ill-adjusted timber thrown over a point of the stream 
 
THE STRANGER CURIOUS. 35 
 
 where it*inost narrowed the pursuing stranger overtook the moodily- 
 wandering countryman. He stopped him in his progress till he 
 could come up with him by a friendly hail; and, freely approaching 
 him, tendered him his open hand in a cordial salutation. The other 
 grasped it with honest pleasure. 
 
 "Master Davis, for such I believe is your name," said the stranger, 
 frankly, " I owe you many thanks for so readily, though I must say 
 rashly, taking up my quarrel. I understand that your brush with 
 that soldier-fellow was on rny account; and though, like yourself, I 
 need nobody to fight my battles, I must yet thank you for the good 
 spirit which you have shewn in this matter." * 
 
 " No thanks, stranger. I don t know what name to call you 
 
 " No matter; names are unnecessary, and the fewer known the 
 better in these doubtful times. I care not to utter mine, though it 
 has but little value. Call me what you please." The other looked 
 surprised, but still satisfied, and replied after this fashion 
 
 "Well, stranger, as I said, you owe me no thanks at all in this 
 affair; for though I did take up the matter on your hook, it was 
 because I had a little sort of hankering to take it up on my own. I 
 have long had a grudge at that fellow, and I didn t care much on 
 whose score it began, so it had a beginning." 
 
 "He has done you wrong?" half affirmatively, half inquiringly, 
 said his companion. 
 
 " Reckon he has, squire, and no small wrong neither; but that s 
 neither here nor there, seeing there s little help for it." 
 
 "How! no help for it! What may be the nature of this injury, 
 for which a man with your limbs and spirit can find no help? " 
 
 The countryman looked at the speaker with a curious expression, 
 in which a desire to confide, and a proper hesitancy in entrusting 
 his secret thoughts to a stranger, were mingled equally. The other 
 beheld the expression, and readily defining the difficulty, proceeded 
 to remove it. 
 
 "This man has wronged you friend Davis: you tire his match- 
 more than his match; you have better make and muscle, and manage 
 your club quite as well as he his broadsword: why should you not 
 have justice, if you desire it? " 
 
 "If I desire it!" cried the other, and his black eye sparkled, 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 
 4 J do desire it, squire ; but there s odds against me, 01 ve i A V*** 
 at it afore this." 
 
 "What odds?" 
 
 41 Look there!" and as Davis replied, he pointed to the for, re-*, 
 upon the opposite hill, a few hundred yards off, whers the eioss cf 
 Great Britain streamed high among the pine-trees, and from tin; 
 entrance of which, at that very moment, a small body of mirulars 
 were pouring out into the street, and proceeding with martial tni.:-: : <j 
 to the market-place. 
 
 44 1 see," replied the other " I see ; but why should they prove 
 odds against *ou in a personal affair with this sergeant? You have 
 justice from them surely." 
 
 " Justice ! such justice as a tory captain gives whn. he wants 
 your horse, and don t want to pay for it." 
 
 Dans replied truly, in his summing up of British justice at that 
 period. 
 
 4 But you do not mean to say that the people would riot be pro 
 tected, were complaints properly made to the officers ? " 
 
 44 T do; and \\liafs worse, complaint only goes after new hicko 
 ries. One man was strapped up only yesterday, because lie com 
 plained that Corporal Townes kicked his wife and broke his 
 crockery. They gave him a hundred lashes." 
 
 44 And yet loyalty must have its advantages, more than equal to 
 this usage, else " and a smile of bitter scorn played upon the lips 
 of the speaker as he finished the sentence 44 else there would not 
 b^ *o many to love it so well and submit to it so patiently." 
 
 Th countryman gazed earnestly at the speaker, whose eyes were 
 full of a most searching expression, which could not be misunder 
 stood. 
 
 44 Dang it, stranger," he cried, 44 what do you mean who are 
 you ? " 
 
 44 A man!" answered the speaker boldly; "one who has not 
 asked for a British protection, nor submitted to their hickories ; " 
 and the form of the stranger waa elevated duly as he spoke, and ITR 
 eyo was lighted up with sconmii fir^s, as his reference was L: 13 
 sarcasticallj i> the many in the neighbourhood who had done bjtli. 
 The fnce of Davis was flushed when he heard this reply Uit 
 
. ^r 
 
 DAVIS A FREEMAN. *? 
 
 gathered ira his eyes, and with a bitter emphasis, though in ov 
 tones, as if he felt all the shame of his ackno wledgment ha 
 replied 
 
 " God help me, but I did I I was one of those wlo took a ivy 
 tcction. Here it is here s the paper. Here s where I sold icy 
 country, and put myself down in black and while, to be beaten )i^0 
 a dog with hickories. But it s not too late ; and look you, stranger, 
 I believe you ve true blue, but if you aint, why it s all the same 
 thing I care not you may go tell quick as you please ; but I will 
 break the bargain." 
 
 u TIa ! speak !" and the form of the stranger was advanced and 
 his eyes dilated, as he watched the earnest glow in every feature of 
 his companion. 
 
 "By tcanug up the paper: see," and, as he spoke, he tore ; n*^ 
 small bits the guaranty of British protection, \vliich, in common 
 with most of his neighbours, he had been persuaded to accept from 
 ::he commandant for his security, and as a condition of that return, 
 which he pledged, at the same time, to his duty and his allegiance 
 
 "Your life is in ray hands," exclaimed his companion, clciib* 
 rately. " Your life is in my hands." 
 
 u Take it !" cried the countryman, and he threw himself UPOD 
 his guard, and while his right hand threw up the cudgel which lie 
 carried, the fingers of his left clutched fiercely and drew forth the 
 hunting knife which was concealed in his bosom. Kis small iici- 
 son, slight but active, thrown back, every muscle in action M 
 ready for contest ; his broad-brimmed white hat dashed from hia 
 6row ; his black, glossy hair dishevelled and flying in tlie \vinu t 
 lips closely compressed, while his deep, dark eye shot forth fire?.; of 
 anger, fiercely enlivening the dusky sallow of his cheek all gave 
 to him a most imposing expression of animated life and couragx .11 
 the eye of his companion. 
 
 " Take it take the worthless life !" he cried, in low but emphatic 
 accents. " It is worthless, but you will hev to fight for it." 
 
 The other regarded him with a look of admiration sobered intxi 
 cairn. 
 
 " Your life ie in ray hands, but it, is safe. God forbid, Master 
 Davis," said he. wuh solemnity, "God forbid that I should assail it 
 
,18 COXCEKT. 
 
 mn your frit-mi, your countryman, ami I rejoice in what you have 
 -,....ue. You Lave dime well and nobly in destroying that evidence 
 I your dishonour ; for it is dishonour to barter one s country and 
 
 ^ liberties for dastardly security for one s miserable life. You 
 
 nave done well ; but be not rash. Y r our movements must be in quiet, 
 
 otning rash, nothing precipitate. Every step you now take must 
 
 *. one of caution, for your path is along the steeps of danger. But 
 me with me you shall know more. First secure those scraps; 
 ,:iey may tell tales upon you ; a quick hand and close eye may put 
 thorn together, and then your neck would be til game for the halter 
 yon sergeant warned you of. But what now what are the troops 
 
 The countryman looked, nt his companion s question, and beheld 
 me troops forming in the market-place, while the note of the bugle 
 *i intervals, a-iu an occasional sullen tap of the drum, gathered the 
 -row a of the vril-ir.e around them. 
 
 - * It s a proclamation, squire. That s the market-place, where 
 tnev read it first. They give Yis one every two or three duvs, some 
 times about one thing, sometimes another. If the cattle s killed bv 
 the whigs, though it may be their own, there s a proclamation ; but 
 v-e don t mind them much, for they only tell us to be quiet and 
 orderly, ard, heaven knows, we can t be more so. They will next 
 iro to the church, where they will again read it. That s nigher, and 
 we can get round in time to hear what it is. Shall we go, squire ?" 
 
 : tie otJier expressed his willingness, and leaving the biidge, they 
 in the direction of the crowd. 
 
CHAPTEF i 
 
 * Keep thy counsel well, 
 
 And fear not. We shall mate with ihem n t lcw 
 And spoil them who wpuld strike u.. We are ire. 
 And confidently strong have arms and men 
 Good fellows in ihe wood, that will not tty 
 When blows are to be borne." 
 
 BY a short patfn tne stranger and his companion mo :** from 
 the bridge to the place of gathering. It \v;us not long bwie ^y 
 found themselves in the thick of the crowd, upon the greei o,- m 
 froit of the church, from the portals of which the heavy rou <ie 
 drum commanded due attention from the populace. J ne proe.Hiua- 
 tion which the commander of the garrison at Dorchester HOTV pro 
 ceeded to read to the multitude, was of no small importance. Its 
 contents were well calculated to astound and terrify the CatomuAua 
 who heard it. It was one of the many inovenients of the ruaish 
 commander, unfortunately for the cause of royalty in that region, 
 which, more than anything besides, contributed to arouse ana rri- 
 tate that spirit of resistance on the part of the invaded peuple, 
 which it should have been the studious policy of the invaders to 
 mollify and suppress. The document in question had beeii just 
 issued by Sir Henry Clinton, declaring all p< roles or protections 
 granted hitherto to be null and void, and requiring the hotaers of 
 them, within twenty days, to resume the character 01 JtatNb *ul> 
 jects taking up arms in the promotion of his majesty s cause 
 against their brethren, under pain of being treated as rebels to hi* 
 government. 
 
 The motive of Sir Henry for a movement so exceedingly .njudi 
 cious, may be only conjectured from the concurrent circumstances 
 of the time. The continental army, under De Kalb, was on its way 
 to the South Gates had been ordered to command it an<i thi 
 intelligence, though not generally known to the people of Carolina 
 
tO THE PARTISAN, 
 
 ^ 
 
 x)uld i ot loug be withheld from their possession. It was necossa. t 
 > keep them from any co-operation with their approaching friei.u." , 
 <.nd no more effectual mode, simply considered by itself, could ha/* 
 >een suggested to the mind of the Briton than their employ men* 
 nnder his own banners. This apart, the invasion of the adjoining 
 rates jt Virgui i and North Carolina had been long since de.ter- 
 mmed upon, and was now to be attempted. Troops were wanted 
 ibr this purpose, >,nd no policy seemed better than to expend on 
 set <>t rebels uiioi: another. It was also necessary to secure the crju 
 me red province ; and the terrors of the hangman were provider) t.t 
 bold out, in order to impel the conquered to the minor risks -j 
 the bayonet and shot. 
 
 Th- error was a fatal 01.3. From that hour the declension o 
 ** H ; *h power was precipitately hurried in Carolina , the people loy 
 <*T < <)nfidence in those who had nlready so grossly deceived them 
 -r the condition of the protect/on or parole called for no military 
 rwice from the citizen who took ii. He was simply to be neutral 
 n the contest; and, however unwoi \y may have been the spirit 
 Consenting even to this condition, it cv.not be denied that a fou 
 Veeption had been practised upon them. The consequences were 
 -evitable ; and the determined hostility of the foe was coupled, r 
 <he part of ;he Carolinians, with a wholesale scorn of the want o. 
 >robity manifested by the enemy they were now not so unwilling to 
 nveounter. 
 
 From the church-porch the proclamation w s again read to the 
 Assembled multitude. The crowd was vark isly composed, and 
 Carious indeed was the effect which it produced among th<?TE. Tue 
 r *.ranger and his companion, at a little distance listened closely */* 
 *?ie words of the instrument ; and a smile of joy_ not unm^ Ved by 
 Havis, played over the features of the former as ic heard it reau. 
 The latter looked his indignation : he could not understand why 
 ?uch a paper should give pleasure to his com^acw?, and could no! 
 brbear, in a whisper, demanding the occasion of his satisfaction. 
 
 " It pleases you, stranger ? I see you smile !" 
 
 " It does please me much, very much," responded^the otuar 
 liiickly, and with emphasis, but in a whisper also. 
 
 * What !" with rijore earnestness, said me ( ountryman " wl g 
 
HUSH ! CAUTION NOW. 4 
 
 does it please you to listen to such villainy as this ? I do not undei 
 stand you." 
 
 " Not so loud, comrade ; you have a neck, and these fellows a rope ; 
 besides, there s one to the left of us whose looks I like not." 
 
 The other turned in the direction signified, and saw the propriety of 
 his companion s caution, as he beheld within a few feet the harsh feat 
 ures of the notorious Captain Huck, a furious and bloody tory-lcader, 
 well-known, and held in odious estimation, throughout the neighbor 
 hood. The stranger went on, still whispering : 
 
 " Look pleased, friend Davis, if you can ; this is no time to show 
 any but false colors to the enemy. I am pleased, really, as you think, 
 and have iny reason for being so, which you shall know in good time. 
 Take breath and listen." 
 
 The paper was Finished, and the detachment moved on its way to 
 the Royal George Tavern," the crowd generally following ; ami 
 there it was again read. Our two friends kept together, and pro 
 ceeded with the multitude. The stranger was eminently watchful 
 and observant ; he noted well the sentiment of indignation which all 
 faces manifested ; there could be no doubt of that expression. The 
 sober farmer, the thoughtless and gay-hearted planter of the neigh 
 borhood, the drudge, the mechanic, the petty chapman all had 
 in their looks that severe soberness which showed a thought and 
 spirit, active, and more to be respected, as they were kept so well 
 restrained. 
 
 God save the king ! " cried the officer, as he concluded the instru 
 ment, from the steps of the tavern. 
 
 "Ay, God save the king, ami God bless him, too!" echoed old 1 
 Jlumphrjes, at the entrance. A few only of the crowd gave back 
 the cry, and even with them the prayer was coldly uttered; and 
 there was nothing like that spirit which, when the heart goes with 
 the decree of the ruler, makes the welkin ring with its unregulated 
 rejoicings. 
 
 " You are silent ; you do not cry with the rest," said one at the 
 elbow of the stranger. He turned to behold the features of the 
 tory captain, of whom we have already spoken, who no\v, with a 
 scrutinizing glance, placed himself close beside the person he had 
 addressed. The mean cunning the low, searching expression of 
 
42 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 h : f jook -were eminently disgusting to the youth, who replied^ 
 while resuming his old position : 
 
 " What ? God save the king ? Did I not say it ? Irs very 
 natural ; for I am so used to it. I m quite v, Jli?g that God should 
 save his majesty God knows he needs it." 
 
 This was said with a very devout countenance, and the expres 
 sion was so composed and quiet, that the tory could say nothing, 
 though still not satisfied, seemingly, with much that was in the lan 
 guage. It sounded very like a sneer, and yet, strictly speaking, it 
 wjis perfectly unexceptionable. Baffled in this quarter, the loyalist, 
 who was particularly desirous of establishing his own claims * 
 British favour, now turned with a similar inquiry to Davis; but th* 
 countryman was ready, and a nudge in the side from his companion, 
 hac 1 anything been wanting, moved him to a similar answer. Huck 
 <v>;s not exactly prepared to meet w t 1 . so much willingness on Ilk 
 TV-HI, of two persons whose movements he had suspected, and h;u 
 Iven watching; but, concluding them now to be well affected, he 
 ti d not scruple to propose to them to become members of the trooj 
 of 1 torso, he was engaged in raising. To the stranger lit lirsl 
 --.I . rossed himself, complimenting him upon his fine- limbs an<_i 
 lii^ure. a?d insisting upon the excellent appearance he would makt>. 
 well mounted and in British uniform. A smile of sovereign con- 
 tempi overspread the youth s features as he listened to I lie tor) 
 patiently to the end. Calmly, then, he begged permission to decline 
 the proposed honour. 
 
 " Why, you are loyal, sir ?" he asked, seeming to doubt. 
 
 " Who denies it?" fiercely replied the stranger. 
 
 " Oh, nobody ; 1 mean not to offend : but, as a loyal subject, you 
 can scarce withhold yourself from service." 
 
 " I do not contemplate to do so, sir." 
 
 " And why not join my troop? Come, now, you shall have a 
 lieutenancy ; for, blast me, but I like your looks, and would U 
 devilish glad to have you. You can t refuse." 
 
 " But I do," said the other, coolly almost contemptuously. 
 
 " And wherefore ?" Huck inquired, with a show of pique in hi* 
 countenance and manner "wherefore? What better service? an". 
 t- P sf kiief ot fo/tune, let me ask vc-.u what tatter chances 
 
THE STRAXGER SHOWS FALSE COLORS. 43 
 
 now of making every thing out of these d d rebels, who have gone 
 into the swamps, leaving large estates for confiscation ? What better 
 business ? " 
 
 "None : I fully agree with you." 
 
 " And you will join iny troop ? " 
 
 "No!" 
 
 The man looked astonished. The coolness and composure with 
 which the denial was made surprised him not less than the denial it 
 self. With a look of doubt and wonderment, he went on 
 
 "Well, you know best; but, of course, as a good citizen, you 
 will soon be in arms ; twenty days, you know, are all that s allowed 
 you." 
 
 " I do not need so many ; as a good citizen, I shall be in arms in 
 less time." 
 
 " In whose troop ? where ? " 
 
 "Ah, now we come to the point," was the sudden reply; "and 
 you will now see why I have been able to withstand the tempting 
 oilers you have made. I am thinking to form a troop of my own, and 
 should I do so, I certainly should not wish so much success to yours 
 as to fall into your ranks. " 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, I m glad, anyhow, that his majesty is likely to be 
 so well served with officers. Have you yet applied for a commission 
 to the commandant ? " 
 
 No ; nor shall I, till niy recruits are strong enough to make my 
 appearance respectable. " 
 
 That s right ! I know that by experience. They never like you 
 half so well as when you bring your men with you ; they don t want 
 officers so much as men ; and some of the commands, if they can 
 choose you out of your recruits, will not stop to do so ; and then you 
 may whistle for your commission. I suppose your friend, here, is 
 already secured for your squad ? " 
 
 The tory referred to Davis, who did not leave his companion to 
 reply ; but, without scruple, avowed himself as having already been 
 partially secured for the opposition troop. 
 
 "Well, good luck to you. But I say comrade, you have com 
 manded before of course you arc prepared to lead ? " 
 
 "I have the heart for it," was the reply; and as the stranger 
 
44 THE PARTISAX. 
 
 .*pokc, lio extended his arms towards the tory captain, wlvile ei 
 -ating his figure to its fullest height; "and yon can say yourself 
 r.-r the limbs. As for the head, it must be seen if mine s good foi 
 H ii v thing." 
 
 " 1 doubt it not; and service comes easy after a brush or two 
 I mi wouldn t you like to know the major?" 
 
 " Who ? the ofticer in command of the garrison here?" 
 
 u The same." 
 
 " In time, I ll trouble you, perhaps, to help me to that kno:v 
 e- u e. Not yet ; not till I get my recruits. 1 " 
 
 " You are right ir thit; and, talking of the recruits, I must see 
 after mine ; and, so, a good-evening to you, and success. We 
 Oiall meet again." 
 
 The tory moved among the separate groups as he spoke, and I lie 
 ^tranovr turned to Davis while he muttered 
 
 u Ay, we shall meet again, Master 1 luck, or it will be n<> fault oi 
 /u... V : we do not, Old Nick takes marvellous care of his own 
 .. r,a i comrade, keep you here awhile; there is one that I would 
 ;p< aK with." 
 
 At. a little distance apart, at one wing of the tavern, stood a man, 
 itt trod in the blue homespun garments of the country, among the 
 t umbler classes; and with nothing particular to distinguish him, if 
 we except, a face somewhat more round and rosy than belong:, 
 usually to the people dwelling in Dorchester and its neighbourhood. 
 Ho, was like them in one respect having a sidelong, indirect move 
 ment, eouplrJ with a sluggish, lounging, indifferent gait, which is a 
 jenera" feature of uiiis people, unless when roused by insult or pro 
 vocation. In his hard he carried a whip of common leather, which 
 he smack* -el occasionally, either for the sharp, shot-like sounds which 
 it sent forth, or when he desired to send to a greater distant that 
 most grumbling of all aristocrats, the hog, as it approached him. 
 The quick eye of the stranger had singled out this personage ; and, 
 leaving Davis where he stood, and moving quickly through the 
 straggling groups that still clustered in front of the tavern, he at 
 once approached him confidently as an old acquaintance. The 
 other seemed not to observe his coming, until our first acquaintance 
 as he advanced, caught his notice. This had no soone* 
 
SECRET MOVEMENTS. 45 
 
 been clone, than the other was in motion. Throwing aside his 
 sluggishness of look, he recognized by a glance the stranger, and 
 his head was bent forward to listen, as he saw that he was about to 
 speak. The words of our old acquaintance were few, but signifi 
 cant 
 
 "I am here before you say nothing lead on, and I will fol 
 low." 
 
 With a nod, the person addressed looked but once at the speaker; 
 then, without ,a word, moving from his easy position against the 
 tavern, and throwing aside all show of sluggishness, lie led the way 
 for the stranger. Taking an oblique path, which carried them in a 
 short time into the neighboring woods, they soon left the village 
 behind them. 
 
 Davis had been reluctant to separate from the companion to 
 whom he had so readily yielded his confidence. He had his doubts 
 as who could be without them in that season of general distrust? 
 ljt when he remembered the warm, manly frankness of the stranger 
 his free, bold, generous, and gentle conteiiance he did not suffer 
 himself to doubt, for a moment more, that his secret would be safe 
 in his possession. This, indeed, was the least of his dilllcullies. The 
 fair coquette of the inn had attracted him strongly, and with a heavy 
 heart, he turned into the " Ro} r al George," and, throwing his form at 
 length upon a bench, he solaced or vexed, himself with an occasional 
 glance at Bella Humphries, whose duties carried her to and fro 
 between the bar and the sitting-room; and with thoughts of that ven 
 geance upon his enemy which his new relation with the stranger 
 seemed to promise him. 
 
 Meanwhile, following the steps of the individual he had so singled 
 out, the stranger kept on his way until the village had been fairly 
 passed; then plunging down a little by-path, into which the former 
 had gone, he soon overtook him, and they moved on closely together 
 in their common progress. The guide was a stout able-bodied 
 person, of thirty years, or perhaps more a rough-looking man, one 
 seemingly born and bred entirely in the humble life of the country. 
 He was powerful in physical development, rather stout than high, 
 with a short thick neck a head round and large, with eyes small 
 settled, and piercing and features even solemn in their general 
 
46 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 expression of severity. He carried no visible weapons, but lie seemed 
 the man to use them; for no one who looked in his face could doubt 
 that he was full of settled purpose, firm in his resolve, and reckless, 
 having once determined, in the prosecution of the most desperate en 
 terprise. 
 
 The route they were pursuing grew more and more tangled as 
 they went, gradually sinking in level, until the footing became 
 slightly insecure, and at length terminated in the soft oozy swamp 
 surface common to the margin of most rivers in the low country of 
 the south. They were now close on the banks of the Ashley, which 
 wound its way, perceptible to the two in occasional glimpses, through 
 the close-set foliage by which they were surrounded. A few more 
 strides through the copse and over the miry surface, brought them 
 again to a dry elevation, isolated by small sluices of water, and more 
 closely wrapped in brush and covering. Here their progress was self- 
 arrested, for they were now perfectly secure from interruption. In 
 all this time, no word had been exchanged between the parties; but 
 the necessity for farther caution being now over, they came to a 
 pause, and the silence was broken as follows by our last made 
 acquaintance: 
 
 "We are safe here, Major Singleton, and can now speak freely. 
 The sharpest scout in the British garrison could not well come upon 
 us without warning, and if he did, would do so by accident." 
 
 " I m glad of it, for I m heartily tired, and not a little impatient to 
 talk with you. But let us be at case." 
 
 They threw themselves upon the ground our elder acquaintance, 
 whom we now know as Major Singleton, with an air of superiority 
 which seemed familiar, choosing the most favorable spot, while the 
 other remained standing until his companion had adjusted himself; 
 and then took his seat respectfully on the ridgy roots of the pine-tree 
 spreading over them. 
 
 "And now. Humphries," said Singleton, "what of my sister is 
 she safe, and how did she bear the journey? " 
 
 "Safe, major, and well as could be expected; though very feeble. 
 We had some trouble crossing the Santee, but it did not keep us long, 
 and we got on tolerably well after. The whole party are now safe at 
 The Oaks. " 
 
THE DRAMATIS PERSON/E UNFOLD. 47 
 
 "Well, you must guide me there to-night, if possible; I know 
 nothing of the place, and but little of the country. Years have 
 passed since I last went over it." 
 
 "What! have you never been at The Oaks, major? I was told 
 you had." 
 
 " Yes, when a boy; but I have no distinct memory on the subject, 
 except of the noble trees, the thick white moss and the dreamy quiet 
 of all things around. The place, I know, is beautiful." 
 
 "You may well say so, major; a finer don t happen often in the 
 low country, and the look at it from the river is well worth a jour 
 ney." 
 
 Ah! I have never seen it from that quarter. But you said my 
 uncle was well, and" here the voice faltered a little "and my 
 cousin Katharine they are all well? " 
 
 "All well, sir. The old squire is rather down in the mouth, you 
 see, for he s taken a protection, and he can t help seeing the troubles 
 of the county. It s this that makes his trouble; and though he used 
 of old time to be a dashing, hearty, lively, talkative gentleman, 
 always pleasant and good-humoured, yet now he says nothing; and if 
 he happens to smile at all, he catches himself up a minute after, and 
 looks mighty sorry for it. Ah, major, these cursed protections 
 they ve made many a good heart sore in this neighbourhood, and the 
 worst is to come yet, or I m mistaken." 
 
 "A sore subject, Humphries, and not very necessary to speak on. 
 But what ne\\s what stirring, and how get on our recruits?" 
 
 "Slowly enough, major; but that is to be expected while the 
 country is overrun with the red-coats. The folk are afraid to 
 move, and our poor swamp-boys can t put their noses out yet not 
 until the enemy turns his back on them for a while, and gives them 
 chance for a little skirmish, without the risk of the rope. But things 
 would change, I m certain, if the great general you spoke of, with 
 the continentals, would only come south. Our people only want an 
 opportunity." 
 
 And they shall have it, But what intelligence here from the 
 city ? " 
 
 "None, sir, or little. You heard the proclamation? " 
 
 "Yes, with joy with positive delight, The movement is a 
 
48 TUB PARTISAN. 
 
 grand one for our cause: it must bring out the ground-rats those 
 who skulked for safety into contracts, measuring honour by acres, 
 and counting their duty to their country by the value of their 
 crops." 
 
 "True I see that, major, but that s the thing I dread. Why 
 should } r ou desire to bring them out?" 
 
 "Why, because, though with us in spirit and sentiment, they yet 
 thought to avoid danger, while they believed themselves unable to 
 serve us by their risk. Now, forced into the field compelled to 
 light is it not clear that the argument is all in favour of our side? 
 Will they not rather fight in conformity with their feelings and 
 opinions than against them? particularly when the latter course must 
 plnee them in arms against their friends and neighbours not to speak 
 of their countiym.cn in many instances to their relatives, and the 
 members of their own families. By forcing into the field those who 
 were quiet before, Sir Henry Clinton has forced thousands into our 
 ranks, who will be as slow to lay down their weapons as they were to 
 take them up." 
 
 " I hope so, major; but I fear that many will rather strike for what 
 seems the strongest, and not ask many questions as to which is the 
 justest side." 
 
 "No this I fear not. The class of people on whom I rely are 
 too proud to suffer this imposition, and too spirited not to resist the 
 indignity which it puts upon them. They must be roused by the 
 trick which has been practiced, and will shake off their sleep. Let us 
 hope for it, at least." 
 
 "I am willing, sir, but fear it. They have quite too much at 
 stake: they have too much plate, too many negroes, and live too com 
 fortably to be willing to stand a chance of losing all by taking up 
 arms against the British, who are squat close alongside of them." 
 
 "So should I fear with you, Humphries, and for like reasons, if 
 the protections protected them. I doubt not that the} r would be will 
 ing to keep quiet, and take no part in this struggle, if the conquerors 
 were wise enough to let them alone; but they kick and cuff them on 
 all occasions, and patriots are frequently made by kicking. I care 
 not for the process, so it gives us the commodity. Let them kick on, 
 and may they get extra legs for the purpose! " 
 
PBOCESS FOR MAKING PATKIOTS. 49 
 
 " Amen," said Humphries, gravely. " If it makes them stand up 
 to the rack, as you think it will. But " changing somewhat abruptly, 
 he said to Singleton 
 
 " You were with Jack Davis, of Goose Creek, major, when you 
 first came up I thought you were unknown in these parts ? " 
 
 "You thought rightly ; I am still unknown, but I learned to know 
 something of him you speak of, and circumstances threw us together. " 
 Here Singleton related the occurrences at the tavern, as already 
 known to us. Humphries, who. was the son of the landlord, gave 
 close attention, and with something more than ordinary interest. 
 He was not at any time a man to show his feelings openly, but there 
 was an increased pressure of his lips together as that portion fell 
 upon his ear which described the entcrfcrencc of his sister, the fair 
 coquette Bella, for the protection of her cast-off lover. His breathing 
 was far less free at this point of the narrative ; and when Singleton 
 concluded, the listener muttered, partly in solilquy and partly in 
 reply 
 
 "A poor fool of a girl, that sister of mine, major; loves the fine 
 colors of the jay in spite of his cursed squalling, and lias played upon 
 that good fellow, Davis Prickly Ash, as we sometimes call him in 
 the village till he is half out of his wits. Pier head, too, is half 
 turned with that red coat ; but I ll cure her of that, and cure him too, 
 or there s no virtue in twisted bore. But, major, did you do any 
 thing with Davis ? " 
 
 The answer was affirmative, and Humphries continued 
 
 "That s a gain, sir , for Davis is true, if he says it, and comes of 
 good breed : he ll fight like a bull-dog, and his teeth shall meet in the 
 flesh. Besides, he s a great shot with a rifle, like most of the boys 
 from Goose Creek. His old mother kept him back, or he d a- joined 
 us long ago, for I ve seen how his thoughts run. But it s not too late, 
 and if the word s once out of his mouth, he s to be depended on he s 
 safe." 
 
 "A few more Tvill do. You have several others, have you not, 
 gathering in a safe place ! " said Singleton. 
 
 "In the swam p thirteen, true as steel, and ready for fight. 
 They re only some some six miles off, and can be brought up in two 
 hours, at notice. See, this river comes from the heart of the Cypress 
 
50 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Swamp, where they shelter ; and if there be no tory among us to show 
 them the track, T defy all Proctor s garrison to find us out." 
 
 " We must be among them to-morrow. But the evening wears and 
 the breeze freshens up from the river : it is sweet and fresh from the 
 sea and how different, too, from that of the forests ! But come I 
 must go back, and have my horse in readiness for this ride to The 
 Oaks/ where you must attend me," 
 
 " Your horse ! Where is he ? " asked the other quickly. 
 
 " In your father s stable." 
 
 " He must not be suffered to stay there ; if he is, you will not have 
 him long. We must hide him out, or that black-hearted tory, Huck, 
 will be on his quarters before three days ; he s beating about the 
 country now for horses as well as men." 
 
 " See to it then for I must run no such risk. Let us return at once," 
 said Singleton. 
 
 " Yes ; but we take different roads : we must not know each other. 
 Can you find the way back alone, major ?" 
 
 " Yes I doubt not." 
 
 "To the Icfl now round that water; keep straight up from the 
 river for a hundred yards, and you fall into the track. Your horse 
 shall be ready in an hour, and I will meet you at supper." 
 
 They parted Singleton on his way as directed, and Humphries 
 burying himself still deeper in the copse. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 "It needs but to be bold be bold-be bold 
 Everywhere bold. Tis every virtue told ; 
 Courage and truth, humanity and skill, 
 The noblest cunning that the mind can will, 
 As the best charity we do but kill, 
 Not succour, Avheii we shudder at the ill : 
 The loathing and the sorrow that not strives 
 Were sorry proof of manhood." 
 
 IT was not long before Singleton reached the tavern, which he 
 now found crowded. The villagers of all conditions and politics had 
 there assembled, either to mutter over their doubts or discontents, or 
 to gather counsel for their course in future, from the many, wiser 
 than themselves, in their own predicament. There, also, came the 
 true loyalist, certain to find defference and favour from those around 
 him, not so happy or so secure as himself in the confidence of the 
 existing powers. The group was motley enough, and the moods at 
 work among them not less so. Some had already determined upon 
 submission, some of the weak the time-serving such as every old 
 community will be found to furnish, where indolent habits, which 
 have become inveterate, forbid all sort of independence. Some fluc 
 tuated, and knew not what to do, or even what to think. But there 
 were others, Singleton imagined, as he looked into their grave, sullen 
 features, full of thought and pregnant with determination, who felt 
 nothing so strongly as the sense of injustice, and the rebel-daring 
 which calls for defiance at every hazard. 
 
 Vengeance! my men!" he muttered to himself, as passing full 
 into the apartment, he became at once visible to the group. The old 
 landlord himself was the first person who confronted him, speaking 
 still after that familiar fashion which had already had its rebuke 
 from the same quarter. 
 
 "Ah, captain! (the brow of Singleton darkened) squire, I mean. 
 I ask pardon, squire ; but here, where every man is a captain, or a 
 
 51 
 
52 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 
 
 colonel, or something, it comes natural to captain or colonel all, and 
 is not often amiss. No offense, squire it s use only, and I mean no 
 harm." 
 
 "Enough, enough! good Master landlord! Least said, soonest 
 mended. Shall we soon have supper?" 
 
 The ready publican turned to the inner door of the apartment and 
 put the same question to his daughter, the fair Bella; then, without 
 waiting for her reply, informed the inquirer that many minutes 
 would not elapse before it would be on table. 
 
 " Six o clock s the time of day for supper, squire six for supper 
 one for dinner eight for breakfast puntual to the stroke, and no 
 waiting. Heh! what s that you say, Master Dickenson? what s that 
 about Frampton ? " said old Humphries, turning to one of the villa 
 gers who had just entered the apartment. The person so addressed 
 came forward; a thin-jawed, sallow countryman, whose eyes were 
 big with the intelligence he brought, and who seemed anxious that a 
 well-dressed and goodly-looking stranger, like Singleton, should have 
 the benefit of his burden. 
 
 " Why, gentlemen, the matter with Frampton s strange enough. 
 You all know he s been out several days, close in the swamp. He 
 had a fight, stranger, you see, Avith one of Huck s dragoons; and he 
 licked the dragoon, for all the world, as if he d a licked him out of 
 his skin. Now the dragoon s a strong fellow enough ; but Framp- 
 ton s a horse, and if ever he mounts you the game is up, for there s 
 no stopping him when he gets his hand in. So, as I tell you, the 
 dragoon stood a mighty slim chance. He first brought him down 
 with a back-handed wipe, that came over his cheek for all the world 
 like the slap of a water-wheel 
 
 " Yes, yes, we all heard that; but what was it all about, Dicken 
 son? we don t know that, yet," cried one of the group which had 
 now formed around the speaker. 
 
 " Why, that s soon told. The dragoon went to Frampton s house 
 when he was in the swamp, and -made free with what he wanted. 
 Big Barney, his eldest son, went off in the meanwhile to his daddy, 
 and off he came full tilt, with Lance, his youngest lad along with 
 him. You know Lance, or Lancelot, a smart chap of sixteen; you ve 
 seed him often enough." 
 
 " Yes, yes, we know him." 
 
THE FRAMFTON MURDER. 68 
 
 " Well, as I tell you, the old man and his two boys came full 
 lilt to the h use, and twas a God s mercy they came in time, for 
 *,he doings of the dragoon was too rediculous for any decent body 
 to put up with, and the old colt couldn t stand it no how; so, as I 
 tell you, he put it to him in short order. lie first gave him a back- 
 handed wipe, which flattened him, I tell you; and when the 
 Dodger tried to get up, he put it to him again so that it was easier 
 "or him to lie down than to stand up ; and lie down he did, with 
 out a we d, till -the other dragoons tuk him up. They came a few 
 ninutes after, and the old man and the youngest boy, Lance, had 
 a narrow chance and a smart run for it. They heard the troops 
 Coining ;i,wn the lane, a:ul they took to the bush. The sodgers 
 ,ried hard, to catch them, but it aint easy to hook a Goose-Creeker 
 vlien I . 3*8 on trail for tl;e swamp, and splashing after the hogs 
 along :\ tussock. So they got safe into the Cypress, and the dra 
 goons had nothing better to do than go back to the house. Well, 
 they made Frampton s old woman stand all sorts of treatment, and 
 that too bad to find names for. They beat her too, and she as 
 heavy as she could go. Well, then, she died night afore last, as 
 might be expected ; and now the wonder is, what s become of her 
 body. They laid her out; and the old granny that watched her 
 only went into the kitchen for a little while, and when she came 
 back the body was gone. She looked out of the window, and sure 
 enough she sees a man going over the rail with a bundle all in 
 white on his shoulder. And the man looked, so she swears, for all 
 the world like old Frampton himself. Nobody knows anything 
 more about it; and what I heard, is jist now what I tell you." 
 
 The man had narrated truly what he had heard ; and what, in 
 reality, \Vith little exaggeration, was the truth. The company had 
 listened to one of those stories of brutality, which in the fierce 
 civil warfare of the South, when neighbours were arrayed against 
 one another, and when, on one side, negroes and Indians formed 
 allies, contributing, by their lighter sense of humanity, additional 
 forms of terror to the sanguinary warfare pursued at that period 
 were of almost daily occnrrence. Thick, the infamous tory captain, 
 of whom we have already obtained a slight glimpse in the progress 
 f our narrati/e, was himself a character well fitted, by his habitual 
 3 
 
f>4 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 cunning and gross want of all the softening influences of humanity, 
 to give countenance, and even example, to crimes of this nature. 
 His dragoons, though few as yet in number, and employed only on 
 marauding excursions calling for small parties, had already become 
 notorious for their outrages of this description. Indeed, they found 
 impunity in this circumstance. In regular warfare, under the con 
 trolling presence of crowds, the responsibility of his men, apart 
 from what they owed or yielded to himself, would have held them 
 certainly in some greater restraints; although, to their shame be it 
 said, the British generals in the South, when mortified by defeat 
 and vexed by unexpected resistance, were themselves not always 
 more tenacious of propriety than the tory Iluck. The sanguinary 
 orders of Cornwallis, commanding the cold-blooded execution of 
 hundreds, are on record, in melancholy attestation of the atrocities 
 committed by the one, and the persecutions borne by the other 
 party, during this memorable conflict. 
 
 It could easily be seen what was the general feeling during this 
 recital ; and yet that feeling was unspoken. Some few shook their 
 heads very gravely, and a few, more daring yet, ventured to say, 
 that "it was very bad, very bad indeed very shocking !" 
 
 " What s very bad, my friends ? what is it you speak of as so 
 shocking?" was the demand of one just entering. The crowd 
 started back, and Iluck himself stood among them, lie repeated 
 his inquiry, and with a manner that left it doubtful whether he 
 really desired to know what had been the subject of their remarks, 
 or whether, having heard, he wished to compel some of them to 
 the honest utterance of their sentiments upon it. Singleton, who 
 had listened with a duly-excited spirit to the narrative of the 
 countryman, now advanced deliberately towards the new-comer, 
 whom he addressed as in answer to his question 
 
 41 Why, sir, it is bad, very bad indeed, the treatment received, as 
 I learn, by one of his majesty s dragoons, at the hands of some 
 impudent rebel a few nights ago. You know, sir, to what I allude. 
 You have heard, doubtless." 
 
 The bold, confident manner of the speaker was sufficiently im 
 posing to satisfy all around of his loyalty. Hack seemed com 
 pletely surprised, and replied freely and with confidence 
 
OJS TKAIL AFTKK THE KEBKLS. 55 
 
 "Ay, you mean the affair of that scoundrel, Framptou. Yes, I 
 know all about it ; but we re on his trail, and shall soon make him 
 sweat for his audacity, the blasted rebel." 
 
 " Do you know that his wife is dead ?" asked one of the country 
 men, in a tone subdued to one of simple and inexpressive inquiry. 
 
 " No and don t care very greatly. It s a bad breed, and the 
 misfortune is, there s quite too many of them. But we ll thin 
 them soon, and easily, by G d ! and the land shall be rid of the 
 reptiles." 
 
 "Yes, captain, we think alike," said Singleton, familiarly " we 
 think alike on that subject. Something must be done, and in time, 
 or there will be no comfortable moving for a loyalist, whether in 
 swamp or highway. These rascal rebels have it in their power to 
 do mischief, if not taken care of in time. It is certainly our policy 
 to prevent our men from being ill-treated by them, and to do this, 
 they must be taken in hand early. Rebellion grows like joint-grass 
 when it once takes root, and runs faster than you can follow. It 
 should be seen to." 
 
 "That is my thought already, and accordingly I have a good 
 dog on trail of this lark, Frarnpton, and hope soon to have him in. 
 He cannot escape Travis, my lieutenant, who is now after him, arid 
 who knows the swamp as well as himself. They re both from 
 Goose Creek, and so let dog eat dog." 
 
 " You have sent Travis after him, then, captain 2" inquired a 
 slow and deliberate voice at Huck s elbow. Singleton turned at the 
 same moment with the person addressed, and recognised in the 
 (>eaker his own lieutenant, the younger Humphries, who had go 
 Dack to the tavern almost as soon as himself. Humphries, of whose 
 Americanism we can have no sort of question, had yet manageu 
 adroitly to conceal it ; and what with his own cunning and his 
 father s established loyalty, he was enabled, not only to pass without 
 suspicion, but actually to impress the tories with a favourable opinion 
 of his good feeling for the British cause. This was one of those 
 artifices which the necessities of the times imposed upon most men, 
 and for which they gave a sufficient moral sanction. 
 
 " Ah, Bill, my boy," said lluck, turning as to an old acquaint 
 Mice, " is that you ! Why, where have you been ? haven t se 
 
66* THE 
 
 you for an age, aud didn t well know what had become of you 
 thought you might have gone into the swamps too with the skull: 
 ing rebels." 
 
 " So I have," replied the other calmly " not with the rebels, 
 though. I see none of them to go with but I have been skiiting 
 vhe cypress for some time, gathering what pigs the alligators found 
 no use for. Pigs and poultry are the rebels I look after. You may 
 judge of my success by their bawling." 
 
 In confirmation of what Humphries had said, at that moment tho 
 collection of tied pigs with which his cart had been piled and tho 
 tethered chickens undergoing transfer to a more fixed dwelling, and 
 tumbled from the mass where they had quietly but confusedly lain 
 for an hour or two before sent up a most piteous pleading, which, 
 for the time, effectually silenced the speakers within. A moment s 
 pause obtained,. Humphries reverted, though indirectly, to the ques 
 tion which he had put to the tory captain touching the pursuit of 
 Frampton by Travis ; and, without exciting his suspicion by a posi 
 tive inquiry, strove to obtain information. 
 
 " Travis will find Frampton if lie chooses, he knows the swamp 
 quite as well and a lean dog for a long chase, you know, that is, 
 if you have given him men enough." 
 
 u I gave him all he wanted : ten, he said, would answer : he could 
 have had more. He ll catch him, or Pm mistaken." 
 
 " Yes, if he strikes a good route. The old paths are washed now 
 by the freshet, and he may find it hard to keep track. Now, the 
 best path for him to take, captain, would have been up over Terra 
 pin Bridge by Turkey Town. That will bring him right into the 
 heart of the swamp, where it s most likely Frampton hides " 
 
 "Terrapin Bridge Turkey Town," said the other, seeming tc 
 muse. " No, he said nothing of these places : he spoke of " 
 
 " Dime s old field," exclaimed Humphries, somewhat eagerly. 
 
 " Yes, that s the name ; he goes that route ; and I remember he 
 spoke of another, where he said the waters were too high." 
 
 A v and does ho think to find Frampton on tho skirts ? an<3 
 then, what a round-about way by Dime s ! eh ! neighbours ? he 
 can t be there before midnight. But of course he went there i 
 tiine," said Humphries, insinuating the question. 
 
HOW THE SCOUT WORKS. 67 
 
 " Only two horirs gone," replied the other, giving the desired 
 intelligence ; " but he won t do more than stretch to the swainp 
 to-night. He wants to be ready to make a dash with the daylight 
 upon them, when he hopes to find the fellow not yet out of his 
 nest." 
 
 Humphries looked approvingly as he heard the plan, lie ex 
 clw jed glances of intelligence at intervals with Singleton, who 
 listened attentively to this dialogue, which had wormed out the 
 secret of one of those little adventures of Huck s party, in which his 
 command was most generally employed. The look of Singletou 
 spoke clearly to Humphries his desire to have a hand in the perfor 
 mance which was now naturally suggested to both. The lieutenant, 
 eager like his superior, was yet prudent enough to keep his counto- 
 nance. They both looked unconcerned enough, and now remained 
 silent. 
 
 Uuck, in the meantime, who had long been desirous of securing 
 Humphries for his troop, now pressed the latter more earnestly than 
 ever upon that subject. Taking him aside, he detailed to him in 
 an undertone the thousand advantages of profit and position which 
 must result to him from coming out in arms for his majesty, and 
 in liis, Captain Uuck s, particular command of cavalry. It was 
 amusing to observe how much stronger became his anxiety when 
 ever his eye rested upon the form of Singleton, whom he now 
 regarded in the light of a rival leader. The eye of young Hum 
 phries, also, glanced frequently in the same direction, as, from a 
 previous knowledge of the character of Singleton, he felt how impa 
 tient he would be until he could make the attack, which he saw he 
 contemplated, upon the marauding party which had been sent out 
 under Travis. It was in such little adventures that the partisan 
 warfare of Carolina had its origin. 
 
 Humphries, closely pressed by Iluck, had yet ingenuity enough 
 to evade his application without offending his pride or alarming hi? 
 suspicions. He made sundry excuses, simply as to time, leaving 
 ,he tory to infer that in the end the recruit would certainly be his. 
 
 " You will soon have to come out, Bill, my boy ; and dang it ; 
 out there s no better chance than you have in my troop. You 
 shall be my right-hand man, for I know you, old fellow and bias* 
 
58 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 me, but I d sooner trust you than any chap of the corps. I may 
 as well put you down." 
 
 " No, not yet : I ll be ready to answer you soon, and I can easily 
 make my preparations. You have arms a-plenty ? " 
 
 " Soon shall have. Three wagons are on their way from Charles 
 ton with sabres and pistols especially for us." 
 
 "I shall, no doubt, want some of them, and you shall then hear 
 from me. There is time enough in all next week." 
 
 u Yes ; but be quick about it, or there will be no picking ; and 
 then you have but twenty days, remember. The proclamation 
 ^ ives but twenty days, and then Cornwallis has sworn to treat as 
 rebels, with the utmost severity of the law, all those who are not 
 in arms for his majesty -just the same as if they had fought 
 against him. See, I have it here." 
 
 lie took from his pocket the proclamation, and with it a private 
 order, which was issued by the commander-in-chief to all the sub 
 ordinate commands, giving directions for the utmost severity, and 
 prescribing the mode of punishment for the refractory, nearly in the 
 language, and to the full effect, of lluck s representations. Iliim- 
 phries looked grave enough at these crowding evidences, but 
 resisted, by well urged evasions, the exhortations of the tempter. 
 The tory captain was compelled to rest satisfied for the present, 
 assured that lie had held forth especial inducements to "the country 
 man which must give his troop a preference over any claims that 
 might be set up by the rival recruiting officer, as he considered 
 Sirgleton. With a hearty shake of the hand, and a few parting 
 words in whisper to his companion, he left the hotel to make his 
 way a subtle sycophant with his superiors to the presence of 
 Major Proctor of the Dorchester garrison, from whom he had 
 received his commission. 
 
 Singleton, .while this episode of Humphries and the tory had 
 been going on, employed himself in occasional conversation with 
 the landlord aad sundry of the villagers in another end of the 
 apartment. In this conversation, though studiously selecting topics 
 of a nature not to startle or offend the fears or the prejudices of 
 Lny, he ccitr .ved. with no little ingenuity, to bring about, every 
 and then, occasional expressions of their feelings and opinions 
 
EVASION AND DELAY. 69 
 
 tie saw, from these few and brief evidences, that their feelings were 
 not with their rulers that they subscribed simply to a hard neces 
 sity, and would readily seek the means of relief, did they know where 
 to find it. He himself took care, while he uttered nothing which 
 could be construed into an offence against loyalty, to frame what IK 
 did say in such a guise that it must have touched and ministered 
 largely to the existing provocations. He could see this in the burn 
 ing indignation strong "in every countenance, as he dwelt upon the 
 imperative necessity they were now under of taking up arms in 
 obedience to the proclamation. His urging of this topic was, like 
 that of Huck, ostensibly the obtaining of recruits for his contem 
 plated troop. His policy was one frequently acted upon in that 
 strange warfare, in which the tories, when defeated, found few con 
 scientious scruples to restrain them from falling into the ranks and 
 becoming good soldiers along with their conquerors. Such devices 
 as that which he now aimed to practise were freely resorted to ; 
 and the case was not uncommon of a troop thus formed under the 
 eye of the enemy, and, in his belief, to do the battles of the monarch, 
 moving off, en masse, the first opportunity, and joining with their 
 fellow-country men, as well i-n flight as in victory. Such, however, was 
 scarcely now the object of the stranger : he simply desired that his 
 loyalty might pass unquestioned ; and he put on a habit, therefore, 
 as a disguise, which but too many natives wore with far less scruple, 
 and perhaps with some show of grace. It may be said, as highly 
 gratifying to Singleton, that in the character thus assumed he made 
 no converts. 
 
 But the bell for supper was now ringing, and, taking his way 
 with the rest, he passed into the inner apartment. Bella Hum 
 phries presided, her brother taking a seat at the other end of the 
 table, and ministering to the guests in that quarter. Singleto: 
 was assigned a seat, possibly by way of distinction, close to the 
 maiden, who smiled graciously at his approach. Still she looked 
 not so well satisfied. Neither of her squires was present, and her 
 eye wandered from side to side among unattractive countrymen at 
 the table, resting at last, as with a dernier hope, upon the manly 
 and handsome face and person of our adventurer. The coquette 
 must b busy. It is her necessity. She has smiles to circulate, 
 
t>0 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Rn1, like the counterfeiter with false coin, she is ever on the look 
 out for the flat. While she watched Singleton with ready smiles, 
 he had an opportunity of scanning her features more narrowly. 
 She was very girlish, certainly very youthful in appearance, and 
 her face was decidedly handsome. lie saw, at a glance, that she 
 was incapable of any of that settled and solemn feeling which 
 belongs to love, and which can only exist along with a strongly 
 marked character and truly elevated sentiments. Her desire was 
 that of display, and conquest made the chief agent to this end. It 
 mattered not how doubtful was the character of her captives, so 
 that they were numerous; and Singleton felt assured that his 
 simple Goose Creek convert, Davis, but for the lack of red coat and 
 command, stood quite as good a chance in the maiden s heart a 
 the more formidable sergeant. How long he would havo scanned 
 the features which seemed not unwilling to attract his eye, we may 
 not say ; but his gaze was at length disturbed by the entrance of 
 Davis, who, taking his seat at the opposite corner of the table, now 
 appeared in a better and a more conciliatory humour. lie addressed 
 some country compliment to Bella, which she was not displeased to 
 listen to, as she was perfectly satisfied to have a swain, no matter 
 who, in the absence of the greater favourite. She answered some 
 few remarks of Singleton and Davis with a pretty, childish sim 
 plicity, which showed that, after all, the misfortune of the girl was 
 only a deficiency in the more interesting points of character, and 
 not the presence of any improper or wanton state of feeling. 
 
 Meantime the supper proceeded. Towards its conclusion, 
 Humphries, the brother, giving Davis a look and a sign, which the 
 latter seemed to comprehend, left the apartment. Davis followed 
 hi?n. They were gone about a quarter of an hour, which time 
 was spent by Singleton in a lively chat with the girl, when, through 
 the window, he saw the face of a man, and the motion of a hand, 
 which beckoned him. In a moment after the person was gone ; 
 and, suffering some few seconds to elapse, Singleton also rose and 
 obeyed the signal. He took his way into the yard, and under the 
 shadow of a tree, at a little distance from the house, distinguished 
 the person of the younger Humphries. Singleton at once ap 
 proached him tta other motioned silence, seeing him about to 
 
SCHEMES AFOOT. 61 
 
 speak, and led him to the stable, where all was perfectly in 
 shadow. 
 
 u We are safe now," said he. Singleton immediately addressed 
 him, and with some show of impatience, on a subject which had 
 much employed his thoughts during the past hour. 
 
 " Well, Humphries, say, can we not strike at that fellow Tracy ? 
 Is it possible to do anything with his detachment ?" 
 
 " Travis, not Tracy, major," replied the other. " It is possible, 
 sir; and there is a strong chance of our success if we manage well, 
 and if you can postpone going to 4 The Oaks to-night." 
 
 " True," said the other ; " I should like very much to go there ; 
 but this movement of Tracy or Travis, you say gives us a good 
 beginning, which we ought on no account to miss. Besides, we 
 should put your men on their guard. Are they not in some 
 danger ?" 
 
 "Not if they watch well; but there s no answering for new 
 hands. They must have practice before they can learn, and down 
 here, they ve had but little yet. They re not like your Santee 
 boys I ve heard you tell of." 
 
 " Willing soon will !" said the other. " But let us move. I ll 
 say no more of The Oaks to-night at least. We can move there 
 to-morrow. Of course you lead the route, for I know nothing 
 about it" 
 
 " Trust to me ; and, major, go back to the house quietly. Wait 
 till you hear my whistle three times thus. It s an old signal, 
 which you ll have to learn here, as our little squad all knows it, 
 and knows nothing else by way of music. Meantime I ll get things 
 in readiness, and set Davis to carry out the horses to the bush." 
 "Is he resolved to go with us?" was Singleton s question. 
 " True as steel. A little weak o heart, sir, about that foolish 
 girl but that s all the better, for it makes him hate the British the 
 more. Here he comes. You had better go now, major, and let 
 us be as little seen together as may be. You ll mind the whistle 
 thus, three times ;" and in a low tone Humphries gave him the 
 signal. Singleton went towards the house, in the shadow of which 
 he was soon lost from sight, while Humphries and Davis pro 
 ceeded to the farther arrangement of the enterprise. 
 3* 
 
fi2 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 it was not long before this was completed, and with a rush of 
 pleasure to his heart, Major Singleton heard the thrice-uttered note 
 the signal agreed upon directly beneath his chamber window. 
 He rose at the sound, and silently descending the stairs, passed 
 through the hall, where, in something like uncomfortable solitude, 
 the fair Bella sat alone. Sho looked up as she heard his footsteps, 
 and the gracious smile which her lips put on, was an invitation to 
 make himself happy in a seat beside her. But he resisted the 
 blandishment, and lifting his hat as he passed, with a smile in 
 return, he soon disappeared from her presence, and joined the two 
 who awaited him. All was ready fodeparture, but Davis craved 
 a few minutes indulgence to return to the house. 
 
 " Why, what should carry you back, Davis ?" asked Humphries, 
 peevishly. 
 
 " Nothing, Bill ; but I must I will go," said the other. 
 
 " I see, I see : you will be as foolish as ever," exclaimed the 
 former, as the lover moved away. 
 
 " The poor fellow s half mad after my sister, major, and she, you 
 see, don t care a straw about him. She happened to smile on him 
 at supper-table, and he takes it for granted he s in a fair way. We 
 must wait for him, I suppose ; and if I know Bella, he won t keep 
 us long." 
 
 Meanwhile, the seat beside her, which her smile had beckoned 
 Major Singleton to occupy, had been eagerly filled by Davis. The 
 girl was not displea-sed to see him : she was lonesome, wanted 
 company, and liked, as all other coquettes do, to have continually 
 in her presence some one or other of the many subjects of her 
 daily conquest. It did not much concern her which, so that she 
 was allowed to carry on her pretty little practice. Her gracious- 
 ness softened very greatly the moody spirit of her swain, so that 
 he half-repented of that rashness which was about to place him in 
 a position calculated, under every probability, to wrest him, for a 
 time at least, from the enjoyment of that society which he so much 
 coveted. Her gentleness, her good-nature, her smiles so very 
 unfrequent to him for so long a time almost turned his brain, and 
 his professions of love grew passionate, and he himself almost 
 eloquent in their utterance. Surely, there is LO tyranny like that 
 
BELLA AND JOHN DAVIS. 68 
 
 ot lore, since it puts us so completely in subjection to the character 
 which deliberate reason would teach us to despise. 
 
 But in the midst of his pleading, and while she regarded him 
 with her most gracious smile, the voice of the obtrusive Sergeant 
 Hastings was heard in the tap-room, and the sweet passages oi 
 love were at once over between the couple. 
 
 "As rocks that have been rent asunder" was their new position. 
 The maiden drew her chair a foot back from its place, and when 
 Davis looked into her face, and beheld the corresponding change 
 in its expression, he rose up, with a bitter curse in his throat, 
 which he was nevertheless too well behaved to utter. He wanted 
 no better evidence of her heartless ness, and with a look which said 
 what his tongue could not have spoken, he seemed to warn her 
 that he was lost to her for ever. His determination was at length 
 complete, and rapidly passing the luckier sergeant, who now 
 entered the apartment, he was soon again in company with the 
 two he had left in waiting. Humphries smiled as he saw the 
 desperate manner of his comrade, but nothing was said, and the 
 three together made their way on foot, till, leaving the village, 
 they entered the forest to the right, and found the clump of trees 
 to which their horses had been fastened. In a moment they were 
 mounted and speeding with the wind towards the close and scarcely 
 penetrable estuary known as the Cypress Swamp, forming a spa 
 cious reservoir for the Ashley, from which, by little and little, 
 winding as it goes, it expands at length, a few miles below, into & 
 noble and navigable river. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Stretch out thy ward before thou sat st thy foo 
 Tis a dim way before thee, and the trcei 
 Of byegone centuries have spread their armr 
 Athwart thy p\th. Now make thy footing ur 
 And now, God cheer us, for the toil is done." 
 
 NIGHT had fairly set in a clear starlight night before, the three 
 set forth upon their proposed adventure. To Maja Siupleton, who 
 was a native of the middle country, and had lived heretofore 
 almost exclusively in it, the path they now travelled vta? entirely 
 unknown. It was necessary, therefore, to move on slowly and with 
 due circumspection. But .for this, the party would have advanced 
 with as much speed as if they were pursuing the common highway ; 
 for, to the other two, accustomed all their lives to the woodland 
 cover and the tangled recesses of the swamps, their present route, 
 uncleared, in close thicket growth, and diverging as it continually 
 did, was, nevertheless, no mystery. Though necessarily somewhat 
 slow in their progress, the delay was much less than might have 
 been expected ; for Singleton, however ignorant of the immediate 
 ground over which they sped, was yet thoroughly versed in forest 
 life, and had traversed the larger and denser swamps of the Santee, 
 a task, though similar, infinitely more difficult and extensive than 
 the one now before him. After a little while, therefore, when his 
 eye grew more accustomed to the peculiar shades about him, he 
 spurred his good steed forward with much more readiness than at 
 their first setting out, and it was not long / of T6 the yielding of the 
 soil beneath his hoofs and the occasional plash of the water, toge 
 ther with the moro fre-juent appearance of the solemn and ghostly 
 cypresses aroua iiiom, gave sufficient indication of the proximity 
 of the swamp recesses. 
 
 They had ridden some five miles, and in all this time no wore 
 had been epoken by either of the three, except when, heie r 
 
THE CYPRESS SWAMP. 66 
 
 there, an increased difficulty in the path led Humphries to the 
 utterance of some caution to his companions. They were now 
 close upon the cypress causeway, and the swamp was gathering 
 around them. Their pace grew slower and more fatiguing, for the 
 freshet had swept the temporary structure over which they rode, 
 and many of the rails were floating in their path. Little gaps were 
 continually presenting themselves, many of which they saw not, but 
 which, fortunately for their safety, were generally avoided by the 
 horses without any call for interference on the part of their riders. 
 Stumbling sometimes, however, they were warned not to press their 
 animals ; and picking their way with as much care as possible, they 
 went on in single file, carefully and slowly, over the narrow and 
 broken embankment. It was at this part of their progress that 
 Humphries broke out more freely into speech than he had done 
 before, for his usual characteristic was that of taciturnity. 
 
 "Now I do hate these dams and causeways; our people know 
 nothing of road-making, and they ridge and .bridge it, while our 
 bones ache and our legs go through at every step we take in going 
 over them. Yet they won t learn they won t look or listen. They 
 do as they have done a hundred years before, and all your teaching 
 is of no manner of use. Here is this causeway now every freshet 
 must break its banks and tear up the poles, yet they come back a 
 wck after, and lay them down just as before. They never ask if 
 t hone s a way to build it, which is to make it lasting. They 
 never think of such a thing. Their fathers did so a hundred years 
 ago, and that s reason enough why they should do so now." 
 
 " And what plan have you, Humphries, by which to make the 
 dam solid and strong against the freshets, such as we have, that 
 sweep every thing before them, and sometimes give us half a dozen 
 ti-et of water for a week, over a road that we have been accustomed 
 to walk dryshod ? " 
 
 "To be sure there is a way, major, and with far less labour. 
 There s no use in building a road unless you give it a backbone. 
 You must run* a ridge through it, and all the freshets make it 
 stronger, for they wash the refuse and the mud up against it, 
 instead of washing it away. You see all good roads rise in the 
 centre. The vra^ run off and never settle, which thov always do 
 
66 THE PAKTISAN. 
 
 111 the hollows between these poles. You fell your tree, always a 
 g ood big one, to make your ridge your backbone ; and if it be a 
 causeway like this, running through a swamp, that you would 
 build, why you fell your dozen trees, or more, according to the 
 freshet s call for them. You lay them side by side, not across, but 
 up and down the road, taking care to put the big ones in the cen 
 tre. So you may run it for miles, heaping the earth up to the 
 logs. A road made after that fashion will stand a thousand years, 
 while such a thing as this must always be washing away with every 
 freshet. I< takes, in the first place, you see, a great deal more of 
 labour ai time, and a great deal more of timber, to build it after 
 this fash > HII then, it takes more dirt to cover the rails a hundred 
 times tl quantity and unless they re well covered, they can t be 
 kept down; they will always come loose, and be floating with every 
 rain, a-nd then the water settles heavily in their places and between 
 then? This can t be the case where you lay the timber up and 
 dow - as I tell you. It must stand fast ; for the rain can t settle, 
 and jre earth gathers close to the ridge, and hugs it tighter the 
 mor- the water beats on it. Besides, building it this way, you use 
 hea r timber, which the waters can t move at any season. But 
 her we stop ; we have no further use for the causeway to-night ; 
 the -. s our mark. See to that white tree there ; it s a blasted pine, 
 an it shines in a dark night as if it was painted. The lightning 
 peXi-id it from top to toe. It s a most two years since. I was not 
 fair *-tf in the swamp, catching terrapins, when it was struck, and 1 
 VB stupiiied lor an hour after, and my head had a ringing in it I 
 ( In t get rid of for a month." 
 
 " What, do we go aside here ?" inquired Davis, who did not seem 
 ! relish the diversion, as the first plunge they were required to 
 , ike from the broken causeway was into a turbid pond, black, and 
 most covered with fragments of decayed timber and loose bundles 
 < 1. brush. 
 
 " Yes, . that s our path," replied Humphries, who resolutely put 
 . L .is horse forward as he spoke. 
 
 " This is about one of the worst places, major, that we shall have 
 to go through, and we take it on purpose, so that we may not be 
 ""racked so easily. Here, when we leave the causeway, we make no 
 
HOW TO HIDE. 67 
 
 mark, and few people think to look for us in the worst place on the 
 line. No, indeed ; most people have a love to make hard things 
 easy, though they ought to know that when a man wants to hide, 
 he takes a hole, and not a highway, to do it in. Here, major, this 
 wa y to youi left, Davis through the bog." 
 
 The party followed as their guide directed, and after some twent) 
 minutes plunging, they were deep in the shadow and the shelter of 
 the swamp. The gloom was thicker around them, and was only 
 relieved by the pale and skeleton forms of the cypresses, clustering 
 in groups along the plashy sides of the still lake, and giving meet 
 dwelling-place to the screech-owl, that hooted at intervals from 
 their rugged branches. Sometimes a phosphorescent gleam played 
 over the stagnant pond, into whioh the terrapin plunged heavily at 
 their approach ; while on the neighbouring banks the frogs of all 
 degrees croaked forth their inharmonious chant, making the scene 
 more hideous, and certainly adding greatly to the sense of gloom 
 whjpli it inspired in those who penetrated it. A thousand other 
 sounds filled up the pauses between the conclusion of one and the 
 commencement of another discordant chorus from these admitted 
 croakers sounds of alarm, of invitation, of exulting tyranny the 
 cry of the little bird, when the black-snake, hugging the high tree, 
 climbs up to the nest of her young, while, with shrieks of rage, 
 flapping his roused wings, the male flies furiously at his head, and 
 gallantly enougli, though vainly, endeavours to drive him back 
 from his unholy purpose the hum of the drowsy beetle, the faint 
 chirp of the cricket, and the buzz of the innumerable thousands of 
 bee, bird., and insect, which make the swamps of the South, in mid 
 summer and its commencement, the vast storehouse, in all its forms, 
 of the most various and animated life all these were around the 
 adventurers, with their gloomy and distracting noises, until they 
 became utterly unheeded at last, and the party boldly kept its 
 onward coui-ae into their yet deeper recesses. 
 
 "We! 7 ; Humphries," said Major Singleton, at length breaking 
 the silence, " so far, so good ; and now what is our farther progress, 
 And vhat the chances for trapping this Travis ? Will he not steal 
 * march upon us, and be into the swamp before daylight ?" 
 
 u .clever fear i*., major," -replied the other, coolly enough, while 
 
68 T1IE PARTISAN. 
 
 keeping on bis way. " You remember, sir, what Huck g-^f us o! 
 his plan, lie will place himself upon the skirts of the swamp, 
 high above the point at which we struck, and keep quiet till morn 
 ing. He will be up betimes, and all that we must do is to be up 
 before him. We have a long ride for it, as it is one part of our 
 work to stop him before he gets too far into the brush. I know his 
 course just as if I saw him on it." 
 
 " Yes ; such, indeed, may have been the plan ; but is there no 
 chance of his departing from it ? A good leader will not hold him 
 self bound to a prescribed course, if he finds a better. lie may 
 push for the swamp to-night, and I am very anxious that we shouln 
 be in time to strike him efficiently." 
 
 " We shall, sir," replied the other, calmly ; " we shall have suffi 
 cient time, for I know Travis of old. He is a good hound for 
 scent, but a poor one for chase, lie goes slow to be certain, and is 
 always certain to be slow. It s nature with him now, though quick 
 enough, they say, some twenty years ago, when he went out after 
 the Oherokees. Besides, he has a long sweep to make before he 
 gets fairly into the swamp, and the freshet we have had lately will 
 throw him out often enough, and make his way longer. We shall 
 be in time." 
 
 " I am glad you are so sure of your man, Humphries. 1 would 
 not like to lose a good chance at the party. A successful blow 
 struck in this quarter, and just at this moment, would have a fine 
 effect. Why, man, it would bring out those fellows handsomely, 
 whose ears are now full of this protection business, which troubles 
 them so much. If they must fight, they will see the wisdom of 
 taking part with the side which does not call upon them to strike 
 friends or brethren. They must join with us to a man, or go to the 
 West Indies, and that, no doubt, some of the dastards will not fail 
 to do in preference. God help me, but I can scarce keep from 
 cursing them, as I think on their degradation." 
 
 " Bad enough, major, bad enough when it s the poor man, with 
 out house and home, and nothing to live for and nothing to lose, 
 who takes up with the enemy and fights his battles ; but it s much 
 worse when the rich men and the gentlemen, who ou^Lt tc ^now 
 better, and to set a good example, it s much worse when they re the 
 
RICH AND POOli. 69 
 
 first to do so. Now I know and I feel, though I expect you won t 
 be so willing to believe it, that, after all, it s the poor man who is 
 the best friend of his country in the time of danger. He doesn t 
 reckon how much he s to lose, or what risk he s to run, when there s 
 a sudden difficulty to get through with, lie doesn t think till it s 
 all over, and then he may ask how much he gains by it, without 
 getting a civil answer." 
 
 " There s truth in what you say, Humphries, and we do the poor 
 but slack justice in our estimation of them. We see only their 
 poverty, and not their feelings and affections ; we have, therefore, 
 but little sympathy, and perhaps nothing more than life and like 
 wants in common with them." 
 
 " That s a God s truth here, major, where the poor man does the 
 fighting and the labour, and the rich man takes protection to save 
 his house from the fire. Now, it s just so with this poor man 
 Frampton. He w;is one of Buford s men, and when Tarleton came 
 upon them, cutting them up root and branch, he took to the swamp, 
 and wouldn t come in, all his neighbours could do, because the man 
 had a good principle for his country. Well, you see what he s 
 l os t ; you can t know his sufferings till you see him, major, and I 
 won t try to teach you ; but if there s a man can look on him, and 
 see his misery, and know what did it, without taking up sword and 
 rille, I don t want to know that man. 1 know one that s of a dif 
 ferent way of thinking, and willing to do both." 
 
 " And I another !" exclaimed Davis, who had been silent in their 
 ride hitherto. 
 
 " Is Framptou here in the swamp and shall we see him to-night ?" 
 asked Singleton, curious to behold a man who, coming from the 
 poorest class of farmers in the neighbourhood, had maintained such 
 a tenacious spirit, of resistance to invasion, when the more leading 
 people around him and indeed the greater majority, had subscribed 
 to terms of indulgence, which, if less honourable, were here far more 
 safe. The sufferings of the man himself, the cruel treatment his 
 wife had undergone, and her subsequent death, also contributed 
 largely to that interest which, upon hearing his simple but pathetic 
 story, the speaker had immediately felt to know him. 
 
 w We shall see him in an hour, major, and a melancholy sight it 
 
70 TiiE PARTISAN. 
 
 is ; you ll be surprised, and if you aint very strong of heart, it will 
 go nigh to sicken you. But it does good to see it for one s self; it 
 makes one strong against tyranny." 
 
 " It grows very dark here." 
 
 " That s water before you, and a good big pond, too," said Davis. 
 
 " This is the track, major ;" and Humphries led the way to the 
 left, inclining more in the direction of the river. A sullen, 
 child-like cry, succeeded by a sudden plunge into the water, indi 
 cated the vicinity of an alligator, which they had disturbed in his 
 own home ; the rich globules of light, showering over the water 
 around him, giving a singular beauty to the scene, in every other 
 respect so dark and gloomy. They kept continually turning in a 
 zigzag fashion almost at every step, to avoid the waving vine, the 
 close thicket, or the half- stagnant creek, crowded with decayed 
 fragments of an older and an overthrown forest. 
 
 A shrill whistle at this moment, thrice repeated, saluted their cars. 
 It was caught up in the distance by another, and another, in a voice 
 so like, that they might almost have passed for so many echoes of the 
 same. 
 
 " Our sentries watch closely, major ; we must answer them, or we 
 may sup on cold lead," said Humphries. As he spoke, he responded 
 to the signal, and his answer was immediately followe*! by the 
 appearance of a figure emerging from behind a tree that bulged out 
 a little to the left of the tussock upon which they were now stand 
 ing. The dim outline only, and no feature of the new-comer, was 
 distinguishable by the group. 
 
 " Ha ! Warner, you watch ? All s well ; and now lead the way. 
 Are all the boys in camp ?" 
 
 "All!" was the reply; "and a few more come in from Buford t 
 corps who know Frampton." 
 
 " And how is he ? does he know them ?" 
 
 "He s in a bad fix, and knows nothing. You can hardly get a 
 word out of him since his wife s come." 
 
 " His wife ! Why, man, what do you think of? his wife s dead !" 
 exclaimed Humphries with surprise. 
 
 " Yes we know that ; but he brought her, all the same as if shft 
 was alive, on his shoulders, and he won t give her up. There h 
 
CLOSE WATCH THE SIGNAL. 71 
 
 sits, close alongside of her, watching her all the time, anil brushing 
 the flies from Lor face, lie don t seem to mind that she s dead." 
 
 " Great God !" exclaimed Singleton, " the unhappy man is mad. 
 Let us push on, and see what can be done for him." 
 
 " Ah ! nothing can be done for him, I m afeared," answered 
 Humphries. But, without a word farther, following their new 
 guide, Warner, they advanced upon their way, until the blaze of a 
 huge fire, bursting as it were out of the very bosom of the darkness, 
 rose wavin^lv before them. The camp of the outlawed whigs, or 
 rebels as they were styled by the enemy, lonely and unattractive, on 
 a little island of the swamp, in a few moments after rose fully in 
 their sight; and plunging into the creek that surrounded it, though 
 swimming at that moment, a bound or two carried them safely over 
 and they stood in the presence of their comrades. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Do 1 not liv fur it 7 I have no life, 
 
 But 111 the hope that life may In ing with it 
 The bitter-sweet of vengeance " 
 
 THE gloomy painter would have done muck with the scene before 
 us. The wild and mystic imagination would have made it one of 
 suj eiTiatural terrors ; and fancy, fond of the melancholy twilight, 
 would have endowed the dim shadows, lurking like so many spectres 
 between the bald cypresses, with a ghostly character, and most 
 unhallowed purpose. Though familiar with such abodes, Singleton, 
 as he looked upon the strange groupings thrown along the sombre 
 groundwork, was impressed with a lively sense of its imposing feli 
 city. They stood upon an island m the very centre of the swamp 
 one of those little islands, the tribute ooze of numerous minor water 
 courses, hardening into solidity at last. These, beating their feeble 
 tides upon a single point, in process of time create the barrier which 
 is to usurp their own possessions. Here, the rank matter of the 
 swamp, its slime and rubbish, resolving themselves by a natural but 
 rapid decomposition into one mass, yield the thick luxuriance of soi> 
 from which springs up the overgrown tree, which throws out a 
 thousand branches, and seems to have existed as many years in 
 whose bulk we behold an emblem of majesty, and, in whose term 
 of life, standing in utter defiance of the sweeping hurricane, we 
 have an image of strength which compels our admiration, and 
 sometimes the more elevated acknowledgment of our a,ve. Thus, 
 gathering on this insulated bed, a hundred solemn cypresses mingled 
 their gaunt, spectral forms with the verdant freshness of the water- 
 oak the rough simplicity and height of the pine all intertwined 
 and bound together in the common guardianship of the s^t, by the 
 bulging tody of the luxuriant grape-vine, almost rivalling h. thick 
 ness, avd f*z aurp&Being in strength, tho trees from :,aich it 
 
THE (JAMP OF THE PARTISANS. 73 
 
 depended these formed a natural roof to the island, circumscribing 
 its limits even more effectually than did the narrow creek by which 
 it had been isolated, and through which the tribute waters of this 
 wide estuary found their way, after a few miles of contracted jour 
 neying, into the bed and bosom of the Ashley. 
 
 A couple of huge fires, which oar party had seen in- glimpses 
 while approaching, were in full blaze upon the island ; one, the 
 largest, near its centre ; the other somewhat apart, upon a little 
 isthmus which it thrust forth into the mouth of the creek. Around 
 the former lay a singular assemblage of persons, single, or in groups, 
 and in every position. These were not more than twenty in all, but 
 so disposed as to seem much more numerous to the casual spectator. 
 Three, in the glare of the fire, sat upon a log at cards, one at either 
 end, and the third, squat upon the ground beside it. A few slept ; 
 some WT-re engaged in conversation, while one, more musical than 
 his neighbours, broke into a song of some length, in which the 
 current situation of the things around him uiiUerwent improvisation. 
 A stout negro prepared the evening meal, and passed between the 
 card-players and the fire to their occasional inconvenience; their 
 sharp but unheeded denunciations being freely bestowed at every 
 repetition of the offence. The dress and accoutrements of this 
 collection were not less novel, and far more outre, than their 
 several positions and employments. Certainly, taste had but lit 
 tle share in their toilet arrangements, since the hair of some of 
 them flew dishevelled in the wind, or lay matted upon their 
 brows, unconscious of a comb. The faces generally of the party 
 were smeared, and some of them absolutely blackened, by the 
 smoke of the pine-wood fires which at night were kept continually 
 burning around them. This had most effectually begrimed their 
 features, and their garments had not failed to partake of the same 
 colouring. These, too, were as various as the persons who wore 
 them. The ragged coat, the round-jacket, and sometimes the entire 
 absence of both, in the case of some individual otherwise conspicu 
 ous enough, destroyed all chance of uniformity in the troop. There 
 was but one particular in which their garb seemed generally to 
 agree, and that was in the coonskin cap which surmounted the 
 heads of most of them worn jauntily upon the side of the head. 
 
74 THE PARTISAN 
 
 with slips that flapped over the ears, and the foil of the amma. 
 depending from front or rear, tassel-fashion, according to the taste 
 of the wearer. Considering such an assemblage, so disposed, so 
 habited, in connection with the situation and circumstances in which 
 we find them, and we shall form no very imperfect idea of the moral 
 effect which their appearance must have iiad upon the new comers. 
 The boisterous laugh,the angry, sharp retort, the ready song from 
 some sturdy bacchanal, and the silent sleeper undisturbed amid 
 all the uproar, made, of themselves, a picture to the mind not likely 
 to be soon forgotten. Then, when we beheld the flaming of the 
 torch in the deep dark which it only for a moment dissipates, and 
 which crowds back, as with a solid body, into the spot from which 
 it has been tempomrily driven the light Sashing along and 
 reflected back from the sullen waters of the creek ; and listen, at 
 the same moment, to the cry of the screech-owl as the intruder 
 scares him from his porch the plaint of the whippoorwill, in return, 
 as if even the clamour of the obscene bird had in it something of 
 sympathy for the woun hd spirit, these, with the croaking of the 
 frogs in millions, with which the swamp was a dwelling-place among 
 a thousand, were all well calculated to awaken the most indifferent 
 spectator, and to compel a sense of the solemn-picturesque even in 
 the mind of the habitually frivolous and unthinking. 
 
 With the repeated signals which they had heard from their sen 
 tries on the appearance of the new comers, the scattered groups had 
 simultaneously started to their feet, and put themselves in a state of 
 readiness. The signals were familiar, however, and spoke of friends 
 in the approaching persons ; so that, after a few moments of buzz 
 and activity, they generally sank back sluggishly to their old occu 
 pations, the card-players to finish their game, and the less specu 
 lative, their sleep. Their movement, however, gives ur a better 
 opportunity to survey their accoutrements. The long, cumbrous 
 rifle seemed the favourite weapon, and in the hands of the diminu 
 tive, sallow, but black-eyed and venturous dweller in the swamps 
 of the lowlands, across whose knee we may here and there see it 
 resting, it may confidently be held as fatal at a hundred yard*. A 
 few of them had pistols the common horse-pistol a weapou of 
 Httle real utility under any circumstances. But a solitary muaM, 
 
HOW PREPARED FOR WAR. 76 
 
 and that, too, without the bayonet, was to be seen in the whole col 
 lection ; and though not one of the party present but had his horse 
 hidden in the swamp around him, yet not one in five of the riders 
 possessed the sabre, that most effective weapon of cavalry. These 
 were yet to be provided, and at the expense of the enemy. 
 
 The immediate appearance of Major Singleton, as he followed 
 Humphries up the bank, once more called them to their feet, lie 
 had been expected, yet few of them personally knew him. They 
 knew, however, that he wa? high in favour with Governor Rut- 
 ledge, and bore his commission. Of this they had been apprised 
 by Humphries, who had been the recruiting officer of the troop. 
 They now crowded around him with a show of curious examina 
 tion, which was narrow and close without being obtrusive. 
 
 With that manly, yet complaisant habit which distinguished 
 him, he soon made himself known to them, and his opening speech 
 won not a little upon their hearts. lie unfolded his commission, 
 delivered an address from the executive, in which a direct and 
 warm appeal was made to their patriotism, and concluded with 
 some remarks of his own to the same efl eet, which were all enthu 
 siastically received. His frank, fearless manner, fine eye, and 
 manly, though smooth and youthful face, took admirably with 
 them, and at once spoke favourably to their minds in support of 
 his pretensions to govern them. This command they at once ten 
 dered him ; and though without the material for a force called for 
 by the commission which he bore, yet, in those times, it was enough 
 that they loved their leader and were not unwilling to fight with 
 an enemy. Major Singleton was content to serve his country in 
 an humbler command than that which his commission entitled 
 him to hold. Acting, therefore, as their captain for the present, 
 he made Humphries his lieutenant. Him they had long known, 
 and he was a favourite among them. He, indeed, had been chiefly 
 instrumental in bringing together their scattered elements, and in 
 thus forming the nucleus of a corps, which, in the subsequent war 
 fare, contributed in no slight degree to the release of the country 
 from foreign thraldom. Tn Humphries they had a good officer 
 and every confidence, though it was obvious enough, that, while 
 full of courage, calm, collected, an. not easily moved, he yet Incked 
 
76 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 many of those essentials of superior education and bearing, with 
 out which militia-men arc not often to be held in order, lie was 
 not sufficiently their superior to stand apart and to command 
 them ; and the inferior mind will never look to its equal in :he 
 moment of emergency. Though ready and acute enough in the 
 .^mailer details of military adventure the arrangement of the 
 ambuscade, the rapid blow at the rear, or the plan for striking at 
 the foragers of an enemy he was yet rather apt to go forward 
 with, than to command, his party. Jle trusted rather to his pre 
 sence than to the superior force of his character, to urge upon 
 them the performance of their duties; and, conscious of this, 
 though ready at all times to lead, lie yet shrank from the necessity 
 of commanding. This capacity can only result successfully from 
 an habitual exercise of authority. It was with no small satisfac 
 tion, therefore, that he placed his recruits under the control of 
 Major Singleton, although, it may be said, that such a transfer of 
 his command was rather nominal than real ; Humphries still coun 
 selling, in great part, the particular business of adventure which 
 Singleton was the better able to direct. The latter had y6t to 
 acquire a knowledge of localities and men, which could only be 
 obtained by actual experience. 
 
 " And now, major, soldiers without arms are not apt to fight 
 well. Come, sir, with me, and see our armory. It s a queer one, 
 to be sure, to those used to a better; but it must serve where 
 there s no choice. This way, sir to the left. Here, Tom, bring 
 a chunk." 
 
 The black led the way with a blazing brand, until their farther 
 progress was arrested by the waters of the creek. In the centre 
 of the stream grew a cypress of immense size, much larger than 
 any of its surrounding companions. Motioning Singleton to wait, 
 Humphries waded into the water almost up to his middle, until he 
 reached the tree, into which, taking the blazing brand from the 
 black, he entered, returning in a few moments with half a dozen 
 fine sabres, which, one after the other, he threw from him to the 
 bank. 
 
 ** This is all our stock in trade, major ; and you have your 
 choice of them till we can get a better. Thia, if I know the signs 
 
TWO FIRES. 77 
 
 of the weather, we shall do before long. Meanwhile, as the stuff s 
 good, they will answer our present purpose." 
 
 Singleton pressed the points of the weapons severally to the 
 earth, testing the elasticity of the steel, then accommodating the 
 hilt to his grip, declared himself suited. Humphries made a selec 
 tion after him, and the remaining four were subsequently distri 
 buted among chosen men, to whom commands in the little corps 
 were assigned. As rebels, heretofore, the short-shrift and sure 
 cord must have been their doom, if taken. The commission of 
 the state, and a due register of their names in the books of the 
 .orderly, now secured them in the immunities of regular warfare, 
 and made that comparatively innocent which before was obnox 
 ious to doom and degradation. 
 
 We have spoken of two several fires as conspicuous upon the 
 island at the approach of Singleton, the one upon the centre, the 
 other, and smaller one, at its remotest extremity. Of the use made 
 of the former, we have already seen something ; the other, while 
 it had caught the eye of Major Singleton, had been too remote to 
 enable him to distinguish the employment or character of the 
 various persons who yet closely encircled it. lie could see that 
 there were several figures sitting around the brands, which seemed 
 to have been but loosely thrown together, as they had now fallen 
 apart, and only gave forth a flickering blaze at intervals, denying 
 that constant light, without which he could not hope to gain any 
 knowledge of the persons, even at a far less distance. These per 
 sons had not moved at his approach, and had remained stationary 
 all the while he was employed in making himself known to those 
 who were to be his comrades. This alone would have been eno-igh 
 to attract his attention ; and, in addition, he saw that those around 
 him, when bending their glances off in the direction of his own, 
 shook their heads with an air of solemnity, and, though saying 
 nothing, were yet evidently influenced by a knowledge of some 
 circumstances connected with the mysterious group, of a painful 
 character. Observing the inquiring look of Major Singleton, 
 Humphries approached, and whispered Hin that the party at the 
 opposite fire consisted of Frarnpton, Vis two sons, and the dead 
 4 
 
78 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 hotly of his wife, and proposed that they should go to him. The 
 major at once consented. 
 
 " You ll see a sad sight, Major Singleton a sad sight ! for the 
 man is crazy, let them say what they may. lie don t know half 
 the time what he says or does, and he scarcely feels anything" 
 
 They moved over hi the prescribed direction, and approached 
 without disturbing the chief personage of the group. The elder 
 son, a youth of twenty, looked up at their coming, but said nothing. 
 It was evident that he, and he alone, had been weeping. The 
 other son, a tall fine-looking lad of sixteen, seemed inspired with 
 harsher feelings as his eye gazed from the face of the father to that 
 of the mother, whose dead body lay between the two, her head on 
 the lap of the elder son, over whose arms her hair streamed loosely 
 long, and delicately brown and glossy. She had evidently been 
 a woman of some attractions. Her person was well formed and 
 justly proportioned, neither masculine nor small. Her features 
 were soft and regular. The face was smooth, but had been bruised, 
 seemingly as if she had fallen upon it ; and there were blotches 
 upon the cheek and forehead, which may have been the conse 
 quence of blows, or might be the natural evidence of that decay 
 which was now strongly perceptible The face of the chief mourner, 
 who sat silent at her feet, looking forward into her face, was a fine 
 one, as well in its mould as in its expression. It was that of a 
 splendid savage. There was enough of solemn ferocity in it for the 
 : .mrderer, enough of redeeming sensibility to soften, if not to sub- 
 viij, the other nu>re leading attributes of its character. His skin 
 was <-I*rfc li^e that of the people generally of that neighbourhood 
 ?." eyes were black ainl piercing; and a burning spot on each 
 choet seemed to have borrowed from the red glare of the fire at 
 It is hide a corresponding intensity of hue. His lips were parted; 
 uu tbe Iowa/ jaw seemed to have been thrown and kept down 
 spasmodically. Through the aperture glared the tips of the small 
 &r,d white teeth, sometimes closed together by a sudden convulsive 
 jerk, bul, Immediately relaxing again and resuming their divided 
 position. 
 
 lie took DO sort of rutije of the new-comers, until, tbrowinp 
 
TTIE MA I) MAX. 79 
 
 alongside of the younger boy, Humphries took the hand 
 of the mother into his own, and gazed over upon her lace. Framp- 
 ton then gave him a look a single look; and as their eyes met, 
 those of Humphries intuitively filled with water. The bereaved 
 wretch, as he saw Jiis, laughed snceringly and shook his head. 
 There was no misunderstanding the rebuke. It clearly scorned the 
 sympathy, and called for the sterner tribute of revenge. The elder 
 son then carried on a brief conversation in an under tone with the 
 lieutenant, which was only audible in part to Singleton, who sat oil 
 the root of a tree opposite. He gave the particulars of his mo 
 ther s removal in this dialogue, and of the resolute doggedness with 
 which his father had hitherto resisted the burial of the body. 
 
 " Tt must be buried at once," said Humphries more earnestly to 
 the youth. The father heard him, and glaring upon him with the 
 eye of a tiger, the desolate man bent forward and placed his hand 
 res lutely upon the body, as if determined not to sutler its re 
 moval. 
 
 "Nay, but it must, Frampton ; there s no use in keeping it 
 here : arid, indeed, there s no keeping it much longer. Hear to 
 reason, man, and be persuaded." 
 
 The person addressed shook his head, and maintained his hold 
 upon the corse for a moment in silence; but all on a sudden, half 
 rising to his feet, he shook his fists fiercely at the speaker, while 
 his expression was so full of ferocity, that Humphries prepared for, 
 and every moment expected, an attack. 
 
 " You have lied to me, Humphries !" he exclaimed with diffi 
 culty, as if through his clenched teeth. " You have lied to me ; 
 you said he should be here, where is he ? why have you not 
 brought him ?" 
 
 u Who ? brought who ?" demanded the other earnestly. 
 
 " Who !" and as the maniac half shrieked out the word in 
 sneering repetition, he pointed to the body, while he cried, with a 
 fierce laugh, between each pause in his words " who ! did he 
 not strike her strike her to the ground trample upon her body 
 great God! upon her my wife?" And, as the accumulated 
 picture of his wife s injuries rose up before his mind while he 
 spoke, his speech left him, and he choked, till his face grew livid 
 
8U THE PARTISAN. 
 
 in their sight, and yet lie had no tears, lie soon recovered suffi 
 ciently to speak again with something like a shew of calmness. 
 
 " You said you were my friend that you would bring him to 
 me that I should kill him here here even v bile mine eyes yet 
 looked upon her. Liarl where is he? Why h^ye yoik nci brought 
 him ?" 
 
 " I am no liar, Frampton, and you know it. I never promised 
 to bring the dragoons to you ; but I am willing to les 1 you. to 
 them." 
 
 "Do I want a leader for that ? you shall see :" and h^ relapsed, 
 after this reply, into the same solemn stupor which h.<\d narked his 
 looks at the first coming of the two. Humphries pr:eeeded with 
 temper and coolness 
 
 "It is time, Frampton, to be a man to bear up against your 
 losses, and think how to have revenge for them." 
 
 " I am ready. Speak not to me of revenge speak not ; I am 
 thirsting thirsting for blood !" was the reply. 
 
 " Yet, here you sit moping over your losses, while the red-coats 
 are in the swamp ay, hunting us out in our own grounds Huck s 
 dragoons, with Travis at their head." 
 
 The man was on his feet in an instant. There was a wild glow 
 now visible in his face, which completely superseded the sombre 
 fixedness of its previous expression. All now was summary im 
 patience. 
 
 " Come !" said he, waving his hand impatiently, and convulsively 
 grasping his bosom with his fingers " come !" 
 
 " It is well. I now see you are in the right mood for vengeance, 
 and I have made all arrangements for it. Here is a sword; and 
 this, Frampton, is our commander, Major Singleton. lie is now 
 our leader, and will put us on the dragoons tracks in short order. " 
 
 The maniac turned stupidly to Singleton, and bending his head 
 with a strange simper on his lips, simply repeated the word 
 Come!" with which he showed his willingness for the adventure. 
 Humphries whispered Major Singleton to take him at his word, 
 and move him off to the rest of the party, while he gave directions 
 for the interment of the body. Singleton did so, and without any 
 show of reluctance, "F campion followed him. Once did he stop 
 
ON Tun, WATCH. 81 
 
 suddenly, turn quickly round, and seera about to retrace his steps ; 
 but seeing it, Singleton simply observed, as if to himself 
 
 " We shall soon be upon the dragoons, and then " 
 
 The object was gained, and the distracted, desolate creature fol 
 lowed, like a tame dog, the lead of his commander. He listened 
 in gloomy silence to the arrangements, as they were agreed upou, 
 for the encounter with Travis. He knew enough of that sort of 
 fighting to see that they were judiciously made ; but for this he 
 did not care. , All plans are necessarily slow and tedious to the 
 mood that craves for vengeance ; and Frampton, satisfied with the 
 promise which they conveyed to his mind of the revenge which 
 he desired, offered no suggestion, nor interfered in the slightest 
 degree with any of their plans. Still, not a word which had been 
 uttered among them escaped his appreciation. He was now fully 
 awakened to a single object, and the reasoning faculties grew tri 
 butary to the desire of his mood when that became concentrated. 
 He saw that the proposed operations were the best that could be 
 devised for the encounter, and he looked to that now for the full 
 satisfaction of his thirst. 
 
 Humphries having given his directions duly for the interment 
 of the body, ntfvv returned to join in the deliberations with the rest. 
 His opinion was adopted by Major Singleton, who, giving orders 
 that all things should be in readiness, himself saw to the execution 
 of certain minor resolves; then, dispersing his sentries, he proceeded, 
 with the coolness of an old soldier, to enjoy the three hours of 
 slumber which had been allotted before the necessary start to 
 interco: , Travis. 
 
 It was an x iov.: after midnight when the guards aroused them 
 with the preparrA ons for their movement. The night was still, 
 clear, and calm The winds were sleeping, or only strove with a 
 drowsy movement along the tops of the trees, the highest above 
 the swamp. Sweetly the murmurs of the creek around them, swol 
 len by the influx of the tide from the sea, which is there quite per 
 ceptible, broke upon the ear, as the waters, in feeble ripples, strove 
 4ga : P3t the little island, and brought with them a sense of freshness 
 Irom the deep, which none feels more pleasantly than he who ha 
 loig wandering in the southern forests. Not H lip had yel 
 
82 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 spoken among the troops, and, save the slight cry of the capricious 
 insect, and the sound produced by their own early movement in 
 hustling into action, there was nothing in that deep stillness and 
 deptli of shadow calculated in the slightest degree to impair the 
 feelings of solemnity which, in his own abode, Silence, the most im- 
 pivssiv e of all the forest divinities, exacts from his subjects. With 
 a ready alacrity, obeying the command of their leader, the troopers 
 were soon in saddle, forming a compact body of twenty men, 
 Frampton and his two sons included; the very boys being thus 
 early taught in the duties of the partisan. Following in such order 
 as the inequalities of the swamp would permit, they were soon ad 
 vanced upon their route through bog and through brier, slough, 
 forest, and running water a route, rugged and circuitous, and not 
 always without its peril. In three hours, and ere the daylight yet 
 dappled the dun east, they skirted the narrow ridge where the 
 arrangement of Singleton placed them, and over which the scout 
 ing party of Travis was expected to pass. There, with hostile 
 anxiety, and well prepared, they confidently awaited the arrival of 
 the enemy. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 84 There shall be joy for this. Shall we not laugh 
 Laugh mernly for conquest, when it takes 
 Tho wolld.ffi: from our throats, and yields us his." 
 
 TRAVIS, the faithful coadjutor of the tory Iluck, was on his march 
 into the swamp before daylight, As Humphries had anticipated, he 
 took the path, if so it might be called, on which the ambuscade had 
 been laid for him. He might not have done so, had he dreamed 
 for an instant of the existence in this quarter of such a body of men 
 as that now preparing to receive him. Looking on his object, how 
 ever, simply as the arrest of Frampton, and the scouring of the 
 swamp of such stragglers besides as might have been led for shelter 
 into its recesses, he adopted the route which was obviously most 
 accessible, and most likely, therefore, to be resorted to by the merIy 
 skulking discontent. The half-military eye, looking out for an 
 enemy in any respect equal in strength, would have either- studiously 
 avoided the ridge over which Travis now presumed to ride, or would 
 have adopted some better precautions than he had troubled himself 
 to take. It was naturally a strong defile, well calculated for an easy 
 defence, as only a small force could possibly be of use upon it. But 
 two persons could ride abreast in the prescribed direction, and then 
 only with grent* difficulty and by slow movement ; for little gullies ami 
 fissures continually intersected the path, which was circuitous and 
 winding, and, if not always covered with water and swamp, quite 
 as difficult to overcome, from its luxuriant growth of umbrage. 
 
 Though an old traveller in such fastnesses, these obstructions were 
 in no sort pleasant to the leader of the British party, who, being a 
 notorious grumbler, accompanied every step which he took with 
 grunting sort of commentary by way of disapprobation. 
 
 " Now, may the devil take these gullies, that go as deep wheL 
 you get into them as if they wen; made for him. This is a 
 
84 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 cliase, and the next time Huck wants H bunt, he shall enjoy it him 
 self. I like riot this service. It s little less than a disparagement of 
 the profession, and speaks not well for an old soldier." 
 
 The leader spoke with feeling, and no little emphasis, as his steed 
 scrambled up the bank from the slough in which his legs hud been 
 uhnost fastened, the slimy ooze of which, left by thd now-receding 
 tide, rendered tho effort to release himself a mutter of greater ditli- 
 culty than usual. The grumbling continued, even, after ho had 
 gained the tussock. 
 
 "Thou a soldier ! " cried one who rode up behind him, and who 
 spoke in terms of familiarity indicating close companionship "thou 
 a soldier, Travis, indeed ! What should make thce a soldier?" 
 
 "Am I not, Clough?" was the reply. 
 
 " And wherefore dost thou grumble, then ? " 
 
 u Wherefore ? Because, being a soldier, I am sent upon any but 
 a soldier s service. A dog might do this duty a dog that you had 
 well beaten." 
 
 " And what better service, Travis, couldst thou have to keep thee 
 from grumbling? Art tLou, now, not a sorry bear with a sore 
 head, that kindness annot coax, and crossing only can keep civil ! 
 Send thee on what service Huck may, it is all the same ; thou wilt 
 grumble at the toil, even -\vhen it likes thee best. What wouldst 
 thou have what would please thee ? " 
 
 " By Saint Jupiter, but he might ask, at least ! lie might give a 
 man his choice," responded the other, gruffly. " It s but a small 
 favour I ask, to be suffered to choose for myself whether I shall work 
 for my master on bill or in hole with a free bit, or hand to hand, 
 close struggle with a hungry alligator in his wallow." 
 
 " And thou wouldst choose the very service he now puts thee to. 
 What! do we not all know thee and who knows thee better than 
 Huck ? He sees thou art the best man for the swamp ; that thy 
 scent is keen with the bloodhound, thine eye like the hawk s, and 
 thou art quick for fight as the major s bull-pup. It is because he 
 knows thou art fond of this sort of venture that he puts thee upon 
 it ; and what thou grumblest at, therefore, it will be out of thine 
 own wisdom to show, even if thou wert really discontented with 
 the duty, which I believe not. 
 
GRUMBLEKS. $5 
 
 "It s a dog s life ouly, this scenting swamps for the carriou thej 
 Lad better keep wearing out good legs and horses, and making 
 soldiers do the duty of a hungry dog. Rot it, but I ll resist after 
 this ! Let them send others that are younger, and like it better. 
 I ll give it up I ll do no more of it." 
 
 Say so to Iluck, and lose command of the scouts the best 
 game thou hast ever played at, if the baggage-wagons speak true," 
 WHS the reply. " What ! shalt thou grumble to do what thou art 
 best fitted for ? What wouldst thou be after what other service 
 would please thee ? " 
 
 "Thou mayst see rue in a charge yet, Sergeant Clough," replied 
 Travis, boastfully, "provided thou hast blood enough to stop until 
 it s over. When thou hast seen this, thou wilt ask me no child s 
 questions. What ! because I am gootl at the swamp, am I there 
 fore worth nothing on the highway ? It were a sorry soldier that 
 could not take clear track and bush and bog alike, when the case 
 calls for it, and do good service in all. But thou shalt see, some 
 day, and gr@w wiser." 
 
 " Well, thou dost promise largely, like an old debtor ; but, to my 
 mind, thou art just now where thou shouldst be in the swamps ; 
 for, truth to speak, thou lovest them thou lovest the wallow and 
 the slough the thick ooze which the alligator loves, and the dry 
 fern-bank where he makes his nest ; thou lovest the terrapin 
 because of his home, not less than of the good soap which he 
 gives us ; and the ugly moccasin, and the toad, and the frog the 
 brown lizard and the green the swamp-spider, with its ropy 
 house and bagging black body all these are favourites with thee^ 
 because thy spirit craves for thee a home like that which they 
 abide in." 
 
 " It is a goodly place, with all that company thou speakest of; 
 the air is pleasant to the sense, and the noises there is no music 
 like the concert the frogs make for one at sunset." 
 
 " Said I not ? Why, man, thou quarrellest with kindness, when 
 thou rarest at Iluck for sending thee to the swamp. Thou wert 
 feverish and impatient this morning until thou wert fairly in it, with 
 itd mud and water plashing around thee ; and now thou art here, 
 with the trees crowding upon us so thickly that the sun looks not 
 4* 
 
86 THE I 1 ARTISAN. 
 
 under them once in the whole year, thou creepest like a terrapin 
 upoii tliy journey, MS if thou didst greatly fear thou wouldst too 
 quickly get through it. A barren fear, this, for we see but the 
 beginning: the bog deepens, and the day grows darker as we go. 
 Thou art slow, Travis." 
 
 " Saint Jupiter, Master Clough, wouldst thou lead? Thou art a 
 better swamp-sucker than Ned Travis, and he born, as I may say, in 
 a bush and cradled in a bog, and his first breeches, like mother Eve s 
 petticoat, made out of bulrushes 1 Go to, friend, and be modest I" 
 
 "Ay, when thou art wise, and can go without counsel. Ouoe 
 more, Travis, but I do think thy snail s pace were better mended." 
 
 " Teach Goose Creek, would you ? Talk not so loudly, Sergeant 
 Olough, of running through the Cypress, or the gray-squirrel will 
 look down and laugh, lie s up betimes this morning, and knows 
 more of a long leap through a broad swamp like this of the Ashley 
 than comes to thy wisdom. Speak before him with becoming reve 
 rence, for he watches thee from the pinetop above thee." 
 
 The sergeant, who was an Englishman, looked upward with due 
 simplicity, and received in his face the dismembered and decayed 
 branch which the playful animal threw down, ay he leaped away 
 from the tree they were passing. 
 
 " Now, d n the rebel ! That were a hanging matter for one of 
 Washington s cavalry." 
 
 " Ay, could you catch him !" replied Travis, with a laugh at the 
 discomfiture of his companion, who busied himself in freeing his 
 face from the dust of the decayed branch. 
 
 " See what thou gettest for thy stupidity. Think you gray -jacket 
 knew not all you were saying? lie did: not a word escaped Mm ; 
 and, believe it or not, his tribe have quite as much understanding as 
 we, though, to be sure, they have not the same tongue to m?ke it 
 known. It s a God s truth, now, that squirrel has. been outstanding 
 sentinel for his company, just as ours watches for us ; and look- 
 where they go, all around us, and all in the same direction ! See 
 to yon pine, how full of them 1 It bends and shakes, big as it is, 
 as they leap off to the next tree. They are all of} , just as the senti 
 nel gave them notice. Every now and then, as we drew iiigh, he 
 barked away bark after bark bow-wow, though thou neve? 
 
SCOUTING SQUIRRELS. 87 
 
 heard st a syllable, all the time as good as saying : Now they 
 come nigher, nigher, nigher! and when he thought it time to 
 move, he tumbled the dry branch into your open mouth, and made 
 off with his last signals." 
 
 " I shavv ! what nonsense you talk !" 
 
 "Nonsense! Saint Jupiter, but it s true as turpentine! There s 
 no truth, if that be not. Why, man, I go farther: I do believe, in 
 my conscience, that they understand arithmetic and navigation. 
 Don t you think he told his fellows how many we were, and what 
 route over the water we were going to take ? You see they 
 have taken a different direction altogether." 
 
 O 
 
 "You think I swallow your fool s stones?" said Clough. 
 
 " Quite as easy to swallow, and better food than the branch the 
 squirrel threw thee : but if thou believe not, I care not. Rot thee, 
 for an infidel, having as little belief as brains ! Thou art worse 
 than Turk or Hebrew, and should have no water from roe wert thou 
 famishing." 
 
 " Thou canst scarce deny it here," was the reply, as the squad, 
 one after the other, struggled through a quagmire that spread across 
 the path. 
 
 " Nor would I here ; I am charitable : take thy fill of what is 
 before thee. But hold up, men ; we are on the broad track. This 
 tussock runs for a hundred yards, widening to a fork ; and IVe a 
 mind that you shall go through the worst part of it, Sergeant 
 Clough, that you may get more wisdom in swamp-sucking. Close 
 up, men doss up !" 
 
 They passed over the broad path in a few moments, until they 
 reached a point from which ran out another route, clearly indicated 
 upon the sky by an opening through the trees, which let in, for the 
 first time after their entrance, the unobstructed sunlight. 
 
 k To the right now, men to the right ! It s the worst track, but 
 carries us soonest to the heart of the swamp, and we can pass it 
 now without swimming : the waters are going down, and it will not 
 be so bad, after all." 
 
 " Is it worse, Travis, than what we have passed ?" inquired Clough, 
 rather anxiously. 
 
 " Worse 1" exclaimed Travis, turning shortly upon the speaker. 
 
88 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 with a sneer; "Saint Jupiter! said I not you .should learn swamp 
 sucking ? You ll drink before you come out. But the water s fresh." 
 
 " Fresh, here in the swamp 2" 
 
 " Ay, fresh enough fresh from the sea, unless the tide s gone 
 clean down. But on ; do not fear ; it looks worse than it tastes. 
 Uu, and follow me close !" 
 
 They dashed after their leader as he gave the word, but their 
 progress was much slower than before. 
 
 lii the mean while, let us turn our eyes upon the parly in wait 
 ing for thorn. Following the suggestions of his lieutenant, Hum 
 phries, Major Singleton had disposed of his men at convenient 
 distances for mutual support along the more accessible ridge which 
 the party of Travis had originally pursued. The design had been 
 a good 01. e ; for it was not to be supposed that one who had shown 
 himself so CArt,f.t : in selecting the least obstructed route, would 
 willingly lea^- it, in preference for another, so indirect and difficult 
 of passage as that upon which Travis had now turned his horse. 
 The ambuscade had been well laid, and must have been successful, 
 but for this circumstance. Major Singleton himself, being in 
 advance, was the first to perceive this change of movement, which, 
 taking place just when his anxieties were most aroused, was pro 
 ductive of an exaggerated degree of disappointment, lie cried 
 out to Humphries, who lurked in a low bush on the opposite bank, 
 and saw not so readily, 
 
 "They leave the track, Humphries! they have turned off to the 
 right we are foiled !" 
 
 The lieutenant f"e t ruA /-is recumbent pot it ion, and saw the 
 truth of his commander s uugg -sUon. To effect a change of ambus 
 cade at this moment was hopeless ; and there remained but one 
 mode, and that was, to persuade them to return to the path from 
 which they departed. At first, the lieutenant thought to throw 
 himself immediately in their way ; and, being well known, and 
 looked upon as loyal by all the dragoons, he believed that he might 
 lure them back by misrepresentations of one kind or another. 
 This thought he abandoned, however, as he still desired to keep 
 himself from present detection, which he could not hope, should 
 %ny of them escape to tell the story. 
 
THE C1JASE. 89 
 
 "There is but one way, major," he exclaimed, while smearing 
 nis visage with the mud around him, and leaping boldly forth on 
 foot upon the broad path " there is but one way, sir: keep your 
 men fast, while I make myself visible to Travis. 1 will run upon 
 the bank, and make them hear me. They will follow the tussock, 
 and, by the time I am in cover, you will have them between you. 
 The rest of the work is yours." 
 
 He waited not for an answer, but the next instant was seen by 
 Singleton coursing along the tussock towards the route taken b/ 
 Travis. When upon the highest point, and perceptible to them, 
 he broke a dried stick, with a sharp, snapping sound, which reached 
 the quick ear of their leader. Travis turned instantly, and ordered 
 a halt. 
 
 " Hold up, men hold up a moment ! See you nothing to the 
 left ?" 
 
 All eyes were turned in the required direction, but they failed 
 to distinguish any object in particular, other than belonged to the 
 region. 
 
 " Look, Clough, your eyes are younger than mine look to the 
 left, beyond the big water-oak, close by the blasted pine the very 
 highest point of the tussock we just left." 
 
 " I see, I see !" eried one of the troopers ; " it s a man." 
 
 " Now I have it ! You are right, Wilkins it s a man a stout 
 fellow, and must be Frampton," cried Clough ; " the very dog we 
 seek." 
 
 " No, tis not the man we seek, was the reply of Travis, who 
 had been watching intently. "This is a short, stout man, not of 
 more inches than myself; Frampton, though stout, is tall. But he 
 is our game, be he who he may. All are outlaws here, and rebels 
 tor the rope. Here, Corporal Dricks, have your string in readi 
 ness ; we shall doubtless need a cast of your office, and the no^se 
 should be free for service. Ride close, and be ready. Ha ! lie 
 scents he sees us ! He is on the wing, and we must be quick 
 and cautious. After him, Clough, to the left right, Wilkins ! 
 Get upon the tussock, and, if he keeps it, you have him. Ride, 
 boys ! To the left, Clough to the left ! He < an t clear the pond, 
 and we are sure of him !" 
 
yO TUP: PARTISAN. 
 
 Half of the troops dashed after the suspicious person, who was 
 our acquaintance Humphries ; the other half, slowly returning, re- 
 entered the old trail, and kept their way towards the flying object 
 and the pursuit. The lieutenant found no difficulty in misleading 
 his pursuers, having once drawn them back to their original route. 
 They urged the chase hotly after him, but he knew his course, and 
 was cool and confident. Doubling continually through bog and 
 through brier now behind this, now under that clump of foliage 
 or brush he contrived to boggle them continually in perpetual 
 intricacies, each more difficult than the other, until he not only led 
 them into the very thick of the ambuscading party, still maintain 
 ing his original lead upon them, but he scattered them so far asun 
 der, that mutual assistance became impossible. 
 
 It was then that, gathering himself up for breath along the edge 
 of a bank, he coolly wiped the moisture from his broAV, looking 
 from side to side, as he heard the splashing in the water or the 
 rustling in the brush of his bewildered pursuers, lie, meanwhile, 
 fairly concealed from their sight by a thick cluster of laurels that 
 rose out of the bay before him, conceiving the time to have arrived 
 for action, gave the shrill whistle with which his men were familiar. 
 The pursuers heard it reverberate all around them from a dozen 
 echoes of the swamp ; they gave back, and there was a pause in 
 the chase, as if by common consent. The sound had something 
 (supernatural and chilling in it; and the instinct of each, but a 
 moment before so hot upon the heels of the outlaw, was now to 
 regain his starting-place, and recover his security with his breath. 
 
 But retreat was not so easy, and prudence counselled too late. 
 They made the effort, however ; but to succeed was denied them. 
 The word of command reached their ears in another voice than 
 that of their own leader, and in the next instant came the shaip 
 cracking reports of the rifle two, three, four. 
 
 Travis went down at the first shot ; they beheld his fall di^ 
 tinctly, as he stood upon the highest point of the ridge, which was 
 visible for a hundred yards round. For a moment more, the 
 enemy remained invisible; but Major Singleton now gave hie 
 orders shrilly and - oolly : 
 
 "Steady, men iii ffle, open order trot I" 
 
THE FUGITIVE. 91 
 
 And then came the rush of the charge, and the stragglers beheld 
 the flashing sabres dealing with the few troopers who held the 
 broad ridge of the tussock. The tories fought well ; but the sur 
 prise was too sudden, and too little prepared for, and they fought 
 at disadvantage. Still, as they remembered the unsparing clia 
 racter of their own warfare, and were conscious of innumerable 
 outrages, such as had driven Frarnpton to outlawry, they stood 
 their ground bravely enough. Parrying the first strokes of their 
 assailants, who liad every advantage, they dashed aside from the 
 path, and strove to escape by plunging in every direction through 
 the swamp. But with the loss of the ridge, which Singleton wilh 
 his few troopers now traversed in all directions, they lost all chance 
 of extrication. They floundered from slough to slough, while, dis 
 mounting and on foot, the whigs pursued them. The cry for quar 
 ter on all hands ended the combat, and the survivors were drawn 
 forth to become prisoners. They threw down their arms, gene 
 rally, arid were spared ; one who resisted was cut down by Davis, 
 who had shown himself a true man in close contest ; and one 
 strove to escape by turning back upon his path, and plunging on 
 through the swamp in an opposite direction to that taken by the 
 rest; but there was an eye upon him, quickened by hate, and a 
 deadly hostility which nothing could blind a footstep which he 
 could not evade. 
 
 The fugitive was the sanguinary corporal of Tuck a wretch 
 who always carried the cord at his saddle-bow for sudden execu 
 tions, and enjoyed nothing so well as its employment. His pur 
 suer was the maniac Framptou. That fierce man had singled out 
 this one antagonist, and throughout the brief struggle, in which 
 he bore an active part, had never once withdrawn his glance from 
 him. But for this, the wretch might have escaped ; and even then, 
 had not guilt or fear paralysed his energy or judgment, his chances 
 might have been good ; but he held too long to his horse, and lost 
 that time, in trying to urge him along the track he had taken ? 
 which, on foot, he might have pursued much more effectually. 
 The animal became entangled in some water-vines, and before he 
 oou get him free, or oven get from his back, the pursuer was 
 1 IP * iqr into the swamp, with drawn sword waving overhead, and 
 
92 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 hut a few paces from him. Leaping from his steed, wnicii he left 
 struggling, the fugitive made for the opposite bank, and reached it 
 before Frampton had yet got through the slough. But even this 
 advantage did not serve him long. Though brave enough, the 
 corporal seemed at that moment to lack much of his wonted firm 
 ness. Probably he knew the pursuer, had heard his story, and 
 dreaded his vengeance. It was not improbable, indeed, that he 
 himself had been one of those concerned in the assault upon 
 Krampton s wife. If so, the flight of the one and the concentrated 
 pursuit of the other were both natural enough. Guilt is apt to 
 despair, and to sink into imbecility, in its own consciousness of 
 2rime, and in the presence of the true avenger. Still, for a mo 
 ment, there was a show of spirit, lie wheeled, and confronted tin 
 pursuer with a word of defiance ; but the moment after, he turned 
 again in tlight. lie ran over the tussock upon which both of them 
 now stood, and, bounding through a pond that lay in his way, 
 made off for a close cover of cypresses that grew at a little 
 distance. 
 
 Should he gain that cover, his safety would most probably be 
 < -ei-tain, as he would then have gained on Frampton, and had long 
 since been out of reach of the rest. But if the one ran with the 
 speed of fear, madness gave wings to the other* The fugitive 
 looked over his shoulder once as he Hew, and he could see in the 
 eye of his pursuer that there was no pity, nothing but death ; and 
 utterly vain must be his cry for quarter. Perhaps he felt this con 
 viction only from a due consciousness of what he deserved from 
 his own atrocities. The thought increased his speed ; but, though 
 capable and elastic enough, he could not escape the man who 
 rushed behind him. Defying wood, water, and everv obstruction, 
 the fierce wretch p/essed close upon the fugitive. The corporal 
 lelt the splashing of the water from his adversary s feet; he knew 
 that the next moment must be followed by the whirl of the sabre; 
 and he sank motionless to the ground. The blow went clean over 
 him ; but though it carried Frampton beyond him, yet he did not 
 fall. The maniac soon recovered, and confronted the corporal, who 
 now found it impossible to llv ; his hope was in fight only. But 
 what was his lifted weapon against that of his opponent, wielded 
 
THE MANIAC S VENGEANCE. 08 
 
 by his superior strength, made terrible by madness ! The sword 
 was dashed aside dashed down in the heavy sweeping stroke with 
 which the other prefaced the conflict. 
 
 " Mercy ! mercy !" cried the corporal, as he saw that it was all 
 over. A howl like that of the wolf was the only response, and 
 tbe weapon bit through the bone as the arm was unavailingly 
 thrown up to resist it. The stricken member hung only by the 
 bkin and a part of the coat-sleeve. The steel was already in the 
 air 
 
 " Mercy, Frampton ! have mercy " 
 
 The speech was silenced, as, ctushiug through bone and brain, 
 the thick sword dug its way down into the very eyes of the 
 pleader. The avenger knelt upon the senseless body, as it lay at 
 his feet, and poured forth above it a strain of impious thanksgiv 
 ing to Heaven for so much granted and gained of the desired ven-J? 
 geauce. Uis wild, wolfish laugh, at intervals while he prayed, >T 
 taught the rest of the party where to look for him. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " It i all dim the way still stretches out 
 Far in the distance. We may nothing see, 
 Till comes the season in the dawning li^ht." 
 
 IT was an easy victory, ami won without loss. Wiping foa 
 bloody sword upon the mane of his steed, Major Singleton rode up 
 to his captives, who, by this time, were all properly secured. 
 Four persons had fallen in the conflict, and among these was their 
 leader, Travis, lie was shot dead upon the spot. Clough was 
 severely wounded in the breast, though perhaps not mortally, and 
 j a y gasping, but without a groan, upon the ground where he had 
 fallen, and around which the surviving prisoners were grouped. 
 Three others had fallen, either killed outright or mortally wounded : 
 two of these by the sabre, not including the corporal, who fell by 
 the hand of Frampton,and who was at once rolled into the swamp. 
 The prisoners, five in number, were natives, generally of the very 
 lowest class, and just the sort of men to fight, according to the 
 necessity of the case, on either side. Such, indeed, were a large 
 proportion of the tories residing in the province. There were 
 many who were avowedly monarchists ; who had no sympathy 
 with the revolutionary movement, and no belief in its necessity 01 
 propriety ; many who were of foreign birth, Scotch, German, and 
 English ; and these were frequently persons of great worth, and 
 conscientious in the adoption of their cause, and of these, the 
 unprejudiced judgment of our times has determined that there 
 can be no proper ground for reproach, lint with the class of 
 whom we write, and whom we find engaged in such warfare as that 
 which we describe, the case is different. For them, there can be no 
 apology. They were despo.rnt.es of the worst desr.ription outcast* 
 from several of the provinces, *vh:;. ^vi..^ refuge ai, Cr2t ii 
 Florida which still remainrd l< v /al .o the British crown had 
 
THE CAROLINA TORIES. 95 
 
 seized the moment of British ascendency in the South, to inun 
 date Carolina and Georgia with their masses. Without leading 
 principles and miserably poor not recognised, except as merce 
 naries, in the social aristocracies which must always prevail in 
 slaveholding nations they had no sympathy with the more influ 
 ential classes, those who were the first to resist the authority of 
 England. The love of gain, the thirst for rapine, and that 
 marauding and gipsy hbit of life which was now familiar to 
 them, were all directly appealed to in the tory mode of warfare. 
 They were ready on any side which offered them the greatest 
 chance for indulging in these habits. The tories forming Huck s 
 cavalry were all of this sort; and the small detachment just over 
 thrown by Singleton had no sympathy with their leader, only as 
 his known character promised them plunder. Defeat had no 
 attraction in their eyes; and, as that is always the true cause 
 which is triumphant, they now freely tendered themselves, with 
 clamorous tongues, and to the no small chagrin of the wounded 
 Olough, as recruits for Singleton. The Briton denounced their 
 perfidy in fearless language, and threatened them terribly with the 
 vengeance of Hack and Tarleton ; but the remote fear is no fear 
 with the vulgar. They seldom think in advance of the necessity, 
 and the exhortation of their wounded officer had no visible effect. 
 They persisted in their determination to fight on the right side, 
 and earnestly asserted their love of country, alleging that force 
 only had placed them in the ranks of the enemy. Major Single 
 ton conferred with Humphries on the course to be taken IK this 
 matter. The latter knew most of the parties, but had been pru 
 dent to keep from sight, and they had not seen him, only in the 
 brief glimpse which they had of him in the pursuit, when, at such 
 a distance, perpetually moving, and with his face well smeared 
 with the rank ooze from the creek around him, he must have been 
 unknown, except upon the narrowest examination, even to the 
 mother that had borne him. It was still his policy to keep from 
 sight in connexion with Ids whig partisans ; for, passing in Dor 
 chester as a loyal citizen a character in part obtained through his 
 father s loudly-voiced attachment to the existing powers he was 
 of far greater advantage to the cause of the country than he poa 
 
96 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 sibly could have been even in active military service, lie obtained 
 intelligence with singular adroitness, conveyed it with despatch, 
 and planned enterprises upon the facts he thus gathered, with no 
 little tact and ingenuity. To remain unknown, therefore, or only 
 known as lie had been heretofore, in close connexion with loyalty 
 alone, was clearly the policy of our lieutenant. 
 
 There was one man from whom Ilu.jphries seemed willing to 
 withhold his confidence, lie counselled his commander to accept 
 the services of the remaining four, recommending that they should 
 be so distributed among the men who had been tried, as to defeat 
 any concert between them, should they feel any impulse to disaf 
 fection. In this manner it was also thought that a proper bias 
 would be given to their minds, which, as they both knew, were 
 suiliciently flexible to find but little difficulty iii conforming to any 
 circumstances which should for a moment take the shape of a 
 necessity. 
 
 " But the fifth the other fellow the blear-eyed what of him ? 
 Von say nothing of him, Humphries." 
 
 Singleton pointed through the copse as he spoke, where the 
 individual referred to leaned against a tree, a little apart from the 
 rest ; his head cast down, his arms relaxed beside him, one leg at 
 ease, while the whole weight of his body rested upon the other. 
 The features of his face were dark and unprepossessing dark and 
 sallow; his cheeks lank and colourless; a small nose ; retreating 
 forehead, covered with long thin black hair, that streamed from 
 under a broad white hat, something the worse for wear. A 
 strange protrusion of his eyes gave his face a gross and base 
 expression, which was not before lacking to produce distrust, or 
 pv<n di>like, in the mind of the observer. Humphries gazed on 
 him a moment before he spoke, then, as if satisfied, he proceeded 
 to reply 
 
 " I know nothing against the chap, major; but the truth is, I 
 don t like him. Indeed, I know nobody that does. Ilis right 
 name is Blonay, but we all know him better by the name of Gog 
 gle a nickname which he got on account of his eyes. Something 
 lias hurt them when young, which, you see, makes him stare when 
 he looks at you." 
 
GOGGLE. 97 
 
 " Well, but we must not letuse him because lie has got a blear 
 eye ; we arc too much in need of men to stand upon trifles. Know 
 you nothing against him ? " 
 
 " The blood s bad that s in him. His father was a horse-thief, 
 and they do say, a mulatto or an Indian. As for himself, the 
 worst is, that we know nothing about him ; and that s no good 
 gigri, major, in a country where everybody knows the business of 
 everybody. IIow he lives, and where and by what means he get* 
 his bread, is a secret. He will not work; but see him when you 
 will, you see him as you see him now one half of him sleeping 
 while the other half takes the watch. Not that he ean t move 
 when the time colhes for it or rather when he s in the humou r 
 for it. Touch him close upon his goggle eye, and he s up in arms 
 in a moment, lie will fight like a wildcat, too, and that s in his 
 favour; but the worst is, he lights with a bad heart, and loves to 
 emember injuries. I do believe they keep him from sleep at 
 night. He s not like our people in that; he can t knock away at 
 once, and have done with it, but he goes to bed to think about it, 
 and to plan when to knock, so as never to have done with it. 
 He loves to keep his wrongs alive, so that he may always be 
 
 revenging." 
 
 " Still, I see nothing, lieutenant, that should make us discourage 
 his desires ; and, truth to say, it is far easier for us now to keep 
 doubtful friends in our ranks, moving with us, and continually 
 under our eye, than positive enemies in our camp in the form of 
 prisoners, whom we are bound to keep guard over. We can 
 manage our allies if they show signs of bad faith, although we risk 
 something, doubtless, even by the partial confidence. Better do 
 this than break up our ] ittle force watching those who profess 
 themselves friends, and may yet prove so." 
 
 "You may be right, major, and I only speak perhaps from an 
 old prejudice; but keep an eye upon him, for he certainly will keep 
 one on you. Even now he is looking slyly to this bush, although 
 be can t see or hear either of us, but after the old fashion, to find 
 out what he can. If he were only honest, he d be a spy among a 
 thousand." 
 
 "I will see to him in particular, and if it be possible to drill 
 
98 TUP: PARTISAN. 
 
 honesty into him, something may be got out of him yet. We 
 must take him." 
 
 " Very good, sir ; and you now go back into the camp f" 
 
 " Yes: we must put the wounded man into some sort of care, 
 though he will suffer, wanting attendance." 
 
 " Leave that to me, sir. You take him into camp, and I have 
 two men to come out this very day, one of whom is a sort of doc 
 tor good as any one hereabout. lie used to drench horses in 
 Dorchester ; and some of the grannies did say, that there were no 
 drinks like those made by Doctor Oakenburg. But .that, I m 
 thinking, was because he put more brandy in them than anything 
 else ; and if a Dorchester granny loves one thing more than ano 
 ther, after opium, it is brandy; and sometimes, liking them equally 
 well, she takes both together. lie, major, and the old negro, with 
 some one of the troop, will be guard enough, and Krampton s son 
 Lance can stay with them in the swamp, lie s quite too young to 
 be of much service, and will only learn what s bad, going with 
 the troop." 
 
 " 1 have thought better of that, and shall endeavour to attach 
 the lad to myself, and probably, in the end, place him at * The 
 Oaks with my uncle. But time wears, and we must move for the 
 camp. 1 shall take these men into service, and place the wounded 
 man under the charge of one of the troopers, and your doctor can 
 relieve him." 
 
 " Well, the doctor will be here to-day with Lieutenant Porgy"- 
 
 " Porgy an ancient and fishlike name." 
 
 " Yes, but Lieutenant Porgy is not a fish though you may call 
 him a strange one. He is more fleshy than fishy; for that matter 
 lie has flesh enough for a score of dragoons. He s a perfect moun 
 tain of flesh." 
 
 " lie will never suit for a dragoon, Humphries." 
 
 " Well, Sir, if I didn t know the man, I should think so too ; but 
 IK; rides like the devil, and fights Iik blazes. He s been fighting 
 from the very beginning of the war down in the south. He comes 
 from the Ashepoo, and is a mighty smart fellow, I tell you. You ll 
 like him. Lord, how he can talk. You ll like him, I know. He s 
 been a rich planter in his time, bijt he s ate and drank and talked 
 
LIEUT. PORGY. 99 
 
 
 
 everything away, I reckon, but his horse, his nigger servant, and 
 his broadsword." 
 
 " And he s one of our lieutenants, you say." 
 
 " Yes, he joined us, saying he had been a lieutenant from the 
 beginning, with Harden and Moultrie, and he wasn t going to be 
 less with anybody else. You ll like him, Sir, he s a man ; though 
 he s a mountain of tlesh," 
 
 " Very good. I suppose you know him well, and now to other 
 matters." 
 
 Counselling thus, the two continued to confer apart upon other 
 matters connected with their enterprise. To visit u The Oaks" 
 during the day, where his uncle and sister resided, was the object 
 of Singleton ; out his desire was also to intercept the supply ol 
 arms and ammunition of which Huck had spoken as on their way 
 to Dorchester. They were looked for hourly, and could not be 
 very remote. It was determined, therefore, to intercept them, if 
 practicable, as an acquisition of the last importance. To arrange 
 their route, plan the place of their next meeting, provide the means 
 of intelligence, and concert what local measures might seem neces 
 sary in future, was the work of but little time between the two ; 
 and this <]one, Humphries, withdrawing- silently from the cover in 
 which the conference had been carried oi^iiupercc-ivod by the rest, 
 made his way by a different route out of the swamp, and keeping 
 the forest all the way, was, after no long time, safely in Dorchester 
 looking for all the world as pacific and quiet as ever without 
 weapon of any kind, as, with a wonted precaution, he had left his 
 sword in the woods, safely hidden, and his hands now grasped only 
 the common wagon-whip, which he handled with a dexterity which 
 seemed to indicate but little acquaintance with any more danger 
 ous or deadly instruments. 
 
 Major Singleton, in the mean while, had returned to his troop. 
 They had been busied during his absence in collecting the scattered 
 horses and arms, and repairing their own little losses. The captives 
 were loud in the profession of their new faith, as patriots ; and aa 
 rebellion loves company, the whigs were not unwilling to receive 
 an accession, even from their late enemies. Major Singleton de 
 clared his acceptance of their bervices, taking care to address him 
 
100 THE PARTISAN 
 
 self particularly to the man Blonay, or, as they styled him more 
 familiarly, Goggle. An awkward touch of the hat acknowledged 
 this last courtesy, and one eye of Goggle, as he made the move 
 ment, peered up into that of Singelton with a searching and doubt 
 ful glance. The major did not appear to notice him or them any 
 farther, but, giving directions for the disposal of the wounded ser 
 geant, dough, so as to spare him as much pain as possible, he led 
 the way once more to the cover of the secluded place, in the centre 
 of th swamp, which had been chosen as their camping-ground. 
 
 lie re the whole party arrived at length, and having completed 
 his arrangements, placing Clo ugh in charge of one of his dragoons*, 
 and in as much comfort as possible, Major Singleton gave the 
 word, arid the squad moved forward on their way out of the 
 swamp, and iu the direction of the village. But this course was 
 only kept while he yet remained in the swamp. As soon as he 
 emerged from it, he drew up his men, and then, for the first time, 
 perceived the absence of the elder Frampton. The two sons had 
 kept with the troop, and seemed to know nothing of their father. 
 The younger had ridden close beside his commander, who had so 
 willed it. Nobody could give him any account of the absent man 
 after his removal from the body of the corporal whom he had slain, 
 lie had disappeared suddenly, it was thought at that juncture, 
 and there were not wanting those who insisted upon his absence 
 from that moment ; but Singleton remembered to have seen him 
 after they had reached the camp, and to have noted the singular com- 
 posedMeas of his features. But few farther inquiries were made 
 after the absentee, as the major well knew that with a man in such 
 a mood but little could be done, lie was, perhaps, perfectly satis 
 fied that nothing could have happened to lr>.i, from the composure 
 of the two sons, who, doubtless, were acquainted with all the 
 father s movements. Conjecture succeeded to inquiry, but was 
 interrupted by the order to move on. 
 
 The course of the troop lay now towards the Goose Creek road. 
 Major Singleton dared not carry his squad along the Ashley with 
 out exposing himself, unnecessarily, to unequal encounter ; and, at 
 Dorchester, with a force far superior to his own. Pursuing a north 
 erly direction for a while, therefore, he placed himself at equal 
 
THE SCOUTS ON TRAIL. 101 
 
 distances between the Wassamasah and Dorchester roads ; then 
 striking to the left, he passed over an untravelled surface of 
 country, broken with frequent swamps, and crowded with luxuriant 
 undergrowth. In a few hours, however, he had gone over the 
 ground almost unseen, and certainly unobstructed. Davis was his 
 g-uide in this quarter, and he could not have had a better. The 
 discarded lover had given sufficient earnest of his truth and valour, 
 in the courage and perfect coolness of his conduct in the preceding 
 struggle ; and he now led the party with all the caution of the 
 veteran, and all the confidence of a thorough-bred soldier. 
 
 The road, like all in that country, was low and miry ; and the 
 path taken for greater security, being little travelled, was still more 
 troubled with natural obstructions. , They reached the desired point 
 at length, which was the Goose Creek Bridge ; then leaving it to 
 the left, they once more departed from the beaten track, and 
 throwing themselves directly across the country, were, after a few 
 hours, again upon the Dorchester road, and some two or three 
 miles below the garrison. They covered themselves in the close 
 forest by Archdale Hall, and Singleton then proceeded to inspect 
 ihe road. To his great satisfaction, he saw that the wagons had 
 not yet made their appearance, and must be still below them. 
 Cheered with this conviction, he despatched scouts to bring him 
 intelligence, and then proceeded to arrange an ambush for the 
 entrapping of the !ooked-for detachment. 
 
 The road, at the spot chosen for this purpose, was narrow but 
 a single track, and that raised into a causeway from a ditch on 
 either side, at that time filled with water, and presenting natural 
 advantages for the forming of an ambush. The woods, growing 
 close and thickly, formed a natural defile, of which Singleton, with 
 the eye of experience, soon availed himself. He divided his little 
 force into two equal bodies ; and giving the command of one ot 
 them to Davis, placed him upon the right of the road in the route 
 from Charleston, while he himself occupied the left. The former 
 division lying in covert some fifty yards below, was ready, in the 
 event of a struggle between the baggage guard and Singleton s 
 troop to which it was to be left to secure the precious charge 
 which tLe gmrd had undertaken to defend, and at the same time 
 5 
 
102 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 to cut off their retreat. Thus arranged, and with the plan of con 
 duct properly understood on all hands, the parties lay close hidden, 
 impatiently awaiting the approach of the enemy. 
 
 They had not long to wait; for, scarcely had their arrangements 
 been well completed, before the scouts came at full gallop along 
 the path, crying loudly that the enemy was at hand. A shot or 
 two whistled over the heads of the fugitives at the same moment, 
 giying full confirmation to their intelligence ; and a few seconds 
 after, the rush of half a score of British dragoons was heard upon 
 their footsteps. Passing through the ambuscade without pausing 
 for an instant, the scouts kept on their flight, bringing the pursu 
 ers fairly between the two parties. Once enclosed, a shrill whistle 
 from Singleton announced the charge which, he led in person ; and 
 dashing out from his cover, he threw his men quickly between the 
 flying scouts and the assailants. In the same moment the squad 
 of Davis obeying the same signal, as repeated by their leader, 
 followed him as he charged upon the force left in possession of the 
 munition wagons. The guard in this quarter, seeing the superi 
 ority of the force opposed to them, and struck with surprise, offered 
 but a feeble resistance, and were soon put to flight. Davis fol 
 lowed them a little distance, and then returned to the aid of Sin 
 gleton. His approach and attack upon the rear of the party with 
 which his commander had been contending, put an end to the 
 fight the dragoons having lost three men killed and two wounded. 
 With the charge of Davis, they threw down their arms and were 
 made prisoners. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 " I see the shape of murder, with red hand. 
 That through the night creeps to his victim s couch." 
 
 THE whole affair was over in the space of ten minutes. In at 
 little time the wagons were sacked. The swords and pistols were 
 strewn upon the ground, and each trooper made his selection with 
 out stint or limit; In addition to this, eacli soldier was required 
 to carry an extra sword, and holsters with their contents ; and in 
 this manner supplies were secured for a much larger force than 
 that which Singleton now commanded. The rest were broken 
 against the trees muskets, pistols, and swords sharing the same 
 fate while the wagons themselv r es, carefully tumbled from their 
 axles, and their wheels torn apart, were thrown into the slough by 
 the road-side. There was no concealing their spoils, under the 
 circumstances, and with prisoners to take care of; and the necessity 
 which called for this destruction of property, so valuable at the 
 time, was the subject of no small regret with the troopers. Even 
 Davis muttered to the major his desire that the wagons, or at least 
 one of them, should be preserved and filled with spoils so highly 
 important to the enterprise. But Singleton knew better than to 
 encumber his party, whose utility consisted chiefly in the rapidity 
 of its movement, with such burdens, and peremptorily enforced 
 the order which destroyed the valuable residue. This done, he 
 gave orders to mount ; and having carefully secured his prisoners, 
 the party moved at a brisk pace along the road downward until 
 they came within ten miles of the city ; then moving to the right, 
 they crossed Ashley ferry without molestation, and towards even 
 ing had placed themselves in safety, with all their spoils, in the 
 close swamp thickets of the river, on the western side, and but 
 abort distance from Dorchester itselfl 
 
104: THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Here Singleton made his camp, within a few miles of his uncle s 
 plantation. He now felt secure for a brief period, as he was 
 taught to believe that the affections of the people were with his 
 cause, and the rapidity of his proceedings must baffle any pursuit. 
 Still he knew that he could not hope to maintain this security for 
 any time. The audacity of the two efforts which he had made 
 that day, so nigh the garrison, could not long be concealed, and 
 must soon call out a superior force sufficient for his annihilation. 
 This he well knew ; yet he required but a few days for all his pur 
 poses. 
 
 His object was twofold the attainment of recruits, and the 
 arousing of his uncle, whose bravery was well known, and whose 
 influence in the country was considerable, to a proper sense of his 
 duty. The first of these objects promised well, so far as opportu 
 nity had been given him to judge ; of the second, he did not 
 despair, particularly as he well knew what must be the influence 
 upon Colonel Walton of the recent proclamation of Sir Henry 
 Clinton. He knew the stern sense of integrity which the colonel 
 insisted upon with the tenacity of a professional moral disciplina 
 rian; and he did not err in the thought, that his sense of huma 
 nity was sufficiently alive to prompt a due indignation at the many 
 atrocities hourly committed by the tory leaders under the especial 
 sanction of the British. Other motives for the contemplated visit 
 might not be wanting to his mind, as he thought of his lovely 
 cousin the stately and the beautiful- Katharine Walton one of 
 those high-souled creatures that awe while they attract ; and, even 
 while they invite and captivate, control arid discourage. His sis 
 ter, too she was there ; a meek, sad, but uncomplaining girl, per 
 ishing of disease, without having lived one of the unrepining 
 sufferers, whose melancholy fortunes, so much at variance with 
 what we know of their deserts, would lead us sometimes impro , 
 perly to doubt of that justice which we assume to mark all the 
 decrees of Providence. But let us not anticipate. 
 
 Having placed his camp in such security as he thought neces 
 sary and which was practicable, Major Singleton towards sunset 
 rode forth in the direction of Dorchester Bridge to meet Hum 
 
CUPID SHOWS HIMSELF. ^ 105 
 
 pliries, as had been agreed upon between them. The lieutenant was 
 in waiting at the time appointed, and came forward to meet his 
 superoir. 
 
 " Ride aside, Major Singleton, if you please. The brush is best 
 for us just now. There are strange birds on our road that we 
 must sheer from." 
 
 " What mean you, Humphries what birds ?" 
 
 " British officers ! Major Proctor, himself, and another have 
 just gone by; and if I mistake not, on a visit to The Oaks. 
 They say he looks hard upon your cousin, sir, the beautiful Miss 
 Katharine." 
 
 " Ila ! do they say that ?" responded Major Singleton, with 
 something like a start " and she ?" he continued, inquiringly. 
 
 " They say nothing of her, whether she likes it or not ; bu 
 young ladies will be young ladies, major; and a smart officer, with 
 a king s commission in his pocket, and a showy red coat on his 
 back, is no small danger to an easy heart." 
 
 " No, indeed !" replied the other, in a tone which seemed to 
 have found nothing consolatory in his companion s reflection, and 
 in which there may* have been something of latent bitterness 
 " no, indeed ! such attractions are at all times sweet with the sex, 
 and seldom utterly unsuccessful. They love the conquest, always, 
 even when they may despise the game. Tis with most of them 
 after this fashion, and the goodly outside is a fair offset to worth 
 and good manners. But how shall we know, of a certainty, the 
 destination of Proctor ?" 
 
 " Only by dogging his footsteps, major. We may do that with 
 some safety, however, as I happen to know the back track which 
 hugs the river, and is seldom travelled. This brings us close on 
 the park, yet gives us a good shelter all the way along the copse. 
 We shall take our watch, and yet be all the time hidden ; and 
 where I shall carry you shall give us a fair peep at all the grounds 
 as well as the river." 
 
 " That is well. And now of Dorchester ; what stirs in the vil 
 lage ? and what of Iluck ? Do they know yet of the afl air of the 
 swamp, or are they ever like to know ?" 
 
 4 * They know not yet, certainly ; but iiuck musters strong, and 
 
C5 
 
 I 
 
 106 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 talks of a drive to Camden. There is news, too, which moves tho 
 arrison much. They talk of the continentals from Virginia." 
 
 Do they ? they must be De Kalb s. And what do they say on 
 the subject ? do they speak of him as at hand ?" 
 
 " Nothing much, but they look a deal, and the whigs talk a 
 little more boldly. This provokes Hack, who threatens a start on 
 the strength of it, and is hurrying his recruits for that purpose. 
 There is also some talk of a force from North Carolina under Sum- 
 ter, and they have got wind of the last move of our Colonel 
 Marion, there-away among Gainey s corps of tories, where you cut 
 them up in such fine style ; but there s nothing certain, and this I 
 get out of Huck in curses now and then. lie s mighty anxious 
 that I should join him, and I m thinking to do so, if it promises to 
 give me a better hold on him." 
 
 "Think not of it, Humphries ; it will be twice putting your 
 neck in the halter, and the good that it may do is too doubtful to 
 justify such a risk." 
 
 " lie presses me mighty hard, major, and I must keep out of his 
 way or consent, lie begins to wonder why I do not join his 
 troop, and with some reason too, believing me to be a loyalist, for 
 certainly, were 1 to do so, it would be the very making of me." 
 
 " Thou wouldst not turn traitor, Humphries 2" replied the other, 
 looking sternly upon the speaker. 
 
 " Does Major Singleton ask the question now !" was the reply, 
 in a tone which had in it something of reproach. 
 
 " 1 should not, certainly, Humphries, knowing what 1 do. For 
 give me ; but in these times there is so much to make us suspect 
 our neighbours, that suspicions become natural to every mind. 
 You 1 know, however, and I have trusted you too long not to con 
 tin ue in my confidence now. But how come on our recruits ?" 
 
 " Tolerably ; as you say, these are suspicious times, major, and 
 ihey are slow to trust. But the feeling is good with us, and they 
 only wait to see some of the chances in our favour before they 
 come out boldly in the cause." 
 
 " Now, out upon the calculating wretches ! Will they dare 
 nothing, but always wait for the Jead of others ? Chances, indeed ! 
 us if true courage and a bold heart did not always make their O\M 
 
A SILENT PATRIOT. 107 
 
 But what of the villagers? How of that old tavern-keeper of 
 whom you spoke your father s rival 2" 
 
 " But so no longer. Old Pryor, you mean. He is a prime 
 piece of stuff, and will not scruple to do what s wanted. He was 
 always true with us, though kept down by those about him ; yet 
 he only wants to see others in motion to move too. He ll do any. 
 thing now the more readily, as the Royal George, being entirely 
 loyal, does all the business; and poor Pry or, being all along sus 
 pected, has not a customer left. He d burn the town, now, if we 
 put it into his head !" 
 
 " Well, just now we lack no such spirit. May not his rashness 
 prompt, him to too much speech ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; that s the beauty of rebellion with old Pryor. It 
 has hands and a weapon, but it wants tongue. If he felt pain, 
 and was disposed to tell of it, his teeth would resist, and grin down 
 the feeling. No fear of him ; he talks too little : and as for blab- 
 long, his wife might lie close, and listen all night, and his dreams 
 would be as speechless as his humour. lie locks up his thoughts 
 in close jaws, and at best only damns a bit when angered, and 
 walks off with his hands in his breeches pocket." 
 
 " A. goodly comrade for a dark night ! But let us move. Dusk 
 closes upon us, and we may travel now with tolerable security. 
 Our course is for the river ?" 
 
 " Yes ; a hundred yards will take us in sight of it, and we keep 
 it the whole way. But we must hug the bush, as much out of 
 sight there as if we were upon the high-road. There are several 
 bouts, chiefly armed, upon it now ; besides the galley which runs 
 up and down some that have brought supplies to the garrison. 
 Their shot would be troublesome did they see us." 
 
 They rode down the hill, entered a long copse, and the river 
 wound quietly on its way a little below them. They were now on 
 a line with the fortress of Dorchester ; the flag streamed gaudily 
 from the staff, and they could see through the bushes that several 
 vessels of small burden were passing to and fro. They sank back 
 again into the woods, and kept on their course in comparative 
 silence, until, close upon sunset, they found themselves at a few 
 hundred yards from " The Oaks ;" the spacious and lofty dwelling 
 
108 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 rising dimly out of the woods before them, while from their feet 
 the extensive grounds of the park spread away in distance and final 
 obscurity. 
 
 Leaving them to amuse themselves as they may, let us now re 
 turn to the Cypress Swamp, where we left the wounded Clough 
 under the charge of the dragoon and negro. The injury he had 
 received, though not, perhaps, a fatal one, was yet serious enough 
 to render immediate attention highly important to his safety; but 
 in that precarious time surgeons were not readily to be found, and 
 the Americans, who were without money, were not often indulged 
 with their services. The several corps of the leading partisans, 
 such as Marion, and Sumter, Pickens, ITorry, &c., fought daily in 
 the swamps and along the highways, with the painful conviction 
 that, save by some lucky chance, their wounds must depend en 
 tirely upon nature to be healed. In this way, simply through want 
 of tendance, hundreds perished in that warfare of privation, whom, 
 with a few simple specifics, medical care would have sent again 
 into the combat, after a few weeks nursing, hearty and unimpaired. 
 The present circumstances of Clough s condition were not of a cha- 
 < racter to lead him to hope for a better fortune, and he gave himself 
 up despondingly to his fate, after having made a brief effort to 
 bribe his keeper to assist in his escape. But attendance was at 
 hand, if we may so call it, and after a few hours suffering, the 
 approach of Doctor Oakenburg was announced to the patient. 
 
 The doctor was a mere culler of simples, a stuffer of birds and rep 
 tiles, a digger of roots,.a bark and poultice doctor in other words, 
 a mere pretender. He was wretchedly ignorant of every thing like 
 medical art, but he had learned to physic. He made beverages 
 which, if not always wholesome, were, at least, sometimes far from 
 disagreeable to the country housewives, who frequently took the 
 nostrum for the sake of the stimulant. Doctor Oakenburg knew 
 perfectly the want, if he cared little for the need, of his neigh 
 bours ; and duly heedful of those around him who indulged in 
 pipe and tobacco, he provided the bark and the brandy. A few 
 bitter roots and herbs constituted his entire stock of medicines; 
 and with these, well armed at all points and never unprowled, lie 
 had worked out for himself m> SIMM 1 1 reputation in that section of 
 
THE VILLAGE DOCTOR. 109 
 
 country. But this good fortune lasted only for a season. Some 
 of his patients took their departure after the established fashion ; 
 some more inveterate, with that prejudice which distinguishes the 
 bad subject, turned their eyes on rival remedies ; many were scat 
 tered abroad and beyond the reach of our doctor by the chances 
 of war ; and, with a declining reputation and wofully diminished 
 practice, Oakenburg was fain, though a timid creature, to link his 
 own with the equally doubtful fortunes of the partisan militia. 
 This decision, after some earnest argument, and the influence of a 
 more earnest necessity, Humphries at length persuaded him to 
 adopt, after having first assured him of the perfect security and 
 un harming character of the warfare in which he was required to 
 engage. 
 
 With a dress studiously disposed in order, a head well plastered 
 with pomatum, and sprinkled with the powder so freely worn at 
 the time, a ragged frill carefully adjusted upon his bosom to concea. 
 the injuries of time,.and an ostentatious exhibition of the shrunken 
 shank, garnished at the font with monstrous buckles that once 
 might have passed for silver, Oakenburg still persisted in exhibit 
 ing as many of the evidences of the reduced gentleman as he pos 
 sibly could preserve. His manner was tidy, like his dress. His 
 snuff-box twinkled for ever between his fingers, one of which 
 seemed swollen by the monstrous paste ring which enriched it; 
 and his gait was dancing and elastic, as if his toes had volunteered 
 to do all the duty of his feet. His mode of speech, too, was ex 
 cessively finical and delicate the words passing through his lips 
 with difficulty ; for he dreaded to open them too wide, lest certain 
 deficiencies in his jaws should become too conspicuously notorious. 
 These deficiencies had the farther effect of giving him a lisping 
 accent, which not a little added to the pretty delicacies of his 
 other features. 
 
 He passed through the swamp with infinite difficulty, and greatly 
 to the detriment of his shoes and stockings. Riding a small tackey 
 (a little, inconsiderate animal, that loves the swamp, and is usually 
 born and bred in it), he was compelled continually to be on the 
 look-out for, and defence against, the overhanging branches and 
 vines clustering about the trees, through which his horse, in its own 
 5* 
 
110 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 desire to clamber over the roots, continually and most annoyingij 
 bore him. In this toil he was compelled to pay far less attention 
 to his legs than was due to their well-being, and it was not until 
 they were well drenched in the various bogs through which he had 
 gone, that he was enabled to see how dreadfully he had neglected 
 their even elevation to the saddle skirts a precaution absolutely 
 necessary at all times in such places, but more particularly when 
 the rider is tall, and mounted upon a short, squat animal, such as 
 our worthy doctor bestrode. 
 
 Dr. Oaken burg was in the company under the guidance in 
 fact of a person whose appearance was in admirable contrast 
 with his own. This was no other than the Lieutenant Porgy, of 
 whom Humphries has already given us an account. If Oakenburg 
 was as lean as the Knight of La Mancha, Porgy was quite as stout 
 .as Sancho a shade stouter perhaps, as his own height was not 
 inconsiderable, yet showed him corpulent still. At a glance you 
 saw that lie was a jovial philosopher one who enjoyed his bottle 
 with his humours anTPcTid not suffer the one to be soured by the 
 other. It was clear that he loved all the good things of this litV, 
 and some possibly that we may not call good with sufficient rea^ 
 son. His abdomen and brains seemed to work together Ho 
 thought of eating perpetually, and, while he ate, still thought. 
 But he was not a mere eater. He rather amused himself with a 
 hobby when he made food his topic, as Falstaff discoursed of his 
 own cowardice without feeling it. He W;LS a wag, and exercised 
 his wit with whomsoever he travelled ; Doctor Oakenburg, on the 
 present occasion, offering himself as an admirable subject for vic 
 timization. To quiz the doctor was Porgy s recipe against the 
 tedium of a swamp progress, and the fertile humours of the wag 
 perpetually furnished him occasions for the exercise of his faculty. 
 But we shall hear more of him in future pages, and prefer that he 
 shall speak on inost occasions for himself. He was attended by a 
 negro body servant a fellow named Tom, and of humours al 
 most as keen and lively as his own. Tom was a famous cook, after 
 the fashion of the southern planters, who could win his way to 
 your affections through his soups, and need no other argument. 
 Je was one of that class of faithful, half-spoiled negroes, who will 
 
PERFECT SECURITY. Ill 
 
 suffer any liberties with his master, except such as he takes 
 himse/f. He, too, is a person who will need to occupy a consider 
 able place in our regards, particularly as, in his instance, as well as 
 that of his master to say nothing of other persons we draw our 
 portraits from actual life. 
 
 Porgy was a good looking fellow, spite of his mammoth dimen 
 sions. He had a fine fresh manly face, clear complexion, and 
 light blue eye, the archness of which was greatly heightened by its 
 comparative littleness. It was a sight to provoke a smile on the 
 face of Mentor, to see those little blue eyes twinkling- with treache 
 rous light as he watched Doctor Oakenburg plunging from pool 
 to pool under his false guidance, and condoling with him after. 
 The doctor, in fact, in his present situation and imperfect experi 
 ence, could not have been spared his disasters. lie was too little 
 of an equestrian not to feel the necessity, while battling with hi* 
 brute for their mutual guidance, of keeping his pendulous members 
 carefully balanced on each side, to prevent any undue preponder 
 ance of one over the other a predicament of which he had much 
 seeming apprehension. In the mean time, the lively great-bodied 
 and great-bellied man who rode beside him chuckled incontinently, 
 though in secret. He pretended great care of his companion, and 
 advised him to sundry changes of direction, all for the worse, which 
 the worthy doctor in his tribulation did not scruple to adopt. 
 
 "Ah! Lieutenant Porgy," said he, complaining, though in his 
 most mincing manner, as they reached a spot of dry land, upon 
 which they stopped for a moment s rest " ah ! Lieutenant Porgy 
 this is but unclean travelling, and full too of various peril. At one 
 moment I did hear a plunging, dashing sound in the pond beside 
 me, which it came to my thought was an alligator one of those 
 monstrous reptiles that are hurtful to children, and even to men." 
 
 " Ay, doctor, and make no bones of whipping off a thigh-bone, 
 ^r at least a leg : and you have been in danger more than once 
 o-day." 
 
 The doctor looked down most wofully at his besmeared pedes- 
 .als ; and the shudder which went over his whole frame was per- 
 eptible to his companion, whose chuckle it increased proportion- 
 fcblv. 
 
IT. 2 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 "Arid yet, Lieutenant Porgy," said he, looking round him with a 
 oioct wc-begone apprehension "yet did our friend Humphries 
 assure me that our new occupation was one of perfect security. 
 Perfect security were the precise words he used when he conn 
 soiled me to this undertaking." 
 
 " Perfect security !" said Porgy, and the man laughed out aloud. 
 " Why, doctor, look there at the snake winding over the bank be 
 fore you look at that, and then talk of perfect security." 
 
 The doctor turned his eyes to the designated point, and beheld 
 the long and beautiful volumes of the beaded snake, as slowly 
 crossing their path with his pack of linked jewels full in their 
 view, he wound his way from one bush into another, and gradually 
 folded himself up out of sight. The doctor, however, was not to 
 be alarmed by this survey. He had a passion for snakes; and 
 admiration suspended all his fear, as he gazed upon the beautiful 
 and not dangerous reptile. 
 
 " Now would 1 rejoice, Lieutenant Porgy, were yon serpent in 
 my poor cabinet at Dorchester. He would greatly beautify my 
 collection." And as the man of simples spoke, he gazed on the 
 retiring snake with envying eye. 
 
 " Well, doctor, get down and chunk it. If it s worth having, it s 
 worth killing-." 
 
 " True, Lieutenant Porgy ; but it would be greatly detrimental 
 to my shoes to alight in such a place as this, for the thick mud 
 would adhere " 
 
 "Ay, and so would you, doctor you d stick but not the 
 snake. But come, don t stand looking after the bush, if you won t 
 go into it. You can get snakes enough in the swamp ay, and 
 without much seeking. The place is full of them." 
 
 "This of a certainty, Lieutenant Porgy? know you this?" 
 
 "Ay, I know it of my own knowledge. -You can see them 
 here almost any hour in the day, huddled up like a coil of rope 
 on the edge of the tussock, and looking down at their own pretty 
 uV ires in the watc*V." 
 
 " And yon think the serpent has vanity of his person ? " inquired 
 the doctor, gravely. 
 
 "Think I don t think about it, doctor I know it," replied the 
 
SOLDIERS APT TO BE DANGEROUS. 113 
 
 other, confidently. " And it stands to reason, you see, that where 
 there is beauty and brightness there must be self-love arid vanity. 
 It s a poor fool that don t know his own possessions." 
 
 " There is truly some reason, Lieutenant Porgy, in what you 
 have said touching this matter; and the instinct is a correct one 
 which teaches the serpent, such as that which we have just seen, 
 to look into the stream as one of the other sex into a mirror, to see 
 that its jewels are not displaced, and that its motion may not be 
 awry, but graceful. There is reason in it." 
 
 * And truth. But we are nigh our quarters, and here is a sol 
 dier waiting us." 
 
 " A soldier, squire ! he is friendly, perhaps ? " 
 
 The manner of the phrase was interrogatory, and Porgy replied 
 with his usual chuckle. 
 
 " Ay, ay, friendly enough, though dangerous, if vexed. See 
 what a sword he carries and those pistols ! I would not risk 
 much, doctor, to say, there are no less than sixteen buckshot in 
 each of those barkers." 
 
 " My ! you don t say so, lieutenant. Yet did William Hum 
 phries say to me that the duty was to be done in perfect security." 
 
 The, hist sentence fell from the doctor s lips in a sort of comment 
 to himself, but his companion replied 
 
 "Ay, security as perfect, doctor, as war will admit of. You 
 talk of perfect security : there is no such thing no perfect secur 
 ity any where and but little security of any kind until dinner s 
 well over. I feel tin; uncertainty of life till Mien. Then, indeed, 
 we may know as much security as life know.-,. We have, at least,, 
 secured what secures life. We may laugh at danger then ; and if 
 we must meet it, why, nt least we shall not be compelled to meet 
 it in that worst condition of all an empty stomach. 1 am a true 
 Englishman in that, though they do call me a rebel. 1 feel rny 
 origin only when eating; and am never so well disposed towards 
 the enemy as when I m engaged, tooth and nail, in that savoury 
 occupation, and with roast-beef. Would that we had some of it 
 now ! " 
 
 The glance of Oakenburg, who was wretchedly spare and lank, 
 looked something of disgust as he heard this speech of the gour- 
 
114 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 mand, and listened to the smack of his lips with which he con 
 eluded it. 
 
 lie had no taste for corpulence, and probably this was one of 
 the silent impulses \ybich taught him to admire the gaunt and 
 attenuated form of the snake. Porgy did not heed his expression 
 of countenance, hut looking up overhead where the sun stood just 
 above them peering down imperfectly through the close umbrage, 
 he exclaimed to the soldier, while pushing his horse through the 
 creek which separated them 
 
 " Hark you, Wilkins, boy, is it not high time to feed ? llorse and 
 man man and horse, boy, all hungry and athirst." 
 
 44 We shall find a bite for you, lieutenant, before long but 
 here s a sick man the doctor must see to at once: he s in a mighty 
 bad way, L tell you." 
 
 4i A sick man, indeed !" and the doctor, thrusting his hands into 
 his pocket, drew forth a bottle filled with a dark thick liquid, 
 which lie shook violently until it gathered into a foam upon the 
 surface. Armed with this, he approached the little bark shanty 
 under which reposed the form of the wounded Clougli. 
 
 44 You are hurt, worthy sir?" said tlie medidner? inquiringly ; 
 44 you have not been in a condition of perfect security such as 
 life requires. But lie quiet, I pray you ; be at ease, while I look 
 into your injuries," said the doctor, condolingly, and proceeded to 
 the outstretched person of the wounded man with great delibera 
 tion. 
 
 44 You need not look very far here they are," cried Clough, 
 faintly, but peevishly, in reply, as he pointed to the wound in his 
 side. 
 
 The doctor looked at the spot, shook his head, clapped on a 
 plaster of pine gum, and administered a dose of his nostrum, which 
 the patient gulped at prodigiously, and then telling him he would 
 do well, repeated his order to lie quiet and say nothing. Hurry- 
 iii<j; away to his saddle-bags after this had been done, with the 
 utmost despatch he drew forth a pair of monstrous leggings, which 
 he bandaged carefully around his shrunken shanks. In a moment 
 after he was upon his lackey, armed with a stick, and hastening 
 buck upon the route he had just, passed over. 
 
ASSASSINATION. 1 1 
 
 Porgy, who was busy urging the negro cook in the preparation 
 of his dinner, cried out to the dealer of simples, but received uo 
 answer. The doctor had no thought but of the snake he had 
 seen, for whose conquest and capture he had now set forth, with 
 all the appetite of a boy after adventures, and all the anxiety of an 
 inveterate naturalist, to get at the properties of the object he pur 
 sued. Meanwhile the new comer, Porgy, had considerably diverted 
 the thought of the trooper from attention to his charge ; and laying 
 down his sabre between them, the sentinel threw himself along the 
 ground where Porgy had already stretched himself, and a little 
 lively chat and good company banished from his mind, for a sea 
 son, the consideration of his prisoner. 
 
 Ilis neglect furnished an opportunity long watched and waited 
 for by another. The shanty in which Clough lay stood on the edge 
 of the island, and was one of those simple structures which the 
 Indian makes in his huntings. A stick rested at either end 
 between the crotch of a tree, and small saplings, leaning against 
 it on one side, were covered with broad ilakes of the pine bark. A 
 few bushes, piled up partially in front, completed the structure, 
 which formed no bad sample of the mode of hatting it, winter and 
 summer, in the swamps and forests of the Soutti, by the partisan 
 warriors. In the rear of the fabric stood a huge cypress, from the 
 hollow of which, at the moment when the sentinel and Porgy 
 seemed most diverted, a man might have been seen approaching. 
 lie cautiously wound along on all-fours, keeping as much out of 
 sight as possible, until he reached the back of the hut; then lifting 
 from the saplings a couple of the largest pieces of bark which 
 covered them, he introduced his body without noise into the tene 
 ment of the wounded man. 
 
 Clough was in a stupor a half-dozy consciousness was upon 
 him and he muttered somatbing to the intruder, .hough without 
 any fixed object. The man replied not, but approaching eJoselv, put 
 his hand upon the bandagings of the wound, drawing them gently 
 aside. The first distinct perception which the prisoner had of his 
 situation was the agonizing sense of a new wound, as of some 
 sharp \\e-ipon driven directly into the passage made by the old 
 one. lie writhed under the instrument as it slanted <i-<jr and 
 
116 T1IK 1 ARTISAN. 
 
 deeper into bis vitals; but be had not strength to resist, and but 
 little to cry out. lie would have done so ; but the sound had 
 scarcely risen to his lips, when the murderer thrust a tuft of grass 
 into his mouth and stifled all complaint. The knife went deeper 
 the whole frame of the assailant was upon it, and all motion 
 ceased on the part of the sufferer with the single groan and dis 
 torted writhing which followed the last agony. In a moment after, 
 the stranger had departed by the way he came ; and it was not till 
 he had reached the thick swamp around, that the fearful laugh of 
 the maniac, Frampton for it was he announced the success 
 of his new effort at revenge. 
 
 The laugh reached Porgy and the dragoon they heard the 
 groan also, but that was natural enough. Nothing short of abso 
 lute necessity could have moved either of them at that moment 
 the former bein busied with a rasher of bacon and a hoe-cake 
 
 O 
 
 hot from the fire, and the latter indulging in an extra swig of 
 brandy from a canteen which Porgy, with characteristic provi 
 dence, had brought well filled along with him. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Now, this were sorry wisdom, to persuade 
 My sword to mine own throat. If I must out, 
 Why should 1 out upon mine ancient friend 
 And spare mine enemy ?" 
 
 " TIIE OAKS," the dwelling-place of Colonel Walton, was one 
 of those antique residences of the Carolina planters to which, at 
 this day, there attaches a sort of historical interest. A thousand 
 local traditions hang around them a thousand stories of the olden 
 time, and of its associations of peril and adventure. The estate 
 formed one of the frontier-plantations upon the Ashley, and was 
 the site of a colonial barony. It had stood sieges of the Indians 
 in the wars of the Edistoes and Yemassees ; and, from a block 
 house station at first, it had grown to be an elegant mansion, 
 improved in European style, remarkable for the length and deep 
 shade of its avenues of solemn oak, its general grace of arrange 
 ment, and the lofty and considerate hospitality of its proprietors. 
 Such, from its first foundation to the period of which we speak, 
 had been its reputation ; and in no respect did the present owner 
 depart from the good tastes and the frank, manly character of his 
 ancestors. 
 
 I Colonel Richard Walton was a gentleman in every sense of the 
 
 I word ; simple of manner, unpretending, unobtrusive, and always 
 
 I considerate, he was esteemed and beloved by all around him. Born 
 
 to the possession of large estates, his mind had been exercised 
 
 happily by education and travel ; and at the beginning of the 
 
 revolutionary struggle, he had been early found to advocate the 
 
 claims of his native colony. At the commencement of the war 
 
 he commanded a party of horse, and had been concerned in some 
 
 of the operations against Pievost, in the rapid foray which that 
 
 general made into Carolina. When Charleston fell before the arms 
 
118 THK I ARTISAN. 
 
 f Sir Henry Clinton, overawed as was the entire country below 
 the Santee by the immediate presence in force of the British army, 
 he had tendered his submission along with the rest of the inhabit 
 ants, despairing of any better fortune. The specious offers of 
 amnesty made by Clinton arid Arbuthnot, in the character of com 
 missioners for restoring peace to the revolted colonies, and which 
 called for nothing but neutrality from the inhabitants, had the 
 eti ect of deceiving him, in common with his neighbours. Nor was 
 this submission so partial as we have been taught to think it. To 
 the southward of Charleston, the militia, without summons, sent in 
 a flag to the British garrison at Beaufort, and made their submis 
 sion. At Camden, the inhabitants negotiated their own terms of 
 repose. In Ninety-Six the submission was the same ; and, indeed, 
 with the exception of the mountainous borders, which were unin- 
 vaded, and heard only faint echoes of the conflict from afa-r, all 
 show of hostility ceased throughout the colony the people, gene 
 rally, seeming to prefer quiet on any terms to a resistance which, 
 at that moment of despondency, seemed wOrse than idle. 
 
 This considerate pliability secured Walton, as it was thought, in 
 all the immunities of the citizen, without subjecting him to any 
 of those military duties which, in other respects, his majesty had 
 a perfect right to call for from his loyal subjects. Such, certainly, 
 were the pledges of the British commanders pledges made with 
 little reflection, or with designed subterfuge, and violated with as 
 little hesitation. They produced the effect desired, in persuading 
 to easy terms of arrangement the people who might not have been 
 conquered but with great difficulty. Once disarmed and divided, 
 they were more easily overcome ; and it was not long, after the 
 first object had been obtained, before measures were adopted well 
 calculated to effect the other. 
 
 Colonel Walton, though striving hard to convince himself of 
 the propriety of the course which he had taken," remained still 
 unsatisfied. He could not be assured of the propriety of submis 
 sion when he beheld, as he did hourly, the rank oppression and 
 injustice by which the conquerors strove to preserve their ascend 
 ency over the doubtful, while exercising it wantonly among the 
 weak. He could not but see how uncertain was the tenure of hia 
 
COLONEL WALTON. 119 
 
 own hold upon the invaders, whom nothing seemed to bind in thu 
 shape of solemn obligation. The promised protection was that of 
 the wolf, and not the guardian dog ; it destroyed its charge, and 
 not its enemy ; and strove to ravage where it promised to secure- 
 As yet, it is true, none of these ills, in a direct form, had fallen 
 upon Colonel Walton ; he had suffered no abuses in his own per 
 son or family ; on the contrary, such were his wealth and influ 
 ence, that it had been thought not unwise, on the part of the con 
 querors, to conciliate and soothe him. Still, the colonel could not 
 be insensible to the gradual approaches of tyranny. He was not 
 an unreflecting man ; and as lie saw the wrongs done to others, 
 his eyes became duly open to the doubtful value of his own secur 
 ities, whenever the successes of the British throughout the state 
 should have become so general as to make them independent o. 
 any Individual influence. So thinking, his mind gave a new stinm 
 lus to his conscience, which now refused its sanction to the decision 
 which, in a moment of emergency and dismay, he had been per 
 suaded to adopt. His sympathies were too greatly with the op 
 pressed, and their sufferings were too immediately under his own 
 eyes, to permit of this ; and sad with the consciousness of his 
 error and the more so as he esteemed it now irremediable vexed 
 with his momentary weakness, and apprehensive of the future 
 his mind grew sullen with circumstances his spirits sank; and, 
 gradually withdrawing from all the society around him, he solaced 
 himsc-lf in his family mansion with the small circle which widow 
 hood, and other privations of time, had spared him. Nor did his 
 grief pass without some alleviation in the company of his daughter 
 Katharine she, the high-born, the beautiful, the young the admi 
 ration of her neighbourhood, revelling in power, yet seemingly all 
 unconscious of its sway. The rest of his family in this retirement 
 consisted of a maiden sister, and a niece, Emily Singleton, whom, 
 but a short time before, he had brought from Santee, in the hope 
 that a change of air might be of benefit to that life which she held 
 by a tenure the most fleeting and capricious. 
 
 He saw but few persons besides. Studiously estranging him 
 self, he had no visitors, unless we may except the occasional calls 
 of the commanding officer of the British post at Dorchester. Thi? 
 
.20 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 visitor, to Colonel Walton, appeared only as one doing an appointed 
 duty, and exercising, during these visits, that kind of surveillance 
 over the people of the country which seemed to be called for by 
 his position. Major Proctor had another object in his visits to 
 " The Oaks." He sought to ingratiate himself in the favour of 
 the father, on account of his lovely daughter ; and to the c-hanns 
 of one, rather than the political feelings of the other, were the 
 eyes of the British officer properly addressed. Katharine was not 
 ignorant of her conquest, for Proctor made no efforts to conceal 
 the impression which she had made upon his heart. The maiden, 
 however, gave him but small encouragement. She gloried in the 
 name of a rebel lady, and formed one of that beautiful array, so 
 richly shining in the story of Carolina, who, defying danger, and 
 heedless of privation, spoke boldly in encouragement to those who 
 yet continued to struggle for its liberties. She did not conceal 
 her sentiments ; and whatever may have been the personal attrac 
 tions of Major Proctor, they were wanting in force to her mind, 
 as she associated him with her own and the enemies of her coun 
 try. Her reception of her suitor was coldly courteous ; and that 
 which her father gave him, though always studiously considerate 
 and gentle, Proctor, at the same time, could not avoid perceiving 
 was constrained and frigid quite unlike the warm and familiar 
 hospitality which otherwise marked and still marks, even to this 
 aay, the gentiy of that neighbourhood. 
 
 It was drawing to a close that day of events in the. history of 
 our little squad of partisans whose dwelling was the Cypress Swamp. 
 Humphries, who had engaged to meet Major Singleton with some 
 necessary intelligence from Dorchester, was already upon his way 
 to the place of meeting, and had just passed out of sight of Ash 
 ley River, when he heard the tramp of horses moving over tl it- 
 bridge, and on the same track with himself. He sank into cover 
 as they passed, and beheld Major Proctor and a Captain Dickson, 
 both on station at the garrison, on their way to " The Oaks." 
 Humphries allowed them to pass; then renewing his ride, soon 
 effected the meeting with Major Singleton. As we have alread) 
 seen, their object was "The Oaks" also; but the necessity of 
 Toiding a meeting with the British ollbt is was obvious, and tbeu 
 
MAJOR PROCTOR. 121 
 
 kept close in the wood, leaving the ground entirely to llnir oppo 
 nents. 
 
 Though, as we have said, rather a frequent visitor at " The 
 Oaks," the present ride of Major Proctor in that quarter had its 
 usual stimulus dashed somewhat by the sense of the business which 
 occasioned it. Its discharge was a matter of no little annoyance 
 to the Englishman, w r ho was not less sensitive and generous than 
 brave. It was for the purpose of imparting to Colonel Walton, in 
 person, the contents of that riot yet notorious proclamation of Sir 
 Henry Clinton, with which he demanded the performance of mili 
 tary duty from the persons who had been paroled ; and by means 
 of which, on departing from the province, he planted the seeds of 
 that revoking patriotism which finally overthrew the authority he 
 fondly imagined himself to have successfully re-established. 
 
 Colonel Walton received his guests with his accustomed urbanity: 
 was alone when he received them; and the eyes of Proctor looked 
 round the apartment inquiringly, but in vain, as if he desired 
 another presence. His host understood the glance perfectly, for 
 he had not been blind to the frequent evidences of attachment 
 which his visitor had shown towards his daughter ; but he took no 
 heed of it; and, with a lofty reserve of manner, which greatly 
 added to the awkwardness of the commission which the English 
 man came to execute, he simply confined himself to the occasional 
 remark such only as was perfectly unavoidable with one with 
 whom politeness was habitual, and the predominant feeling At 
 variance with it, the result of a calm and carefully regulated princi 
 ple. It was only with a steady resolution, at last, that Proctor 
 was enabled to bring his conversation into any thing like con 
 sistency and order. He commenced, despairing of any better 
 opening, with the immediate matter which he had in hand. 
 
 "Colonel Walton does not now visit Dorchester so frequently as 
 usual, nor does he often travel so far as the city. May I ask if he 
 has heard any late intelligence of moment." 
 
 Walton looked inqitiringly at his guest, as if to gather from 
 his features something of that intelligence which his words seemed 
 to presage. But the expression was unsatisfactory perhaps that 
 ot care so Walton thought, and it ^ave him a hope of some 
 
122 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 better fortune for his country than had usually attended its arina 
 heretofore. 
 
 "I have not, sir; I ride but little now, and have not been in 
 Dorchester for a week. Of what intelligence do you speak, sir ?" 
 
 "The proclamation of Sir Henry Clinton, sir his proclamation 
 on the subject of protections granted to the militia of the province, 
 those excepted made prisoners in Charleston." 
 
 Colonel Walton looked dubious, but still coldly, and without a 
 word, awaited the conclusion of Proctor s statement. But the 
 speaker paused for a moment, and when he again spoke, the sub 
 ject seemed to have been somewhat changed. 
 
 " I am truly sorry, Colonel Walton, that*it has not been hereto 
 fore in your power to sympathize more freely and openly with his 
 majesty s arms in this warfare against his rebellious subjects." 
 
 " Stay, sir, if you please : these subjects, of whom your phrase 
 is rather unscrupulous, are my relatives and countrymen ; and 
 their sentiments on this rebellion have been and are my own, though 
 I have adopted the expedient of a stern necessity, and in this 
 have suspended the active demonstration of principles which I am 
 nevertheless in no haste to forget, and do not suppress." 
 
 "Pardon me, sir; you will do me the justice to believe I mc.au 
 nothing of offence. However erring your thought, I must respect 
 it as honest ; but this respect does not forbid that I should lament 
 such a misfortune a misfortune, scarcely less so to his majesty than 
 to you. It is my sincere regret that you have heretofore found it 
 less than agreeable to unite your arms with those of our army in 
 the arrest of this unnatural struggle. The commission proflered 
 you by Sir Henry " 
 
 "Was rejected, Major Proctor, and my opinions then fairly avowed 
 and seemingly respected. No reference now to that subject need 
 be made by either of us." 
 
 " Yet am I called upon to make it now, Colonel Walton ; and 1 
 do so with a hope that what is my duty will not lose me, by its 
 performance, the regard of him to whom I speak. I am counselled 
 to remind you, sir, of that proposition by the present commander 
 ill-chief of his majesty s forces in the South, Earl Cornwallis. 
 The proclamation of Sir Henry Clintoi to which I have allude<i, 
 
BRITISH PROCLAMATION. 125 
 
 is of such a nature as opens fresh ground for the renewal of that 
 offer ; and in this packet I have instructions to that end, with -a 
 formal enclosure of seal and signature, from his excellency himself, 
 which covers the commission to you, sir, in your full rank, as 
 engaged in the rebel army." 
 
 "You will keep it, sir; again it is rejected. I cannot lift arm* 
 against my countrymen; and though I readily understand the 
 necessity which requires you to make the tender, you will permit 
 me to say, tliat I hold it only an equivocal form of insult." 
 
 "Which, I again repeat, Colonel Walton, is foreign to all 
 intention on the part of the Commander-in-chief. For myself, I 
 surely need make no such attestation. lie, sir, is persuaded to the 
 oiler simply as he knows your worth and influence he would 
 secure your co-operation in the good cause of loyalty, and at the 
 same time would soften what may seem the harsh features of this 
 proclamation." 
 
 " And what is this proclamation, sir ? Let me hear that : the mat 
 ter has been somewhat precipitately discussed in advance of the text. 
 
 " Surely, sir," said Proctor, eagerly, as the language of Colonel 
 Walton s last remarks left a hope in his mind that he might think 
 differently, on the perusal of the document, which he now took 
 from the hands of his companion, Dickson " surely, sir, and 1 
 hope you will reconsider the resolve which I cannot help thinking 
 precipitately made." 
 
 The listener simply bowed his head, and motioned the other t 
 proceed. Proctor obeyed ; and, unfolding the instrument, proceeded 
 to convey its contents to the ears of the astonished Carolinian. 
 As he read, the cheek of Colonel Walton glowed like fire his eye 
 kindled his pulsation increased and when the insidious decree, 
 calling upon him to ^ ^ne the arms which he had cast aside when 
 his country needed t fiern, and lift them in behalf of her enemies, 
 was fairly comprehended by his sense, his feelings had reached that 
 climax which despaired of all utterance. lie started abruptly from 
 his seat, and paced the room in strong emotion ; then suddenly 
 approaching Proctor, he took the paper from his hand, and read it 
 with unwavering attention. For a few moments after he had been 
 fully possessed of its contents, he made no remark; then, with a 
 
[29 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 * 
 
 strong effort, suppressing as much as possible iis aroused feelings, 
 lie addressed the Briton in tones of inquiry which left it doubtful 
 what, in reality, those feelings were. 
 
 " And you desire that I should embrace this commission, Major 
 Proctor, which, if I understand it, gives me command in a service 
 which this proclamation is to insist upon am I right?" 
 
 " It is so, sir ; you are right. Here is a colonel s commission 
 under his majesty, with power to appoint your own officers. Most 
 gladly would I place it in your hands." 
 
 " Sir Major Proctor, this is the rankest villany villany and 
 falsehood. By what right, sir, does Sir Henry Clinton call upon 
 us for military service, when his terms of protection, granted by 
 himself and Admiral Arbnthnot, secured all those taking them in 
 a condition of neutrality ?" 
 
 " It is not for me, Colonel Walton," was Proctor s reply " it is 
 not for me to discuss the commands of my superiors. But does 
 not the proclamation declare these paroles to be null and void 
 after the twentieth ?" 
 
 " True. But by what right does your superior violate his com 
 pact ? Think you, sir, that the Carolinians would have made 
 terms with the invader, the conditions and maintenance of which 
 have no better security than the caprice of one of the parties? 
 "Vmk you, sir, that I, at least, would have been so weak and 
 ^/olish 2" 
 
 " Perhaps, Colonel Walton and I would not offend by the sug 
 gestion," replied the othe* with much moderation "perhaps, sir, 
 it was a singular sf.reteh of indulgence to grant terms at all to 
 rebellion." 
 
 * Ay, sir, you may call it by what name you please ; but the 
 terms, having been once offe ed and accepted, were to the full as 
 binding between the law and the rebel as between the prince and 
 dutiful subjects." 
 
 "I may not argue, sir, the command* of my superior," rejoined 
 the other, (irmly, but calmly. 
 
 " I am not so bound, Major Proctor ; it is matter for close argu 
 ment and solemn deliberation with me, and it will be long, sir, 
 toftfore 1 shall bring myself to lift arms against my countrymen." 
 
TERMS WITH TYRANNY. 125 
 
 KJ 
 
 " There is a way of evading that necessity, Colonel Walton," 
 said Proctor, eagerly. 
 
 The other looked at him inquiringly, though he evidently did 
 not hope for much from the suggested alternative. 
 
 "That difficulty, sir, may be overcome: his majesty has need 
 of troops in the West Indies ; Lord Cornwallis, with a .due regard 
 to the feelings of his dutiful subjects of the colonies, has made 
 arrangements for an exchange of service. The Irish regiments 
 will be withdrawn from the- West Indies, and those of loyal Caro 
 linians substituted. This frees you from all risk of encountering 
 with your friends and countrymen, while at the same time it an 
 swers equally the purposes of my commander." 
 
 The soldier by profession saw nothing degrading, nothing ser 
 vile in the proposed compromise. The matter had a different 
 aspect in the eyes of the southern gentleman. The proposition 
 which would send him from his family and friends, to engage in 
 conflict with and to keep down those to whom he had no antipathy, 
 was scarcely less painful in its exactions than to take up arms 
 against his immediate neighbours. The suggestion, too, which 
 contemplated the substitution of troops of foreign mercenaries, in 
 the place of native citizens, who were to be sent to other lands in 
 the same capacity, was inexpressibly offensive, as it directly made 
 him an agent for the increase of that power which aimed at the 
 destruction of his people and his principles. The sense of igno 
 miny grew stronger in his breast as he heard it, and he paced the 
 apartment in unmitigated disorder. 
 
 ik I am no hireling, Major Proctor; and the war, hand to hand 
 with my own sister s child, would be less shameful to me, however 
 full of pain and misery, than this alternative." 
 
 " There is no other, sir, that I know of." 
 
 " Ay, sir, but there is there is another alternative, Major Proc 
 tor; more than that, sir there is a remedy." 
 
 The eyes of the speaker flashed, and Proctor saw that they 
 rested upon the broadsword which hung upon the wall before them. 
 
 "What is that, sir?" inquired the Briton. 
 
 "In the sword, sir in the strife to take up arms to prepare 
 for battle !" was the stern reply 
 
126 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Either the other understood him not, with an obtuseness not 
 common with him, or he chose not to understand him, as he re 
 plied 
 
 " Why that, sir, is what he seeks it is what Lord Cornwalhs 
 desires, and what, sir, would, permit me to say, be to me, indivi 
 dually, the greatest pleasure. Y our co-operation here, sir, would do 
 more towards quieting discontent than any other influence." 
 
 The manner of Walton was unusually grave and deliberate. 
 
 " You have mistaken me, Major Proctor. When I spoke of 
 taking up the sword, sir, I spoke of an alternative. I meant not 
 to take up the sword to fight your battles, but my own. If this 
 necessity is to be fixed upon me, sir, I shall have no loss to know 
 ray duty." 
 
 Sir Colonel Walton beware ! As a British officer, in his 
 majesty s commission, I must not listen to this language. You 
 will remember, sir, that I am in command of this garrison, and of 
 the neighbouring country bound to repress every i-Jtow of disaffec 
 tion, and with the power to determine, in the last resort, without 
 restraint, should my judgment hold it necessary. L would not 
 willingly be harsh ; and you will spare me, sir, from hearing 
 those sentiments uttered which become not the ears of a loyal 
 subject." 
 
 " I am a free man, Major Proctor I would be one, at least. 
 Things 1 must call by their right names ; and, as such, I do not 
 hesitate to pronounce this decree a most dishonest and criminal 
 proceeding, which should call up every honest hand in retribution. 
 Sir Henry Clinton has done this day what he will long be sorry 
 for." 
 
 " And what, permit me to add, Colonel Walton what I myself 
 am sorry for. But it is not for me to question the propriety of 
 that which my duty calls upon me to enforce." 
 
 " And pray, sir, what are the penalties of disobedience to this 
 mandate ?" 
 
 "Sequestration of property and imprisonment, at the discretion 
 of the several commandants of stations." 
 
 " Poor Kate ! But it is well it, is no worse." The words fell 
 unconsciously from the lips of ihn speaker: he half strode over th 
 
SUBJKCT DKFKKIIKD. 127 
 
 door ; then, turning upon Proctor, demanded once more to look 
 upon the proclamation. He again read it carefully. 
 
 Twenty days, Major Proctor, I see have been allowed by Sir 
 Henry Clinton for deliberation in a matter which leaves so little 
 choice. So much is scarcely necessary ; you shall have my answer 
 before that time is over. Meanwhile, sir, let us not again speak of 
 the subject until that period." 
 
 " A painful subject, sir, which I shall gladly forbear," said Proc 
 tor, rising ; " and I will hope, at the same time, that Colonel \Val- 
 tcji thinks not unkindly of the bearer of troublesome intelligence." 
 
 " God forbid, sir ! I am no malignant. You have done your 
 duty with all tenderness, and I thank you for it. Our enemies are 
 not always so considerate." 
 
 "No enemies, I trust, sir. lam in hopes that, upon reflection, 
 you will not find it so difficult to reconcile yourself to what, at the 
 first blush, may seem so unpleasant." 
 
 " No more, sir no more on the subject," was the quick, but 
 calm reply. "Will you do me honour, gentlemen, in a glass of 
 Madeira some I can recommend ?" 
 
 They drank ; and seeing through the window the forms of the 
 young ladies, Major Proctor proposed to join them in their \\alk- 
 H suggestion which his entertainer answered by leading the way. 
 In the meanwhile, let us go back to our old acquaintance, Majoi 
 Singleton, and his trusty coadjutor, Humphries. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " We meet again we meet again, once more, 
 We that were parted happy that we meet, 
 More happy were we not to part again." 
 
 KEEPINI close in cover, Major Singleton and his guide paused 
 at length in the shelter of a gigantic oak, that grew, vvitli a hun 
 dred others, along the extreme borders of the park-grounds. The 
 position had been judiciously taken, as it gave them an unob 
 structed view of the Mansion House, the lawn in front, and a por 
 tion of the adjacent garden. They were themselves partial occu 
 pants of the finest ornament of the estate the extensive grove of 
 solemn oaks, with arms branching out on every side, sufficient each 
 of them for the shelter of a troop. They rose, thickly placed all 
 around the dwelling, concentrating in a beautiful defile upon the 
 front, and thus continuing for the distance of a full mile until they 
 gathered in mass upon the main road of the country. In the rear 
 they stretched away singly or in groups, artfully disposed, but 
 without regularity, down to the very verge of the river, over which 
 many of them sloped with all their weight of limbs and luxuriance 
 upon them; their long-drooping beards of white moss hanging 
 .lown mounii uUy, and dipping into the river at every pressure of 
 the wind upon the boughs, from which they depended. Under 
 one of tlvse trees, the largest among them, the very patriarch of 
 the collection, the two adventurers paused ; Singleton throwing 
 himself upon a cluster of the thick roots which had risen above 
 and now ran along the surface, while his companion, like a true 
 scout, wandered ot) in other parts of the grove with the hope to 
 obtain intelligence, or at least to watch the movements of the Bri 
 tish officers, whose presence had prevented their own approach to 
 the dwelling. 
 
 As Singleton gazed around upon the prospect, the whole scene 
 
MKMORY. 129 
 
 grew fresh under his eye ; and though many years had elapsed 
 since, in the buoyancy and thoughtlessness of boyhood, lie had 
 rambled over it, yet gradually old acquaintances grew again fami 
 liar to his glance. The tree he knew again under which he had 
 formerly played. The lawn spread freely onward, as of old, over 
 which, in sweet company, he had once gambolled the little clumps 
 of shrub trees, here and there, still grew, as he had once known 
 them ; and his heart grew softened amid its many cares, as his me 
 mory brought to him those treasures of the past, which were all 
 his own when nothing of strife was in his fortunes. 
 
 What a god is memory, to keep in life to endow with an un- 
 slumbering vitality beyond that of our own nature its unconscious 
 company the things that seem only born for its enjoyment that 
 have no tongues to make themselves felt and no claim upon it, 
 only as they have ministered, ignorant of their own value, to the 
 tastes and necessities of a superior ! How more than dear how 
 precious are our i ecol lections ! How like so many volumes, in 
 which time has written on his passage the history of the affections 
 and the hopes ! Their names may be trampled upon in our pas 
 sion, blotted with our tears, thrown aside in our thoughtlessness, 
 but nothing of their sacred traces may be obliterated. They are 
 with us, for good or for evil, for ever ! They last us when the fath r 
 and the mother of our boyhood are gone. They bring them back 
 as in infancy. We are again at their knee we prattle at their 
 feet we see them smile upon, and we know that they love us. 
 How dear is such an assurance! How sweetly, when th<> world 
 has gone wrong with us, when the lover is a heedless indifferent, 
 when the friend has been tiied and found wanting, do they cluster 
 before our eyes as if they knew our desire, and strove to minister to 
 our necessities ! True, they call forth our tears, but they take the 
 weight from our hearts. They are never false to us, better, far 
 better, were we more frequently true to them ! 
 
 Such were the musings of Singleton, as, reclined along the roots 
 of the old tree, and sheltered by its branches, his eye took in, and 
 1m memory revived, the thousand scenes which he had once 
 known of boyish frolic, when life wore, if not a better aspect of 
 hope to his infant mind, at least a far less unpleasant show of its 
 
ISO THE PARTISAN. 
 
 many privations. Not a tree grew before him which he did not 
 remember for some little prank or incident ; and a thousand cir 
 cumstances were linked with the various objects that, once familiar, 
 were still unforgotten. Nothing seemed to have undergone a 
 change nothing seemed to have been impaired. The touches of 
 time upon the old oak had rather mellowed into a fitting solemnity 
 the aspect of that to which we should scarcely ever look for a dif 
 ferent expression. 
 
 While he yet mused, mingling in his mind the waters of those 
 sweet and bitter thoughts which make up the life-tide of the wide 
 ocean of memory, the dusk of evening came on, soft in its solem 
 nity, and unoppressive even in its gloom, under the sweet sky and 
 unmolested zephyr, casting its pleasant shadows along the edges of 
 the grove. The moon, at the same time rising stealthily among the 
 tree-tops in the east, was seeking to pale her ineffectual fires while 
 yet some traces of the sun were still bright in waving lines and 
 fragments upon the opposite horizon. Along the river, which 
 kept up a murmur upon the low. banks, the breeze skimmed play 
 fully and fresh; and what with its pleasant chidings, the hum of 
 the tree-tops bending beneath its embrace, and the still more cer 
 tain appreciation by his memory of the genius of the place, the 
 f< 3ling of Singleton s bosom grew heightened in its tone of melan 
 choly, and a more passionate phase of thought broke forth in 
 his half-muttered soliloquy: 
 
 "I low I remember as I look; it is not only the woods and the 
 grounds the river and the spot but the very skies are here; and 
 that, very wind, and .the murmuring voices of the trees, are all the 
 same. Nothing nothing changed. All as of old, but the one 
 all but, she she, the laughing child, the confiding playmate; and 
 not as now 7 , the capricious woman the imperious heart, scorning 
 where once she soothed, denying where she was once so happy to 
 bestow. Such is her change a change which the speechless na 
 ture itself rebukes. She recks not now, as of old, whether her word 
 carries with it the sting or the sweet. It is not now in her thought 
 to ask whether pain or pleasure follows the thoughtless slight 01 
 tin; scornful pleasantry. The victim suffers, but she recks not of 
 his grief. Yet is she not ;m insensible not proud, not scorn fuL 
 
LOVER S TROUBLES. 131 
 
 Let me do her justice in this. Let me not wrong her but to think 
 it. What but love, kindness, and all affection is her tendance upon 
 poor Emily. To her, is she not all meekness, all love, all forbear 
 ance ? To my uncle, too, no daughter could be more dutiful, more, 
 affectionate, more solicitously watchful. To all to all but me! 
 To me, only, the proud, the capricious, the indifferent. And yet, 
 none love her as I do ; I must love on in spite of pride, and scorn, 
 and indifference 1 cannot choose but love her." 
 
 It is evident that Major Singleton is by no means sure of his 
 ground, as a lover. His doubts are, perhaps, natural enough, and, 
 up to a certain period, must be shared by all who love, llis mus 
 ings, as we may conjecture, had for their object his fair cousin, 
 the beautiful Kate Walton according to his account, a most capri 
 cious damsel in some respects, though well enough, it would appear, 
 in others. We shall see for ourselves as we proceed. Meanwhile, 
 the return of Humphries from his scouting expedition arrests our 
 farther speculations upon this topic, along with the soliloquy of out 
 companion, whose thoughts were now turned into another chan 
 nel, as he demanded from his lieutenant an account of his disco 
 veries. 
 
 "And what of the Britons, Humphries? are they yet in saddle, 
 and when may we hope to approach the dwelling? I have not 
 been used to skulk like a beaten hound around the house of my 
 mother s brother, not daring to come forward ; and I am free to 
 confess, the necessity makes me melancholy." 
 
 " Very apt to do so, major, but you have to bear it a little longei. 
 The horses of the officers have been brought up into the court, and 
 the boy is in waiting, but the riders have not made their appear 
 ance. I suppose they stop fof a last swig at the colonel s Madeira. 
 He keeps a prime stock on hand, they say, though I ve never had 
 the good fortune to taste any of it." 
 
 " You shall do so to-night, Humphries, and grow wiser, unless 
 your British major s potations exceed a southern gentleman s capa 
 city to meet them. But you knew my uncle lung before coming 
 down from Santee with him." 
 
 "To be sure I did, sir. I used to see him frequently in the vil 
 lage ; but since the fall of Charleston he has kept close to the plan- 
 
132 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Cation. They say be goes nowhere now, except it be down toward? 
 Caneacre and Horse Savannah, and along the Stono, where he ha* 
 acquaintance. I spose he lias reason enough to lie close, for he 
 has too much wealth not to be an object, and the tories keep a 
 sharp look-out on him. Let ^im be suspected, and they d have a 
 pretty drive at the old plate, and the negroes would soon be in the 
 Charleston market, and then off to the West Indies. Majur Proc 
 tor is watchful too, and visits the squire quite too frequently not to 
 have some object." 
 
 " Said you not that my cousin Kate was the object \ Object 
 enough,, I should think, for a hungry adventurer, sent out to make 
 his fortune in alliance with the very blood he seeks to shed. Kate 
 would be a pleasant acquisition for a younger son." 
 
 There was something of bitterness in the. tone of the speaker on 
 this subject, which told somewhat of the strength of those suspi 
 cions in his mind, to which, without intending so much, Humphries, 
 in a previous remark, had actually given the direction. The latter 
 saw this, and with a deliberate tact, not so much the work of his 
 education as of a natural delicacy, careful not to startle the nice jea 
 lousies of Singleton, he hastened to remove the impression which 
 unwittingly he had made. Without laying any stress upon what 
 he said, and with an expression of countenance the most indifferent, 
 he proceeded to reply as follows to the remark of his companion : 
 
 " Why, major, it would be a pleasant Windfall to Proctor could 
 he g<*t Miss Walton ; but there s a mighty small chance of that, if 
 folks say true. He goes there often enough, that s certain, but he 
 doesn t see her half the time. She keeps her chamber, or takes 
 herself off in the carriage, when she hears of his coming ; and his 
 chance is slim even to meet with her, let lone to get her." 
 
 There was a tremulous lightness in Singleton s tone as he spoke 
 to this in oblique language 
 
 " And yet Proctor has attractions, has he not? I have some 
 where heard so a line person, good features, even handsome, lie 
 is young, too." 
 
 " Few better-looking men, sir, and making due allowance for an 
 enemy, a clever sort of fellow enough. A good officer, too, that 
 knows what he s about, and quite a polite, fair-spoken gentleman." 
 
HIST I THEY COME. 133 
 
 " Indeed ! attractions quite enough, it would seem, to persuade 
 any young lady into civility. And yet, you say 
 
 u Hist, major ! Talk of the Ask pardon, sir ; but drop 
 
 behind this bush. Here comes the lady herself with your sister, I 
 believe, though I can t say at this distance. They ve been walking 
 through the oaks, and, as you see, Proctor keeps the house." 
 
 The two sank into cover as the young ladies came through the 
 grove, bending their way towards the very spot where Singleton 
 had been reclining. The place was a favourite with all, and the 
 ramble in this quarter was quite a regular custom of the afternoon 
 with the fair heiress of Colonel Walton in particular. As she ap 
 proached they saw the lofty carriage, the graceful height, and the 
 symmetrical person of our heroine her movement bespeaking for 
 her that degree of consideration which few ever looked upon her 
 and withheld. Her dress was white and simple, rather more in the 
 fashion of the present than of that time, when a lady s body was 
 hooped in like a ship s, by successive layers of cordage and timber ; 
 and when her headgear rose into a pyramid, tower upon tower, a 
 massy and Babel-like structure, well stuccoed, to keep its place, by 
 the pastes and pomatums of the day. With her dress, the nicest 
 stickler for the proper simplicities of good taste would have found 
 DO cause of complaint. Setting off her figure to advantage, it did 
 not unpleasantly confine it ; and, as for her soft brown hair, it was 
 free to wanton in the winds, save where a strip of velvet restrained 
 it around her brows. Yet this simplicity indicated no improper in 
 difference on the part of the lady to her personal appearance. On 
 the contrary, it was the art which concealed itself the felicitous 
 taste, and the just estimate of a mind capable of conceiving proper 
 standards of fitness that achieved so much in the inexpressive yet 
 attractive simplicity of her costume. She knew that the elevated 
 and intellectual forehead needed no mountainous height of hair for 
 its proper effect. She compelled hers, accordingly simply parting 
 it in front to play capriciously behind ; and, " heedful of beauty, 
 the same woman still," the tresses that streamed so luxuriantly about 
 her neck, terminated in a hundred sylph-like locks, exceedingly na 
 tural to behold, but which may have cost her some half-hour s indus 
 trious application daily at the toilet. Her eye was dark and richly 
 6* 
 
134 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 cfilliant . its expression, though we may look into its depths vainly 
 for that evidence of caprice, and wanton love of its exercise, which 
 Singleton had rather insisted upon as her characteristic. Her face 
 was finely formed, delicately clear and white, slightly pale, but 
 marked still with an appearance of perfect health, which preserved 
 that just medium the eye of taste loves to rest upon, in which the 
 rose rises not into the brilliant glow of mere vulgar health, and is 
 yet sufficiently present to keep the cheek from falling into the oppo 
 site extreme, the autumnal sickness of aspect, which, wanting in the 
 rose, it is so very apt to assume. 
 
 Not so the companion beside her. Pale and shadowy, the young 
 girl, younger than herself, who hung upon her arm, was one of the 
 doomed victims of consumption that subtle death that sleeps 
 with us, and smiles with us insidiously winds about us to lay 
 waste, and looks most lovely when most determined to destroy. 
 She was small and naturally slight of person, but the artful disease 
 under which she suffered had made her more so ; and her wasted 
 form, the evident fatigue of her movement, not to speak of the pain 
 and difficulty of her breathing, were all so many proofs that the 
 tenure of her life was insecure, and her term brief. Yet few were 
 ever more ready for the final trial than the young lady before us. 
 Tin; heart of P>mil\* Singleton was as pure as her eyes were gentle. 
 Her affections were true, and her thoughts had been long sinco 
 turned only to heaven. Her own condition had never been con 
 cealed from her, nor was she disposed to shrink from its considera 
 tion. Doomed to a brief existence, she wasted not the hours in 
 painful repinings at a fate so stern ; but still regarding it as inevi 
 table, she prepared as calmly as possible to encounter it. Fortu 
 nately, she had no strong passions aroused and concentrated, bind 
 ing her to the earth. Love that quick, angry, and eating fever of 
 the mind had never touched the heart that, gentle from the first, 
 nad been restrained from the indulgence of such a feeling by the 
 
 O o J 
 
 due consciousness of that destiny which could not admit of its 
 realization. Her mood had grown loftier, sublimer, in clue propor 
 tion with the check which this consciousness had maintained upon 
 her sensibilities. She had become spiritualized in mind, even as 
 ahe had grown attenuated in person ; and with no iminmirings, aiui 
 
A PATIENT DAMSEL. 135 
 
 bin j \ A^y*\j6, her thoughts wore now only busied witli those 
 hea> awrd contemplations which take the pang from death, and 
 disarm parting of many of its privations. Singleton looked forth 
 from his cover upon the form of his sister, while the tears gathered 
 in big drops into his eyes. 
 
 " So pure, so early doomed ! Oh r my sweet sister ! and when 
 that comes, then, indeed, am I alone. Poor Emily !" 
 
 Thus muttering to himself, as they came near, he was about to 
 emerge into sight and address them, when, at the instant, Hum 
 phries caught his wrist, and whispered : 
 
 " Stir not move wot. Proctor approaches, with Colonel Walton 
 and another. Our hope is in lying close." 
 
 The ladies turned to meet the gentlemen. The two British 
 officers seemed already acquainted with them, since they now 
 advanced without any introduction. Proctor, with the ease of a 
 well bred gentleman, placed himself beside the fair heiress of the 
 place, to whom he tendered his arm ; while his companion, Captain 
 Dickson of the Guards, made a similar tender to Emily. The latter 
 quietly took the arm of Dickson, releasing that of her cousin at the 
 same moment. But Kate seemed not disposed to avail herself of 
 her example. Civilly declining Proctor s offer, with great compo 
 sure she placed her arm within that of her father, and the walk was 
 continued. None of this had escaped the notice of Major Single 
 ton, whose place of concealment was close beside the path ; and, 
 without taking too many liberties with his confidence, we may say 
 that his feelings were those of pleasure as he witnessed this pro 
 ceeding of his cousin. 
 
 " I take no aid from mine enemy, Major Proctor," said the fair 
 heiress, half apologetically, and half playfully, " certainly never 
 when I can do without it. You will excuse me, therefore ; but I 
 should regard your uniform as having received its unnaturally deep 
 red from the veins of my countrymen." 
 
 " So much a rebel as that, Miss Walton ! It is well for us that 
 the same spirit does not prevail among your warriors. What would 
 have been our chances of success had such been the case ?" 
 
 " You think your conquest then complete, Major Proctor you 
 think that our people will always sleep under oppression, and 
 
136 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 return you thanks for blows, and homage for chastisement. Believe 
 so it is quite as well. But you have seen the beginning only. 
 Reserve your triumph for the end." 
 
 " Do the ladies of Carolina all entertain this spirit, Miss Walton ? 
 Will none of them take the aid of the gallant knight that claims 
 service at their hands ? or is it, as I believe, that she stands alone 
 in this rebel attitude, an exception to her countrywomen ?" 
 
 " Nay ; I cannot now answer you this question. We see few 
 of my countrywomen or countrymen now, thanks to our enemies; 
 and I have learned to forbear asking what they need or desire. It 
 is enough for me that when I desire the arm of a good knight, I can 
 have him at need without resorting to that of an enemy !" 
 
 " Indeed !" replied the other, with some show of curiosity 
 " indeed, you are fortunate ; but your reference is now to your 
 father ?" 
 
 " My father ? Oh, no ! although, as now, I not unfrequently 
 claim his aid in preference to that of my foe." 
 
 " Why your foe, Miss Walton ? Have we not brought you 
 peace ? There is no strife now in Carolina." 
 
 " Peace, indeed ! the peace of fear, that is kept from action by 
 chains and the dread of punishment ! Call you that peace ! It is 
 a peace that is false and cannot last. You will see." 
 
 " Be it as you say. Still we are no enemies we who serve your 
 monarch as our own, and simply enforce those laws which we are 
 all bound in common to obey." 
 
 " No monarch of mine, if you please. I care not a straw for 
 him, and don t understand, and never could, the pretensions of your 
 kings and princes, your divine rights, and your established and 
 immutable systems of human government, humanity itself being 
 mutable, hourly undergoing change, and hourly in advance of 
 government." 
 
 " Why, this is to be a rebel ; but we shall not dispute, Miss Wal 
 ton. It is well for us, as I have said before, that such are not the 
 sentiments of your warriors ; else, stimulated, as they must have 
 been, by the pleadings of lips like yours, they must have been 
 invincible. It will not indicate too much simplicity, if 1 marvel 
 that their utterance hitherto has availed so little in bringing youi 
 
REPAKTEE. 137 
 
 men into the field. We have not easily found our foes in a country 
 in which, indeed, it is our chief desire to find friends only." 
 
 " It follows from this, Major Proctor, that there is only so much 
 more safety for his majesty s more loyal subjects." 
 
 " You are incorrigible, Miss Walton." 
 
 " No, sir ; only too indulgent too like my countrymen dread 
 ing the combat which I yet see is a necessity." 
 
 " If so, why has there been so little opposition?" 
 
 " Perhaps, sir, you will not always ask (he question." 
 
 " You still have hopes, then, of the rebel cause." 
 
 " My country s cause, Major Proctor, if you please. I still have 
 hopes ; and I trust that his majesty s arms may not long have 
 to regret the continuance of a warfare so little stimulating to their 
 enterprise, and so little calculated to yield them honour." 
 
 The British colonel bowed at the equivocal sentiment, and after a 
 pause of a few moments the lady proceeded 
 
 "And yet, Major Proctor, not to speak too freely of matters of 
 which my sex can know so little, I must say, knowing as 1 <K> (he 
 spirit of some among my countrymen I must say, it has greatly 
 surprised me that your conquests should have been usually so easy." 
 
 " That need not surprise you, Miss Walton ; you remember 
 that ours are British soldiers" -and with a smile and bow, the 
 British major made his self-complacent, but only half serious 
 answer. 
 
 "By which I am to understand, on the authority of one of the 
 parties, its own invincibility. It is with your corps, I believe, that 
 the sentiment runs though they do not we never retreat, we 
 die. Unquestionable authority, surely ; and it may be that such is 
 the case. Few persons think more highly of British valour than the 
 Carolinians. Father, you, I know, think extravagantly of it ; and 
 cousin Robert, too : I have heard you both speak in terms which 
 fully sustain you, Major Proctor, in what might be called the self- 
 complaisance which just now assigned the cause of your success." 
 
 Colouring somewhat, and with a grave tone of voice that was not 
 his wont, Proctor replied 
 
 u There is truth in what T have told you, Miss Walton ; the 
 British soldier fights with a perfect faith in hisiuv ncibility, andlliis 
 
138 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 faith enables him to realize it. The first lesson of the ood officer 
 is to prepare the minds of his men with this confidence, not only in 
 their own valour, but in their own good fortune." 
 
 " And yet, Major Proctor, I am not so sure that the brave young 
 men I have known, such as cousin Robert the major, for he, too, 
 is a major, father so Emily says I am not so sure that they will 
 ti^-lit the less against you on that account. Robert I know too well 
 to believe that he has any fears, though he thinks as highly of 
 British valour as anybody else." 
 
 " Who is this Robert, Miss Walton, of whom you appear to think 
 so highly ?" 
 
 There was something of pique in the manner and language of 
 Proctor as he made the inquiry, and with a singular change in her 
 own manner, in which she took her loftiest attitude and looked her 
 sternest expression, Katharine Walton replied 
 
 " A relative, sir, a near relative ; Robert Singleton Major Robert 
 Singleton, I should &ay_ a gentleman in the commission of Gover 
 nor Rutledge." 
 
 "I fa! a major, too, and in the rebel army!" said the other. 
 " Well, Miss Walton, I may have the honour, and hope some day 
 to have the pleasure, to meet with your cousin." 
 
 The manner of the speaker was respectful, but there was a slight 
 something of sarcasm so Katharine thought in his tones, and her 
 reply was immediate. 
 
 " We need say nothing of the pleasure to either party from the 
 meeting, Major Proctor ; but if you do meet with him, knowing 
 Robert as I do, you will most probably, if you have time, be taught 
 to remember this conversation. 1 
 
 Proctor bit his lip. lie could not misunderstand the occult 
 meaning of her reply, but he said nothing; and Colonel Walton, 
 who had striven to check the conversation at moments when he be 
 came conscious of its tenor, now gladly engaged his guest on other 
 and more legitimate topics. He had been abstracted during much 
 of the time occupied by his daughter and Proctor in their rather 
 piquant dialogue; but even in the more spirited portions of it, 
 nothing was said by the maiden that was not a familiar sentiment 
 in the mouths of those Carolinian ladies, wbo were proud to sh.irt 
 
CURTAIN DROPS ON THE LADIES. 139 
 
 *rtth their countrymen in the opprobrious epithet of rebel, conferred 
 on them I D no stinted terms by their invaders. 
 
 Meanwhile Major Singleton, in his cover, to whose ears portions 
 of the dialogue had come, was no little gladdened by what he heard, 
 and could not forbear muttering to himself 
 
 u Now, bless the girl ! she is a jewel of a thousand." 
 
 But the dark was now rapidly settling down upon the spot, and 
 the dews, beginning to fall, warned Kate of her duty to her invalid 
 cousin. Withdrawing her arm from her father, she approached 
 Emily, and reminded her of the propriety of returning to the dwell 
 ing. Her feeble lips parted in a murmured reply, all gentleness and 
 dependence 
 
 " Yes, Kate, you are right. I have been wishing it, for I am 
 
 rather tired. Do fix this handkerchief, cousin, higher and close 
 
 & 
 
 about my neck there, that will do." 
 
 She still retained Dickson s arm, while she passed one of her 
 bands through that of her cousin. In this manner, followed by 
 Colonel Walton and Major Proctor at a little distance, the three 
 moved away and returned to the dwelling. 
 
 Glad of his release from the close imprisonment of his bush, 
 Singleton now came forward with Humphries, who, after a brief in 
 terval, stole along by the inner fence, in the close shadow of the 
 trees, and with cautious movement reached a position which enabled 
 him to see when the British officers took their departure. His 
 delay to return, though not long protracted for the guests only 
 waited to see the ladies safely seated and to make their adieus 
 was, however, an age to his companion. Singleton was impatient 
 to present himself to his fair cousin, whose dialogue with Proctor 
 had given him all the gratification which a lover must always feel, 
 who hears from the lips of her whom he loves, not only those senti 
 ments which his own sense approves, but the general language of 
 regard for himself, even so slight and passing as that which had 
 fallen from his cousin in reference to him. She had spoken in a tone 
 and manner which was common, indeed, to the better informed, the 
 more elevated and refined of the Carolina ladies at that period ; 
 when, as full of patriotic daring as the men, they warmed and 
 itimulated their adventurous courage, and undertook missions of 
 
L40 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 peril and privation, which arc now on record in honourable evident * 
 of their fearlessness, sensibility, and love of country. It was not 
 long after this when the trusty lieutenant returned to his superior, 
 giving him the pleasing intelligence of the departure of Proctor and 
 his companion. Waiting for no messenger, Singleton at once 
 hurried to the dwelling of his uncle, and, leaving Humphries in the 
 hall, he was hurrying forward when, in the passage-way leading to 
 the upper apartments, the first person he met was Kate herself. 
 
 u Why Robert, cousin Robert, is it you !" 
 
 The heart of the youth had been so much warmed towards her 
 by what he had heard in the previous dialogue, that his manner and 
 language had in them much more of passionate warmth than was 
 altogether customary even with him. 
 
 " Dear, dear Kate, how I rejoice to see you !" 
 
 " Bless me, cousin, how affectionate you have become all at once ! 
 There s no end to you there have done with your squeezing. 
 Hold my hand quietly, as if you had no wish to carry off the 
 fingers, and T will conduct you to Emily." 
 
 " And she, Kate !" 
 
 He urged the question in an under-tone, and the eyes of his 
 cousin were filled with tears as she replied hastily 
 
 " Is nigher heaven every day but come." 
 
 As they walked to an inner apartment, he told her of his previ 
 ous concealment, and the partial use he had made of his ears while 
 her chat with Proctor had been going on. 
 
 " And you heard what ?" 
 
 " Not much, Kate ; only that you have not deserted your country 
 yet, when so many are-traitors to her." 
 
 The light was not sufficient to enable him to see it, but there was 
 a rich flush upon the cheek of his companion as he repeated some 
 portions of the conversation he had heard, which would have made 
 him better satisfied that her supposed caprice was not so very per 
 manent in its nature. 
 
 Tn a few moments they were in the apartment, where, extended 
 upon a sofa, lay the slight and shadowy person of Emily Singleton. 
 I!rr brother was beside her in an instant, and she was wrapped in 
 !iis urms. 
 
THE DYING MAIDEN. 141 
 
 " Emily my dear, dear sister !" he exclaimed, as he pressed his 
 lips warmly upon her cheek. 
 
 " Dear Robert, you are come ! I am glad, but there now, dear 
 Robert ihcre ! Release me now." 
 
 She breathed more freely, freed from his embrace, and he then 
 gazed upon her with a painful sort of pleasure her look was so 
 clear, so dazzling, so spiritual, so unnaturally life-like. 
 
 " Sit by me," she said. Ue drew a low bonch, and while he took 
 his seat upon it,, Katharine left the room. Emily put her hand into 
 that of her brother, and looked into his face without speaking for 
 several minutes. His voice, too, was husky when he spoke, so that, 
 when his cousin had returned to the apartment, though all feelings 
 between them had been perfectly understood, but few words had 
 been said. 
 
 " Sit closer, brother closer," she said to him, fondly, and motioned 
 him to draw the bench beside her. lie did so, and in her feeble 
 tones many were the questions which the dying girl addressed to her 
 companion. All the domestic associations of her home on the San- 
 tee the home of her childhood and its pleasures, *vhen she had 
 hopes and dreams of the future, and disease had not yet shown itself 
 upon her system. To these questions his answers were made*with 
 difficulty; many things had occurred, since her departure, which 
 would have been too trying for her to hear. She found his replies 
 unsatisfactory, therefore, and she pressed them almost reproach 
 fully- 
 
 " And you have told me nothing of old mauma* Robert : is she 
 not well ? does she not miss me? did she not wish to come? And 
 Frill, the pointer the poor dog I wonder who feeds him now. 1 
 wish you could have brought mauma with you, Robert I should 
 like to have her attend on me, she knows my ways and wishes so 
 much better than anybody else. I should not want her long." 
 
 And though she concluded her desire with a reference to her 
 approaching fate, the sigh which followed was inaudible to her 
 brother. 
 
 * Probably a corruption of mamma, an affectionate term of endearment 
 which the southern child usually addresses to its negro nurse. 
 
142 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " But, you are well attended here, Emily, my dear. Cousin 
 Kate " 
 
 " Js a sister, and all that I could desire, and I am as well attended 
 as 1 could be anywhere ; but it is thus that we repine. I only 
 wished for mauma, as we wish for an old-time prospect which has 
 grown so familiar to our eyes that it seems to form a part of the 
 sight : so indeed, though every thing is beautiful and delightful 
 about The Oaks, I still long to ramble over our old walks among 
 the Hi Us. " 
 
 The brow of Singleton blackened as she thus passingly alluded to 
 the beautiful estate of his fathers ; but he said nothing, or evaded, 
 in his answer, the demand, and she proceeded in her inquiries 
 
 "And the garden, Robert my garden, you know. Do, when 
 you go back, see that Luke keeps the box trimmed, and the hedge; 
 the morning 1 left it, it looked very luxuriant. J was too hurried 
 to give him orders, but do you attend to it when you return. He 
 is quite too apt to leave it to itself." 
 
 There was much in these simple matters to distress her brother, 
 of which she wa*s fortunately ignorant. IIow could he say to the 
 dying girl, that her mauma, severely beaten by the lories, had tied 
 into the swamps for shelter ? that her favourite dog, Frill, had been 
 shot down, as he ran, by the same brutal wretches ? that the man 
 sion-house of her parents, her favourite garden, had been devastate* 1 
 by fire, applied by the same cruel hands ? that Luke the gardener, 
 and all the slaves who remained unstolen, had fled for safety into the 
 thick recesses of the Santee ? how could he tell her this ? The 
 ruin which had harrowed his own soul almost to madness, would 
 have been instant death to her; and though the tears were with 
 difficulty kept back from his eyes, he replied calmly, and with suf 
 ficient evasion successfully to deceive the sufferer. 
 
 At this moment Katharine re-entered the apartment, and relieved 
 him by her presence. He rose from the bench, and prepared to 
 attend upon his uncle, who, as yet unapprised of his arrival, remained 
 in his chamber. He bent down, and his lips were pressed once 
 more upon the brow of his sister. She put her hand into his, and 
 looked into his face for several minutes without speaking; and that 
 lock -co pure, so bright, so fond so becoming of heaven, yut so 
 
BRITISH PROTECTION. 
 
 hopeless of earth ! lie could bear the gaze no longer ; the emotion 
 rose shiveringly in his soul the tears could be no longer kept from 
 gushing forth, and he hurried from her sight to conceal them. 
 
 ".Qhj > v ^3* why," he said, in a burst of passionate emotion, as 
 he hurried below " wherefore, great Father of Mercies, wherefore 
 is this doom? Why should the good and the beautiful so early 
 perish why should they perish at all ? Sad, sad, that the creature 
 so made to love and be beloved, should have lived Th affliction, and 
 died without, having the feelings once exercised or compensated, 
 which have been so sweet and innocent. Even death is boautlfiii 
 and soft, seen in her eyes, kbd gathering in words that coma frcin 
 lifer Kps like the dropping .. \o much music from heaven ly 
 r, poor Emily !" 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 44 The time is come ; thy chances of escape 
 Grow narrow, and thou hast, to save thyself, 
 But one resolve. Take oath with us and live." 
 
 COLONEL WALTON, upon the departure of his guests, retired to 
 an *nner apartment. His spirits, depressed enough before, were 
 Tt:v considerably inure so. Mingled feelings were at strife in his 
 L/osom doubts and fears, hopes and misgivings a sense of degra 
 dation a more unpleasant consciousness of shame. The d illicit I- 
 ties of his situation grew and gathered before his eyes the more he 
 surveyed them ; they called for deliberate thought, yet they also 
 demanded early and seasonable determination. The time allowed 
 him for decision by the ruling powers was brief, and the matter to 
 be decided involved, in addition to the personal risks of life and 
 liberty, the probable forfeiture of an immense estate, and the beg 
 gary, in consequence, of an only and beloved daughter. To save 
 these, in part, from what he conceived otherwise to be inevitable- 
 ruin, he had originally laid aside his arms, lie was now taught, 
 in the most impressive manner, the error of which he had been 
 guilty in yielding so readily to circumstances placing himself so 
 completely, not only in the power of his enemy, but in the wrong; 
 in having foregone that fine sense of national, to say nothing of per 
 sonal honour, without which the citizen merits not the name, and has 
 no real claim upon the protection of his country. This sacrifice he 
 had made without realizing, in its place, that very security of 
 person and property, its pledged equivalent, which had been the 
 price of its surrender. Bitterly, in that moment of self-examina 
 tion, did he reproach himself with the unmanly error. Truly did 
 he feel, by his present situation, that he who submits to tyranny 
 arms it ; and by not opposing it, weakens that power, better prin 
 cipled, or with better courage than himself, which battles with it 
 to the laat 
 
BRITISH SWAY. 115 
 
 The exigency grew more and more involved the more lie thought 
 upon it. lie could see but one alternative left him, that which 
 he had already hinted at to Major lYoctor, of again lifting his 
 sword ; and, if compelled to use it, of doing so for the oii]y x cause 
 which he could consider legitimate that of his country. 4fet, how 
 hopeless, how rash and ill-advised, at that moment, seemed the 
 adoption of such an alternative ! The people of the colony had all 
 submitted ; so it seemed, at least, in the absence of all opposition 
 to the advancing armies of the British. They scoured the country 
 on every side. They planted posts, the better to overawe the dis 
 affected, and confirm their conquests, in every conspicuous or popu 
 lous region ; arid though tyrannizing everywhere with reckless rule 
 and a rod of iron, the people seemed to prefer a lot so burdensome 
 arid wretched, rather than exchange it for a strife having not one 
 solitary hope to recommend it. Such was the condition of things 
 in Carolina at the time of which we write, just after the parting 
 proclamation of Sir Henry Clinton, when, upon transferring the 
 southern command to Lord Cornwallis, he adopted this mode of 
 strengthening his successor by the employment of the native 
 militia. 
 
 Colonel Walton was not a coward, but he deliberated carefully 
 upon all adventure involving peril in its progress. The circum 
 stances in which the colony stood at that period were too obvious 
 not to force themselves upon his consideration ; and desperate and 
 degrading as were the requirements of the proclamation, he saw no 
 mode of escape from them. What if he drew the sword ? would 
 he not draw it alone ? Where should he find support ? To whnt 
 spot should he turn where strike where make head against the 
 enemy ? where, except in the remoter colonies, where a doubtful 
 struggle \vas still maintained doubtful in its results, and only 
 exposing its defenders there to the same fate he was now about to 
 encounter in his native soil ? The prospect grew brighter a short 
 time after, when Sumter came plunging down from North Carolina 
 with the fierce rapidity of flame ; when Marion emerged from his 
 Bwamps on the Peedee and Black River, with the subtle certainty 
 which belongs to skill and caution mingled with determined and 
 fearless valour : and when, like our hero, Major Singleton, a hun- 
 
146 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 dred brave young partisan leaders, starting suddenly up, with their 
 little squads, on every side throughout the country, prepared to take 
 terrible vengeance for the thousand wantonly inflicted sufiVrings 
 which their friends and families had been made to bear at the hands 
 of their enemies. 
 
 Leaving his companion, Humphries, comfortably cared for. in the 
 hall, along with Miss Barbara, Walton, the maiden sister of the 
 colonel, Major Singleton proceeded at once to the apartment where 
 his uncle continued to chafe in his many bewilderments of situation. 
 lie found him pacing hurriedly along the room, his strides duly 
 increasing in length with the increasing confusion of his thoughts. 
 These occasionally found their way to his Jips in soliloquizing speech, 
 and now and then took on them a shape of passionate denunciation. 
 Too much absorbed for the time to notice the appearance of hi? 
 nephew, he continued to mutter over his discontents, and in this 
 way conveyed to the major a knowledge of his precise feelings. 
 The latter stood quietly at the entrance, for a few moments, survey 
 ing his uncle (himself unseen), and listening to the angry ejacula 
 tions, with which, from time to time, he broke the silence, to give 
 expression to his words. lie listened with real pleasure. Familiar 
 as he was with his uncle s character, Major Singleton had properly 
 estimated the effect upon him of Clinton s proclamation, and he 
 now came forward seasonably to his assistance. The colonel turned 
 as lie drew nigh, and, for a moment, the pleasurable emotion with 
 which he met the son of his sister, and one who had long been 
 a very great favourite witli himself, drove away many of the trouble 
 some thoughts which had been busy with his mind. 
 
 "Ah, Robert ! my dear boy ! when did you arrive, and how 1" 
 
 " On horseback, sir. I reached Dorchester yesterday." 
 
 " Indeed? so long and only now a visitor of The Oaks V You 
 surely mean to lodge with us, Robert?" 
 
 " Thank you, uncle ; but that I dare not do. I should not feel 
 myself altogether safe here." 
 
 " Not safe in my house ! What mean you, nephew ? Whence 
 the danger what have you to fear ?" 
 
 " Nothing to fear, if 1 avoid the danger. You forget, sir, that 1 
 have nov the security of British favour I have not the talisman of 
 
WALTON ANT) SINGLETON. 147 
 
 Clinton s protection and if suspected to be Major Singleton, I 
 should risk the rope as a rebel." 
 
 4 True, true but how left you things at San tee ? What are the 
 prospects of a crop ?" 
 
 " Such as the storm leaves us, good uncle. The tories have been 
 sowing fire in my fields, and left it to ripen in lieu of corn and pro 
 vender." 
 
 " God bless me, Robert ! how was that ?" 
 
 " They suspected me, hearing that I was from home made free 
 with my plate, burnt the mansion, barn, and a few other of the 
 buildings, drove the negroes into the swamp, and sent their horses 
 first, and then the fire, into the cornfields. They have done some 
 business there after their usual fashion." 
 
 The colonel strode over the floor, his hands upon his brows, speech 
 less for a time, but looking his deep interest in the narrative he had 
 heard, probably with more earnestness, as ho darkly saw the destiny 
 of his own fine dwelling and plantation in it. His nephew surveyed 
 him with exemplary composure before he continued the dialogue. 
 
 " Yes ; it was fortunate that poor Emily came away in season. A 
 week later, and Heaven only knows what might have been her suf 
 ferings at the hands of the wretches." 
 
 "And where is this to end, Robert ? What is to be done ? Are 
 we to have no relief from Congress? will Washington do nothing 
 for us J" 
 
 " Can you do nothing for Washington ? Methinks, uncle, Her 
 cules might give you some advice quite as fitting as that he gave 
 to the wagoner. There is no helping one s neighbour to freedom. 
 Men must make themselves free they must have the will for it. 
 The laws and the strong arm, unless they grow out of their own 
 will, never yet gave, and never will give, any people their liberty. 
 Have you not thought of this before, good uncle ?" 
 
 " Why, what would you have us do ? what can we do, hemmed 
 in as we are, wanting arms and ammunition, and with a superior 
 force watching us ?" 
 
 " Do ? ay, you may well ask what can you do. What has any 
 body ever yet done, that set forth by asking such a question ? But 
 some, we will to supper first ; there stands our summoner. W* 
 
143 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 will try aunt Barbara s coffee, of which I have an old memory, and 
 after that we will talk of what we can do in this matter. Coffee is a 
 jjood stimulant, that wonderfully helps one s courage." 
 
 Following the black, who had thrice summoned them without, re 
 ceiving any attention, they descended to the supper-table, spread out 
 after the southern fashion, with the hundred dainties of the region, 
 ---rice-waffles and johnny-cake, hominy, and those delicacies of the 
 pantry in the shape of sweetmeats and preserves, which speak of a 
 wholesome household economy, the fashion of which is not yet 
 gone from the same neighbourhood. There, presiding in all the dig 
 nity of starched coif, ruff, and wimple, sat stiffly the antique person 
 of Miss Barbara Walton, the maiden sister of the colonel ; there, 
 also, in his homespun coat, turned up at the sleeves, and with hands 
 that were not idle, our old acquaintance, Humphries, listening pa 
 tiently, all the while, to a bitter complaint of Miss Barbara about 
 the diminished and daily diminishing number of her brother s best 
 cows, the loss of which could only be ascribed to the tories. Be 
 side him sat the fair Kate Walton, amused with the efforts which 
 Humphries made, while equally desirous to do the supper justice, 
 and to appear attentive to the ancient lady. And there, reclining 
 on a sofa at some little distance from the table, lay the attenuated 
 figure of Emily Singleton pale as a white rose, and, as if her 
 thoughts were fast claiming kindred with heaven, almost as silent as 
 one. Major Singleton had a seat assigned him fronting h s cousin ; 
 and the little chit-chat which followed his and his uncle s entrance 
 was duly suspended with the progress of the repast. To travellers 
 who had toiled so much during the day as Singleton and his lieu 
 tenant, the supper was an item of importance, and we need not say 
 that it received full justice at their hands. It was only when roused 
 into consciousness by the very absence of all speech around them, 
 that the soldiers looked up, in a brief pause in their progress, and 
 found that they alone had been busy. This fact offered no stop, 
 however, to their continued industry to that of Humphries, at least. 
 
 "Them are mighty nice waffles, now, major; they d please you, 
 I reckon." 
 
 Cuffee, one of the black waiters, with the proper instinct of a good 
 house-bervant, at once placed the dish before the speaker hiinsolf 
 
FOK HOW 1,ON<; -MO\V LONG? 149 
 
 and his piate received a new supply. Singleton kept him company, 
 and the host trifled with his coffee, in order to do the same. Tea 
 WHS anti-republican then, and only the tories drank it. Finding 
 that a cessation had really taken place, Miss Barbara commenced 
 her interrogatories, which, with sundry others put by his cousin 
 Kate, Major Singleton soon answered, These matters, however, 
 chiefly concerned old friends and acquaintances, little domestic 
 anecdotes, and such other subjects us the ladies usually delight to 
 engage in. More serious thoughts were in Colonel Walton s mind, 
 and his questions had reference to the public and to the country 
 the war and its prospects. 
 
 " And now, Robert, your news, your news. You look as if you 
 had much more in your budget of far more importance. Pray, 
 out with it, and refresh us. We are only half alive here, good 
 nephew." 
 
 " Do you live at all here, uncle, and how? How much breath is 
 permitted you by your masters for your daily allowance ? and, by- 
 the-way, the next question naturally is how go on the confisca 
 tions ? You still keep * The Oaks/ I see ; but how long how 
 long?" 
 
 The nephew had touched the key to a harsh note ; and bitter in 
 deed was the tone and manner of Colonel Walton, as he replied 
 
 " Ay, how long how long, indeed, am I to keep the home of 
 my fathers the old barony, one of the very first in the colony ? God 
 only knows how soon the court of sequestration will find it belter 
 suited to a stranger rule ; and I must prepare myself, I suppose, for 
 some such change. I cannot hope to escape very long, when so 
 many suffer confiscation around me." 
 
 " Fear not for The Oaks, uncle, so long as you keep cool, sub 
 mit, swear freely, and subscribe humbly. Send now and then a 
 trim present of venison and turkey to the captain s quarters, and 
 occasionally volunteer to hang a poor countryman, who loves war 
 to the knife bettor than degradation in a foreign chain. There can 
 be no difficulty in keeping The Oaks, uncle, if you only continue 
 to keep your temper." 
 
 " Nay, Robert, sarcasm is unnecessary now, and with me : 1 need 
 QO reproaches of yours to make me feel in this matter." 
 7 
 
150 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " What, uncle, are you in that vein ? Have your eyes been 
 opened to the light at last ?" 
 
 " Somewhat, Robert but a truce to this for the present. Let us 
 have your intelligence from Santee. They talk here of some risings 
 in that quarter, but \ve have no particulars, and know nothing of 
 the success of either party. There is also some story of approach 
 ing continentals. Has Congress really given us an army ? and who 
 is to command it ? Speak, boy ; out with your budget." 
 
 " Thank you, good mine uncle ; but how know I that I unfold 
 my budget to a friend, and not to an enemy ? What security do 
 you give me that I talk not with a devout and loyal subject of his 
 majesty so very much a lover of the divine right of kings, that 
 he would freely lend a hand to run up his own nephew to a 
 swinging bough, the better to compel the same faith in others ?" 
 
 " Pshaw ! Robert, you speak idly : you mean not to suppose me 
 a tory ?" 
 
 The brow of Colonel Walton darkened awfully as he spoke. 
 
 " T have little faith in neutrals," was the calm reply ; " I hold to 
 the goodly whig proverb, * He who is not for me, is against me. 
 Pardon me, therefore, uncle, if I prefer I who am a whig to 
 speak to you, who are neither whig nor Englishman, after such a 
 fashion as shall not make you the keeper of unnecessary secrets, 
 and expose a good cause to overthrow, and its friends to injury." 
 
 The taunt thus uttered with a most provoking and biting dryricss 
 of phrase, operated strongly upon the mind of the colonel, already 
 aoted upon, in no small degree, by his own previous rebukings of 
 conscience to the same effect. He exclaimed bitterly, as, rising 
 iroin the supper-table, he strode away under the momentary 
 impulse 
 
 " Ay, by heaven ! but your words are true. Who should esteem 
 *,he neutral, when his country is in danger, and when her people are 
 writhing under oppression ? True, though bitter more bitter, as 
 His too true. Robert Singleton, thou hast given me a keen stroke, 
 boy, but I have deserved it. Thou hast spoken nothing but the 
 truth." 
 
 " Now, indeed, uncle, I rejoice to see you, and in this humour. 
 You have felt the stroke at last, but it is not my speech that ha* 
 
GOOD SIR HENRY CLINTON. 161 
 
 done it, undo of mine. It is the proclamation of Sir Henri 
 Clinton." 
 
 The youth fixed his eye keenly, as he spoke, upon the face of 
 Colonel Walton, while his glance indicated a sort of triumphant 
 joy, finely contrasted with the disquietude and vexing indignation 
 strongly legible upon the face of his uncle. 
 
 " You are light there, too, Robert. I confess not to have though; 
 so seriously upon this matter not, certainly, so much to the point 
 as after hearing the contents of that dishonourable instrument 
 of Sir Henry Clinton God curse him for it !" 
 
 " God bless him for it, I say, if for nothing else that he has done," 
 immediately rejoined the nephew. "My prayers have been hearJ 
 in that ; and Jiis proclamation of the tyrant is the very best thing 
 that he could have done for our cause and country, and the very 
 thing that I have most prayed for." 
 
 " Indeed ! Major Singleton, you surprise me. What should there 
 be so very grateful to you so worthy of your prayers and acknow 
 ledgment in this proceeding of Sir Henry Clinton?" inquired 
 the other, with something more of stiffness and hauteur in his 
 manner. 
 
 " Much, Colonel Walton, very much. As a true patriot, and a 
 lover of his country at every hazard, I prayed that the time might 
 soon come, when the oppressor should put his foot, aye, and the foot 
 of his menials, too on the necks of those selfish or spiritless, those 
 oo little wise, or too little honourable, who have been so very ready 
 to hug his knee, and yield up to a base love for security their manly 
 character arid honest independence. Verily, they meet with their 
 reward. Let them feel the scourge and chain, until, beaten and 
 degraded, the stern necessity shall stimulate them to the duties they 
 have so neglected. I rejoice in their desperation I rejoice when I 
 hear them groan beneath the oppression not only because they 
 merit such reward but because it makes them stronger in our cause." 
 
 " How know you that ?" quickly said the other. 
 
 " How know I that ? Let me answer that question by another 
 more direct. Will Colonel Walton be able any longer to keep the 
 quiet security of his plantation, to hug his grounds, save his crops, 
 and keep his negroes from the West Indies, without military ser- 
 
152 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 rice active military service, and against his countrymen too 
 against his avowed principles ?" 
 
 The colonel strode the room impatiently. The other continued 
 
 "No, no, good uncle, you have no help. Earl Cornwallis com 
 pels you to your duty. You must buckle on the sword you must 
 take up arms for or against your people, and in either case at the 
 expense of all that comfortable quiet for which you have already 
 made quite too many sacrifices. 1 know you too well to suppose 
 that you can fight against our people your people ; and I am glad 
 therefore that you are forced into the field. How many thousands 
 are in your condition ! how many that look up to you, influenced 
 by your example ! Will these not be moved in like manner and 
 by like necessities ? You will see we shall have an army of native 
 citizens before many days." 
 
 " Perhaps so, Robert, and I am not too timid to wish that such 
 may be its effect. But is it not a dishonourable deception that he 
 has practised in this movement ? Did not the protections promise 
 us immunity in this particular ?" 
 
 " No, sir I think not. I see nothing that Clinton has done in 
 this so very grievous. Your protection secured you, as a citizen, to 
 conform to the duties of the citizen, and to protect you as such. 
 One of the duties of the citizen is the performance of militia 
 service." 
 
 " Granted, Robert but commutable by fine. I am not unwil 
 ling to pay this fine; but Clinton s proclamation insists only on 
 the duty." 
 
 " And I am glad of it. Uncle, uncle, do you not see the dis 
 honourable character of such an argument ? Your conscience for 
 bids that you should serve against your country, but you avoid this 
 actual service in your own person, by paying the money which buys 
 a mercenary to do the same duty. You will not do murder with 
 your own hand, but you pay another to perform the crime. Shame ! 
 shame, I say !" 
 
 " Not so, Robert ; we know not, and I believe not, that the money 
 is so appropriated. It becomes the spoil of the leaders, and simply 
 helps them to fortune." 
 
 ** Granted, and the sterner argument against you is yet to coma. 
 
MORALS OF MONEY. 153 
 
 You are wealthy, and avail yourself of your good fortune to buy 
 yourself out of a danger to which the poor man must submit. By 
 what right would you escape from and evade your duties, when he, 
 as a citizen, having the same, must submit to their performance ! 
 His conscience, like your own, teaches him that to fight for his 
 country and against her invaders is his first duty. You evade your 
 duty by the help of your better fortune, and leave him, as in the 
 present instance, either to perish hopelessly in unequal contest 
 unequal through your defection or to take up arms in a battle to 
 which his principles are foreign. Such is (he effect of this most 
 unpatriotic reservation, which, on the score of your money, you have 
 presumed to make. You sacrifice your country doubly, when you 
 contribute to violate the conscience of its citizens. Tlie duties of 
 the rich man the leading, influential man are those chiefly of 
 example. What is our safety, and where would be the safety of any 
 nation its freedom or its glory if, when danger came, its rich 
 citizens made terms with the invader which sacrificed the poor ? 
 Such is your case such your proceeding exactly. There is now, 
 thank Heaven, but one alternative that Clinton s proclamation has 
 left you." 
 
 "That is the sword I know it, I feel it, Robert." 
 " Touch it not, touch it not, dear uncle, I pray you. Forbear the 
 sword the bloody smiting sword. Submit rather to the oppression. 
 Touch it not." 
 
 Such was the adjuration of the feeble girl who lay gasping on the 
 sofa. Her eyes were illuminated with a holy fire ; her cheeks, pale, 
 almost transparent, shone, white and glittering, with a spiritual glory, 
 from the pillow on which her head was resting ; while one of her 
 long, taper fingers was stretched forward with an imploring earnest 
 ness. She had been a silent listener with the rest to the warm and 
 deeply important dialogue which had been going on. The novelty 
 of the difficulty for they had not heard of the proclamation before 
 had kept them dumb until that moment, when Colonel Walton, 
 as one having come to a settled conclusion, had referred to the 
 sword as a last alternative. The gentle spirit of Emily Singleton, 
 quick, sensitive, though frail and fleeting, then poured forth its feeble 
 notes, in order to arrest the decision. 
 
154 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " Oh, touch not the sword, uncle, I pray you the keen sword, 
 that cut;? away the happy life, and murders the blessed, arid the 
 blessing, peace the peace of the innocent, the peace of the young 
 and good. Oh, Robert, wherefore have you come with these fierce 
 words 1 Is there to be no end to strife the bloody and the brutal 
 strife the slaying of men the trampling of God s creatures in the 
 dust r 
 
 " Why, sister dear Emily but how can we help it 1 We must 
 fight our enemies, or they will trample on us the more." 
 
 " I see not that : better let them rob and plunder ; but take not 
 life, risk not life. -Xife is holy. None should take life but him who 
 gives it, since to take life takes away from man, not only the 
 privilege to breathe, but the privilege to repent of sins, to repair in 
 justice, to make himself fit for immortality. When you slay your 
 enemy, you send him not merely from one world you send him 
 into another and which? Oh, brother, dear brother, wherefore 
 would you engage in this horrid war \ What blessing so great will 
 it bring you, as to take from you the thought of the butchery you 
 must go through to secure it ? Oh, turn not away, Robert, but hear 
 me ! I would not vex you, nor would I now speak of things beyond 
 my poor ability ; but can you not avoid this fighting, this hewing 
 down of man, this defacing of God s image, this defiling and death 
 of the goodliest work of Heaven ? I know, Robert, you have a true 
 heart, and love not such an employment say to me, and I will 
 believe you can you not avoid it ?" 
 
 She sank back nearly exhausted. Her breath flickered, and the 
 glow which now overspread her cheek was, if possible, more 
 threatening in its aspect than the death-like paleness which habitu 
 ally rested there. Her prostration called for the quick attention 
 of her cousin, and as Katharine Walton bent over her, and her 
 brother knelt beside her, a momentary fear came upon them both, 
 that the effort she had made had destroyed her. But a deep sigh 
 indicated the returning consciousness, and the strange, spiritual light 
 ascended once more into and rekindled her eyes. She saw who 
 were immediately beside her ; and there was something of a smile 
 of joy, as she beheld the two, so closely associated in her love, 
 whom, of all the world, she desired to see more immediately linked 
 
WRONG TO BE RESISTED. 155 
 
 together. Katharine understood the glance, and rising from her 
 kneeling position, extricated her hand, which lay partly under that 
 of Robert, on the back of the sofa. TVi movement recalled the 
 thoughts of Emily from the new direction which they had taken, 
 and she now recurred to the unfinished topic. 
 
 " I will trust your assurance, brother, as I know your gentleness 
 of feeling. May you not escape this bloody employment ? for niv 
 poor thought fails to perceive the good or the glory which can come 
 of the distresses of humanity." 
 
 " It would be shame, Emily, deep shame and dishonour to avoid 
 it; and, indeed, it may not be avoided. The persecutor pursues 
 when you fly, and he tramples even more freely when you resist 
 not. It is in the nature of injustice and wrong to grow insolent 
 witli impunity ; and the dishonour must rest on him, who, being 
 himself strong, looks unmoved on the sufferings of the weak, and 
 withholds his succour. Believe me, dear Emily, I love not this 
 strife ; but defence of our country is war under God s own sanction, 
 since it seeks to maintain free from blood and from injustice the 
 home which he has given to the peaceful." 
 
 " You shall not persuade me of it, Robert," was the reply of the 
 dying maiden. " You will have your arguments, I know, and they 
 will seem wise on your lips, and I may not be able to answer them 
 rom mine. But shall I believe in any argument of man, however 
 plausible, when the words of God are so positive ? lie has forbidden 
 .strife, forbidden lif.i. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord." 
 
 "But self-defence and vengeance, dear Emily, are very different 
 things." 
 
 " Yes, you are right there ; and I did not use the right word, nor 
 refer to the proper command. * Thou shalt do no murder.* " 
 
 " But self-defence is not murder," was the answer to this. 
 
 " Ah ! still I err ! I am too poor in wit and wisdom to maintain 
 this or any argument. But strife is forbidden, and war and violence ; 
 and smitten on one cheek, we are commanded to submit the other." 
 
 " Ah ! Emily, you only prove how impossible it is, in the present 
 state of the world, to be a Christian." 
 
 "Alas ! for the world, that.it should be so ! Yet I fear that you 
 are rijjht. But I must cease. I can only pray for you, Robert 
 
156 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 God prosper you, my brother, in your cause, and keep you from 
 danger beneath the shelter of his holy arm. If you err, my brother 
 I know that, you err humanly, and may Heaven be indulgent, to all 
 our errors." 
 
 She motioned to Katharine Walton, and pointed to the Bible upon 
 the table. Katharine opened it, and prepared to read. The 
 company was instantly hushed. A lesson from the Psalms formed 
 the exercise for the night. Sweetly, softly, unaffectedly, yet verj 
 clearly, the tones of Katharine s voice rose, and filled the apartment, 
 while she gave due effect to the earnest lyrics of the inspired 
 psalmist. At the close, the brief sentence, so soft, so solemn " Let 
 us pray !" from the same sweet speaker, brought the whole family 
 in silence to their knees. And the humble prayer was offered up, 
 from sweet lips and a gentle spirit, in behalf of the wild and erring. 
 
 Yielding a kiss to the fond pressure of her brother s lips, Emily 
 SingJetou was assisted to her chamber on the arms of her loveh 
 tousin. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 M I may nut listen now. How should we he* 
 The song of birds, when, in the stormy iky, 
 Rolls the rude thunder V " 
 
 THE laiies had retired, but it was not easy for Singleton and 
 his uncle to resume the topic which had previously engaged them. 
 There was a visible damp upon their spirits the elastic nephew, 
 the hesitating colonel, the rough, honest, and direct Humphries, 
 all felt the passionate force of Emily s exhortation, though its argu 
 inent necessarily failed upon them. There had been quite too 
 much that was awing in her speech and manner as if death were 
 speaking through the lips of life. Their thoughts had been 
 elevated by her language to a theme infinitely beyond the hourly 
 and the earthly. The high-souled emphasis with which she had 
 insisted upon the integrity of human life, as essential to the due 
 preparation for the future immortality, had touched the sensibility 
 of those whose vocation was at hostility with the doctrine which 
 she taught ; and though, from the very nature of things, they could 
 not obey her exhortations, they yet. could not fail to meditate 
 upon, and to feel them. > 
 
 Thus impressed, silent and unobserving, it was a relief to all, 
 when Major Singleton, shaking off his sadness with an effort, re 
 minded Humphries of the promise which he had presumed to 
 make him, touching the old Madeira in his uncle s garret. He 
 briefly told the latter of the circumstance alluded to, and the 
 prompt orders of Colonel Walton soon brought the excellence of 
 his wines to the impartial test to which Humphries proposed to 
 subject them. 
 
 The lieutenant smacked his lips satisfactorily. It was not often 
 that his fortune had indulged him with such a beverage. Corn 
 wniskey, at best, had been his liquor in the swamps ; aud, even ip 
 7* 
 
if>8 I HK I AkTISAN. 
 
 hi* father s tavern, the tastes were not sufficiently lii^n, of those 
 who patronized that establishment, to call for other than the 
 cheapest qualities. A brief dialogue about the favourite wines a sly 
 reference on the part of Singleton to the drinking capacities of his 
 British guests, and a hypocritical sort of condolence upon the pri 
 vations to which his uncle must be subjected, in consequence of 
 the proclamation, soon brought the latter back to the legitimate 
 topic. 
 
 " But what news, Robert, do you bring us ? What of the con 
 tinentals is it true that we are to have an army from Virginia, 
 or is it mere rumour ? a thing t.o give us hope, only the more 
 completely to depress and mortify ? Speak out, man, and none 
 of your inuendoes you know well enough that I am with you, 
 body and soul." 
 
 " I believe you will be, uncle, but you certainly are not yet. 
 With the hope, however, to make you so more completely, I will 
 give you news that shall cheer you up, if you have the heart to 
 hope for a favourable change of things. It is no mere rumour, 
 sir, touching the northern army. Congress has remembered us at 
 last, and the continentals are actually under way, and by this time 
 must be on the borders of North Carolina." 
 
 " Indeed ! that is well," cried the colonel, chuckling, and rub 
 bing his hands " this is good news, indeed, Robert, and may 
 help us somewhat out of our difficulties." 
 
 " Not so, Colonel Walton, if it please you. It will help you out 
 of no difficulties, if yo^ are not willing to lend a hand for that 
 purpose. Congress cannot afford an army it can only give us 
 the nucleus for one ; some fifteen hundred men at the utmost, 
 and but half of these continentals. We have the Delaware and 
 Maryland lines brave troops, indeed among the very bravest 
 that Washington commands but few, too few for our purpose, 
 unless we ourselves turn out." 
 
 " W T ho commands them, Robert ?" 
 
 " DC Kalb while on the march ; but, if we need men, and if our 
 arms are few, the name of our commander is a host for us. The 
 conqueror of Burgoyne at Saratoga has been ordered from Virginia 
 to lead them." 
 
COXT1NKNTALS COMIN G. 159 
 
 " What, Gate r ! that is brave news, truly brave news and we 
 shall do well >o wish him success in another glass of Madeira. 
 
 O 
 
 Come, Mr. Humphries come, sir you see Proctor has left lissome 
 of the genuine etuff yet enough for friends, at least." 
 
 "Ay, sir," said Humphries, drinking, "and this news of the con 
 tinentals promises that we have enough also for our enemies." 
 
 " Bravo ! I hope so ; I think so. Nephew, drink ; drink and 
 say, what has been the effect of this intelligence upon the people ? 
 How has it Brought upon the Santee ?" 
 
 u Everywhere well, uncle, and as it should, unless it be immedi 
 ately in your neighbourhood, where you breathe by sufferance only. 
 Everywhere well, sir. The people are roused, inspirited, full of hope 
 and animation. The country is alive with a new sentiment. Not 
 is its influence confined only to the hopes of friends : it has had its 
 effect upon the fears of enemies. Kawdon already feels it, and has 
 drawn in all his outposts, lie keeps now those of Ninety-Six, 
 Camden, and Augusta only, lie is concentrating his force against 
 the coming of Gates, whose first blow must be against his lordship. 
 This concentration has given opportunity to our people, and oppor 
 tunity gives them courage. The Santee and the Pedee countries 
 are full of whigs, only wanting embodiment to prove effective. 
 Colonel Sumter has returned from North Carolina, with a growing 
 troop which threatens Ninety-Six itself." 
 
 "And Marion?" 
 
 " Aye, Marion from him I bring you better news yet, when I 
 tell you that I left him on Briton s Neck, where we stood upon the 
 bodies of half of Gainey s tories, whom we had just defeated with 
 bloody slaughter Gainey himself wounded, and his troop for the 
 time dispersed." 
 
 " Better and better, Robert ; and I rejoice that you had a hand 
 in the business. But what, in all this time, of that sanguinary 
 rider, Tarleton ? What keeps him quiet what is he doing ? 
 Surely, with a taste like his, the very knowledge of these rising s 
 should be grateful." 
 
 "Doubtless they will be, when he gets wind of them ; but he is 
 now with the cavalry of the leiron, somewhere iu the neighbourhood 
 of Rocky Mount, where Sumter is said to be looking after him. 
 
160 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 TLus, you see, we are all engaged or preparing all but you, of the 
 parishes. You either hug the knees of your invaders, or sleep on, to 
 escape the sense of shame : all but your Washington, who, I am 
 told, still contrives to keep his horse together, though sadly cut up 
 while under White and Baylor." 
 
 " True, true, our people he^e are but too much disposed to sub 
 mission. They have given up in despair long since." 
 
 " I reckon that s a small mistake, colonel," said Humphries, inter 
 rupting " I beg pardon, sir, but I rather think it s not exactly as 
 you say. I don t think our people any more willing to submit than 
 the people on Black River and Pedee, but it s all because we han t 
 got leaders ; that s the reason, colonel. I know, of my own know 
 ledge, there s any number will turn out, if you ll only crook &, finger, 
 and show em the track ; but it s not reasonable to expect poor men, 
 who have never ruled before, to take the lead of great people in 
 time of danger." 
 
 Humphries spoke up, and spoke justly for the honour of his 
 neighbours. Singleton continued, when his lieutenant concluded 
 
 * He speaks truly, Colonel Walton, as I can testify. What if I 
 tell you that your people here, under your own eye are not only 
 ready to take up arms, but that many of them are in arms ! more, 
 sir, that they have already done service in your own neighbour 
 hood, and are ready to do more that a promising squad, under my 
 command, now lies upon your own river, and that, in a few days, I 
 hope to join. Colonel Marion with a troop of fifty men, gathered 
 from among your own parishioners ! These are the people who are 
 so willing to submit, according to your account ; pray you, uncle, 
 never write their history." 
 
 " Robert, you surprise me." 
 
 " Pleasantly, I hope, mine uncle it is the truth. The whole was 
 planned by Colonel Marion, from whom I have this duty in charge. 
 Disguised, he has been through your parish. Disguised, he sat at 
 your board, in the character of a tory commissary, and your scorn 
 ful treatment persuaded him to hope that you might be brought 
 into action. Are you staggered now ?" 
 
 The colonel was dumb when lu- heard this narrative ; and Major 
 Singleton then proceeded to give a brief account of the little event* 
 
WALTON STIRRED. 161 
 
 >f recent occurrence in the neighbourhood, as we liave already nar 
 rated them, subsequently to his assumption of command in the Cy 
 press Swamp. The story, though it gave him pleasure, was a sad 
 rebuke to Colonel AValtc.^^ patriotism. lie scarcely heard him to 
 the end. ^ be, 
 
 u Now, Heaven helpo.^, Robert, but I take shame to myself that 
 you, almost a stranger upon the Ashley, should have thus taken the 
 lead out of my own hand, as I may say, and among my own peo 
 ple." 
 
 " It is not too late, uncle, to amend the error. You may yet help 
 greatly to finish what has been tolerably well begun." 
 
 " No it is riot too late. I can do much with Dorchester and 
 Goose Creek. I have influence throughout St. Paul s, and great 
 part of St. George s. Cane Acre will come out to a man." 
 
 Rapidly moving to and fro along the apartment, Colonel Walton 
 enumerated to himself, in under tones, the various sections of coun 
 try in his knowledge which he thought might be moved at his in 
 stigation. His nephew did not suffer the mood of his uncle to 
 relax. 
 
 " Now is the time, uncle now is the time, if ever. Your name 
 will do everything in this quarter ; and you may conjecture for 
 yourself, what the shame must be, if others achieve the work which 
 you touched not. You have now a glorious opportunity at this 
 season ; Tarleton, whom they so much dread, being absent; Wemyss 
 in another direction, and your garrison so weak in Dorchester that 
 they cannot easily spare a detachment. Besides, the approach of 
 Gates promises sufficient employment to all the force which Raw- 
 don and Cornwallis can bring up." 
 
 "The thing looks well," said Walton, musingly. 
 
 " Never better, if the heart be firm. Now is the time, if ever 
 beat up recruits sound, stimulate your neighbours, and dash up 
 with as smart a force as you can possibly muster to join with the 
 army from Virginia. They will receive you joyfully, and your 
 corps must increase with every mile in your progress." 
 
 " Would I were on the way ; but the beginning is yet to be made, 
 and on what plea shall I seek to persuade others, without authority 
 myself and known as one having taken protection ?" 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 
 "That latter difficulty is cured by the assumption of a new 
 diaracter. Destroy the one accursed instrument, and, in its place, 
 i am proud to hand you a badge of honour and of confidence. 
 Look on this paper and peruse this letter. The one is from his 
 excellency, Governor Rutledge the ot 1 * from Colonel Mariou. 
 Head read !" * to 
 
 Walton unfolded the envelope, and the commission of Governor 
 Rutledge as colonel of state militia met his eye : the letter from 
 Oolonel Marion was an invitation to the service a brief, manly, 
 modest letter ; such as could only come from Marion so calm, 
 so unassuming, yet so conclusive in its exhortations. 
 
 "You see, uncle," said the major, when he saw that the o-L. .^r 
 hud concluded the perusal of the documents "you see, 1 ;<>:;.<? 
 not unprovided. Both Rutledge and Marion hold your name of 
 sufficient importance to our cause to desire its influence ; aud they 
 would have you, on any terms, emancipate yourself from the villa- 
 nous bondage for it is no less into which you have fallen. 
 Here, now, you have an opportunity, by an honourable, and, let me 
 add, an atoning transaction, of returning to the service of your 
 country. Do not let it pass you. Let me not think, my dear uncle, 
 that my word, pledged for you to Marion, when 1 undertook and 
 craved this commission, was pledged in vain, and is now forfeited." 
 
 This warm appeal of Singleton, in the utterance of which he 
 had discarded all that asperity which had kept pace with much of 
 his share in the previous dialogue, was soothing to his uncle s 
 spirit. lie was moved ; and slowly again, though unconsciously, 
 he read over the letter of Marion. So high a compliment from the 
 gallant partisan was flattering in the extreme ; and the trust of 
 Governor Rutledge, tendered at a moment when he was suffering 
 from the smitings of conscience, was healing and grateful. For a 
 low moments he spoke not ; but at length approach ing his nephew, 
 he seized his hand, and at once avowed the pleasure it gave him, 
 to avail himself of the privileges which the commission conferred 
 upon him. 
 
 " 1 will be no longer wanting to my country, Robert. I will do 
 my duty. This paper gives me power to enrol men, to form 
 troops, and to act against the enemy, and find my sanction in the 
 
KIRKS OF FREEDOM. 163 
 
 commission of the executive. I will do so. T will pause no lon^ei 
 and, spite of the sacrifice, will act as the occasion requires." 
 
 The countenance of Major Singleton, and that of Humphries, 
 no less, glowed with an honest pleasure, as the former replied 
 
 " Spoken as it should be, Colonel Walton spoken as it should 
 i>e. The decision comes late, but not too late. It is redeeming, 
 and God grant that it be as prosperous to all as it is surely proper 
 and praiseworthy." 
 
 " So I believe it, or I would not now adopt it : but, Robert, 
 know you not that such a decision makes me a beggar ? Seques 
 tration " 
 
 "Now, out upon it, uncle! why will you still ballast your good 
 works with a weight which shall for ever keep them from heaven s 
 sight? You are no niggard you live profusely care not for 
 money : wherefore this reference to wealth in comparison with 
 honour and honourable duty ?" 
 
 " The wealth is nothing, Robert ; but I have a strange love for 
 these old groves this family mansion, descended to me like a 
 sacred trust through so many hands and ancestors. I would not 
 that they should be lost." 
 
 The youth looked sternly tit the speaker for a few moments in 
 silence, but the fierce emotion at length found its way to his lips 
 in tones of like indignation With that which sparkled from his 
 eyes. 
 
 ^ Now, by heaven, uncle, had I known of this had I dreamed 
 that thou hadst weighed, for an instant, the fine sense of honour 
 in the scales against thy love of this thy dwelling-place my own 
 hand should have < ^ lied the torch to its shingles. Dearly as 
 I have loved this old .illusion, I myself would have freely kindled 
 the flame which should have burned it to the ground. I would 
 have watched the fire as it swept through these old trees, scathing 
 and scattering the branches under which I had a thousand times 
 played I would have beheld their ruin with a pleasurable emo 
 tion ; and as thev fell successively to the earth which they once 
 sheltered, I would have shouted in triumph, that I saved you 
 from the dishonourable bargain which you have made for their 
 protection so long." 
 
L64 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " But Kate, Kate, Robert ; my sweet child my only child !" 
 
 It was all that the father said, but it was enough, if not to coii 
 vince, at least to silence, the indignant speaker. Her good was, 
 indeed, a consideration ; and when Singleton reflected upon the 
 Bender care which had kept her from privation and sorrow all hei 
 life hitherto, he could not help feeling how natural was such a con 
 sideration to the mind of such a father. 
 
 But the emotion had subsided the more visible portions of it, 
 at least ; and Colonel Walton, his nephew, and Humphries, en 
 gaged in various conversation, chiefly devoted to the labours that 
 lay before them. Having gained his object, however, Major Single- 
 ton was in no mood to remain much longer. His duties were 
 various ; his little squad required his attention, as he well knew 
 how little subordination could be had from raw militia-men, unless 
 in the continued and controlling presence of their commander. 
 The hour was growing late, and some portion of his time was due 
 to his sister and the ladies, who awaited his coming in the snug 
 back or family parlour, into which none but the select few ever 
 found admission. 
 
 Leaving Humphries in the charge of Colonel Walton, our hero 
 approached the quiet sanctuary with peculiar emotions. There 
 was a soft melancholy pervading the little circle. The moral in 
 fluence of such a condition as thatof Emily Singleton was touch- 
 ingly felt by all around her. The high-spirited, the proud Katha 
 rine Walton grew meek and humble, when she gazed upon the 
 sufferer, dying by a protracted and a painful death, in the midst of 
 youth, rich in beauty, and with a superiority of mind which might 
 well awaken admiration in the other, and ^nvy in her own sex. 
 Yet she was dying with the mind alive, I ,? inexercised ; a heart 
 warm with a true affection, yet utterly unappropriated; sensibili 
 ties touching and charming, which had only lived, that memory 
 might mourn the more over those sweets of character so well known 
 to enjoyment, yet so little enjoying. 
 
 It was a thought to make the proud heart humble ; and Kate 
 looked upon her cousin with tearful eyes. She sat at her feet, 
 saying no word, while the brother of the dying girl, taking a place 
 beside her, lifted her head upon his bosom, where she seemed 
 
165 
 
 pleased that it should lie, while lie pressed his lips fondly and fre 
 quently to her forehead. In mununred tones, unheard by the rest 
 she carried on with him a little dialogue, half playful, half tender 
 in which she pressed him on the subject of his love for her cousin. 
 The mention of Kate s name, a little louder than she usually spoke, 
 called for the latter s attention, who looked up, and a suffusion of 
 her cheek seemed to show a something- of consciousness in her 
 mind of what was the subject between them. The eye of Emily 
 caught the glance, and a smile of archness played over her lips for 
 an instant, but soon made way for that earnest and settled melan 
 choly of look which was now the habitual expression of her face. 
 They continued to converse together, the others only now and (hen 
 mingling in the dialogue, on those various little matters belonging 
 to her old home and its associates, which a young and gentle na 
 ture like hers would be apt to remember. Sometimes, so feeble 
 was her utterance that Robert was compelled to place his oar to 
 her lips the better to take in what she said. 
 
 It was at one of these moments that a severe clap of thunder 
 recalled the major to a sense of his duties. The sudden concussion 
 startled the nervous maiden, and Kate came to her assistance, sr- 
 that his hand was brought once more in contact with that of tho 
 woman he loved, in the performance of an office almost too sacredN 
 stern to permit of the show of that other emotion which he yet 
 felt how strangely! in his bosom. The blood tingled and glower] 
 in his veins, and she, too she withdrew her fingers the moinci.: 
 her service could well be dispensed with. Another roll of Uie 
 thunder and a message from Humphries warned Singleton of the 
 necessity of tearing himself from a scene only too painfully fascinat 
 ing, lie took an affectionate leave of his aunt, and pressing the 
 lips of his sister fondly, her last words to him were comprised in a 
 whisper 
 
 " Spare life save life, Robert, when you can : God bless you ! 
 and come back to me soon." 
 
 Kate encountered him in the passage-way. Her look was some 
 thing troubled, and her visible emotion might have been grateful 
 to the vanity cf our hero, did he not see how unusually covered 
 with g loom were the features of her face. 
 
Itfp THE P AUT1S AX. 
 
 "Dear Kate sweet cousin I must leave you now." 
 
 " I know it, Robert I know more : you have persuaded m y 
 father to break his parole." 
 
 " I have done my best towards it, Kate ; but if he has resolved, 
 the impulse was as much his own as from me. He could not well 
 have avoided it in the end, situated as he was." 
 
 " JYrfeaps riot, Robert ; still, your persuasions have ben the most 
 immediately urgent ; and though I dread the result, I cannot well 
 blame you for what you have done. I now wish to know from 
 you, what are the chances in favour of his successful action. I would 
 at least console myself by their recapitulation when he is absent, 
 and perhaps in danger." 
 
 Major Singleton gave a promising account of the prospects be 
 fore them ; such, indeed, as they appeared at that time to the san 
 guine Americans, and needing but little exaggeration to persuade. 
 She seemed satisfied, and he then proceeded to entreat her upon a 
 subject purely selfish. 
 
 k< Speak not now not now on such a matter. Have we not 
 enough, Robert, to trouble us ? Danger and death, grief and many 
 apprehensions hang over us, and will not suffer such idle thoughts," 
 was the reply. 
 
 ; These are no idle thoughts, Kate, since they belong so closely 
 to our happiness. Say to me, then, only say that you love me." 
 
 " I love you, indeed to be sure I do, as a cousin and as a 
 fri.-nd ; but really you ask too much when you crave for more. T 
 h9\e no time, no feeling, for other love in these moments." 
 
 " Nay, be serious, Kate, and say. We know not how soon our 
 situation may change. 1 am hourly exposed in a hazardous service 
 1 may perish ; and I would, before stich an event, be secure in 
 the hope that I may look to you for that love which would make 
 me, happy while living, or 
 
 She stopped him with a cool, sarcastic speech, concluding the 
 sentence for him in a manner most annoying - 
 
 " Drop a tear for me when I am dead." 
 
 She saw that lie looked displeased, and immediately after, with 
 an art peculiarly her own, she diverted his anger. 
 
 " Nav, dear couiu, forgive me; but you looked the conclusion, 
 
KATE IS COOL 167 
 
 ana so pathetically, I thought it riot improbable that its utterance 
 would find you speechless. Be not so tragic, I pray you. I am 
 serious enough as it is soberly serious, not tragically so. Be 
 reasonable for a while, and reflect that these very vicissitudes of 
 your present mode of life should discourage you from pressing this 
 matter. I do not know whether I love you or not, except as a 
 relation. It requires time to make up one s mind on the subject, 
 and trust me I shall think of it in season. But, just now, I cannot 
 and hear me, Robert, firmly and honestly I tell you, while these 
 difficulties last, while my father s life is in danger, and while your 
 sister lies in my arms helpless and dying, I not only cannot, but will 
 not, attempt to answer you. Forbear the subject, then, I pray you, 
 for a better season ; and remember, when I speak to you thus, I speak 
 to you as a woman, with some pretensions to good sense, who will 
 try to think upon her affections as calmly as upon the most simple 
 and domestic necessity of her life. Be satisfied, then, that you wilJ 
 have justice." 
 
 Another summons from Humphries below, and a sudden rush of 
 wind along the casement, warned him of the necessity of conclud 
 ing the interview. He had barely time to press her hand to his 
 lips when she hurried him down to her father. A few brief words 
 of parting, a solemn renewal of their pledges, and, in a few mo 
 ments, the two partisans were on horse, speeding down the long 
 avenue on the way to their encampment. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Ti* wild n;g- a.v, jut the- * we those abroad 
 Tb nonn offends not. "Tis but oppression hide*, 
 Wbi! fear, the scouiera of conscience, lifts a whip 
 B*ycnd V- best opacity to fly." 
 
 THE eve inig, >-b : .ch had been beautiful before, had undergone a 
 change. The moon was obscured, and gigantic shadows, dense and 
 winged, hurried with deep-toned cries along the heavens, as if in 
 angry pursuit. Occasionally, in sudden gusts, the winds moaned 
 heavily among the pines; a cooling freshness impregnated the at 
 mosphere, and repeated flashes of sharpest lightning imparted to 
 the prospect a splendour which illuminated, while increasing the 
 perils of that path which our adventurers were now pursuing. Large 
 drops, at moments, fell from the driving clouds, and every thing 
 promised the coming on of one of those sudden and severe thunder 
 storms, so common to the early summer of the South. 
 
 Singleton looked up anxiously at the wild confusion of sky and 
 forest around him. The woods seemed to apprehend the danger, and 
 the melancholy sighing of their branches appeared to indicate an 
 instinct consciousness, which had its moral likeness to the feeling in 
 the bosom of the observer. How many of these mighty pines were to 
 be prostrated under that approaching tempest ! how many beauti 
 ful vines, which had clung to them like affections that only desire 
 an object to fasten upon, would share in their ruin ! How could 
 Singleton overlook the analogy between the fortune of his family 
 and friends, and that which his imagination depicted as the pro 
 bable destiny of the forest ? 
 
 " We shall have it before long, Humphries, for you see the black 
 horns yonder in the break before us. I begin to feel the warm 
 breath of the hurricane already, and we must look out for some 
 smaller woods. I like not these high pines in a storm like this, so 
 use your memory, man, and lead on to some thicket of scrubby 
 
Sl DDKN ilLRKrCANE. 169 
 
 oaks if you can think of one near ut hand. ITa ! we must speed 
 we have lingered too long. Why did you not hurry me ? You 
 should have known how difficult it was for me to hurry myself in 
 such a situation." 
 
 This was spoken by Singleton at moments when the gusts per 
 mitted him to be heard, and when the irregularity of the route 
 suffered his companion to keep beside him. The lieutenant an 
 swered promptly 
 
 u That was the very reason why I did not wish to hurry you, 
 major. I knew you hadn t seen your folks for a mighty long spell, 
 and so I couldn t find it in my heart to break in upon you, though 
 I felt diib ous that the storm would be soon upon us." 
 
 " A bad reason for a soldier. Friends and family are scarcely 
 desirable at such a time as this, since we can seldom see them, or 
 only see their suffering. Ua ! that was sharp !" 
 
 " Yes, sir, but at some distance. We are coming te the stunted 
 oaks now, which are rather squat, and not so likely to give as the 
 pines. There aint so much of em, you see. Keep a look out, sir, 
 or the branches will pull you from your horse. The road here i.s 
 pretty much overgrown, and the vines crowd thick upon it." 
 
 " A word in season," exclaimed Singleton, as he drew back be 
 fore an overhanging branch which had been bent by the wind, and 
 was thrust entirely across his path. A few moments were spent 
 in rounding the obstruction, and the storm grew heavier ; the winds 
 no longer laboured among the trees, but rushed along with a force 
 which flattened their elastic tops, so that it either swept clean 
 through them, or laid them prostrate for ever. A stronger hold, 
 a positive straining in their effort, became necessary now, \\ith both 
 riders, in order to secure themselves firmly in their saddles; while 
 their horses, with uplifted ears, and an occasional snort, in this 
 manner, not less than by a shiver of their whole frames, betrayed 
 their own apprehensions, and, as it were, appealed to their masters 
 for protection. 
 
 "The dumb beast knows where to look, after all, major: he 
 knows that man is most able, you see, to take care of him, though 
 man wants his keeper too. But the beast don t km w that. He s likd 
 tiie good soldier that minds his own captain, and looks to h>n. only. 
 
I/O THE PARTISAN. 
 
 though the captain himself has a general from whom he gets his 
 orders. Now, say what you will, major, there s reason in the horse 
 the good horse, Irmean, for some horses that I ve straddled in 
 rny time have shown themselves mighty foolish and unreasonable." 
 
 Humphries stroked the neck of his steed fondly, and coaxed him 
 by an affectionate word, as he uttered himself thus, with no very 
 profound philosophy, lie seemed desirous of assuring the steed 
 that he held him of the better class, and favoured him accordingly. 
 Singleton assented to the notion of his companion, who did not, 
 however, see *he smile which accompanied his answer. 
 
 44 Yes, yes, Humphries, the horse knows his master, and is the 
 least able or willing of all animals to do without him. I would we 
 had cur nags in safety now : I would these five miles were well 
 over." 
 
 " It s a tough ride ; but that s so much the better, major the 
 less apt we are to be troubled with the tor u-s." 
 
 " 1 should rather plunge through a crowd of them, now, in a 
 charge against superior cavalry, than take it in such a night as this, 
 when the wind lifts you, at every bound, half out of your saddle, 
 and, but for the lightning, which comes quite too nigh to be at all 
 times pleasant, your face would make momentary acquaintance 
 with boughs and branches, vines and thorns, that give no notice 
 and leave their mark at every brush. A charge were far less dif 
 ficult." 
 
 "Almost as safe, sir, that s certain, and not more unpleasant. 
 But let us hold up, major, for a while, and push for the thicket. 
 We shall now have the worst of the hurricane. See the edge of it 
 yonder how black! and now only hear the roaring!" 
 
 " Yes, it comes. I feel it on my cheek. It sends a breath like 
 fire before it, sultry and thick, as if it had been sweeping all day 
 over beds of the hottest sand. Lead the way, Humphries." 
 
 " Here, sir, follow close and quick. There s a clump of forest, 
 with nothing but small trees, lying to the left now, sir, that flash 
 will show it to you there we can be snug till the storm passes over. 
 It has a long body and it shakes it mightily, but it goes too fast to 
 stay long in its journey, and a few minutes, sir a few minutes is 
 all we want, Mind the vine there, sir; and there, to your Uft, ; 
 
Ml]-; KUSIl UF THE STORM. 171 
 
 a gully, where an old tree s roots have come up. Now, .major, tho 
 sooner we dismount and squat with our horses the better. f 
 
 They had now reached the spot to which Humphries had directed 
 his course a thick undergrowth of small timber of field pine, the 
 stunted oak, black-jack, and hickory few of suffic^nt size to feel 
 the force of the tempest, or prove very conspicuous conductors of 
 the lightning. Obeying the suggestion and following the example 
 -of his companion, Singleton dismounted, and the two placed them 
 selves and their horses as *nuch upon the sheltered side of the 
 clump as possible, yet sufficiently far to escape any danger from its 
 overthrow. Here they awaited the coming of the tempest. The 
 experienced woodman alone could have spoken for its approach. 
 A moment s pause had intervened, when the suddenly aroused 
 elements seemed as suddenly to have sunk into grim repose. A 
 slight sighing of the wind only, as it wound sluggishly along the 
 distant wood, had its warning, and the dense blackness of the em 
 bodied storm was only evident at moments when the occasional 
 rush of the lightning made visible its gloomy terrors. 
 
 "It s making ready for a charge, major: it s just*like a good 
 captain, sir, that calls in his scouts and sentries, and orders all 
 things to keep quiet, and without beat of drum gets all fixed to 
 spring out from the bush upon them that s coming. It won t be 
 long now, sir, before we get it; but just now it s still as the grave. 
 It s waiting for its outriders them long streaky white clouds it 
 sent out an hour ago, like so many scouts. They re a-coming up 
 now, and when they all get up together then look out for the 
 squall. Quiet now, Mossfoot quiet now, creature don t be fright 
 ened it s not a-going to hurt you, old fellow not a bit." 
 
 Humphries patted his favourite while speaking, and strove to 
 soothe and quiet the impatience which both horses exhibited. This 
 was in that strange pause of the storm which is its most remark 
 able feature in the South that singular interregnum of the winds, 
 when, after giving repeated notice of their most terrific action, they 
 seern almost to forget their purpose, and for a few moments appear 
 to slumber in their inactivity. 
 
 But the pause was only momentary, and was now at an end. 
 In another instant, they heard the rush and the roar as of a thou 
 
172 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 sand wild steeds of the desert ploughing the sands ; then followed 
 the mournful howling of the trees the shrieking of the lushed 
 winds, as if, under the influence of some fierce demon who enjoyed 
 Us triumph, they plunged through the forest, wailing at their own 
 destructive prom-ess, yet compelled unswervingly to hurry forward. 
 They twisted tm3 pine from its place, snapping it as a reed, while 
 its heavy fall to the ground which it had so long sheltered, called 
 up, even amid the roar of the tempest, a thousand echoes from the 
 forest. The branches of the wood we^e prostrated like so much 
 heather, wrested and swept from the tree which yielded tlu j m with 
 out a struo-o le to the blast; and the crouching horses and riders 
 
 OO O 
 
 below w r ere in an instant covered with a cloud of fragments. These 
 were the precursors merely : then came the arrowy flight and form 
 of the hurricane itself its actual bulk its embodied power, press 
 ing along through the forest in a gyratory progress, not fifty yards 
 wide, never distending in width, yet capriciously winding from 
 right to left and left to right, in a zigzag direction, as if a playful 
 spirit thus strove to mix with all the terrors of destruction the 
 sportive mocfd of the most id e fancy. In this progress, the whole 
 wood in its path underwent prostration the tall, proud pine, the 
 deep-rooted and unbending oak, the small cedar and the pliant 
 shrub, torn, dismembered of their fine proportions ; some, only by 
 a timely yielding to the pressure, passed over with little injury, as if 
 too much scorned by the assailant for his wrath. The larger trees 
 in the neighbourhood of the spot where our partisans had taken 
 shelter, shared the harsher fortune generally, for they were in the 
 very track of the tempest. Too sturdy and massive to yield, they 
 withheld their homage, and were either snapped oft* relentlessly and 
 short, or were torn and twisted up from their very roots. The poor 
 horses, with eyes staring in the direction of the storm, with ears 
 erect, and manes flying in the wind, stood trembling in every joint, 
 too much terrified, or too conscious of their helplessness, to attempt 
 to fly. All around the crouching party the woods seemed for 
 several seconds absolutely flattened. Huge trees were prostrated, 
 and their branches were clustering thickly, and almost forming a 
 prison around them; leaving it doubtful, as the huge terror rolled 
 tivt-r their heads, whether tiiev could ever make their cscaue from 
 
RELEASE. 175 
 
 the enclosure. Rush after rush of the trooping winds went ovci 
 them, keeping them immovable in their crowded shelter and posi 
 tion each succeeding troop wilder and weightier than the last, 
 until at length a sullen, bellowing murmur, which before they had 
 not heard, announced the greater weight of the hurricane to bo 
 overthrowing the forests in the distance. 
 
 The chief danger had overblown. Gradually the warm, oppres* 
 sive breath passed off ; the air again grew suddenly cool, and a 
 gush of heavy drops came falling from the heavens, as if they too 
 had been just released from the intolerable pressure which had 
 burdened earth. Moaning pitifully, the prostrated trees and shrubs, 
 those which had survived the storm, though shorn by its scythes, 
 gradually, and seemingly with painful effort, once more elevated 
 themselves to their old position. Their sighings, as they did so, 
 were almost human to the ears of our crouching warriors, whom 
 their movement in part released. Far and near, the moaning of 
 the forest around them was strangely, but not unpleasantly, height 
 ened in its effect upon their senses, by the distant and declining 
 roar of the past and far travelling hurricane, as, ploughing the deep 
 woods and laying waste all in its progess, it rushed on to a meet 
 ing with the kindred storms that gather about the gloomy Cape 
 Halteras, and stir and foam along the waters of the Atlantic. 
 
 " Well, I m glad it s no worse, major," cried Humphries, rising 
 and shaking himself from the brush with which lie was covered. 
 "The danger is now over, though it was mighty close to our 
 haunches. Look, now, at this pine, split all to shivers, and the top 
 not five feet from Mossfoot s quarters. The poor beast would ha 
 been in a sad fix a little to the left there." 
 
 Extricating themselves, they helped their steeds out of the brush, 
 though with some difficulty soothing them all the while with 
 words of encouragement. As Humphries had already remarked 
 m his rude fashion^ the horse, at such moments, feels and acknow- 
 redges his dependence upon man, looks to him for the bridle, and 
 tlies to him for protection. They were almost passive in the harida 
 of their masters, and under the unsubsided fear would have followed 
 tii<!m, like tame dogs, in any direction. 
 
 storm, ihough diminished of its terrors, still continued; but 
 8 
 
174 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 tliis did not discourage the troopers. They were soon mounted^ 
 and once more upon their way. The darkness, in part, had been 
 dissipa ed by the hurricane. It had swept on to other regions, 
 leaving behind it only detached masses of wind and rain-clouds 
 sluggishly hanging, or fitfully flying along the sky. -These, though 
 still fcuflicienl to defeat the light of the moon, could not altogether 
 prevent a strangling ray which peeped out timidly at pauses in 
 the storm ; and which, though it could not illumine still contrived 
 to diminish somewhat the gloomy and forbidding character of the 
 scene. Such gleams in the natural, are like the assurances of hope 
 in the moral world they speak of to-morrow they promise us 
 that the clouds must pass away they cheer, when there is little 
 left to charm. 
 
 The path over which the partisans journeyed had been little 
 used, and was greatly overgrown. They could move but slowly, 
 therefore, in the imperfect light; and, but for the frequent flashes 
 of lightning it might have been doubtful, though Humphries knew 
 the countrv, whether they could have found their way. But the 
 same agent which gave them light, had nearly destroyed them. 
 While Humphries, descending from his steed, which he led by the 
 bridle, was looking about for a by-path that he expected to find in 
 the neighbourhood, a sudden stroke of the lightning, and the over 
 whelming blaze which seemed to kindle all around them, and 
 remained for several seconds stationary, drove back the now doubly 
 terrified steeds, and almost blinded their riders. That of Singleton 
 sank upon his haunches, while Mossfoot, in her terror, dragged 
 Humphries, who still grasped firmly his bridle, to some little dis 
 tance in the woods. Sudden blackness succeeded, save in one spot, 
 where a tree had been smitten by the fluid, and was now blazing 
 along the oozy gum at its sides. The line of fire was drawn along 
 the tree, up and down a bright flame, that showed them more of 
 the track they were pursuing than they had seen before. In the 
 first moment following the cessation of the fiercer blaze made by 
 the lightning, and when the tree first began to extend a certain 
 light, Singleton thought he saw through the copse the outline of 
 a human form, on foot, moving quickly along the road above him. 
 lie called quickly to Humphries, but the lieutenant was busy with 
 
PURSUIT. 175 
 
 his steed, and did not seem to hear. Again was the object visible, 
 and Singleton then cried out 
 
 " Who goes there ? ho !" 
 
 No answer ; and the fugitive only seemed to increase his speed, 
 turning aside to the derser woods, as if he strove to elude observa 
 tion. The challenge was repeated. 
 
 " What, ho! there who goes? Speak, or I shoot." 
 
 lie detached one of his pistols from the holster as he spoke, and 
 cocked it to be in readiness. Still no answer, the person addressed 
 moving more quickly than ever. With the sight, with an instinct 
 like lightning, the partisan put spurs to his steed, and drove fear 
 lessly through the bush in pursuit. The fugitive now took fairly 
 to his heels, leaping over a fallen tree, fully in sight of his pursuer. 
 In a moment after, the steed went after him Humphries, by this 
 time in saddle, closely following on the heels of his commander. 
 For a moment the object was lost to sight, but in the next he ap 
 peared again. 
 
 "Stand!" was the cry, and with it the shot. The ball rushed 
 into the bush which seemed to shelter the flying man, and where 
 they had last seen him they bounded to the spot, but nothing \vas 
 to be seen. 
 
 "He was here you saw him, Humphries, did you not?" 
 
 " A bit of him, major a small chance of him behind the bush, 
 but too little a mark for them pistols." 
 
 " He is there there !" and catching another glimpse of the fugi 
 tive, Singleton led the pursuit, again tiring as he flew, and, without 
 pausing to wait the result, leaping down to the spot where he ap 
 peared to them. The pursuit was equally fruitless with the aim. 
 The place was bare. They had plunged into a hollow, and found 
 themselves in a pond, almost knee deep in water. They looked 
 about vainly, Humphries leading the search -with unusual ^ar- 
 nestnt**. 
 
 " I like not, major, that the fellow should escape. Why should 
 he stand a shot, rather than refuse to halt, and answer to a civil 
 question ? I m dubious, major, there s something wrong in it; and 
 he came from the direction leading to cir camp." 
 
176 THE 1 AIiTlSAX. 
 
 "Ha! are you sure of that, Humphries? think you so?" 
 
 " Ay, sir the piue that was struck marks the by-path through 
 which I should have carried you in daylight. It is the shortest, 
 though the worst; and he could not have been far from it when 
 you started him. Ah ! I have it now. A mile from this is the 
 house of old Mother Blonay, the darn of that fellow Goggle. We 
 will ride there, major, if you say so." 
 
 " With what object, Humphries? what has she to do with it?" 
 
 " I suspect the fugitive to be Goggle, the chap I warned you not 
 to take into the troop. Better we had hung him up, for he s not 
 one to depend upon. All his blood s bad : his father him they 
 call so, at least was a horse-thief; and some say, that he had a 
 cross in his blood. As for that, it s clear to me, that Goggle is a 
 half-breed Indian, or mestizo, or something. Anybody that looks 
 on Goggle will say so ; and then the nature of the beast is so like 
 an Indian why, sir, he s got no more feeling than a pine stump. * 
 
 " And with what motive would you ride to his mother s ?" 
 
 "Why, sir, if this skulking chap be Goggle, he s either been 
 there, or is on his way there ; and if so, be sure he s after mischief. 
 Proctor or LIuck at the garrison will soon have him among them, 
 and he ll get his pay in English guineas for desertion. Now, sir, 
 it s easy to see if he s been there, for I s pose the old hag don t mind 
 to tell us." 
 
 " Lead on ! A mile, you say ?" 
 
 "A short mile; and if he s not been there yet, he must be about 
 somewhere, and we may get something out of the old woman, who 
 passes for a witch about here, and tells fortunes, and can show you 
 where to find stolen cattle; and they do say, major, though I 
 never believed it they do say," and the tones of his voice fell as 
 he spoke " they do say she can put the bad mouth upon people ; 
 and there s not a few that lay all their aches and complaints to 
 her door." 
 
 " Indeed !" was the reply of Singleton ; " indeed ! she is a sight 
 worth seeing; and so let us ride, Humphries, and get out of this 
 swamp thicket with all possible speed." 
 
 " A long leap, major, will be sure to do it. But better we move 
 
THE DESEKTEU. 177 
 
 slowly. I don t want to lose our chance at this rascal for some 
 thing ; and who knows but we may catch him there. He s a great 
 skunk, now, major, that same Goggle; and though hanging s much 
 too good for him, yet them pistols would have pleased me bettei 
 had they lodged the ball more closely." 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 u A hag that hell hsw work for a born lav 
 To an o ercommg evil venomous, vile, 
 Snake-like, that hugs the bush and bites the heel." 
 
 THE troopers had not been well gone, before the fugitive they had 
 s*. vainly pursued stood upon the very spot which they had left. He 
 rose from the mire of the pond, in which he had not paused to 
 imbed himself when the search was hottest and close upon him. 
 The conjecture, of Humphries was correct, and Goggle or Blonay 
 was the person they had chased. He had left his post in the bi 
 vouac when the storm came on, and was then upon his way to his 
 mother s cabin. From that spot his farther course was to the Bri 
 tish garrison with his intelligence. His determination in this re 
 spect, however, underwent a change, as we shall see in the progress 
 of the narrative. 
 
 Never had better knowledge of character been shown than in the 
 estimate made by Humphries of that of the deserter. Goggle was 
 as warped in morals as he was blear in vision ; a wretch aptly fitted 
 for the horse-thief, the tory, and murderer. His objects were evil 
 generally, and he had no scruples as to the means by which to 
 secure them. Equally indifferent to him what commandment he 
 violated in these practices; for, with little regard from society, he 
 had no sympathy with it, and only obeyed its laws as he feared and 
 would avoid their penalties. He hated society accordingly as he 
 was compelled to fear it. lie looked upon it as a power to be de 
 stroyed with the opportunity, as a spoil to be appropriated with 
 the chance for its attainment ; and the moods of such a nature were 
 impatient for exercise, even upon occasions when he could hope no 
 addition to his pleasure or his profit from their indulgence. 
 
 Squat in the ooze and water of the creek, while the horse of Sin 
 gleton at one moment almost stood over him, he had drawn breath 
 
THE HIDING PLACE. 179 
 
 with difficulty through the leaves of a bush growing upon the edge 
 of the ditch in which his head had found concealment ; and in this 
 perilous situation his savage spirit actually prompted him to thrust 
 his knife into the belly of the animal. He had drawn it for this 
 purpose from his belt, while his hands and body were under \vatei. 
 Its point was already turned upward, when Singleton moved away 
 from the dangerous proximity. Here he listened to the dialogue 
 which the two carried on concerning him ; and, even in that predi 
 cament of dirt and danger in which he lay, his mind brooded over 
 a thousand modes by which he should enjoy his malignant appetite, 
 that craved for revenge upon them both. . When they were fairly 
 gone, he rose from the mire and ascended cautiously to the bank ; 
 shook himself like a water-dog, while he almost shivered in the satu 
 rated garments which he wore ; then rubbed and grumbled over the 
 rifle which he had taken with him into the mire, and which came 
 out as full of its ooze and water as himself. 
 
 " So ho !" said he, as he shook himself free from the mud " So 
 ho ! they are gone to old Moll s to look after me, eh ! Now would 
 I like to put this bullet into that Dorchester skunk, Humphries, d n 
 him. I am of bad blood, am I ! my father a horse-thief and a mu 
 latto, and I only fit for banging ! The words must be paid for ; 
 and Moll must answer for some of them. She is my mother, that s 
 clear she shall tell me this night who my father is ; for, Blonay, or 
 Goggle, or the devil, I will know. She shall put me oil no longer. 
 No ! though she tells me the worst though she tells me that I 
 am the spawn of Jack Dray ton s driver, as once before I ve heard it." 
 
 Thus muttering, he looked to his flint and inspected the priming 
 of his rifle. With much chagrin he found the powder saturated 
 with water, and the charge useless. He searched his pockets, but 
 his flask was gone. He had purposed the murder of Humphries or 
 Singleton had this not been the case. lie now without hesitation 
 took the track after them, and it was not long before he came in 
 sight of the miserable clay and log hovel in which his mother, odious 
 and dreaded as she was, passed fitly her existence. This spot was 
 dreary in the extreme : an old field ; a few cheerless pines rose 
 around it, and the thick broom straw waved its equally bald, though 
 more crowded forms in uncurbed vegetation among ,them. Thr 
 
180 TilE PARTISAN. 
 
 hovel stood in a hollow, considerably below the surrounding level, 
 
 and the little glimmer of light, stealing from between the logs, only 
 made its location seem more cheerless to the observer. 
 
 Blonay or, as we shall hereafter call him, according to th<) 
 fashion of the country, Goggle cautiously approached a jungle, in 
 which he hid himself, about a stone s throw from the hovel. There 
 he watched, as well as he might, in the imperfect light of the even 
 ing, for the appearance of the troopers. Though mounted, they had 
 not yet succeeded in reaching the spot, which, familiar to him from 
 childhood, he well knew to find in the darkest night, and by a 
 route the most direct, lie was there before them, snug in his 
 cover, and coolly looking out for their coming. More than once 
 he threw up the pan of his rifle, carefully keeping it from its usual 
 click by the intervention of his finger, and cursed within himself 
 his ill fortune, as he found the powder saturated with water, a soft 
 paste beneath his touch. lie thrust his hand into his pocket, 
 seeking there for some straggling grains, of which in the emer 
 gency he might avail himself; but he looked fruitlessly, and was 
 compelled to forego the hope of a shot, ,so much desired, at one or 
 other of the persons now emerging from the wood before him. 
 
 The barking of a cur warned the indweller of visiters, but with 
 out offering any obstacle to their advance. Humphries proceeded 
 first, and motioning his companion to keep his saddle, fastened his 
 horse to a bough, and treading lightly, looked through the crevices 
 of the logs upon the old crone within. Though in June, a warm 
 season at all times in Carolina, the old woman partook too much 
 of the habits of the very poor in that region to be without a fire ; 
 and with the taste of the negro, she was now bending over a huge 
 light wood blaze, with a pipe of rude structure and no small dimen 
 sions in her mouth, from which the occasional puff went forth, 
 filling the apartment with the unpleasant effluvia of the vilest leaf- 
 tobacco ; while her body and head swung ever to and fro, with a 
 regular seesaw motion, that seemed an habitual exercise. Her thin, 
 shrivelled, and darkly yellow features, were hag-like and jaundiced. 
 The skin was tightly drawn across the face, and the high cheek 
 bones and the nose seemed disposed to break through the slender 
 restraints of their covering. Her eyes were small and sunken, of 
 
THE WITCH S WELCOME. 181 
 
 light grey, and had a vicious twinkle, that did not accord with the 
 wretched and decayed aspect of her other features. Her forehead 
 was small, and clustered with grisly hair of mixed white and black, 
 disordered and unbound, but still short, and with the appearance 
 of having but lately undergone clipping at the extremities. These 
 features, repulsive in themselves, were greatly heightened in thuir 
 offensive expression by the severe mouth and sharp chin below 
 them. The upper lip was flat, undeveloped entirely, while tin- 
 lower was thrust forth in a thick curl, and, closely rising and 
 clinging to the other, somewhat lifted her glance into a sort of 
 insolent authority, which, sometimes accompanying aroused feel 
 ing, or an elevated mood of mind, might look like dignified supe 
 riority. The dress which she wore was of the poorest sort, the 
 commonest white homespun of the country, probably her own 
 manufacture, and so indifferently made, that it hung about her like 
 a sac k, and gave a full view of the bronzed and skinny neck and 
 bosom, which a regard to her appearance might have prompted 
 her to conceal. Beside her a couple of cats of mammoth size k<-pi 
 up a drowsy hum, entirely undisturbed by the yelping of the 
 cur, which, from his little kennel at one end of the hovel, main 
 tained a continuous clamour at the approach of Humphries. The 
 old woman simply turned her head, for a moment, to the entrance, 
 took the pipe from her mouth, and discharging the volume of 
 smoke which followed it, cried harshly to the dog, as if in en 
 couragement. Her call was answered by Humphries, who, rapping 
 at the door, spoke civilly to the inmate. 
 
 " Now open the door, good woman. We are friends, who would 
 speak with you. We have been caught, in the storm, and want 
 you to give us house-room till it s over." 
 
 " Friends ye may be, arid ye may not. Down by the dry branch, 
 and through the old road to mother Blonay s, is no walk that 
 friends often take ; and if ye be travellers, go ye on, for there s no 
 accommodation for ye, and but little here ye would eat. It s a 
 poor country y are in, strangers, and nothing short of Dorchester, 
 or it may be Rautowlu s, will serve your turn for a tavern." 
 
 "Now, out upon you, mother ! would you keep a shut door upcii 
 us, and the rain still pouring? 1 cried Humphries, sharply. 
 8* 
 
182 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 "Ye have been in it over long to mind it now, I m thinking, 
 and ye d better ride it out. I have nothing for ye, if ye would rob. 
 I m but a lone woman, and mighty poor ; and have no plate, no 
 silver, no fine watch, nor rings, nor anything that is worth your 
 taking. Go to The Oaks, or Middleton Place, or the old hall at 
 ^rchdale, or any of the fine houses ; they have plenty of good 
 picking there." 
 
 " Now," said Humphries to his superior " how pleasantly the 
 old hag tells us to go and steal, arid she looking down, as a body 
 may say, into the very throat of the grave that s gaping after her." 
 
 The old woman, meanwhile, as if satisfied with what she had 
 done, resumed her pipe, and recommenced her motion, to and fro, 
 over the blaze. Humphries was for a smart application of the foot 
 to the frail door that kept him out, but to this his companion re 
 fused assent. 
 
 " Confound the old hag, major ; she will play with us aftovr this 
 fashion all the night. I know her of old, and that s the only way 
 to serve her. Nothing but kicks for that breed; civility i thrown 
 away upon them." 
 
 " No, no you are rash ; let me speak. I say, my good woman, 
 we are desirous of entrance ; we have business, and would speak 
 with you." 
 
 " Business with me ! and it s a gentleman s voice too! Maybe he 
 would have a love-charm, since there are such fools ; or he has an 
 enemy, and would have a bad mouth put upon him, shall rtake him 
 shrivel up and die by inches, without any disease. I have worked 
 in this business, and may do more. Well, there s good wages for 
 it, and no danger. Who shall see, when I beg in the rich man s 
 kitchen, that I put the poison leaf in the soup, or stir the crumbs 
 with the parching coffee, or sprinkle the powder with the corn 
 flour, or knead it up with the dough ? It s a safe business enough, 
 and the pay is good, though it goes over soon for the way it comes." 
 
 "Come, come, my good voman," cried Singleton impatiently, as 
 the old beldam thus muttered to herself the various secrets of her 
 capacity, and strove to conjecture the nature of the business which 
 her visiters had with her. " Come, come, my good woman, let u* 
 in ; we are hurried, and have no little to do before daylight." 
 
THE SOLDIER SUPERSTITIOUS. 183 
 
 " Good woman, indeed ! Well, many s the one has been called 
 good with as little reason. Yes, sir, coming : my old limbs are 
 feeble ; I do not move as I used to when I was young." 
 
 Thus apologizing, with her pipe in one hand, while the other 
 untlid the entrance, Mother Blonay admitted her visitors. 
 
 "So, you have been young once, mother?" said Humphries, 
 while entering. 
 
 The old woman darted a glance upon hin* a steadfast glance 
 from her little grey eyes, and the stout and fearless trooper felt a 
 chill go through his veins on the instant. lie knew the estimate 
 put upon her throughout the neighbourhood, as one possessed of 
 the evil eye, or rather the evil mouth; one whose word brought 
 blight among the cattle, and whom the negroes feared with a 
 superstitious dread, as able to bring sickness and pestilence a 
 gnawing disease that ate away silently, until, without any visible 
 complaint, the victim perished hopelessly. Their fears had been 
 adopted in part by the whites of the lower class in the same region, 
 and Humphries, though a bold and sensible fellow, had heard of 
 too many dreadful influences ascribed to her, not to be unpleasantly 
 startled with the peculiar intensity of the stare which she put upon 
 him. Though a soldier, and like his fellows, without much faith 
 of any kind, he had not altogether survived his superstitions. 
 
 " Young !" she said, in reply ; " yes, I have been young, arid 1 
 felt my youth. I knew it, and I enjoyed it. But I have outlived 
 it, and you see me now. You are young, too, Bill Humphries ; 
 may you live to have the same question asked you which you put 
 to me." 
 
 " A cold wish, Mother Blonay ; a bitter cold wish, since you 
 should know, by your own feelings, how Lard it will be to outlive 
 activity and love, and the young people that come about us. It s 
 u sad season that, mother, and may I die before it comes. But, 
 talking of young people, mother, reminds me that you are not so 
 onesome as you say. You have your son, now, Goggle." 
 
 "If his eye is blear, Bill Humphries, it s not the part of good 
 manners to speak of it to his mother. The curse of a blear eye, 
 and a blind eye, may fall upon you yet, and upon yours ay, down 
 to your children s children for any tiling we know. * 
 
184 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " That s true, mother none of us can say. I meant no haim 
 but as everybody calls him Goggle " 
 
 " The redbug be upon everybody that so calls him ! The boy 
 has a name by law." 
 
 " Well, well, mother, do not be angry, and wish no sores ur*) 
 your neighbours shins that you can t wish oft . The redbugs and 
 the June-Hies are bad enough already, without orders ; and peoplf 
 do say you are quite too free in sending such plagues upon them. 
 for little cause, or for no cause at all." 
 
 " It s a blessing that I can do it, Bill Humphries, or idle rowdies, 
 <mch as yourself, would harry the old woman to death for then 
 sport. It s a blessing and a protection that I can make the yellow 
 jacket and the redbug leave their poison stings in the tender flesh, 
 so that the jester that laughs at the old and suffering shall learn 
 some suffering too." 
 
 "Quite a hard punishment for such an offence. But, mother, 
 they say you can do more ; that you have the spell of the bad 
 mouth, that brings long sickness and sudden death, and many 
 awful troubles ; and some that don t wish you well, say you love 
 to use it." 
 
 "Do they say so? then they say not amiss. Think you, Bill 
 Humphries, that I should not fight with him who hates rne, and 
 would destroy me if he could ? I do ; and the bad mouth of 
 Mother Blonay upon you, shall make the bones in your skin ache 
 for long months after, I tell you." 
 
 " I beg, for God s sake, that you will not put your bad mouth 
 upon me then, good mother," exclaimed Humphries, with ludicrous 
 rapidity, as if he half feared the immediate exercise of her faculty 
 upon him. 
 
 The old woman seemed not displeased with this tacit ac 
 knowledgment of her power, and she now twisted her chair about 
 so as to place herself directly in front of Singleton. He, meanwhile, 
 had been closely scrutinizing the apartment, which was in no r<> 
 spects better than those of the commonest negro-houses of tho low 
 country. The floor was the native soil. The wind was excluded 
 by clay, loosely thrust between the crevices of the logs ; a.id an old 
 scaffolding of poles, supporting a few rails crossing ea< h other, sus 
 
185 
 
 tained the mattress of moss, upon which the woman slept. She 
 dwelt unassisted, seemingly, and entirely alone. A few gourds, of 
 calabashes, hung from the roof, which was scantily shingled : these 
 oortained seeds of various kinds, bunches of dried thyme, sage, and 
 other herbs and plants ; arid some which, by a close analysis of their 
 properties, would be found to contain a sufficient solution of the 
 source from whence came her spells of power over her neighbours, 
 whether for good or evil. 
 
 Singleton had employed himself in noticing all these several ob 
 jects, and the probability is, that the quick eye of the old woman 
 had discovered his occupation. She turned her chair so as to place 
 herself directly before him, and the glance of her eye confronting 
 his, compelled him to a similar change of position. The docile cats, 
 with a sluggish effort, changed their ground also ; and after circling 
 thrice aboul; their new places of repose, before laying themselves 
 down upon it, they soon resumed their even and self-satisfied slum 
 berous hum, which the movement of their mistress had interrupted. 
 A moment of silence intervened, during which Dame Blonay em 
 ployed herself in examining Singleton s person and countenance. 
 
 lie was, of course, quite unknown to hei, <md a curious desire to 
 make the acquaintance of new faces is, perhaps, as much the cha 
 racteristic of age as its garrulity. Memory, in this way, becomes 
 stirred up actively, and the decaying mind delights in such a survey, 
 that it may liken the stranger to some well known individual of 
 former days. It is thus that the present time continually supplies 
 with aliment the past from which it receives so much of its own. 
 The close survey of the woman did not please Singleton, who at 
 length interrupted it by resuming the subject where Humphries had 
 discontinued it. With becoming gravity, he asked her the question 
 which follows, in respect to the extent of her powers 
 
 " And so, dame, you really believe that you possess the power of 
 doing what you say you can do ?" 
 
 " Ay, sir, and a great deal more. I can dry up the blood in the 
 veins of youth ; I can put the staggering weakness into the bones 
 and sinews of the strong man ; I can make the heart shrink that is 
 Drave I can put pain there instead of pleasure." 
 
 " Indeed ! if you can do this, dame, you can certainly do much 
 
T1IK * A.KTIS AN. 
 
 mere tlian most of youi neighbours. But is it not strange, mother 
 that these po\\ers are all for evil ? Have you no faculty for con 
 ferring good for cheering the heart instead of distressing it, and 
 giving pleasure instead of pain ?" 
 
 " Ay ! I can avenge you upon your enemy !" As she spoke, her 
 form suspended its waving motion, was bent forward in eagerness, 
 and her eye glistened, while her look seemed to say, " Is not that 
 the capacity you would have me serve you in ?" 
 
 44 That, also, is a power of evil, dame, and not of good. I spoke 
 of good, not evil." 
 
 44 Not that !" she muttered, with an air of disappointment, while 
 drawing herself back and resuming her croning movement. 
 
 " Not that ! is not revenge sweet, young master very sweet, 
 when you have been robbed and wronged for years ; trampled in 
 the dust ; laughed and sneered at ; hunted and hated : is not the 
 moment of revenge sweet ? When you see your enemy writhing in 
 pain, you put your ear down and listen to his suffering, and your 
 heart, that used to beat only with its own sorrow, you feel is 
 throbbing with a strange, sweet joy at his is it not sweet, my 
 master ?" 
 
 44 Ay, sweet perhaps to many, dame, but I fear me, still evil ; still 
 not good ; still harmful to man. Have you no better powers in 
 your collection ? none to give strength arid youth, and bring back 
 health ?" 
 
 She pointed to a bunch of the smaller snake-roots which lay in 
 the corner, but with much seeming indifference, as if the cure of 
 disease formed but an humble portion of her mystery and labours. 
 
 44 And your art gives you power over affections, and brings 
 pleasure sometimes, mother ?" 
 
 44 Is it love ? the love of the young woman hard to please, 
 difficult to soothe, cold to sweet words that you would win ; my 
 young master ?" 
 
 She again bent her head towards him, and suspended her 
 motion, as if now hopeful that, in this reference, she had found 
 out the true quest of the seeker. A warm glow overspread the 
 cheek of Singleton, as, in answering the inquiry correctly, he musi 
 necessarily have confessed that such a desire was in his bosom, 
 
THE MOTHER. 187 
 
 though certainly without any resort to such practices as might be 
 ooked for in her suggestion. 
 
 " Ay, indeed, such an art would be something to me now, could 
 it avail for any purpose could it soften the stern, and warm the 
 cold, and make the hard to please easy but 1 look not for your 
 aid, mother, to do all this." 
 
 " I can do it fear me not," said the old woman, assuringly. 
 
 " It may be, but I choose not that thou shouldst. I must toil 
 for myself in this matter, and the only art I may use must be that 
 which I shall not be ashamed of. But we have another quest, 
 dame ; and upon this we would have you speak honestly. You 
 have a son ?" 
 
 The old woman looked earnestly at the speaker ; and, as at that 
 moment the sabre swung oft* from his knee, clattering with its end 
 upon the floor, she started apprehensively, and it could be seen that 
 she trembled. She spoke after the pause of an instant : 
 
 " Sure, captain Ned, Ned Blonay is my son. What would you 
 tell me ? lie has met with no harm ?" 
 
 " None, mother none that I can speak of," said Humphries 
 quickly ; " not that he may not happen upon it if he does not 
 mind his tracks. But tell us when was he here last, mother? 
 Was he not here to-night ? and when do you look for him again ?" 
 
 The apprehensions of the woman had passed off; she resumed 
 her seesaw motion, and answered indifferently : 
 
 " The boy is his own master, Bill Humphries ; it is not for an 
 old woman like me to answer for Ned Blonay." 
 
 " What ! are you not witch enough to manage your own son ? 
 Tell that to them that don t know you both better. I say to you, 
 Mother Blonay, that story wont pass muster. You have seen Gog 
 gle to-night." 
 
 " And I say, Bill Humphries, that the tongue lies that says it, 
 though it never lied before. Go you re a foul-spoken fellow, and 
 your bones shall ache yet for that same speech. Goggle Goggle 
 Goggle ! as if it wasn t curse enough to be blear-eyed without 
 having every dirty field-tackey whickering about it. 1 
 
 " Our object is not to offend, my good woman, 1 said Singleton, 
 interposing gently ; "but to ;isk a civil .piestion. My companion 
 
188 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 only employs a name by which your son is generally distinguished 
 among the people. You must not allow him to anger you, there 
 fore, but answer a question or two civilly, and we shall leave you." 
 
 "You have smooth words, captain, and T know what good-breed 
 ing is. I have lived among decent people, and 1 know very well 
 how to behave like one if tb -sy would let me ; but when such ill- 
 spoken creatures as Bill Humphries ask me questions, it s ten to 
 one I don t think it worth while to answer them ; and answer I 
 will not, except with curses, when they speak nicknames for my 
 child. I know the boy is ugly and blear-eyed. I know that his 
 skin is yellow and shrivelled like my own, but he has suckled at 
 these withered paps, and he is my child ; and the more others hale 
 and abuse him, the more I love him the more I will take up for 
 him." 
 
 " Now, Mother Blonay, you needn t make such a fuss about the 
 matter. You know 1 meant no harm. Confound the fellow, 1 
 don t care whether he has eyes or not ; sure I am, I know the name 
 which people give him without minding the blear. I only want 
 vou to say what you ve done with him where he is now ?" 
 
 " You are too quick too violent, Humphries, with the old 
 wornan," said Singleton in a whisper. 
 
 " Major, don t I know her ? The old hag I see through her 
 now, jist as easy as I ever saw through any thing in my life. I ll 
 lay now she knows all about the skunk." 
 
 " Perhaps so, but if she does, this is not the way to get at her 
 nfbrmation." 
 
 " But little hor>e of that now, since she s got her back up. Con- 
 *<nind Goggle ! if T had him under a stout hickory [ reckon I d 
 --ike her talk to another tune." 
 
 This was loud enough for the old woman, who replied : 
 
 " Yes you d beat with blows and whips a far better man than 
 7":r&elf. But go your ways, and see what will come of this night s 
 vork. I have curses, have I? if I have, you shall hear them. I 
 ha,ve a bad mouth, have I ? you shall feel it. Hearken, Bill Hum 
 phries ! I am old and weak, but I am strong enough to come to 
 TOU where you are, and whisper in your ears. As what I say will 
 do you no pleasure, you shall hear it." 
 
IMPRECATION. 189 
 
 And, tottering forward from her seat, she bent down to the chaii 
 upon which he sat, and though he moved away in an instant, he 
 was not quick enough to avoid the momentary contact of her pro 
 truded and hag-like lip with his ear, that shrunk from the touch as 
 with an instinct of its own. She whispered but two words, and 
 they were loudly enough uttered for Singleton to hear as well as 
 Humphries. 
 
 " Your sister Bella Humphries !" 
 
 The trooper started up as if he had been shot ; staggered he 
 certainly was, and his eyes glared confusedly upon those which she 
 piercingly fixed upon him with a fiendish leer. She shook her 
 long bony finger at him, and her body, though now erect, main 
 tained its waving motion just as when she had been seated. Re 
 covering in a moment, he advanced with threatening action? 
 exclaiming : 
 
 " You old hag of hell ! what do you mean by that ? What of 
 Bella ? what of my sister ?" 
 
 " Goggle Goggle Boggle that of her ! that of her!" was all 
 the reply"; and this was followed by a low chuckling laugh, which 
 had in it something exceedingly annoying even to Singleton himself. 
 Hie trooper was ferocious, and with clenched fist seemed about to 
 strike. This, when she saw, seemed to produce in her even a 
 greater degree of resolution. Instead of shrinking, she advanced, 
 folded her arms upon her breast, and there was a deep concentrated 
 solemnity in her tone as she exclaimed : 
 
 u Now may the veins dry up, and the flesh wither, and the 
 sinews shrink, and the marrow leave the bones ! Strike the old 
 woman, now, Bill Humphries strike, if you dare !" 
 
 Singleton had already passed between the parties, not, however, 
 before he had been able to see the prodigious effect which h^r 
 adjuration had produced upon the trooper. His form was fixed in 
 the advancing position in which he stood when she addressed him. 
 Mis lips were colourless, and his eyes were fastened upon her own 
 with a steadiness which was that of paralysis, and not of decision. 
 She, on the other hand, seemed instinct with life a subtle, concen 
 trated life. The appearance of decrepitude had gone, the eyo had 
 stronger fire, the limbs seemed firm on the instant, and there WM 
 
190 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 something exceedingly high and commanding in her position. A 
 moment after, she sank back in her chair almost exhausted the 
 two cats anxiously purring about her, having stood at her side, as 
 if bent to co-operate in her defence, on the first approach of Hum 
 pliries. He now recovered from the superstitious awe which had 
 momentarily possessed him ; and heartily ashamed of the show of 
 violence to which her mysterious speech had provoked him, began 
 to apologize for it to Singleton. 
 
 " I know it s wrong, major, and I wasn t exactly in my sober 
 senses, or I wouldn t have done it. But there s no telling how she 
 provoked me ; and the fact is, what she said worries me no little 
 now ; and I must know what she meant. I say, mother Mother 
 Blonay !" 
 
 Her eyes now were fixed upon his with a dull, inexpressive 
 glare, that seemed to indicate the smallest possible degree of con 
 sciousness. 
 
 * She is now exhausted, and cannot understand you ; certainly 
 not to satisfy your inquiries," said Singleton. 
 
 The trooper made one or two efforts more, but she refused all 
 answer, and showed her determination to be silent by turning her 
 face from them to the wall. Finding nothing was to be got out 
 of her, Singleton placed beside her upon the chair a note of the 
 continental currency, of large amount but for its depreciated value ; 
 then, without more words, they left the hovel to its wretched 
 tenant, both much relieved upon emerging into the open air. The 
 severity of the storm had now greatly subsided ; the rain still con 
 tinued falling, however, and, hopeless of any farther discoveries of 
 the fugitive they had pursued, and as .ignorint of his character as 
 at first, they moved onward, rapidly pushing for their bivouac upon 
 the Ashley. 
 
CHAPTER XVlJf. 
 
 Commune with him, and fear not. Foul though ho b*. 
 Thy destiny is kindred with his own, 
 And that secures thee." 
 
 THEY had scarcely gone from sight, when Goggle entered the 
 dwelling. The old hag started from her seeming stupor, and all 
 her features underwent a change. She fondled upon her son with 
 all the feeble drivelling of age ; called him by various affectionate 
 diminutives, and busied herself, in spite of her infirmities, waddlinj/ 
 about from corner to corner of the hut, to administer to his desires. 
 which were by no means few. He, on the other hand, manifested 
 the most brutal indifference to ail her regards, shook her off rudely 
 as she hung upon his shoulders, and, with a boisterous manner, and 
 a speech coupled with an oath, demanded his supper, at the same 
 time throwing himself, with an air of extreme indolence, along the 
 bed. 
 
 " And, Neddy dear, what nas kept you so .ate? Where have 
 you been, and whence come yvu last ?" were the repeated questions 
 of the old woman. 
 
 "A dratit! mother wi ii you never oe ((one asking questions ? 
 It s not so late, I m sure." 
 
 " Later thnn you saia ; much later, by two hours, boy." 
 
 " Well, if it is, what men It s well you have me at all, foi 
 I ve had a narrow chance of it. Swow ! but the bullets sung over 
 my ears too close for comfort." 
 
 " You don t say so, Ned ! What ! that stark, bull-head Hum 
 phries, has he shot at you, l*ed, my son ?" 
 
 " Him or Singleton, a n em. Hut I have a hitch on him now 
 that shall swing him. lie p!y* possum no longer with TTuck, if 
 you have a tongue in vour ru-ad, mother." 
 
 "Who I? What am 1 to do, Ned, boy? Ts it to put Bill 
 
192 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Humphries in trouble ? If it s that, I have the heart to do it, if it i 
 only for his talk to-night." 
 
 " Yes, I heard it." 
 
 " You ! Why, where were you, Ned ?" 
 
 " There." 
 
 lie pointed to the end of the hovel, where, snugly concealed on 
 the outside, his eye, piercing through a hole between the logs, had 
 witnessed all that had taken place in the apartment while the parti 
 sans held it. 
 
 " And you heard and saw all ?" said the old woman. " You 
 heard his foul speech, and you saw him lift his hand to strike me 
 because I spoke to him as he deserved ! But he dared not no, he 
 dared not ! Twas as much as his life was worth to lay hands on me. 
 His arm should have withered ! That it should." 
 
 "Psho! Psho! withered!" exclaimed the son scornfully. She 
 might deceive herself, but not him. 
 
 " But who was the other man, Neddy the Captain ?" 
 
 " His name s Singleton, and he s a major of the continentals 
 that s all I know about him. He took me prisoner with some others 
 of Travis s, and I joined his troop, rather than fare worse. This 
 gives me piclnngs on both sides; for since I ve joined we ve had 
 smart work in skirmishing; and down at Archdale Hall we made a 
 splash at Huck s baggage- wagons, and got good spoil. See, here s 
 a watch true gold ! was this morning in a red -coat s fob, now in 
 mine." 
 
 " It s good gold, and heavy, my son ; will give you yellow-boys 
 enough." 
 
 " Ay, could we sell but that s the devil. It comes from a British 
 pocket, and we can t venture to offer it to any of their colour. As 
 for the continentals, they haven t got any but their ragged currency, 
 and that nobody wants. We must keep the watch for a good 
 chance, for that and other reasons. I took it from a prisoner 1>\ 
 sleight of hand, and it must not be known that I have it, on eitliet 
 side. Proctor would punish, and the young fellow Singleton, who 
 has an eye like a hawk, he would not stop to give me -a swinging 
 bough if he thought I took it, from one of his prisoners." 
 
 " Give it to me, 1 oy : r ll save yon that risk." 
 
SUPPER. 193 
 
 * You shall do more, mother ; but first get the supper. I m hell 
 ish hungry, and tired out with the chase I ve had. A drat it 1 my 
 bones are chilled with the mud and water." 
 
 " There s a change in the chest, boy, beside you. Put the wet 
 clothes oft? 
 
 " It s too troublesome, and they d only get wet too ; for I must 
 start back to the camp directly." 
 
 " What camp ?" 
 
 " Singleton s down upon the river five miles below the Barony. 
 I must be there, and let him see me, or he ll suspicion me, and move 
 off . You will have to carry the message to Proctor." 
 
 " What, boy ! will you go back and put your neck in danger ? 
 Suppose he finds you missing ?" 
 
 " Well, I ll tell him the truth, so far as the truth will answer the 
 purpose of a lie. I ll say that I came to see you, and, having done 
 so, have come back to my duty. They cannot find fault, tor the 
 troopers every now and then start off without leave or license. I m 
 only a volunteer, you see." 
 
 " Take care, boy ; you will try the long lane once too often. 
 They suspect you now, I know, from the askings of that fellow 
 Humphries; and him too, the other what s his name? he, too, 
 isked closely after you." 
 
 " Singleton. I heard him." 
 
 O 
 
 " WhajL Singleton is that, boy ? Any kin to the Singletons here 
 away iii St. Paul s ?" 
 
 u No, 1 believe not. He s from the Iligh Hills, they say, though 
 he has friends at The Oaks. It was there he went to-night. But 
 the supper, mother is it all ready ?" 
 
 Sit and eat, boy. There s hoecake and bacon, and some cold 
 collards." 
 
 u Any rum ?" he inquired, rising sluggishly from the bed, and ap 
 proaching the little table which, while the preceding dialogue had 
 been going on, his mother had supplied with the edibles enumerated. 
 She handed him the jug, from which, undiluted, he drank freely, 
 following the stronger liquid with a moderate draught from the 
 gourd of water which she brought him at the same moment. While 
 he ate, he muttered occasional^ to his mother, who hung around 
 
194 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 him all the while in close attendance, regarding the besmeared, sa)* 
 low, and disfigured wretch with as much affection as if he had been 
 the very choicest of all God s creatures. Such is the heart, erring 
 continually in its appropriation of sympathies, which, though intrin 
 sically they may be valueless, are yet singularly in proof of that 
 care of nature, which permits no being to go utterly unblest by its 
 regard, and bestows on every homestead, however lowly, some por 
 tion of its soothing and its sunshine. 
 
 Goggle had eaten, and now, like a gorged snake, he threw nimself 
 once more at length upon the couch that stood in the corner, grum 
 bling, as he did so 
 
 " A drat it ! I hate to go out again ! But I must I must go 
 back to camp, to blind Singleton ; and as for that fullow Humphries, 
 hear you, mother I was in the pond by Coburn s corner when he 
 came upon me, and just about to cross it. They called out, and 
 crack, crack went their pistols, and the balls both times whizzed 
 close above my head. It was then they gave chase, and I lay close, 
 and hugged the hollow. Singleton s horse stood right across me, 
 and I expected his hoofs every moment upon my back." 
 
 " You don t say so, Neddy ?" 
 
 " Ay, but I do but that s not it. The danger was something, 
 to be sure, but even then I could listen I could hear all they said ; 
 and I had reason to listen, too, for it was of me Humphries spoke. 
 The keen chap suspected me to be the man they chased, though 
 they could not make me out ; and so he spoke of me. Can you 
 count up what he said, mother?" 
 
 " No, Neddy ; how should I ?" 
 
 " What ! and you tell fortunes, too, and bewitch, so that all of 
 them call you cattle charmer, yet you can t tell what Bill Humphries 
 spoke about me, your own son ! For I reckon I am your son, no 
 matter who was my right father ! Can you not tell, eh ?" 
 
 " No, sure not : some foul speech, I reckon, considering who 
 spoke it." 
 
 " Ay, foul speech enough, if you knew. But the long and short 
 of it, mother, is this, and I put the question to you plainly, and ex 
 pect you to answer plainly 
 
 " What do you mean, rny SOT ? ~ 
 
THE HAG ENRAGED. 195 
 
 44 Ay, that s it I m your son, I believe that ; but toll me, and 
 tell rne truly who was my father ? It was of that that Humphries 
 spoke. He spoke for all the country round, and something, too, I ve 
 heard of before. He said I was no better than my father ; that he 
 was a horse-thief, and what was worse, that I had a cross in my 
 blood. Speak, now, mother speak out truly, for you see I m in 
 no passion ; for, whether it s true or not, I will have it out of him 
 that spoke it, before long, some way or other. If it s true, so much 
 the worse for him, for I can t cut your throat, mother I can t drink 
 your blood ; but what I can do, I will, and that is, have the blood 
 of the man that knows and speaks of your misdoings." 
 
 That affectionate tenderness of manner which she had heretofore 
 shown throughout the interview, passed away entirely after this 
 inquiry of Goggle. She was no longer the mother of her son. A 
 Ijaggard scorn was in every feature a hellish revival of angry pas 
 sions, of demoniac hate, and a phrensied appetite. As she looked 
 upon the inquirer, who, putting such a question, yet lay, and seem 
 ingly without emotion, sluggishly at length upon her couch, her ire 
 seemed scarcely restrainable her figure seemed to dilate in every 
 part and, striding across the floor with a rapid movement, hostile 
 seemingly to the generally enfeebled appearance of her frame, she 
 stood directly before, and looking down upon him 
 
 " And are you bent to hearken to such foul words of your own 
 mother, bringing them home to my ears, when your bullet should 
 have gone through the head of the speaker ?" 
 
 " All in good time, mother. The bullet should have gone through 
 his head but for an accident. But it s well it did not. He would 
 have died then in a moment. When I kill him now, he shall feel 
 himself dying, I warrant." 
 
 " It is well, boy. Such a foul speaker should have a death of 
 terror he deserves it." 
 
 " Ay, but that s neither here nor there, mother, you have not 
 answered my question. Speak out ; was I born lawfully ?" 
 
 " Lawfully ! and what care you, Ned Blonay, about the lawful 
 ness or the unlawfulness of your birth you who hourly fight 
 against the laws who rob, who burn, who murder, whenever a 
 chance offers, and care not ? Is it not your pleasure to break the 
 
196 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 | aw s to live on the profits and the property of others ? Whence 
 came the purse you brought here last week, but from the red-c^M 
 who travelled with you as a friend, and you, all the time receiving 
 pay from his people ? Whence came this watch you just now put 
 into my hands, but from your prisoner ? and the hog of which you 
 ate for supper, your own rifle shot it in the swamp, although you 
 saw the double fork in the ear, and the brand on its quarter, which 
 told you it belonged to Squire Walton, at The Oaks ? what do 
 you care about the laws, then, that you would have me answer your 
 question ?" 
 
 " Nothing ; I don t care that for all the laws in the country not 
 that ! But still I wish to know the truth of this matter. It s for 
 my pleasure. I like to know the truth ; whether I mind it or not 
 is another thing." 
 
 " Your pleasure, boy your pleasure ! and what if I tell you 
 that Humphries spoke true that you are " 
 
 " A bastard ! speak it out I want to hear it ; and it will give 
 me pleasure I love that which provokes me. I can smile when 
 one does me an injury smile all the time I bear it quietly, for 1 
 think of the time when I m to take pay for it. You don t under 
 stand this, perhaps, and I can t give you any reason to make it 
 more plain. But so I do and when Humphries had done 
 speaking, I would have given something handsome to have had 
 him talk it over again. When I have him in my power, he shall 
 do so." 
 
 " The Indian blood ! It will show itself anyhow !" was the 
 involuntary exclamation of the old woman. 
 
 " Ha ! what s that, mother !" 
 
 " Ask me not." 
 
 " Ay, but I will I must ; and hear me once for all you tell 
 me the truth, on the instant, or you never see my face again. I ll 
 go to the Indies with Sir Charles Montague, that s making up H 
 regiment in Charleston for that country." 
 
 " Beware, boy ask me not any thing else. You will hate me 
 if I tell you. You will leave me for ever." 
 
 " No don t be afraid. Come, speak out, and say was my 
 father s name Blonay 9> 
 
SAVAGE CURIOSITY. 197 
 
 " Blouay was my lawful husband, boy, when you were born," 
 aid the woman, evasively. 
 
 " Ay, that may be well enough," he exclaimed, " yet I be no son 
 of his. Speak the truth, mother, and no two bites of a cherry. 
 Out with it all you can t vex me by telling it. Look here see 
 this wound on iny arm when it begins to heal, I rub it until it 
 unscars and grows red and angry again. I like the pain of it. It s 
 strange, I know, but it s my pleasure ; and so I look to be pleased 
 with the story you shall tell me. Was Blonay my father 2" 
 
 " He was not." 
 
 "Good! who was?" 
 
 " Ask no more." 
 
 " Ay, but I will I must have it all so speak on." 
 
 " I will not speak it aloud I will not. I have sworn it." 
 
 " You must unswear it. I cannot be trifled with. You must 
 tell me the secret of my birth, and all. I care not how dark, how 
 foul, how unlawful you must suppress nothing. This night must 
 give me the knowledge which I have wanted before this night you 
 speak it freely, or lose me for ever." 
 
 The woman paced the apartment convulsively, undergoing, at, 
 every moment, some new transition, from anger and impatience, to 
 entreaty and humbleness. Now she denounced the curiosity of her 
 son, and now she implored his forgiveness. But she cursed or im 
 plored in vain. He lay coolly and sluggishly, utterly unmoved, at 
 length, upon the bed ; heedless of all her words, and now and then 
 simply assuring her that nothing would suffice but the true narrative 
 of all that he wished to know. Finding evasion hopeless, the old 
 woman seemed to recover her own coolness and strength with the 
 resolve which she had taken, and after a little pause for preparation, 
 she began. 
 
 "Ned Blonay, it is now twenty-nine years since you were 
 born" N 
 
 " Not quite, mother, not quite, twenty-eight and some seven 
 months. Let s see, November, you remember, was my birthday, 
 and then I was but twenty-eight ; but go on, it s not important 
 
 M Twenty-eight or twenty-nine, it matters not which you were 
 oorn lawfully the son of John Blonay, and as such he knew and 
 9 
 
198 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 believed you. Your true father was an Indian of the Catawba 
 nation, who passed through the Cypress the year before on his way 
 to the city." 
 
 " Go on the particulars." 
 
 " Ask not that not that, boy ; I pray ye " 
 
 "All all." 
 
 " I will not I cannot it was my wickedness my shocking 
 wickedness ! I will not speak it aloud for worlds." 
 
 "Speak it you must, but you may whisper it in my ears. 
 Stoop" 
 
 She did so, passively as it were, and in a low tone, broken only 
 by her own pauses and his occasional exclamations, she poured 
 into his ear a dark, foul narrative of criminal intercourse, provoked 
 on her part by a diseased appetite, resulting, as it would seem, in 
 punishment, in the birth of a monster like himself. Yet he listened 
 to it, if not passively, at least without any show of emotion or in 
 dignation; and as she finished, and hurrying away from him threw 
 herself into her old seat, and covered her skinny face wiili her 
 hands, he simply thrust his fingers into the long straight black 
 hair depending over his eyes, which seemed to carry confirmatory 
 evidence enough for the support of the story to which he had 
 listened. He made no other movement, but appeared, for a while, 
 busy in reflection. She every now and then looked towards him 
 doubtfully, and with an aspect which had in it something of ap 
 prehension. At length, rising, though with an air of effort, from 
 the couch, he took a paper from his pocket which he studied a 
 little while by the blaze in the chimney, then approaching her, ho 
 spoke in language utterly unaffected by what he had heard 
 
 "Hark ye, mother; I shall now go back to the camp. It s 
 something of a risk, but nothing risk, nothing gain ; and if I run 
 a risk, it s for something. I go back to blind Singleton, for T shall 
 tell him all the truth about my coming here. He won t do any 
 thing more than scold a little, for the thing s common ; but if ho 
 should" 
 
 " What, my son ? speak !" 
 
 " No," he muttered to himself, " no danger of that he dare not. 
 Hut you come, mother, come to the camp by sunrise, and e 
 
TREACHERY 1 LAMN KD. 199 
 
 what you can. You ll be able to prove I was with you after the 
 storm, and that ll clear me ; then you can go to Dorchester, make 
 all haste, and with this paper, see Proctor, and put it in his own 
 hands yourself. There s some news in it he will be glad to pay 
 for. It tells him something about the camp ; and that about Col. 
 Walton, shall make liira fly from The Oaks, as an old owl from 
 the burning cypress. You can also tell him what you see at camp, 
 and so use your eyes when you come there. Mind, too, if you see 
 Huok or any of his men, keep dark. He would chouse you out 
 of all the pay, and get the guineas for himself; and you might 
 whistle for your share." 
 
 He gave her a dirty paper as he spoke, in which he had care 
 fully noted down every particular relating to his new service, the 
 force, the deeds, and the camp of Singleton all that he thought 
 would be of value to the enemy. She heard him, but did not ap 
 prove of his return to the camp. The conference with Singleton 
 and Humphries, together with the undisguised hostility of the 
 latter, had filled her mind with troublesome apprehensions; and 
 she warned her son accordingly ; but he took little heed of her 
 counsel. 
 
 " I m bent upon it, mother, for it s a good business. You come 
 that s all, and say when and where you ve seen me to-night. 
 Come soon by sunrise, and I ll get off clear, and stand a better 
 chance of being trusted by the commander." 
 
 " And Bill Humphries T 
 
 " Ah ! he must have his swing. Let him. The dog swallows 
 his legs at last, and so will he. I only wait the time, and shall 
 then shut up his mouth in a way shall be a lesson to him for 
 ever in a way he shan t forget, and shan t remember. He shall 
 feel me before long." 
 
 " And he shall feel me LOO, die reprobate ; he shall know that 1 
 have a power, though he laughs at it." 
 
 " A drat it, but it s dark, mother; a thick cloud s yet over the 
 moon, and but a sloppy path for a shy foot, but it must be done. 
 There s some old hound yelping yonder in the woods ; he don t 
 like being out any more i.han myself." 
 
 ** You will go, Ned ! ind the old woman s hand was ou hi* 
 
200 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 shoulder. He shoved it off with something of hurry, while he 
 answered 
 
 " Yes, yes ; and be sure you come, and when you have helped 
 rue out of the scrape, go, off-hand, to Proctor. See him, himself; 
 don t let them put you off. He will pay well and not chouse 
 you, for he s a true gentleman. Good-night good-night." 
 
 She watched him from the door-way until he was completely 
 lost from sight in the adjacent forest. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 u Oh cruel I and the shame of such a wound 
 Makes in the heart a deeper gash than all 
 It made upon the form " 
 
 SINGLETON and Humphries were hailed as they approached the 
 patrols by the voice of Lance Frampton, the younger son of the 
 maniac. He had volunteered to fill the post which had heen de 
 serted by Goggle. He reported the absence of the half-breed, and 
 was gratified by receiving from his commander a brief compliment 
 upon his precision and readiness. Such approval was grateful to 
 the boy, coming from Singleton ; for the gentle manner of the 
 latter had already won greatly on his affections. Young Framp- 
 ton, though but sixteen, was manly and fearless, full of ambition, 
 and very promising, lie rode well, and could use his rifle already 
 with the best shots of the country. The unsettled life of the par 
 tisan warrior did not seem to disagree with his tender years, so far 
 as he had already tried it ; and his cheerless fortunes, indeed, al 
 most denied him the choice of any other. Still, though manl} 
 in most respects, something of sadness rested upon his pale coun 
 tenance, which was soft like that of a girl, and quite unlike the 
 bronzed visages common to the sunny region in which he had 
 been born and lived. In addition to the leading difference between 
 himself and the people of his own condition around him, his tastes 
 were naturally fine, his feelings delicate and susceptible, his impres 
 sions acute and lasting. He inclined to Major Singleton intuitively; 
 as the manly freedom and ease of deportment for which his com 
 mander was distinguished, were mingled with a grace, gentleness, 
 and pleasant propriety, to which his own nature insensibly beguiled 
 him. He saluted them, as we have already said, with becoming 
 modesty, unfolded his intelligence, and then quie .ly sank back io 
 his position. 
 
 Humphries did not seem much surprised at tl 
 
 9* 
 
202 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " As I expected," he said ; " it s the nature of the beast. The 
 fellow was a born skunk, and he will die one. There s no mending 
 that sort of animal, major, and there s little use, and some danger, 
 to waste time on it." 
 
 " IIow long is it, Lam j, since his departure became known to 
 Lieutenant Davis ?" was the inquiry of Singleton. 
 
 " Not a half-hour, sir. When Lieutenant Davis went the rounds, 
 sir, to relieve him, the place was empty, and he said Goggle must 
 have gone before the storm came up." 
 
 " Had you the storm here, Lance ?" inquired Humphries. 
 
 " Not much of it, sir. It swept more to the left, and must have 
 been heavy where it went, for the roaring of the wind was louder 
 here than it felt. The trees doubled a little, but didn t give only 
 some that had the hearts eaten out. They went down, sir, at the 
 first push of the hurricane." 
 
 Singleton conferred briefly with Humphries, and then despatched 
 the boy to Davis, with instructions to place the party in moving 
 order by sunrise the two officers, riding more slowly in the same 
 direction, conferred upon future arrangements. 
 
 " That fellow s absence, Humphries, will compel us to change our 
 quarters, for his only object must be to carry the news to Dorchester." 
 
 " That s it, for certain, major ; and the sooner we move the 
 better. By midday to-morrow, Proctor and Huck, and the whole 
 of em would be on our haunches, and we only a mouthful. A 
 start by the time the sun squints on the pine tops, sir, would do no 
 harm ; and then, if you move up to Moultrie s old camp at Bacon s 
 bridge, it will be far enough to misguide them for the present. 
 From the bridge, you see, you can make the swamp almost at any 
 moment, and yet it s not so far but you can get to The Oaks soon 
 as ever Proctor turns back upon Dorchester." 
 
 44 What force has he there, think you ?" 
 
 " Not enough to go far, sir, or stay out long. The garrison s but 
 dim, and Huck is for the .up country, I heard him say. He may 
 give you a drive before he goes, for he is mighty ready to please 
 Proctor ; but then he goes by Monk s corner, and so on up to Nel 
 son s ferry ; and it will be out of his way to set upon you at Moul 
 trie s." 
 
STRATEGICS. 203 
 
 " Why does he take that route, when his course is for the Ca- 
 tawba ?" 
 
 " Ha I sir, you don t know Huck. He s an old scout, and knows 
 where the best picking lies. He goes along that route, sir, skim 
 ming it like so much cream as he goes ; and woe to the housekeeper, 
 loyalist or whig, that gives him supper, and shows him too much 
 plate. Huck loves fine things ; and for that matter, plunder of any 
 kiod never goes amiss with a tory." 
 
 " True ; and the course he takes through Sumter gives him 
 spoil enough, if he dares touch it ; but Marion will soon be at Nel 
 son s, where we hope to meet him. Let us ride on now, and see to 
 our movement." 
 
 " With your leave, now, major, I ll go back to Dorchester." 
 
 u With what object ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, only, as one may say, to curse and quit. That rascaj 
 Goggle will be in Proctor s quarters by daylight, and will soon 
 have a pretty story for the major. I must try and get there before 
 him, so as to stop a little the blow. Since it must come, it needn t 
 come on anybody s head but mine ; and if I can keep my old father 
 from trap, why, you see, sir, it s my born duty to do so." 
 
 " How will you do that ?" 
 
 44 I ll tell you, sir. Dad shall go to Proctor before Goggle, and 
 shall denounce me himself. He shall make something out of the 
 Englishman by his loyalty, and chouse Goggle at tLe same time. 
 Besides, sir, he will be able to tell a truer story, for he shall say 
 that we ve gone from the camp, which, you know, will be the case 
 by that time. So, if he looks for us here, as Goggle will advise 
 him, the old man will stand better than ever in the good graces of 
 the enemy ; and will be better able to give us intelligence, and help 
 our cause." 
 
 " But will your father like such a mission ?" 
 
 " Like it, major ! why, aint I his son his only son and won t 
 he do, think you, what I ask him ? To be sure he will. You 
 will see." 
 
 " The plan is good, and reminds me of Pryor. You will see 
 him, and hurry his recruiting. Say to him, from me, how much 
 Colonel Marion expects fron Imii, is, indeed, the letter I gave him 
 
204 THE PARTIS AX. 
 
 has already persuaded him. Remind him of that letter, and lot 
 him read it to you. This will please him, and prompt to now 
 efforts, should he prove dull. But let him be quiet nothing impa 
 tient, till Colonel Walton is prepared to start. Only keep in readi 
 ness, and wait the signal. For yourself, when you have done this, 
 delay nothing, and risk nothing in Dorchester. You have no plea 
 if found out ; and they will hang you off-hand as soon as taken. 
 Follow to Bacon s bridge as soon as possible, and if you find me 
 not there, I am either in the swamp, or in the south towards the 
 Edisto ; possibly on the road to Parker s ferry. I wish to keep 
 moving to baffle any pursuit." 
 
 Protracted but little longer, and only the better to perfect their 
 several plans, the conference was at length concluded, and the two 
 separated ; the one proceeding to his bivouac, and the other on his 
 journey of peril, along the old track leading to the bridge of Dor 
 chester. 
 
 Singleton had scarcely resumed command of his squad before 
 the fugitive Goggle stood before him, with a countenance cold and 
 impassive as ever, and with an air of assurance the most easy and 
 self-satisfied. The eye of the partisan was concentrated upon him 
 with a searching glance, sternly and calmly, but he shrank not 
 beneath it. 
 
 " You have left your duty, sir your post ; what have you to 
 say ?" 
 
 The offender frankly avowed his error, but spoke in extenuation. 
 
 " The storm was coming up, sir ; nobody was going to trouble 
 us, and I thought a little stretch to the old woman my mother, 
 sir, that is would do no harm." 
 
 " You were wrong, sir, and must be punished. Your duty was 
 to obey, not to think. Lieutenant Davis, a corporal s guard !" 
 
 Goggle looked somewhat astounded at this prompt movement, 
 and urged the measure as precipitate and unusual. 
 
 " But, major, the troopers go off continually from Colonel Wash 
 ington s troop, when they want to see their families " 
 
 " The greater the necessity of arresting it in ours ; but you will 
 make your plea at morning, for with the sunrise you shall be 
 
DRUM-HEAD. 205 
 
 The gujtfd appeared, and as the torch flamed above the head of 
 the fugitive, Singleton ordered him to be searched narrowly. With 
 the order, the ready soldiers seized upon and bound him. Ilis rifly 
 was taken from his grasp a measure inexpressibly annoying to the 
 offender, as it was a favourite weapon, and he an excellent shot 
 with it. In the close search which he underwent, his knife, and, 
 indeed, everything in his possession, was carefully withdrawn, and he 
 had reason to congratulate himself upon the timely delivery of the 
 stolen watch to his mother ; for the prisoner from whom it had been 
 taken had already announced its loss ; and had it been found upon 
 the thief, it would have been matter, under the stern policy pur 
 sued by Singleton, for instantly hurrying him to some one of the 
 thousand swinging boughs overhead. With the clear daylight, a 
 court-martial at the drum-head sat in judgment on the prisoner. 
 lie told his story with a composure that would have done credit to 
 innocence. There was no contradiction in his narrative. Singleton 
 proposed sundry questions. 
 
 " Why did you not stand when called to ?" 
 
 " I was but one, major, and you were two ; and when the British 
 and tories are thick about us, it stands to reason that it was them 
 calling. I didn t make out your voice." 
 
 ** And why did you not proceed directly to your mother s ? Why 
 let so much time elapse between the pursuit and your appearance 
 at her cabin ?" 
 
 " I lay close after they had gone, major, for I didn t know that 
 they had done looking after me." 
 
 Prompt and ready were his several responses, and, apart from the 
 initial offence of leaving his post, nothing could be ascertained cal 
 culated to convict him of any other error. In the meantime he 
 exhibited no more interest in the scene than in the most ordinary 
 matter. One side of his body, as was its wont, rested upon the 
 other ; one leg hung at ease, and his head, sluggish like the rest of 
 his person, was bent over, so as to lie on his left shoulder. At this 
 stage of the proceedings, his mother, whose anxieties had beea 
 greater on the subject than those of her son, now made her appear 
 ance, tottering towards the group with a step in which energy ii<i 
 feebleness were strangely united. Her first words were those of 
 reproach to Singleton : 
 
206 THE PARTISAN; 
 
 " Now, wherefore, gentlemen, do you bind the boy ? 1^ it because 
 
 ho loves the old woman, his own mother ? Oh, for shame ! it s a 
 cruel shame to do so ! Will you not loose the cord ?" 
 
 She hobbled over to the place where her son stood alone, and her 
 b/>ny fingers were for a moment busied with the thongs, as if she 
 strove to release him. The prisoner himseF twisted from her, and 
 Jiis repulse was not confined to his action. 
 
 " A drat it, mother ! have done. Say it out what you know, and 
 done with it." 
 
 " What can you say, dame, in this matter ?" inquired Sin 
 gleton. 
 
 " It s my son you tie with ropes it s a good son to me will you 
 not loose him ?" 
 
 " lie has done wrong, dame ; he has left his post, and has neglect 
 ed his duty." 
 
 " lie came to see his mother his old mother ; to bring her com 
 fort, for he had been long away, and she looked for him she thought 
 he had had wrong. Was there harm in this?" 
 
 "None, only as he had other duties, not less important, which 
 he sacrificed for this. But say what you know." 
 
 She did so, and confirmed the fugitive s story ; was heard patient 
 ly through a somewhat tedious narrative, in which her own feelings, 
 and a strange show of love for the indifferent savage, were oddly 
 blended with the circumstances which she told. Though unavailing 
 to save him from punishment, the evidence of his mother, and her 
 obvious regard, had the effect of modifying its severity. The court 
 found him guilty, and sentenced him to the lash. Twenty lashes, 
 and imprisonment in the discretion of the commander, were decreed 
 as his punishment. 
 
 A long howl a shriek of demoniac energy from the old 
 woman, as she heard the doom, rang in the ears of the party. Her 
 long skinny finger was uplifted in vain threatenings, and her lips 
 moved in vague adjurations and curses. Singleton regretted the 
 necessity which made him sanction the decree, but example was 
 necessary in the lax state of discipline at that time prevailing through 
 out the country. Marion, who was himself just and inflexible, had 
 made him a disciplinarian. 
 
 "You will not say Yes to this," cried the old woman to Single- 
 
EXECUTION. 207 
 
 tou " You are a gentleman, and your words are kind. You will 
 forgive the boy." 
 
 " I dare not, my good woman. Your son knew his duty, and 
 neglected it. We must make an example, and warn other offenders. 
 The punishment is really slight in comparison with that usually 
 given for an offence so likely to be fatal as this of which your son 
 has been guilty. He must submit." 
 
 The old woman raved furiously, but her son rebuked her. His 
 eyes were thrown -up obliquely to trie commander, and the expres 
 sion of his face was that of a sneaking defiance, as he rudely enough 
 checked her in her denunciations. 
 
 " Hold tongue, mother a drat it ! Can t you thank the gentle 
 men for their favour ?" 
 
 A couple of soldiers strapped him up ; when, having first taken 
 off his outer jacket, one of them, with a common wagon-whip, pre 
 pared to execute the sentence, while the old woman, almost in danger 
 from the lash, pressed closely to the criminal, now denouncing and 
 now imploring the court ; at one moment abusing her son for his 
 folly in returning to the camp, and the next, with salt tears running 
 down her withered cheeks, seeking to soothe and condole with him 
 in his sufferings. They would have removed her from the spot be 
 fore the punishment began, but she threw herself upon the earth 
 when tlKy attempted it, and would only rise when they forbore the 
 effort. He, the criminal, was as impassive as ever. Nothing seemed 
 to touch him, either in the punishment he was to receive, or the 
 agonizing sensations which he witnessed in his mother, and which 
 were all felt in his behalf. He helped the soldiers to remove his vest, 
 and readily turned his back towards them, while, obliquely over his 
 shoulder, his huge staring eyes were turned to the spot where Single 
 ton stood, with glance somewhat averted from the scene of ignominy. 
 
 The first stroke was followed by a piercing shriek from the old 
 woman a bitter shriek and a curse ; but with that stroke she began 
 counting the blows. 
 
 " One" " two" her enumeration perpetually broken by excla 
 mations of one sort or another now of pity, now of horror, denun 
 ciation, and the most impotent expressions of paralytic rage in 
 some such phrases as the following : " The poor boy ! his inothei 
 
208 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 never whipped him ! they will mimler him ! two for lie came 
 to see her three was ever the like to whip a son for this! four 
 God curse them ! God curse them ! five I can curse, too, that 
 I can they shall feel me, they shall hear me ! six, seven that is 
 eight nine. Oh, the wretches! hut bear up, Ned, bear up it is 
 half over that is ten my poor boy ! Oh, do not strike so hard ! 
 Look ! the red on the shirt it is blood ! Oh, wretches ! have you 
 no mercy ? it is most done there, there stop ! Hell blast you 
 for ever ! that was twenty. Why did you strike another ? I curse 
 you with a black curse for that other stroke ! You ragged imp ! 
 you vile polecat ! I curse you for that stroke !" 
 
 The execution was over. Unflinching to the last, though the 
 strokes were severely dealt, the criminal had borne them, lie 
 looked the very embodiment of callosity. His muscles were neither 
 composed nor rigid during the operation ; and though the flesh 
 evidently felt, the mood of the wretch seemed to have undergone no 
 change. Before he could yet be freed from the c.ords, his mother s 
 arms wore thrown around him; and though he strove to shake her 
 off, and shrank from her embraces, she yet persisted, and, with a 
 childish fondness, she strove, with kind words, while helping him on 
 with his jacket, to console him for his sufferings. 
 
 " And you will go with me now, Neddy you will go from these 
 cruel men ?" 
 
 " I cannot, mother ; don t you know I m to be under guard so 
 long as the major chooses ?" 
 
 " He will not you will not tie him up again ; you will let hhn 
 go now with his mother." 
 
 She turned to Singleton as she spoke ; but his eye refused her ero 
 his tongue replied 
 
 " He will be in custody for twelve hours ; and let me say to you, 
 dame, thai for such an offence his punishment is a very slight one. 
 Marion s men would suffer two hundred lashes, and something 
 more restraint, for the same crime." 
 
 " God curse him !" she said bitterly, as she again approached he? 
 son, with whom she conversed apart, He whispered but a word in 
 her ear, and then turned away from her. She looked after him a 
 moment, as the guard maivlx d him into the rear but her finger 
 
THE PARTISAN. 209 
 
 was uplifted towards Singleton, and the fierce fire shooting out from 
 her grey eye, and moving in the direction of the pointed finger, was 
 long after remembered by him. In a few moments more, she was 
 gone from the camp, and, with a degree of elasticity scarcely coin- 
 porting with her years, was trudging fast on her way to Dor 
 chester. 
 
 Waiting until she had fairly departed, Singleton at length left his 
 camp on the Ashley, and leaving no traces of his sojourn but the 
 dying embers .of his fires, he led the way towards the designated 
 encampment at Bacon s Bridge. This was a few miles above Dor 
 chester, on the same river, and immediately contiguous to the Cy 
 press Swamp. An old battery and barracks, built by General Mcu 1 - 
 trie, and formerly his station, prior to the siege of Charle tea, fiir- 
 nished a much more comfortable place of abode than that which he 
 had just vacated. Here he took that repose which the toils of the 
 last twenty-four hours rendered absolutely necessary. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 4 Let ner pulse beat a stroke the more or lean 
 And she were blasted. I will stand by this , 
 My judgment is her fear." 
 
 LEA VIP. G Singleton, as we have seen, as soon as the absence of 
 Goggle from the camp was certainly known, Humphries hurried on 
 nis returning route to the village of Dorchester. Cool and calcu 
 lating, but courageous, the risk which he ran was far from incon 
 siderable. How could he be sure he was not already, suspected : 
 how know that some escaping enemies had not seen and given 
 intelligence of his presence among the rebels ; and why should not 
 the fugitive be already in. the garrison with Proctor preparing the 
 schemes which were to wind about and secure him ? These questions 
 ever rose in his mind as he surveyed his situation and turned over 
 his own intentions; but, though strong enough as doubts, they wer 
 not enough as arguments, to turn him from a purpose which ho 
 deemed good and useful, if not absolutely necessary. He dismissed 
 them from his thoughts, therefore, as fast as they came up. He was 
 a man quite too bold, too enterprising to be discouraged and driven 
 from his plans by mere suggestions of risk ; and whistling as he 
 went a merry tune, he dashed forward through the woods, and was 
 soon out of the bush and on the main road of the route not far 
 from the spot where, in the pause of the storm, they had stumbled 
 upon the half-blood, Blonay. 
 
 The tree which the lightning Lad stricken just beside the path, 
 was still in flame. The rain could not quench it, as the rich light- 
 wood, traced through every cavity of the bark by the greedy fire, 
 furnished a fuel not easily extinguishable. The flame licked along 
 the sides, at intervals, up and down, from top to trunk ; at one 
 moment, lost from one place the next, furiously darting upon ano 
 ther. Its blaze showed him the track through the hollow to old 
 
THE L1AG ASLEEP. "2 LI 
 
 Mother Blonay s, and, as he beheld it, a sudden desire prompted 
 him once more to look into the dwelling of the old woman. lie 
 was strangely fascinated in this direction, particularly as he remem 
 bered the equivocal nature of the threat which she had screamed 
 in his ear in regard to his sister. " Goggle, Goggle, Goggle !" But 
 that he already entertained much anxiety in respect to the girl, he 
 would have attached 110 importance to the unmeaning syllables. 
 But now, a shiver ran through his frame while he thought upon 
 them! 
 
 " She shall tell me wha t she means !" he muttered as he went. 
 
 Alighting from his horse, he approached the hovel, hitched the 
 animal to a hanging bough, and, with as light a footstep as possi 
 ble, quietly approached the entrance. Peeping through an aper 
 ture between the loose logs he gazed upon the inmate. There, still 
 in her seat beside the fireplace, she kept up the same croning move 
 ment, to and fro, maintaining her balance perfectly, yet fust asleej 
 all the while. Sometimes her rocking would be broken with a 
 start, but sleep had too far possessed her ; and though her dog 
 barked once or twice at the approach of the stranger, the interrup 
 tion in her seesaw was but for a moment, and an incoherent uiur 
 mur indistinctly uttered, only preceded her relapse into silence and 
 slumber as before. Beside her lay her twin cats twin in size 
 though not in colour a monstrous pair, whose sleep emulated that 
 of their mistress. On a bench before her, clearly distinguishable 
 in the firelight, Humphries noted her travelling bundle with a star} 
 run through it. This indicated her itinerant habits, and his con 
 clusion was, that the old hag, who wandered usually from planta 
 tion to plantation, from hovel to hovel, pretending to cure or charm 
 away disease, and taking large collections in return from the cha 
 ritable, the ignorant, and superstitious alike had made her prepa 
 rations for an early journey in the morning. While he looked, his 
 own superstitious fancies grew active ; and, a cold shiver which he 
 could notr escape, but of which he was heartily ashamed, came over 
 him, and, with a hurried step, he darted away from the contempla 
 tion- of a picture he could not regard in any other light than as 
 one horrible and unholy. 
 
 Humphries was not the slave of a feeble and childish supersli- 
 
212 THE 1 AKTISAN. 
 
 tiun ; but the natural influences which affect the uneducated mind 
 commonly, had their due force on his. The secret cause is always 
 mysterious, and commonly produces enervating and vague fears in 
 the bosoms of all that class of people who engage in no thoughts 
 beyond those called for by their everyday sphere and business. So 
 with him. He had doubts, and in proportion with his ignorance 
 were his apprehensions. Ignorance is of all things the most appre 
 hensive in nature. lie knew not whether she had the power 
 that she professed, or that any one could possess such power, and 
 his active imagination gave her all the benefit of his doubt, still 
 he did not fear. No one wLo knew his usually bold character, his 
 recklessness of speech and action, would deem him liable to any 
 fear from such influences as were supposed to belong to the withered 
 tenant of that isolated hovel. And yet, when he thought upon the 
 cheerless life which she led and seemed to love when he asked 
 himself what might be its pleasures or its solace he could not 
 avoid feeling that in its anti-social evidences lurked the best proof 
 of its evil nature. Wherefore should age, poverty, and feebleness, 
 fly so far, and look so harshly upon, the whole world around it ? 
 Why refuse its contiguity ? why deny, why shrink away from the 
 prospect of its comforts and its blessings ? Why ? unless the mood 
 within was hostile unless its practices were unfriendly to the com 
 mon good, as they were foreign to the common habit, of humanity \ 
 lie knew, indeed, that poverty may at all times sufficiently account 
 for isolation that an acute sensibility may shrink from that con 
 tact with the crowd which may, and does, so frequently betray 01 
 wound it ; and he also well knew that there is no sympathy between 
 good and bad fortune, except as the one is apt to desire that survey 
 of the other which will best enable it to comprehend the superior 
 benefits of its own position. But that old woman had no such sen 
 sibilities, and her poverty was not greater not so great, indeed, MS 
 that of many whom he knew besides, who yet clung to, and sought 
 to share some of the ties and regards of society, though unble^etl 
 by the world s goods, and entirely out of the hope of a redeeming 
 fortune. Did he not also know that she exulted in the thought that 
 
 O 
 
 she was /eared by those aiound her, and studiously inculcated the 
 belief among the vulgar, that she possessed attributes which were 
 
TROUBLE AT THE u ROYAL GEORGE. 213 
 
 dangerous and unholy ? Her very pride was an abomination to 
 humanity, as her chief source of satisfaction seemed to lie in the 
 exercise of powers unwholesome and annoying to man. No won 
 der the blood grew cold and curdled in the veins of the blunt coun 
 tryman as he thought upon these matters. No wonder that he 
 moved away to his horse, with a rapidity he would not his enemy 
 should see, from a spot over which, as his mind dwelt upon the 
 subject, such an infernal atmosphere seemed to brood and gather. 
 The bark of the dog as the* hoofs of his charger beat upon the 
 ground while he hurried along his path, startled more completely 
 the old hag, who half rose from her seat, threw up her head to 
 listen, then, pushing the dismembered brands of her fire together, 
 composed herself once more in her chair to sleep. 
 
 The evening of the day upon the history of which we have been 
 engaged, had been rather remarkable in the annals of the " Royal 
 George." There had been much to disturb the waters, and, we may 
 add, the spirits in that important domain. There had been a par 
 tial sundering of ancient ties a violation of sometime sacred 
 pledges, an awkward collision of various interests. 
 
 On the ensuing Monday, Sergeant Hastings, of whom we have 
 already seen either too much or too little, was to take his departure 
 with the notorious Captain Iluck to join Tarleton on the Catawba. 
 The interval of time between the present and that fixed for this, so 
 important, remove, was exceedingly brief; but a day, and that a 
 holiday, intervened and then farewell to the rum punch, the fair 
 coquette, and the pleasant company of the " Royal George." 
 
 The subject was a melancholy one to all parties. The sergeani 
 "preferred the easy life, the good company, the cheering liquor of the 
 tavern, and there were other and less honourable objects yet in his 
 mind, unsatisfied, and as far from realization as ever. Bella Hum 
 phries had too little regard for him really to become his victim, 
 though he had spared no effort to that end. On the contrary, the 
 girl had latterly grown peevish in some respects, and he could clearly 
 perceive, though the cause remained unknown, that his influence 
 over her was declining. His assumption of authority, his violence, 
 and perhaps his too great familiarity, had wonderfully lessened him 
 in her regard ; and, if the truth must be known, T ohn Davis was in 
 
21-i THE PARTISAN. 
 
 reality more potent in her esteem than she had been willing to 
 acknowledge either to that personage or to herself. 
 
 While Davis kept about the tavern, a cringing and peevish lover, 
 contributing to her conceit while acknowledging her power, she was 
 not unwilling, with all the thoughtlessness of a weak girl, to trifle 
 with his affections ; but now that he had absented himself, as it 
 seemed for ever, she began to comprehend her own loss and to 
 lament it. Such a consciousness led her to a more close examina 
 tion of Hastings s pretensions, and the result of her analysis was 
 quite unfavourable to that worthy. His many defects of disposition 
 and character, his vulgarity, his impudence, all grew remarkably 
 prominent in her eyes, and he could now see that, when he would 
 say, in a manner meant to be alluring : 
 
 " Hark ee, Bell, my beauty get us a swig, pretty particular, and 
 not too strong o the lemon, and not too weak o the Jamaica, and 
 not too scant considering the quantity" there was no sweet elasti 
 city in the utterance of 
 
 " Yes, sergeant, certainly, you shall have it to your liking ;" 
 coupled with a gracious smile and a quickness of movement that 
 left the time between the order and its instant execution a space 
 not perceptible even to that most impatient person, himself, lie 
 could feel the change now, and as the time allowed him was brief, 
 and opportunities few, he hurried himself in devising plans for the 
 better success of a design upon her, long entertained, of a character 
 the most vile and nefarious. 
 
 But his bill remained unpaid ; and this was the worst feature in 
 the sight of pm "andlord. That evening (Saturday) the worthy 
 publican had ventured to suggest the fact to the disregarding 
 memory of the sergeant, who had, with the utmost promptness, 
 evaded the demand. Some words had passed between them old 
 Humphries had been rather more spirited, and Hastings rather 
 more insolent than usual ; and the latter, in search of consolation, 
 made his way into the inner room where Bella officiated. To crown 
 his discontent, his approach was utterly unnoticed by that capricious 
 damsel. He dashed away in dudgeon from the house at an early 
 hour, certainly less regretted by the maid than by the master of 
 the inn. 
 
NIGHT ADVENTURE. 215 
 
 Such had been the transactions of the evening of that night, 
 when, at a late hour, Humphries approached the dwelling of his 
 father. The house lay in perfect shadow as he drew nigh the outer 
 buildings, in the rear of one of which he carefully secured his horse. 
 The inoon, obscured during the early part of the ev r ening, and dim 
 throughout the night, had now sunk westering so far, that it failed 
 to touch entirely the close and sheltered court in front of the house. 
 As he drew nigh, moving along in the deeper shadow of the fence 
 to the rear of the dwelling, for which he had a key, he started. 
 Was it a footstep that reached his ear ? He squatted to the ground 
 and listened. lie was not deceived. The indistinct outline of a 
 man close under the piazza, was apparent. lie seemed busied in 
 a^ine labour which he pursued cautiously, and in perfect silence. 
 Humphries could see that he stooped to the ground, and that in the 
 next moment, his arms were extended. A few seconds after and 
 the person of the man seemed to rise in air. The watcher could 
 no longer be mistaken. Already had the nightstalker taken two 
 steps upon the ladder which he had placed against the house, when 
 Humphries bounded forward from his place of watch. His soul 
 was on fire, for he saw that the object of the stranger was the cham 
 ber of his sister, the windows of which looked out upon the piazza, 
 and were all open, as was usual in the summer nights. 
 
 The look of the old hag, her strange words uttered as a threat, 
 grew strong in his mind, and he now seemed to understand them. 
 Drawing his dirk from his bosom, the only weapon he had ventured 
 to bring with him from the stable, in the fodder of which he had 
 hidden his sabre and pistols, he rushed furiously towards the burglar 
 But his movement had been too precipitate for success ; and with 
 the first sound of his feet, the marauder had dropped from the lad 
 der, and taken to his heels. The start in his favour being consider 
 able, gave him a vast advantage over his pursuer, for, though swift 
 of foot, active, and spurred on by the fiercest feelings, Humphries 
 failed to come up with him. A moment after the fugitive had 
 leaped the fence, the dirk of the former was driven into that par" 
 of it over which his body had passed. The villain had escaped. 
 
 Gloomy and disappointed, the brother returned to the spot, and 
 calmly inspected the premises. Painfully and deeply apprehensive 
 
216 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 were his thoughts, as he surveyed the ladder, and the open windows 
 above. But for his timely arrival there would have been little 01 
 no ditliculty in effecting an entrance. Did the wretch seek to rob ? 
 That was the hope of Humphries. Could it be possible that his 
 sister had fallen ? was she a victim, privy to the design of the felon 3 
 or did he only now, for the first time, seek her dishonour ? lie 
 knew that she was weak and childish, but he also believed her inno 
 cent. Could she have looked for the coining of a paramour 2 The 
 unobstructed windows, the unbroken silence, the conlideiit proceed 
 ing of the man himself all would seem to strengthen the damning 
 idea which now possessed his mind ; and when his perpetually 
 recurring thought brought to him the picture of the old hag, her 
 hellish glare upon him, and her mysterious threat a threat which 
 now seemed no longer mysterious the dreadful apprehensions 
 almost grew into certainty. There was but one, and that a partial 
 mode, of ascertaining how far the girl was guilty of participation 
 in the design of the stranger ; and, with the thought, Humphries 
 at once ascended the ladder which he threw down after him. From 
 the piazza he made his way to the girl s chamber. 
 
 A light was burning in the fireplace, dimly, and with no power 
 to serve him where it stood, lie seized it, almost convulsively, in 
 one hand, while the uplifted dagger was bare in the other ; and thus 
 he approached the couch where she lay. lie held the light above, 
 so that its glare touched not her eyes, and he looked down into her 
 face. She lay sleeping, soundly, sweetly, with a gentle respiration 
 like a sigh swelling equably her bosom. There was no tremor, no 
 start, ller round, fair face wore a soft, smiling expression, showing 
 that the consciousness within was not one of guilt. One of her 
 arms hung over the pillow, her cheek resting upon it ; the other 
 pressed slightly her bosom, as naturally as if there had been a 
 throbbing and deeply feeling heart under it. The brother looked, 
 and as he looked, he grew satisfied, lie could not doubt that 
 sleep ; it was the sleep of innocence. A weight of nameless, of 
 measureless terror, had been taken from his soul in that survey ; 
 and nature claimed relief in a flood of tears. The drops fell on the 
 cheek of the sleeper, and she started. With the movement, he put 
 aside the dagger, not, however, before her eyes had beheld it. 
 
THE LANDLORD AT HIS KECK OM ING 217 
 
 " Oh, William ! brother, dear brother ! is it you ? and th* 
 kiiife ?" 
 
 She had caught his hand in her terror, and amaze and bewilder 
 ment overspread her features. 
 
 " Sleep on, Bell, sleep on ; you are n good girl, and needn t fear." 
 
 He kissed her as he spoke, and, with the fondness of a sister, and 
 the thoughtlessness of a girl, she began to prattle to him ; but he 
 bade her be quiet, and, taking the light with him, descended to the 
 lower apartment, adjoining the bar-room, where his father usually 
 slept. To his surprise he was not there, but a gleam through the 
 door led the son to the place where the old man usually served his 
 customers. The picture that met his eye was an amusing one. 
 There, at length upon the floor, the landlord lay. A candle placed 
 beside him, with a wick doubled over and blazing into the tallow, 
 lacked the friendly aid of the snufiers. The old man was too 
 deeply engaged in his vocation to notice this. His head, resting 
 upon one hand, was lifted upon his elbow, and before him were sun 
 dry shingles, covered with tallies in red chalk and in white, against 
 nis sundry customers. The landlord was busily engaged in drawing 
 from these chronicles, the particular items in the account of Ser 
 geant Hastings, which he transcribed upon a sheet of paper which 
 lay before him. A tumbler of Jamaica, of especial body, stood con 
 veniently close, from which he occasionally drew strong refreshment 
 for his memory. lie was too earnest in his labour, to notice the 
 entrance of his son at first ; but the other had too little time to 
 spare, to scruple much at disturbing his father at his unusual 
 labour. 
 
 " Ah, bless me, Bill that you ? Why, what s the to-do now ? 
 What brings you so late ?" 
 
 " Business, business, father, and plenty of it. But get up, rouse 
 you and bustle about, and get away from these scores, or you won t 
 understand a word I tell you." 
 
 The landloi 1 rose immediately, put his shingles aside, picked up 
 the sheet containing the amount io gross charged against Sergeant 
 Hastings, which he sighed deeply to survey, and, in a few moments, 
 was prepared to listen to what his son could say. He heard the 
 narrative with horror and astonishment. 
 
218 THE PAKT1SAN. 
 
 " God bless us and preserve us, Bill ! but this is awful hard ; and 
 what are we to do where shall we ru how ? " 
 
 " Run nowhere, but listen to what I tell you. You can t help it 
 now, but you may make something out of it. If Proctor mus, 
 hear the truth, he may as well hear it from you." 
 
 u From ine ! bless me, Bill, my boy from me ?" 
 
 u Yes, from you. Set off by daypeep to the fort, and see Proc 
 tor yourself. Tell him of your loyalty, and how you love the king- ; 
 and you can cry a little all the time, if it comes easy to you. I 
 don t want you to strain much about it. Tell him that you have an 
 unworthy son, that s not of your way of thinking. Say he s boeo 
 misguided by the rebels, an4 how they ve inveigled him, till he s 
 turned rebel himself; and how he s now out with Marion s men, in 
 Major Singleton s squad. When you ve done this, you can cry 
 again, and do any thing to throw dust in his eyes. Say it s all 
 owing to your loyalty that you expose your own flesh and blood, 
 and mind you don t take any money for telling." 
 
 " Bless me, my dear boy, but this is awful to think on." 
 
 " It must be thought on, though, and the sooner the better. 
 Coming from you, it will help you ; coming from that skunk, Gog 
 gle, and you silent, and they pack you off to the Charleston pro 
 vost, or maybe draw you over the swinging bough. Tell Proctor 
 our force is thirty ; that we lay at Slick pond last night, and that 
 we push for Black river by daypeep, to join with the Swamp Fox. 
 This, you see, will be a truer story than Goggle can tell, for if he 
 sends Proctor after us to Slick pond, he ll have a journey to take 
 back." 
 
 " Bless me, what s to become of us all, Bill, I don t see. I am all 
 >ver in a fever now, ever since you tell d me your story." 
 
 ; Shake it off, and be comfortable, as you can be. Thinking 
 about it never cured the shaking ague yet, and never will. You 
 must try." 
 
 " And I will try I will, boy ; but bless me, Bill, wouldn t it bo 
 better for us all to take to the swamp eh ?" 
 
 " No stay where you are ; there s no need for you to go out, 
 and you can do good where you are. Besides, there s Bell, you 
 know." 
 
LEAD OUT TRUMPS. 219 
 
 True, true." 
 
 " Lead out trumps, that s the way, and mind how you play em ; 
 that s all you ve got to do now, and if so be you try, you can do 
 it. Don t burn daylight, but be with Proctor as soon as sunrise 
 lets you. Don t stop to talk about Edisto catfish, or what s for 
 dinner, and whether it s like to rain or shine, but push through the 
 crowd, and don t mind your skirts. All depends on you, now." 
 
 " Bless us, bless us ! what times, what times ! Oh, Bill, my boy k 
 what s coming to us ! Here was Huck, to-day, and says Continen 
 tal Congress is to make peace with Great Britain, and to give up 
 Carolina and Georgia." 
 
 " Oh ! that s all a fool notion, for it s no such thing. That s all 
 a trick of the tories, and you needn t mind it. But what of 
 Huck ?" 
 
 " He goes a-Monday to join Tarleton." 
 
 " Good ! and now I must leave you. I ve got a mighty deal 
 to see to afore daylight, and I won t see you for a smart spell, I 
 reckon, as I shall have to hug the swamp close after this. Don t ba 
 slow now, father, cause every thing hangs on your shoulders, and 
 you must tell your story straight." 
 
 In their dialogue the son had taken care to omit nothing which 
 a shrewd, thinking mind might suggest, as essential to the success 
 ful prosecution of the plan advised. This done, he took his way to 
 the dwelling of old Pryor, and tapping with his knife-handle thrice 
 upon one of the small, but ostentatious, pine pillars of the portico, 
 the door was unclosed, and he was at once admitted, as one who 
 had been waited for. There we shall leave him, conferring closely 
 with a select few, busy, like himself, in preparations for a genera, 
 uprising of the people. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 She ia lost ! 
 
 She ia saved! COETHE. 
 
 HUMPHRIES, poor old man, placed himself at an eastern window, 
 the moment his son had departed, to watch for the first glances of 
 the daylight. What a task had he to perform ! what a disclosure 
 to make ! and how should he evade the doubt though complying 
 with the suggestion of reason and his son alike that he should, by 
 the development he was about to make, compromise the safety of 
 the latter. Should he be taken, the evidence of the father would be 
 adequate to his conviction, and that evidence he was now about to 
 offer to the enemy. He was to denounce him as a rebel, an out 
 law, whom the leader of a single troop might hang without a trial, 
 the moment he was arrested. The old man grew miserable with 
 his reflections, and there was but one source of consolation. For 
 tunately, the supply of old Jamaica in the " Royal George" was still 
 good ; and a tumbler of the precious beverage, fitly seasoned with 
 warm spices and sugar, was not ineffectually employed to serve the 
 desired purpose. 
 
 And with this only companion, whose presence momently grew 
 less, the worthy landlord watched for the daylight from his win 
 dow ; and soon the grey mist rose up like a thin veil over the tops 
 of the tall trees, and the pale stars sped, retreating away from the 
 more powerful array which was at hand. The hum of the niclit 
 insects was over the hoarse chant of the frog family was silent, as 
 their unerring senses taught them the coming of that glorious and 
 beautiful presence which they did not love. Fold upon fold, like so 
 many variously shaded wreaths, the dim curtain of the night was 
 drawn gradually up into heaven, and once more the vast panorama 
 of forest, river, and green valley came out upon the sight, rising, bv 
 little and little, into life, in the slowly illumined distance. 
 
PROCTOR S QUARTERS. 221 
 
 The moment old Humphries saw the approajn of daylight, lie 
 finished his tumbler of punch, and, with a sad heart, he set out for 
 Proctor s quarters. Some little delay preceded his introduction to 
 the commandant of the garrison, who received him graciously, and 
 civilly desired to know his business. This was soon unfolded, and 
 with many pauses, broken exclamations of grief and loyalty, the 
 landlord gave a brief account, as furnished him by his son, of all the 
 events which had occurred to Singleton and his squad since his as 
 sumption of its command. The affair of the tories and his troop in 
 the swamp the capture of the baggage and arms the delay of 
 which, a matter of surprise to Iluck, was now accounted for and 
 the subsequent bivouac upon the Ashley, were quickly unfolded to 
 the wondering Briton. He immediately despatched a messenger 
 for Iluck, while proceeding to the cross-examination of his inform 
 ant a scrutiny which he conducted with respect and a proper con 
 sideration. 
 
 All was coherent in his story, and Proctor was inly troubled. A 
 piece of daring, such as the formation of Singleton s squad, so near 
 the garrison, so immediately in the neighbourhood and limits of the 
 most esteemed loyalty, was well calculated to annoy him. The name 
 of Major Singleton, too, grated harshly on his ears. lie could not 
 but remember the meaning reference of Katharine Walton to her 
 cousin of the same name ; and he at once identified him with his rival 
 in that young lady s regard. Iluck came in while yet he deliberated; 
 and to him the narrative which Humphries delivered, who stood by 
 all the while, was also told. The tory was not less astounded than 
 Proctor ; and the two conferred freely on their news before Hum 
 phries, whose loyalty was properly confirmed in their opinion, by 
 his unscrupulous denunciation of his own son. To Iluck, the com 
 mandant of the garrison was compelled to apply, and the troop of 
 the former was required to disperse the force of Singleton. The 
 garrison guard was too small, under the doubtful condition of loyalty 
 in the neighbourhood, to spare a detachment; and it was arranged, 
 therefore, that Iluck should depart from his original plan and route, 
 which was to start on the ensuing day for Camden, and immediately 
 to make a circuit through the country by the Ashley, and having 
 done so, go forward by Parker s Ferry, and gain, by a circuitous 
 10 
 
222 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 sweep, tne course which had been formerly projected, and which, 
 indeed, the orders received by him from Cornwallis, compelled him 
 to pursue. It was hoped that he would overhaul the little force of 
 Singleton, in which event it must have been an inhibited. 
 
 In the mean time, Proctor prepared his despatches for Charleston, 
 calling for a supply of troops a call not likely to be responded to from 
 i hat quarter, as the garrison there had been already drawn upon by the 
 interior, to such an extent as to leave barely a sufficient force within 
 the walls of the city for its own maintenance. This Proctor knew, 
 but no other hope presented itself, and glad to use the troop of 
 lluck, he contented himself with the consciousness of having done 
 all that could be done by him, under existing circumstances. Civil 
 ly dismissing Humphries, lie would have rewarded him, but the 
 old man urged his simple and sincere loyalty, and naturally shrank 
 back at the idea of receiving gold as the reward of his son s be 
 trayal. He did his part shrewdly, and leaving the. two conferring 
 upon the particulars of the tory s route, hurried away to the tavern 
 in no enviable state of feeling. 
 
 His son, whom we have seen entering the dwelling of old Pry or, 
 was glad to meet with several sturdy whigs in close conference. 
 They had been stimulated by the whispers of an approaching army 
 of continentals, and the vague intelligence had been exaggerated in 
 due proportion to the thick obscurity which at that time hung 
 about the subject. The host himself who was a sturdy patriot, 
 and more than usually bold, as, of late days, he was more than 
 usually unfortunate presided upon this occasion. The party was 
 small, consisting of some half dozen persons, all impatient of the 
 hourly wrongs, which, in their reckless indifference to the feelings 
 of the conquered, the invaders continually committed. The reduc 
 tion of the British force in the lower county, in the large draughts 
 made upon it for the upper posts, had emboldened disaffection; and 
 the people, like snakes long huddled up in holes during the severe 
 weather, now came out with the first glimpses of the sunshine. 
 
 The arrival ot Humphries with the intelligence which he brought,, 
 gave them new spirits. The, successes of Marion at Britton s Neck, 
 and Singleton in the swamp, of which they had not heard before, 
 though small, wt iv yd In-M ;m c;iniost of what might be antici 
 
LIE LOW KKKI DAHK. 223 
 
 pated, and what was hoped for. The additional news that the ap 
 proaching continentals were to be commanded by Gates, whose 
 renown was in the ascendant so far in the ascendant, indeed, that 
 the star of Washington almost sank before it went far to give 
 hope a positive body and a form. Doubt succeeded to bold pre 
 diction, and the conspirators were now prepared those reluctant 
 before to begin properly the organization of their section, as had 
 been the" advice of Marion. 
 
 Still, they were not altogether ready for the field. Property was 
 to be secured, families carried beyond reach of that retribution 
 which the enemy usually inflicted upon the feeble in return for the 
 audacity and defiance of the strong ; arms were to be procured, and, 
 until the time of Sir Henry Clinton s indulgence the twenty days 
 had expired, they determined to forbear all open demonstration. 
 To these, Humphries had already designated their leader, in the 
 person of Colonel Walton, whom they all knew and esteemed. His 
 coming out they were satisfied would, of itself, bring an active and 
 goodly troop into the field. Popular as he was, both in St. Paul s 
 and St. George s, it was confidently believed that he would bring 
 both the parishes out handsomely, and his skill as a leader had 
 been already tried and was highly estimated. The spirits of the 
 little knot of conspirators grew with every enumeration of their 
 prospects and resources, and they looked up, as daylight approached, 
 full of hope and mutual assurances. Two of the party agreed to 
 come out to Humphries, in the contiguous wood, by the first ring 
 ing of the bell for sabbath service for the day was Sunday and 
 there, at a given spot, the lieutenant was to await them. 
 
 Before the daylight he took his departure, and leading his horse 
 into the close swamp thicket on the river, where his first conference 
 with Singleton had taken place, he fastened him carefully, took his 
 .seat at the foot of a tree which overhung the river, and there 
 mused, half dozing, for the brief hour that came between the time 
 and the dawning. But soon the light came winding brightly and 
 more brightly around him ; the mists curled up from the river, and 
 the breeze rising up from the ocean, with the dawn, refreshed and 
 animated hin,. Tie sat watching the mysterious separation of those 
 Uvin agents of nature, night, .and day. MS the, one rolled away in fog 
 
224 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 along the river, and the other burst forth, in gleams from the sky 
 and bloom upon the earth. 
 
 But these sights were not such as greatly to amuse our lieutenant, 
 and the time passed heavily enough, until about eight o clock, when, 
 from the river s edge, he distinguished, crossing the bridge at Dor 
 chester, the time-worn, bent figure of old dame Blonay. She was 
 on her way to the garrison for the revelation of that intelligence which 
 his father had by this time already unfolded. The lieutenant now 
 understood a part of the design, and readily conceived that such waft 
 the purport of her visit to the village. Yet why had not her son un 
 dertaken the task himself? Why depute to an infirm old woman 
 the performance of an object so important ? The question puzzled 
 him ; and it was only a dim conjecture of the truth, which led him 
 to believe that Goggle had made his way back to camp with th 
 view to some farther treachery. 
 
 As the hag grew more distinct to his eye, in the increasing light, 
 her sharp features the subtle cast of her eye the infirm crazy 
 motion bent shoulders, and witch-like staff which she carried, 
 brought many unpleasant fancies to the mind of the observer ; and 
 the singular, and, to him, the superstitious fear which he had felt 
 while gazing upon her, through the crevices of her hut the night 
 before, came back to him with increased influence. lie thought of 
 the thousand strange stories of the neighbourhood, about the witch 
 craft practised by her and others. Indian doctors were then, all 
 over the country, renowned for their cures, all of which were effected 
 by trick and mummery, mixed up with a due proportion of fores 
 medicines wild roots and plants, the properties of which, known 
 through long ages to the aborigines, were foreign to the knowledge, 
 and therefore marvellous in the estimation of the whites. To their 
 arts, the Gullah and the Bbo negroes, of which the colony had its 
 thousands furnished by the then unscrupulous morality of the mo 
 ther country and the northern colonies, added their spells And magic, 
 in no stinted quantities, and of the foulest and filthiest attributes. 
 The conjuration of these two classes became united in the practice 
 of the cunning white, of an order little above them, and mother 
 Blonay formed the representative of a sect in the lower country of 
 South Carolina, by no means small in number or trifling in influ 
 
WITHCRAFT OF THE SOUTH. 225 
 
 ence, and which, to this day, not utterly extinguished, remains here 
 and there in the more ignorant sections, still having power over the 
 subject minds of the weak and superstitious. 
 
 As we have said, Humphries was not one, if the question were 
 to be asked him, to say that he believed in the powers thus claimed 
 for the old woman before us. But the bias of years, of early educa 
 tion and associates, was insurmountable; and he felt the influence 
 which his more deliberate reflection was, nevertheless, at all times 
 disposed to deny. He felt it now as she came towards him ; and 
 when, passing along, he saw her move towards the dwelling of his 
 father, he remembered her mysterious speech associated with the 
 name of his sister, and his blood grew cold in his veins, though, au 
 instant after, it again boiled with a fury naturally enough arising 
 from the equivocal regard in which that speech had seemed to plac 
 the girl. As the wretch passed along the copse to the edge of which 
 his feet had almost followed her, he placed himself in a position 1o 
 observe the direction which she would pursue in entering the vil 
 lage, and was satisfied of her object when lie saw her bonding hei 
 way to the fortress. 
 
 We need scarcely add that the old woman told her story to Proc 
 tor, and was listened to coldly. She had brought him no intelli 
 gence, and, indeed, he knew rather more than herself. But one 
 point of difference existed between the account given by old Hum 
 phries and the woman. The one stated that Singleton s band had 
 withdrawn from the Ashley, and had pushed for Black river the 
 other affirmed it to be there still. 
 
 The difference was at once made known to Iluck, a portion of 
 whose troopers were even then getting into saddle. The residue 
 were soon to follow, and the whole were expected to rendezvous that 
 night at Parker s ferry. Mother Blonay was mortified that she 
 brought no news to the garrison ; but, as her story confirmed that of 
 Humphries, Proctor gave her a reward, small, however, in comparison 
 with what had been expected. She left the garrison in bad humour, 
 and was soon joined on her way by Sergeant Hastings, whose orders 
 required him to march with the detachment which was to follow 
 Iluck that afternoon. His chagrin, on this account, was not less 
 than hers. A bitter oath nccommniod the information which he 
 
226 THE PAETISAK 
 
 gave her of the orders he had just received. The two then spoks 
 of another matter. 
 
 " Far off as ever, mother, and without your help there s nothing 
 to be done now. Last night I was in a fair way enough, but up 
 comes that chap her brother it could be nobody else and I had 
 to cut for it. I went over the fence then a thought quicker than I 
 should be able to do it now." 
 
 "It was not Bill Humphries you saw, for he was at my cabin 
 long time after hours last night; and then he d not venture into 
 this quarter now. No no. Twas the old man, I reckon." 
 
 " Maybe, though he seemed to run too fast for the old fellow. 
 But no matter who twas. The thing failed, and you must chalk 
 out another track." 
 
 " I will: dont fear, for I ve said it ; and come fire, come storm, 
 it must be done. Goggle Goggle Goggle ! He must pay for that, 
 and he shall ; she shall they shall all pay for that, and old scores 
 besides. It s a long-standing account, sergeant, and you can help 
 me to make it up and pay it off ; and that s the reason I help you 
 to this. I shall go about it now, and After a pause, in which 
 she seemed to meditate a while "Yes; meet me in the swamp 
 thicket above the bridge, just after you pass the Oak Grove." 
 
 " When ?" 
 
 " This morning soon as the bells strike up for church, and be 
 fore the people begin to come in freely. Don t be backward, now, 
 but come certain, and don t wait for the last chimes." 
 
 The worthy pair separated, and the glimpses of a previous con 
 nexion, which their dialogue gives us, serve a little to explain some 
 portions of our own narrative. 
 
 While this matter had been in progress, two sturdy troopers 
 joined Humphries in the swamp. Their horses were carefully Lid- 
 deu, and they determined to await the time when the roads should 
 be free from the crowd on their way to church, before they ven 
 turod abroad. They amused themselves as well as they might, 
 keeping close in eover themselves, by watching the people as they 
 crossed th< bridge, hurried along the highway leading to the vil 
 lage, or loungod on the open ground in front of the church ; for all 
 of those points might (-asily be commanded from different place* 5 
 
THE WITCH AND THE VILLAGE BEAUTY. 227 
 
 the thicket. There came the farmer on his plough-horse, ID 
 his coarse striped breeches, blue homespun coatee, and broad- 
 brimmed hat; there, the whirling carriage, borne along by four 
 showy bays, of the wealthy planter ; there the trudging country 
 girl in her huge sunborinct and short-waisted cotton frock ; and 
 there, in little groups of two or three, the negroes, male and female, 
 with their own small stock of eggs, chickens, blackberries, and sas 
 safras, ploughing their way through the heavy sands to occupy 
 their places in the village market. 
 
 While Humphries looked, he saw, to his great vexation, the 
 figure of Dame Blonay approaching, accompanied by his sister. 
 All his suspicious were reawakened by the sight. The girl was 
 dressed as for church. Her dress was simple, suited to her con 
 dition, and well adapted to her shape, which was a good one. Her 
 bonnet was rather fine and Haunting, and there was something of 
 gaudiness in the pink and yellow distributed over her person in the 
 guise of knots and ribands. But still the eye was not offended, for 
 the habit did not show unfavourably along with the pretty face, 
 and light, laughing, good-natured eye that animated it. What a 
 contrast to the old hag beside her ! The one, capricious enough, 
 was yet artless and simple the other old, stern, ugly, poor, was 
 even then devising plans for the ruin of the child. 
 
 " Come, my daughter, come farther I would not others should 
 hear what I say to you ; and I know it will please you to know. 
 The wood is cool and shady, arid we can talk there at our ease." 
 
 " But, mother, wasn t it a strange dream now a very strange 
 dream, to think that I should be a great lady, and ride in my coach 
 like the ladies at Middleton Place, and l The Oaks, and Single 
 tons, arid all the rich people about here ? and it all seemed so 
 true, mother so very true, I didn t know where I was when I 
 woke up this morning." 
 
 There was a devilish leer in the old hag s eye, as she looked intc 
 that of the vain-hearted but innocent girl beside her, and answered 
 her in a speech well calculated to increase the idle folly already so 
 active in her mind. Humphries heard nothing of the dialogue 
 he was quite too far off; but he felt so deeply anxious on the sub 
 ject of the old woman s connexion with his sister, that he had 
 
228 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 actually given some directions to the two troopers along with him, 
 and was about to emerge from his cover, and separate them at all 
 hazards, when the bells from the village steeple struck up, ajid 
 warned him of the extreme risk which he must run from such an 
 exposure of his person. The same signal had the eilect of bringing 
 Bella and Mother Blonay more closely to the copse, to which 
 the old woman, now, by various suggestions, contrived to persuade 
 her companion. AVhile they approached the thicket, Humphries 
 changed his course and position, so as to find a contiguous spot, for 
 the concealment of his person, the moment they should stop, which 
 would enable him to gather up their dialogue ; and it was not long- 
 before they paused, at the old woman s bidding, in a well shaded 
 place, completely unseen from the road and quite out of hearing 
 from the village. Here the conversation between them was resumed 
 Mother Blonay leading off in rep ] y to something said by Bella, 
 the purport of which may be guessed from the response made to it. 
 
 " A bad dream, do you say, my daughter ? I say it is y good 
 dream, and you re a lucky girl, if you don t stand in the way of 
 your own fine fortune. There s good coming to you : that dream s 
 always a sign of good ; it never fails. So mind you don t spoil all 
 by some foolish notion." 
 
 u Why, how shall I do, mother ? what shall I say ? Dear me ! 
 I wouldn t do any thing to spoil it for the world !" 
 
 And the two seated themselves upon the green turf in the thicket, 
 the right hand of the girl upon the knee of the hag, while her 
 eyes looked up apprehensively and inquiringly into the face of the 
 latter. She gave her some counsel, accordingly, in answer to her 
 questions, of a vague, indefinite character, very mysteriously de.li 
 vered, and the only part of which, understood by Bella, was a 
 general recommendation to her, quietly to receive, and not to resist 
 her good fortune. 
 
 " But, mother, I thought you said you would show him to me 
 him, iny true-and-true husband, that is to be. Now I wonder who 
 it can be. It can t be John Davis, for lie s gone away from the 
 village, and they say he s out in the swamp, mother can you tell 2" 
 
 " No, Bella ; and it s no usu : he s nothing at all to you. You 
 are not for such a poor scrub as John Davis." 
 
WHAT IS Hti LIKE? 229 
 
 44 You think so, mother ? Well, I m sorry ; for I do behove John 
 had a true-and-true love for me in his heart, and he often said so. 
 I wonder where he is." 
 
 " John Davis, indeed, my child ! how can you speak of such a 
 fellow ? Why, what has he to show for you ? A poor shoat that 
 hasn t house, nor home, nor any thing to make a wife comfortable, 
 or even feed her when he gets her. No, no, girl, the husband 
 that s for you is a different sort of person a very different sort of 
 person, indeed." 
 
 " Oh, do, mother ! can t you tell me something about him, now ? 
 only a little ; I do so want to know. Is he tall, now, or short ? 
 I hope he s tall eh ? middle size, and wears oh, speak, mother ! 
 and don t shake your head so tell me at once !" 
 
 And the girl pressed forward upon the old woman, and her eyo 
 earnestly watched the features of her countenance, heedless of the 
 ogre grin which rested upon her lips, and the generally fiendish 
 expression of her skinny face. The old woman did not immediately 
 answer, for her thoughts seemed to wander, and her eye looked 
 about her, as if in search of some expected object. 
 
 u What do you look for, mother ? you don t mind what I say, 
 do you 2" 
 
 " I was looking and thinking, my daughter, how to answer you 
 best. How would you like, now, instead of hearing about youi 
 husband that is to be, to see him I" 
 
 " What ! can you make him come, mother, like a-picture, with 
 a big frame round him ? and shall I see him close see him close ? 
 But I mustn t touch him, I suppose ; for then he d vanish, they 
 
 say." 
 
 " Yes, how would you like to see him, now, Bella I" 
 
 " Oh, dear me, I should be frightened ! You d better tell me 
 
 who he is, and don t bring him ; though, indeed, mother, I can t 
 
 think there would be danger." 
 
 " None none at all," said the old woman in reply, who seemed 
 
 iisposed to prolong the dialogue. 
 
 " Well, if he only looked like John Davis, now !" 
 
 " John Davis, indeed, Bella ! I tell you, you must not think of 
 
 Jtohn Davis You are for a far better man. What do you say, 
 10* 
 
230 THE 1 ARTISAN. 
 
 now. of the sergeant, Sergeant Hastings ? suppose it happened to 
 be him, now ?" 
 
 " Don t talk to me of Sergeant Hastings mother ; for I was a 
 fool to mind him. He don t care that to. me, I know : and he 
 talks cross to me ; and if I don t run myself out of breath to servo 
 him, he says ugly things. Besides, he s been talking strange thing s 
 to me, and I don t like it. More than once I ve been going to tell 
 brother William something that he once said to me : and 1 know, 
 if I had, there would have been a brush between them ; for William 
 won t stand any thing that s impudent. Don t talk of him to me.* 
 
 " But I must, my daughter, for it cannot be helped. If I see 
 that he s born to be your husband, and you his wife, it must be so, 
 and I must say it." 
 
 " No no it s not so, mother, I know. It shan t be so," said 
 the girl, firmly enough. " I won t believe it, neither, and you re 
 only plaguing me." 
 
 " It s a truth, Bella, and neither you nor I can help it, or keep it 
 off. I tell you, child, that you were born for Sergeant Hastings." 
 
 " But I won t be born for him, neither. I can t, and I won t, for 
 you don t know what he said to me, and it s not good for me to tell 
 it again, for it was naughty ; and I m sorry I ever talked cross to 
 poor John Davis, and I did so all because of him." 
 
 The change in her regards from Hastings to her old lover, was a 
 source of no small astonishment to the old hag, who knew not how 
 to account for it. It gave less satisfaction to her than to Hum 
 phries, who, in the neighbouring bush, heard every syllable which 
 had been uttered. The secret of this change is easily given. As 
 simple as a child, the mere deference to her claims of beauty, had 
 left her easily susceptible of imposition ; arid without any feeling 
 actually enlisted in favour of Hastings, she had been on the verge 
 of that precipice the gulf which passion or folly so often prepares 
 for its unheeding votaries. His professions and flatteries had gradu 
 ally filled her mind, and when his continued attentions had driven 
 all those away, from whom she had, or might have received them, 
 it followed that she became a dependant entirely upon him, who, 
 in creating this state of subservience, had placed her, to a certain 
 degree at least, at his mercy. She felt this dependence now, ami ii 
 
HASTINGS ANSWERS FOR HIMSELF. 231 
 
 somewhat mortified her ; her vanity grew hurt, when the tone of 
 deference formerly used by her lover, had been changed to one of 
 command and authority ; and she sometimes sighed when she 
 thought of the unremitting attentions of her old lover from Goose 
 Creek, the indefatigable Davis. The gaudy dress, and imposing 
 pretensions of the sergeant, had grown common in her eye, while, 
 at the same time, the inferiority of the new lover to the old, in deli 
 cacy of feeling, and genuine regard, had become sufficiently obvious. 
 She had, of late, instituted the comparison between them more than 
 once, and the consequence was inevitable. There was no little deci 
 sion in her manner, therefore, as she refused to submit to the fate 
 which Mother Blonay desired to impose upon her. 
 
 " But, Bella, my daughter" 
 
 "No, no, mother don t tell me of Sergeant Hastings any more, 
 I won t hear of him any longer." 
 
 " And why not, Bella, my dear ?" exclaimed the redoubtable ser 
 geant himself, coming suddenly into her presence, and speaking to 
 her with a mixed expression of pride and dissatisfaction in his coun 
 tenance " why not. I pray, my dear ?" 
 
 The poor girl was dumb at this intrusion. She scarcely dared 
 to look up, as, with the utmost composure, Hastings took a seat 
 beside her. The old hag, who had arranged the scheme, at the same 
 moment rose to depart. Quick as thought, Bella seized her hand, 
 arid would have risen also, but with a decided force the. sergeant 
 prevented her, arid retained his hold upon her wrist while compel 
 ling her to resume the seat beside him. 
 
 " I must go, sergeant father is waiting for me, I m sure and 
 the bells are most done ringing. Don t leave me, mother." 
 
 But the old woman was gone, moving out of sight, though still 
 keeping within hearing, with all the agility of a young person. The 
 poor girl, left alone with her danger, seemed for the moment stupi- 
 fied. She sat trembling beside the strong man who held her, speak 
 ing, when she did, in a tremor, and begging to depart. 
 
 But why dwell on what ensued ? The brutal suitor had but one 
 object, and did not long delay to exhibit its atrocious features. 
 Entreaties were succeeded by rudenesses ; and the terrified gir\, 
 4iriekiug and screaming to the old hag who had decoyed and 1*0 
 
232 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 her, was dragged recklessly back into the wood by the strong anna 
 of her companion. 
 
 " Cry away Goggle now Goggle now Goggle now scream 
 on, you poor fool scream, but there s no help for you." 
 
 And as the old beldam thus answered to the prayers of the girl, 
 she was stricken aside and hurled like a stone into the bush, even 
 while the fiendish soliloquy was upon her lips, by the raging brother 
 who now darted forward. In another instant, and he had dashed 
 the ravisher to the earth torn his sister, now almost exhausted, 
 from his grasp and with his knee upon the breast of Hastings, 
 and his knife bared m his hands, that moment would have been the 
 last of life to the ruffian, but for the intervention of the two troop 
 ers, who, hearing the shriek, had also rushed forward from the 
 recesses in the wood where the providence of Humphries had 
 placed them. They prevented the blow, but with their aid the ser 
 geant was gagged, bound, and dragged down into the copse where 
 the horses awaited them. 
 
 " Oh, brother dear brother William !" cried the terrified girl 
 " believe me, brother William, but it s not my fault I didn t mean 
 to do wrong ! I am innocent that I am !" 
 
 She hung upon him as if she feared his suspicions. He pressed 
 her to his arms, while weeping like a very child over her. 
 
 " I know it I know it, Bella ! and God knows how glad I am 
 to know it ! Had I not heard all between you, and that old hag 
 of hell, I d ha put this knife into you, just the same as if you 
 were not my own flesh and blood. But go now run to church, 
 and pray to have some sense as well as innocence ; for innocence 
 without sense is like a creeping baby that has not yet got the use 
 of its arms and legs. Go now run all the way and mind that 
 you say nothing to the old man about it." 
 
 Throwing her arms about his neck and kissing him, she hurried 
 upon her way with the speed of a bird just escaping, and narrowly, 
 from the net of the fowler. 
 
CHAPTER XXI, 
 
 Unfold unfold the day is going fiat, 
 And we must read this ancient history 
 
 THE clouds were gathering fast the waters were troubled and 
 the approaching tumult and disquiet of all things in Carolina, 
 clearly indicated the coming of that strife, so soon to overcast the 
 scene so long to keep it darkened so deeply to empurple it with 
 blood. The continentals were approaching rapidly, and the effect 
 was that of magic upon the long prostrated energies of the South. 
 The people were aroused, awakened, stimulated, and emboldened. 
 They gathered in little squads throughout the country. The news 
 was generally abroad that Gates was to comniand. the,_jtixp.fi.ted 
 aj-my Gates^ the^ conqueror at.Saratoga, wEose very name, at that 
 time, was a host. The successes of Suinter in the up-country, of 
 Marion on the Pedee, ofj?ickejjs ..with a troop of mounted rifle 
 men a new species of force projected by himself of Butler, of 
 llorry, James, and others, were generally whispered about among 
 the hitherto desponding whigs. These encouraging prospects were 
 nut a little strengthened in the parishes by rumours of small suc 
 cesses nearer at hand. The swamps were now believed to be full 
 of enemies to royal power, only wanting embodiment and arms ; 
 and truly did Tarleton, dilating upon the condition of things at this 
 period in the colony, give a melancholy summary of those influ 
 ences which were crowding together, as it was fondly thought by 
 the patriots, for the overwhelming of foreign domination. 
 
 " Discontents" according to his narrative " were disseminated 
 secret conspiracies entered into upon the frontier hostilities were 
 already begun in many places, and every thing seemed to menace 
 a revolution as rapid as that which succeeded the surrender o^ 
 Charleston." 
 
234 THE PARTISAN 
 
 The storm grew more imposing in its terrors, when, promising 
 himself confidently a march of triumph through the couutry,_Gates, 
 in a swelling proclamation, announced his assumption of command 
 over the southern army. It was a promise sadly disappointed 
 in the end yet the effect was instantaneous ; and, with the know 
 ledge of his approach, the entire Black river country was in insur 
 rection. 
 
 This was the province of Marion, and to his active persuasion 
 and influence the outbreak must chiefly be ascribed. But the 
 influence of events upon other sections was not less immediate, 
 though less overt and important in their development. The fer 
 menting excitement, which, in nitm s minds, usually precedes the 
 action of powerful, because long suppressed, elements of mischief, 
 had reached its highest point of forbearance. The immediately 
 impelling power was alone wanting, and this is always to be found 
 in that restless love of change, growing with its facilities, which 
 forms so legitimate a portion of our proper nature. There is a 
 wholesome stir in strife itself, which, like the thunderstorm in tho 
 sluggish atmosphere, imparts a renewed energy, and a better con 
 dition of health and exercise, to the attributes and agents of the 
 moral man. 
 
 Let us turn once more to the region already somewhat familiar 
 through these pages. We are again in "the precincts of the Ashley. 
 These old woods about Dorchester deserve to be famous. There is 
 not a wagon track not a defile not a clearing not a traverse 
 of these plains, which has not been consecrated by the strife for 
 liberty ; the close strife the desperate struggle ; the contest, unre 
 laxing, unyielding to the last, save only with death or conquest. 
 These old trees have looked down upon blood and battles; the 
 thick array and the sohiary combat between single foes, needing 
 no other witnesses. What tales might they not tell us! The 
 sands have drunk deeply of holy and hallowed blood blood that 
 gave them value and a name, and made for them a place in all 
 human recollection. The grass here has been beaten down, in suc 
 cessive seasons, by heavy feet by conflicting horsemen by driv 
 ing and recoiling artillery. Its deep green has been dyed with a 
 
ANCIENT CHRONICLERS. 235 
 
 yet deeper and a darker stain the outpourings of the invader s 
 veins, mingling with the generous streams flowing from bosoms 
 that had but one hope but one purpose the unpolluted freedom 
 and security of home ; the purity of the threshold, the sweet 
 repose of the domestic hearth from the intrusion of hostile feet ; 
 the only objects for which men may brave the stormy and the 
 brutal strife, and still keep the " whiteness of their souls." 
 
 The Carolinian well knows these hallowed places ; for every acre 
 has its tradition in this neighbourhood. He rides beneath the 
 thick oaks, whose branches have covered regiments, and looks up 
 to them with heedful veneration. Well he remembers the old 
 defile at the entrance just above Dorchester village, where a red 
 clay hill rises abruptly, breaking pleasantly the dead level of coun 
 try all around it. TJie rugged limbs and trunk of a huge oak, 
 which hung above its brow, and has been but recently overthrown, 
 was itself an historian. It was notorious in tradition as the u .ffm- 
 lows oak ;" its limbs being employed by both parties, as they seve 
 rally obtained the ascendency, for the purposes of summary execu 
 tion. Famous, indeed, was all the partisan warfare in this neigh 
 bourhood, from the time of its commencement, with our story, in 
 1780, to the day, when, hopeless of their object, the troops of tbe 
 invader withdrew to their crowded vessels, flying from the land 
 they had vainly struggled to subdue. You should hear the old 
 housewives dilate upon these transactions. You should hear them 
 paint the disasters, the depression of the Carolinians ! how their chief 
 city was besieged and taken ; their little army dispersed or cut 
 to pieces ; and how the invader marched over the country, and 
 called it his. Anon, they would show you the little gathering in 
 the swamp the small scouting squad timidly stealing forth into 
 the plain, and contenting itself with cutting off a foraging party 
 or a baggage wagon, or rescuing a disconsolate group of captives 
 on their way to the city and the prison-ships. Soon, emboldened 
 by success, the little squad is increased by numbers, and aims at 
 larger game. Unaer some such leader us Colonel Washington, you 
 should see them, anon, well mounted, coursing along the Ashlev 
 river road, by the peep of day, well skilled in the management of 
 their steeds, whose high necks beautifully arch under the curb* 
 
236 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 while, in obedience to the rider s will, they plunge fearlessly through 
 brake and through brier, over the fallen tree, and into the suspi 
 cious water. Heedless of all things but the proper achievement of 
 their bold adventure, the warriors go onward, while the broad 
 swords flash in the sunlight, and the trumpet cheers them with a 
 tone of victory. 
 
 And goodlier still is the sight, when, turning the narrow lane, 
 thick fringed with the scrubby oak and the pleasant myrtle, you 
 behold them come suddenly to the encounter with the hostile inva 
 ders. How they hurrah, and rush to the charge with a mad emo 
 tion that the steed partakes his ears erect, and his nostrils dis 
 tended, while his eyeballs start forward, and grow red with the 
 straining effort ; then, how the riders bear down all before them, 
 and, with swords shooting out from their cheeks, make nothing of 
 dje upraised bayonet and pointed spear, but, striking in, flank and 
 front, carry confusion wherever they go while the hot sands drink 
 in the life-blood of friend and foe, streaming through a thousand 
 wounds. 
 
 Hear them tell of these, and of the " Game Cock," Suinter ; 
 how, always ready for fight, with a valour which was too frequently 
 rashness, he would rush into the hostile ranks, and, with his power 
 ful frame and sweeping sabre, would single out for inveterate strife 
 his own particular enemy. 
 
 Then, of the subtle " Swamp Fox," Marion, who, slender of form, 
 and having but little confidence in his own physical prowess, was 
 never seen to use his sword in battle ; gaining by stratagem and 
 unexpected enterprise those advantages which his usual inferiority 
 of force would never have permitted him to gain otherwise. They 
 will tell you of his conduct anil his coolness ; of his ability, with 
 small means, to consummate leading objects the best proof of 
 military talent ; and of his wonderful command of his men ; how 
 they would do his will, though it led to the most perilous adven 
 ture, with as much alacrity as if they were going to a banquet. 
 Of the men themselves, though in rags, almost starving, and 
 exposed to ah changes of thfe weather, how cheerfully, in the fast 
 nesses of the swamp, they would sing their rude song about the 
 rapacity of their leader and their devotion to his person, in some 
 
WARFARE OF THfe WOODS. 3? 
 
 such strain as that which follows, and which we owe to brave and 
 generous George Dennison ! 
 
 George Dennison was himself a follower of Marion. He 
 belonged to the race of troubadours, though living too late for the 
 sort of life which they enjoyed, and for the fame which crowned 
 their equally eccentric lives and ballads. He sang for the parti 
 sans, the gallant feat even in the moment when performed, and 
 taught to the hearts of a rude cavalry, the lurking hope of remem 
 brance in song when they themselves should never hear. In the 
 deep thickets of the wood, in the wild recesses of the swamp, when 
 the day s march was over, when the sharp passage at arms was 
 ended, whether in flight or victory, his ballads, mostly extem 
 pore, cheered the dull hours and the drowsy bivouac, while his 
 rough but martial lyrics inspired the audacious charge, and 
 prompted the bold enterprise and the emulous achievement. Ah 
 bravje and generous George Dennison, \ve shall borrow of the songs 
 of thy making. We shall prolong for other ears the echoes of thy 
 lively lays, and the legends which we owe to thee, who art thy 
 self unknown. For verily, thou hadst the heart and courage of 
 true and gallant partisan ; and thou couldst sing with the natural 
 voice of a warm and passionate poet ; and thou couldst share the 
 sufferings, and soothe the sorrows of a comrade, with the loyalty 
 of a knightly friendship ; and thou couldst love with all the tendf. 
 sweetness that lies in the heart of woman ; and thou couldst cling 
 in fight to thy enemy, with the anger of a loving hate ; and thou 
 didst not love life too nuch for honor ; and thou didst not fear 
 death so much but thou couldst brave him with a laugh and a 
 song, even in the crossing of the spears ! Verily, George Denni 
 son, I will remember thee, and preserve thy rude ballads, made by 
 thee for thy comrades ears in the swamps of Carolina, so that other 
 ear? shall hear them, who knew thee not. Thou shalt tell them 
 now, of the life led by thee and thy comrades, for long seasons, 
 when thou hast followed the fortunes of the famous Swamp 
 Fox: 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 
 THE SWAMP FOX. 
 
 ** We follow where the Swamp Fox guides. 
 
 His friends and merry men are we ; 
 And when the troop of Tarletoa rides, 
 
 We burrow in the cypress tree. 
 The turfy hammock is our bed, 
 
 Our home is in the red-deer s den, 
 Our roof, the tree-top overhead, 
 
 For we are wild and hunted men. 
 
 IL 
 
 We fly by day, and slum its light, 
 
 But, prompt to strike the sudden blow, 
 We mount, and start with early night, 
 
 And through the forest track our foe. 
 And soon he hears our chargers leap, 
 
 The flashing sabre blinds his eyes, 
 And ere he drives away his sleep, 
 
 And rushes from his camp, he die*. 
 
 m. 
 Free bridle-bit, good gallant steed, 
 
 That will not ask a kind caress, 
 To swim the Santee at our need, 
 
 When on his heels the foemen press 
 The true heart and the ready hand, 
 
 The spirit, stubborn to be free 
 The twisted bore, the smiting brand 
 
 And we are Marion s men, you see. 
 
 Now light, the fire, and cook the meal, 
 
 . The last, perhaps, that we shall taste; 
 I hear the Swamp Fox round us steal, 
 And that s a sign we move in haste. 
 He whistles to the scouts, and harkl 
 
 You hear his order calm and low 
 Come, wave your torch across the dark, 
 And let us see the boys that go. 
 
THE SWAMP FOX. 23V* 
 
 We may not see their forms again, 
 
 God help em, should they find the strife 
 For they are strong and fearless men, 
 
 And make no coward terms for life : 
 They ll fight ns long as Marion bids, 
 
 And when he speaks the word to shy, 
 Then not till then they turn their steeds, 
 
 Through thickening shade and swamp to fly. 
 
 Now stir the fire, and lie at ease, 
 
 The scouts are gone, and on the brush 
 I see the colonel bend his knees, 
 
 To take his slumbers too but hush ! 
 He s praying, comrades : tis not strange ; 
 
 The man that s fighting day by day, 
 May well, when night comes, take a change, 
 
 And down upon his knees to pray. 
 
 Break up that hoecake, boys, and hand 
 
 The sly and silent jug that s there; 
 I love not it should idly stand, 
 
 When Marion s men have need of cliee 
 Tis seldom that our luck affords 
 
 A stuff like this we just have quaffed, 
 And dry potatoes on our boards 
 
 May always call for such a draught 
 
 nn. 
 
 Now pile the brush and roll the log : 
 
 Hard pillow, but a soldier s head. 
 That s half the time in brake and bog, 
 
 Must never think of softer bed. 
 The owl is hooting to the night, 
 
 The cooter crawling o er the bank, 
 And in that pond the plashing light, 
 
 Telli where the alligator sank. 
 
240 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 IX 
 
 "What tis the signal I start so soon, 
 
 And through the Santeo swamp so deep, 
 Without the aid of friendly moon, 
 
 And we, Heaven help us, half asleep! 
 But courage, comrades! Mai-ion loads, 
 
 The Swamp Fox takes us out to-night; 
 So clear your swords, and spur your steeds, 
 
 There s goodly chance, I think, of fight. 
 
 1 Wo follow where the Swamp Fox guides, 
 
 Wo leave the swamp and cypress tree, 
 J>ur spurs arc in our coursers sides, 
 
 And ready for the strife are we 
 The tory camp is now in sight, 
 
 And there he cowers within his den 
 He hears our shout, he dreads the fight, 
 
 He fears, and Hies from Marion s men." 
 
 Thus sang the native warrior of the Ashley, gallant George Den- 
 nison, long after the war was over. He told the story truly of the 
 Partisan, and he did not sing amiss. lie hud a rough and native 
 vigour a talent all kis own and did not smoothe his song to the 
 loss of spirit, and did not shape his applauses to please the earsn 
 the pretender. He made no man the hero of his song who had 
 not made himself a hero in his performances. Truer historian o. 
 the deeds which he beheld, never put fact on record ; more faith 
 ful bard never sang in honour of Iravc spirits. Verily, he was not 
 unworthy to chant the praises of our forest rangers. 
 
 And gallant men were the warriors whom he honoured by his 
 songs. They owe, perchance, but little to his rustic muse, and they 
 have had the fortune to secure the homage of others who have 
 better guaranties of Fame. Sharing the glories of Marion, their 
 DWII deeds have grown famous in song and story while poor 
 Grcorgc Dennison remains unknown. Yet, could he now survive to 
 describe their progress to paint their deeds to give us the lively 
 details of those wild and picturesque adventures, in which day and 
 night found them perpetually engaged he would show us such 
 
ARTS OF THE PARTISAN. 241 
 
 scenes as imagination cannot well conceive, or poetry of herself de 
 pict. He would show us the rude forester, as, passing from his 
 farmstead to the swamp, flying from the marauder, he became, in 
 time, the adroit partisan, under the ablest leaders. Ho\v the neces 
 sity, ever present, and usually in the aspec. of a pressing danger, 
 brought out all the resources of a natural art, and taught him in a 
 thousand stratagems. How he grew, in time, to be as stealthy as 
 the fox, and as subtle as the serpent. How he grew, in time, to 
 practise all the arts of all the natural inhabitants of swamp and 
 thicket : to imitate the cry of the bird, the stealth of the beast, thA 
 speed of the eagle, the fierce valour of the tiger ! How to snare ancj 
 circumvent the foe ! How, imbedding himself in the covering! 
 leaves and branches of the thick-limbed tree, he would lie in wait 
 till the fall of evening ; then, dropping suddenly upon the shoulders ; 
 of the sentry as he paced beneath, would drive the keen knife into \ 
 his heart, before he could yet recover from his panic. How he 
 would burrow in the hollow of the miry ditch, and crawling, Indian 
 fashion, into the trench, wait patiently until the soldier came into 1 
 the moonlight, when the silver drop at his rifle s muzzle fell with 
 fatal accuracy upon his button, or his breastplate, and the sharp 
 sudden crack which followed almost invariably announced the vic 
 tim s long sleep of death. And a thousand legends besides would 
 he teach us, making them live to our eyes, and work like passion in 
 our souls, of which tradition and history speak but faintly, and of 
 the arts and valour by which our partisans grew enabled to neutral 
 ize the superiority of European force and tactics. Often and again 
 have they lain close to the gushing spring, and silent in the bush, 
 like the tiger in his jungle, awaiting until the foragers had squatted 
 around it for the enjoyment of their midday meal ; then, rushing 
 forth with a fierce halloo, seizing upon the stacked arms, and beat 
 ing down the surprised but daring soldiers who might rise up to de 
 fend them. And this sort of warfare, small though it may appear, 
 was at last triumphant. The successes of the patriots, during the 
 whole period of the revolutionary contest in the south, were almost 
 entirely the result of the rapid, unexpected movement. the sudden 
 stroke made by the little troop, familiar with its ground, knowing 
 its object, and melting away at the approach of a superior enemy, 
 
242 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 like so many dusky shadows, secure in the thousand swamp recesses 
 which surrounded them. Nor did they rely always on stratagem 
 in the prosecution of their enterprises. There were gleams of chi 
 valry thrown athwart this sombre waste of strife and bloodshed, 
 worthy of the middle ages. Bold and graceful riders, with fine 
 horses, ready in all cases, tierce in onset, arid reckless in valour, 
 the southern cavalry had an early renown. The audacity with 
 which they drove through the forest, through broad rivers, such 
 as the Santee, by day and by night, in the face of the enemy, 
 whether in flight or in assault the same, makes their achieve 
 ments as worthy of romance as those of a Bayard or Bernardo. 
 Thousands of instances are recorded of that individual gallantry 
 that gallantry, stimulated by courage, warmed by enthusiasm, and 
 refined by courtesy which gives the only credentials of true chi 
 valry. Such, among the many, was the rescue of the prisoners, by 
 Jasper and Newton ; the restoration of the flagstaff to Fort Moul- 
 trie, in the hottest fire, by the former ; and the manner in which lie 
 got his death-wound at Savannah, in carrying off the colours which 
 had been intrusted to him. Such were many of the rash achieve 
 ments of Sumter and Laurens, and such was the daring of the brave 
 Conyers, who daily challenged his enemy in the face of the hostile 
 army. These were all partisan warriors, and such were their cha 
 racteristics. Let us now return to the adventures we have under 
 taken to relate, borrowing freely from George Dermison, and relate 
 the deeds which distinguish the lives of others, less known, b it not 
 unworthy to be ranked honourably among the bravest 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ** Now, yield thee up thy charge delay and di 
 I may not iijmre thee iu a quest like this, 
 But strike even while I speak. 
 
 WE have witnessed the sudden capture of the truculent British 
 sergeant, by the brother of the damsel whom he had destined for 
 his prey. Aided by his new recruits, Humphries brought his 
 prisoner to the camp with little difficulty. The worthy sergeant, 
 it is true, did at first offer resistance; he mouthed and struggled, 
 as the bandages compressed his mouth, and the ligatures restrained 
 his arms; but the timely application of hand and foot, which his 
 captors did not hesitate to employ to compel obedience, not to 
 speak of the threatening aspect of the dagger which the much 
 roused lieutenant held more than once to his throat brought him 
 to reason, and counselled that wholesome resignation to circum 
 stances, which, though riot always easy and pleasant of adoption, is, 
 at least, on most occasions, well becoming in him who has no 
 alternatives. He was, therefore, soon mounted on horseback, 
 along with one of the troopers, and in a state of most commendable 
 quietness, he reached, after an hour s quick riding, the encampment 
 at Bacon s Bridge. There, well secured with a stout rope, and 
 watched by the guard assigned for the other prisoners, close in the 
 thick and knotty wood which girded the swamp, we will at present 
 leave him. 
 
 Singleton had well concealed his little squadron in the same 
 shelter. Like a true partisan, he had omitted no precautions. His 
 scouts men that he could trust were out in all directions, and his 
 sentries watched both sides of the river. The position which he 
 had chosen was one established by General Moultrie in the previous 
 season. It had been vacated when that brave old warrior was 
 sailed to league his troops with those of .Lincoln, in defence of th 
 
244 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 city. The entrenchments and barracks were in good order, but 
 Singleton studiously avoided their use ; and, to the thoughtless 
 wayfarer passing by the little fort and the clumsy blockhouse, 
 nothing could possibly have looked more pacific. The partisan, 
 though immediately at hand, preferred a less ostentatious position. 
 We find him accordingly, close clustering with his troop in the 
 deep wood that lay behind it. Here, for a brief period at least, his 
 lurking-place was secure, and he only desired it for a few days 
 longer. Known to the enemy, he could not have held it, even for 
 a time so limited ; but would have been compelled to rapid flight, 
 or si resort to the deeper shadows and fastnesses of the swamp. 
 
 At this point the river ceased to be navigable even for the com 
 mon poleboats of the country ; and this \vas another source of ite 
 security. Filled up by crowding trees the gloomy cypresses 
 striding boldly into its very bosom it slunk away into shade and 
 silence, winding and broken, after a brief efibrt at a concentrated 
 course, into numberless little bayous and indentures, muddy creeks, 
 stagnating ponds, miry holes; constituting, throughout, a region 
 only pregnable by desperation, and only loved by the fierce and 
 filthy reptile, the ominous bird, the subtile fox, and venomous ser 
 pent. This region, immediately at hand, promised a safe place of 
 retreat, for a season, to the adventurous partisan ; and in its gloomy 
 recesses he well knew that, unless guided by a genuine swamp- 
 sucker, all Europe might vainly seek to find the little force, so 
 easily concealed, which he now commanded. 
 
 Humphries soon furnished his captain with all the intelligence 
 he had obtained at Dorchester. He gave a succinct account of 
 the affair of Mother Blonay, and her visit to the village of the 
 movement of Iluck to assail him on the Stono and of the pin-pose 
 of the tory to proceed onward, by the indirect route already men 
 tioned, to join with Tarleton on the Catawba. The latter p; j .rticu- 
 lars had been furnished the lieutenant by the two troopers who 
 had joined him. 
 
 The whole account determined Singleton to hurry his own 
 movement to join with Marion. That part of the narrative of 
 Humphries relating to Mother Blonay, decided the commander 
 to keep Goggle vjJl a prisoner, as one not to be trusted. Giving 
 
SWAMP REFUGE. 245 
 
 orders, therefore, for his continued detention, he proceeded to put 
 tilings in readiness for the movement of the squad, with nightfall, to 
 their old and better shelter on the little island in the Cypress 
 Swamp. This done, Singleton commanded his horse in readiness. 
 and bidding the boy Lance Frampton in attendance, despatched 
 him to prepare his own. To Humphries he now gave charge of 
 the troop repeated his orders to move with the dusk to their old 
 quarters and having informed the lieutenant of the true object of 
 his own adventure, he set forth, only attended by the boy Frampton, 
 taking an upper road leading towards the Santee. 
 
 That object may as well be told now as ever. Singleton had 
 been for some time awaiting intelligence of Marion s movement tc 
 Nelson s ferry. A courier had been looked for daily, since he 
 had left his leader ; and as, in these suspicious times, every precau 
 tion in the conveyance and receipt of intelligence was necessary, it 
 followed that many difficulties lay in the way of its transmission. 
 Men met on the highways, to fear, to avoid, and frequently to fight 
 with one another. They assumed contrary characters in the presence 
 of the stranger, and the play at cross-purposes, even among friends, 
 was the natural consequence of a misunderstood position. 
 
 There were signs and phrases agreed upon between Marion and 
 his trusted men, mysterious or unmeaning to all besides, which 
 Singleton was not permitted to impart to others. This necessity 
 prompted him forth, if possible, tp meet with the expected courier, 
 bearing him his orders, lie attached the younger Frampton to his 
 person. He chose him as too young for treason, and, indeed, he want 
 ed no better companion to accompany him on his ramble. Setting 
 forth by noonday, he kept boldly along the common Ashley river or 
 Dorchester road, as, winding in accordance with the course of the 
 stream it carried him above and completely around the spot chosen 
 for his camp in the Cypress. 
 
 The two saw but little, for some lime, to attract them in this 
 ramble. They traversed the defile of thick oaks, which form so 
 large a part of the growth of that region ; then fell into a monoto 
 nous pine-land track, through which they pushed their way. 
 Cheerless quite, bald of home an 1 habitation, they saw nothing 
 throughout the melancholy waste more imposing than the plodding 
 
246 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 negro, with his staff in hand, and with white teeth peering through 
 his thick, flagging lips, in a sort of deferential smile, at theii 
 approach. Sometimes, touched with the apprehensions of the time, 
 tie too would start away as he beheld them, and they might see 
 him, as they looked backward, cautiously watching their progress 
 from behind the pine-tree, or the crumbling fence. Occasionally 
 ihey came to a dwelling in ruins, or burnt the cornfield scorched 
 ami blackened with the recent fire, the fences overthrown, and thu 
 cows, almost wild, having free possession, and staring mildly upon 
 them as they drew nigh. 
 
 - " And this is war !" said Singleton, musingly. " This is war 
 the merciless, the devastating war ! Oh, my country, when wilt 
 thou be free from invasion when will thy people come back to 
 these deserted dwellings when will the corn flourish green along 
 these stricken and blasted fields, without danger from the trampling 
 horse, and the wanton and devouring fire ? When oh, when ?" 
 He spoke almost unconsciously, but was recalled to himself, as, 
 wondering at what he heard, the peering eyes of Lance Fraraptoii, 
 as he rode up beside him, perused keenly the unusually sad ex 
 pression of his countenance. Singleton noted his gaze, and, with 
 out rebuking it, addressed him with a question concerning his 
 father, who had been missing from the troop ever since the affair 
 with Travis. 
 
 "Lance, have you heard nothing of your father since I last asked 
 you about him ?" 
 
 "Nothing, sir; nothing at all, since we left the Cypress." 
 
 " You did not see him then, at our departure ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; but I heard him laugh long after I missed him from 
 the troop. He couldn t have been far off, sir, when we came out 
 of the swamp; though I didn t see him then, and arid I didn t 
 want to see him." 
 
 " Why not, boy ? your father, too !" 
 
 " Why, sir, father is very strange sometimes, and then we never 
 talk to him or trouble him, and he don t want people to see him 
 then. We always know how he is when he laughs, sir, and then 
 we go out of his way. We know he is strange then, for lie never 
 ,*ughs at any other time." 
 
THE BOY S AMBITION. 247 
 
 * What do you mean by strange is he dangerous?" 
 "Sometimes, sir, he plays dangerously with you. But it s all iu 
 play, for he laughs, and doesn t look in earnest ; but he is apt to 
 hurt people then. lie once threw me into the tree when he was 
 so: but it wasn t in earnest, he didn t mean to do me hurt, I m 
 sure ; but he didn t know ; he can t tell what he does when the 
 strange fit is on him." 
 
 "And where do you tlunk he is now ? in the swamp?" 
 " Yes, sir ; he loves to be in the swamp." 
 " And how long, boy, is it since he became strange ?" 
 " Oh, a very long time, sir ; ever since I was a little child. But 
 he has been much stranger since my mother s death !" 
 
 " No wonder ! no wonder ! That was enough to make him so 
 that cruel murder; but we will avenge it, boy we will avenge it." 
 " Yes, sir; that s what I want to do, as soon as you ll let me. I 
 long to have a chance to cut a man over the head." 
 
 The boy stopped and blushed half fearing that he had said too 
 much ; but the kindled fire of his eye was unshadowed, and there 
 was a quiver of his lips, and an increasing heave of his breast, 
 that did not escape the keen glance of Singleton. The latter was 
 about to speak, when suddenly the boy stopped him, bent forward 
 upon his horse, and pointing with his finger to an opening from 
 the roadside, called the attention of his commander in that 
 direction. 
 
 " I m sure, sir, it s a man a white man ; his back was to us, 
 sir; he s in there." 
 
 At the word, Singleton drove the spur into his steed, uad the 
 boy followed him. In a few moments, he was at the designated 
 spot, and there, sure enough, even as his companion had said, in the 
 little break of the woods, on the hillock s side, a strange man stood 
 before tnem. 
 
 The person, thus surprised, now evidently beheld them for the first 
 time. lie had been tightening the saddle-girth around his horse, 
 that stood quietly cropping the grass at their approach ; and his 
 eyes were turned over his shoulder, surveying the new-comers. He 
 hesitated, arid his manner had in it something of precipitation. 
 This was the more evident t ; Singleton, as, on their appearance, he 
 
248 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 began to whistle, and obviously assumed a degree of composure 
 which he did not feel, lie had been taking his midday repast at the 
 spring, which trickled from the hillside below them ; and the remains 
 of his meal, consisting of a bit of dried venison, cold ham, and 
 corn hoecake, were still open upon the grass, lying on the buckskin 
 wrapper which contained them. The man was certainly a traveller 
 and had ridden far ; die condition of his horse proved that ; though 
 his dress and appearance were those of -the plain farmers of the 
 neighbourhood. A coarse blue homespun coatee, with thin, whity- 
 brown pantaloons, loosely made, and a quaker hat, in the riband of 
 which a huge pipe was stuck ostentatiously, formed his habit. But 
 Singleton saw that the pipe had never been smoked, and his infer 
 ence was not favourable to the traveller, from this simple circum 
 stance. 
 
 Throwing his bridle to Lance Frampton, the partisan alighted, 
 and approached the stranger, who turned to meet him. There was 
 quite a show of good-humour in his countenance, as Singleton drew 
 nigh, and yet the latter saw his real trepidation ; and the anxious 
 looks which, more than once, he cast upon the stout animal which 
 had borne him, seemed to say how glad he would have been to use 
 him in flight, could he possibly have thought to do so in safety. 
 
 " Good-day, my friend, good-day. You have ridden far," said 
 Singleton, " and your horse tells it. May I ask what quarter you 
 come from ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, to be sure you may, stranger ; there s no harm that 1 
 can see in the question, only as it happens to want an answer. It s 
 no safe matter, now-a-days, stranger, to tell one s starting and stop 
 ping, since, you see, it mayn t altogether please them that hears." 
 
 There was evidently a disposition on the pail of the countryman 
 to feel his way, and see how far he could bully the new-comer, in 
 this equivocal sort of speech. But he was mistaken in the man 
 before him, and though he had spoken his evasive reply in a man 
 ner meant to be conciliatory while it remained unsatisfactory, he 
 was soon compelled to see that his questioner was by no means to 
 be trifled with. 
 
 " Safe or not, my friend," said Singleton, gravely, " there are 
 some questions that a man must answer, whether he likes it or 110 : 
 
BIRDS THAT CAN SING. 24.9 
 
 there is a school proverb that you must remember, about the bird 
 that can sing and will not." 
 
 The man turned his tobacco in his jaws, and though evidently 
 annoyed and disquieted, replied 
 
 " Why, yes, stranger, I reckon I know svhat you mean, though 1 
 hainthad much schooling; three months one year, and three another, 
 and then three years without any, don t teach a body every kind of 
 laming. But the saying you p int to I remember well enough; 
 Many s the time I ve beam it. The bird tlr-it wont sing must be 
 made to sing. " 
 
 " I see your memory may be relied upon for other matters," said 
 Singleton ; " and now, taking care not to forget the proverb, you 
 will please answer me a few questions." 
 
 "Well, stranger, I m willing enough. I m all over good-natur, 
 and never fail to git vexed with myself afterward, when the devil 
 drives me to be oncivil to them that treats me well. Ax your 
 questions straight off-hand, and Pete Larkin is the boy to answer, 
 far as his laming goes," 
 
 " I am glad, Mr. Larkin, for your own sake, that you have this 
 temper. You will please to say, now, where you are from." 
 
 " Well, now, stranger, I m only come from a little above and as 
 you say, I ve had a tough ride of it ; but it s a good critter, this 
 here nag of mine, and does one s heart good to go on him. So, 
 you see, when I m on him, I goes it. I hate mightily to creep, 
 terrapin fashion, in a dogtrot ; for you see, stranger, it s a bad gait, 
 and sickens a short man, though the horse that travels stands 
 it best of any." 
 
 Singleton had no disposition to interrupt the speaker, though he 
 saw that he meant to be evasive. lie watched his features attentively, 
 while he spoke, and when he had done, proceeded in his inquiries. 
 
 " From above ! but what part ? I would know precisely, Mr. 
 Larkin." 
 
 " Well, now, stranger, as I haint got no secrets, I spose I may 
 as well tell you xactfy how tis. I m from cl ar across the Santee ; 
 I live pon the Santee, or thereabouts." 
 
 " Indeed ! and is it true, as we hear below, that the wolves have 
 grown troublesome in that quarter ?" 
 
250 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 "Wolves, .stranger? Well, now, that can t be; for, you see, 1 
 come from all about, and nobody that I seed along the road, or in 
 any settlement, made complaint. I reckon you aint hearn very 
 particular right, now." 
 
 " It must be the owls, then yes, it is the owls ; have you seen 
 any of them on your way ?" 
 
 This question, urged with the utmost gravity by the partisan, 
 completed the fellow s astonishment. Revolving the huge quid of 
 tobacco for such it seemed which from the commencement of 
 the dialogue had been going to and fro between his jaws, it was 
 some seconds before he could recover sufficiently from his astonish 
 ment to reply. 
 
 " Owls ! God bless me, stranger, but that s a queer question, any 
 how. To be sure thars owls all along the Santee. You may hear 
 them in the swamp any time o night, and an ugly noise they 
 makes all night long, but nobody thinks o minding them. They 
 troubles nobody, and sometimes, when there s going to be a death 
 in the family, the white owls comes into the bedroom, and they 
 won t drive em out, for you see it s no use ; the sick body will die 
 after that, whether they drive the owl oft* or no." 
 
 "Yes, yes true;" said Singleton musingly, while watching 
 the other s countenance with a circumspect regard. He saw that 
 the countryman was not the man he expected, but even with this 
 discovery there had grown other suspicions as to his real character, 
 the more particularly as he perceived how disquieted the examina 
 tion and restraint had made him. After a moment s pause, he 
 proceeded to put a more direct inquiry. 
 
 " Where do you live upon the Santee ?" 
 
 " Well, now, stranger, I don t know if you ll know the place 
 when I tell you, seeing it s a little out of the way of the settlement ; 
 but I live close upon the left hand fork of the White Oak Branch, 
 a leetle above the road that runs to Williamsburg. I come down 
 that road when I crossed the Santee." 
 
 " And where did you cross the Santee !" 
 
 " At Vance s ferry : I spose you know where that is f w 
 
 " I do ; but why did you not cross at Nelson s why go out of 
 your way to Vance s 3" 
 
CROSS-EXAMINATION. 251 
 
 The countryman stammered, hesitated for a moment, and while 
 he replied, his eye sank beneath the penetrating glance of Single 
 ton. 
 
 "Well, stranger, to say truth, twas beca se I feared to come bv 
 Nelson s ; I was afeard of the inimy ?" 
 
 " And whom do you call the enemy ?" 
 
 " Them that s not a friend to me and rny friends ; them s my 
 inimies, stranger, and I reckon them s your inirnies too." 
 
 4 Perhaps so ; but I must first know who they are, before I can 
 *ay. Speak out, my good fellow, and let your answers be a little 
 more to the point, if you please." 
 
 The mass of tobacco, in the fellow s jaws, performed a more 
 rapid revolution before the man replied ; and he then did so only 
 as he saw the hand of Singleton upon the pistol in his belt. 
 
 " Well, stranger, if I must, I must : so, by the inimy I means 
 the rebels ; them that aint friendly to the king s government them s 
 the inimy; and there was plenty to spare of them at the nighest 
 track. The river swamp at Nelson s was chock full o Marion s 
 men, and there was no passing ; so I took the road across, down 
 by Wright s Bluff, that lets you into the Vance s ferry track, 
 and" 
 
 " You stopped at Watson s ? * 
 
 Singleton put the question affirmatively, and the other looked 
 surprised ; the tobacco was about to be revolved from the one jaw 
 to the opposite side, as had been the case at almost every interval 
 made between his sentences, when, quick as lightning, and with a 
 grasp of steel, Singleton seized him by the throat. The fellow 
 strove to slip away, but never did finger more tenaciou.-Jy gripe the 
 throat of an enemy. The partisan was a man of immense strength, 
 and the stranger was short and small. His powers were far interior. 
 He strove to struggle, and laboured, but in vain, to speak. The 
 fingers were too closely compressed ; and, still maintaining his hold 
 with more tenacity than ever, the assailant bore him down to 
 earth, and with his knee fixed firmly upon his breast, in spite of 
 
 * At that time one of the chain of military posts which the British hud 
 established throughout the country. 
 
252 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 every effort for release by the man beneath him, he choked him 
 until his tongue hung 1 out upon his cheek, and his jaws were suffi 
 ciently distended to enable him to secure the game for which he 
 toiled so desperately. Turning the bearer of despatches for the 
 prisoner was such upon his side, the silver bullet which contained 
 them rolled forth upon the grass, and in a moment after was secured 
 by the ready hands of Lance Frampton. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " Yfl blight the sense when ye do wound the 
 Reason is feeling s best and born ally, 
 And suffers with her kindred." 
 
 " STIR not move a foot, and you die !" 
 
 Such were the brief words of Singleton, as, with foot upon his breast 
 he kept the bearer of despatches prostrate upon the earth. The man 
 saw the peremptory look, the ready pistol, and he doubted not tlw 
 the words were sternly earnest. His struggles ceased with the com 
 mand ; and the partisan handing his cocked pistol to the attentive 
 boy Frampton, proceeded to examine the prize which he had gained. 
 The screw bullet soon yielded up its trust, and the intelligence was 
 important. The Conner showed symptoms of disquiet, and the foot 
 of his conqueror was pressed, in consequence, more firmly upon his 
 bosom. 
 
 " Shoot him if he stirs," said Singleton to the boy, who looked his 
 readiness to obey the command. 
 
 The former then quietly perused the cramped document which the 
 bullet had contained. 
 
 Its contents were valuable, and greatly assisted our hero in his 
 own progress. Though from an enemy, it contained desirable intel 
 ligence ; and, taken in connexion with the verbal narrative which the 
 courier had given of the presence of Marion s men on the Santee, it 
 at once determined Singleton to make an early movement in that 
 quarter. The despatch was from Lord Rawdon, in command at 
 Camden, to Earl Cornwallis at Charleston. It claimed the immedi 
 ate attendance of the Commander-in-chief in Camden, to quell dis 
 contents, and prepare for the enemy announcing the approach of 
 Gate? with a formidable army of seven thousand men. This wag 
 the alleged force of the continentals ; very greatly exaggerated 
 
 bevtmd the truMi, but at this time confidently believed and insisted 
 11* 
 
254 THE PARTISAN 
 
 upon by both parties in the state. The express contained, in addition 
 ix> this highly interesting matter, the heads of other subjects not 
 less interesting to the partisan, and scarcely less important to the 
 cause. It described, in brief, numerous risings in every quarter ; 
 the defection of the militia en masse, under Lyle, who had carried 
 them over to Sumter ; the union of Sumter with the Waxhaw whigs; 
 and the affairs on the Catawba, at Williams s, and the Rocky Mount : 
 in all of which the "Game Cock" had handled the enemy severely. 
 The despatch betrayed great anxiety, and its contents were of the 
 most stimulating tendency to Singleton. It now impressed upon 
 him the necessity of that early movement to join with Marion which 
 he had already contemplated. 
 
 " \ ou may rise, sir," said the partisan, moving his heel from the 
 breast of the courier, who had lain quietly enough but uncomfortably 
 under it. 
 
 " You may rise, but you are my prisoner no words, but prepare 
 to submit. See to your animal make no effort to fly, or I shoot 
 you down on the instant." 
 
 The man rose tamely enough, but sullenly. After a few moments 
 he found his speech, which was now more agreeable and less broken 
 than when the bullet was revolving to and fro in his jaws. 
 
 " Well, now, captain, this is mighty hard, I do think. You won t 
 keep me, I reckon, seeing I m no fighting man, and haint got any 
 we pons. I m a non-combatant, so I am, and I aint free to be taken 
 prisoner. It s agin the laws, I reckon." 
 
 " Indeed ! but we ll see. Mount, sir, and no talking." 
 
 " Well, it s a tough business, and I do think, after all, that it s only 
 joking with me* you are you re two good loyalists, now, I m cer 
 tain." 
 
 " You mistake, sir, I m an American one of Marion s men, and 
 no traitor. To horse, and no more of this no trifling." 
 
 " God help me, cappin, but you re not in airnest, sure ? It s no 
 small difficulty, now, this express, arid it s a matter to be wtll paid 
 for ; and if so be you are, for certain, one of Marion s men, you 
 nought let n have a free pj;ss up, for a small chance of the guineas. 
 Afore God, cappin, if you ll only clear the road you shall have one 
 
 QHlf " 
 
IN CAMP. 255 
 
 The pisto! was at his head. 
 
 " Another word, scoundreJ, and I send the bullet through your 
 skull. Mount quickly quickly !" 
 
 With the back of his hand he smote the tory upon his mouth as 
 he spoke, and the fire of insulted patriotism flashed from his eye, 
 with a threatening brightness that silenced at once, and most 
 effectually, all farther solicitations from the bearer of despatches. 
 Reluctantly, but without farther pause, he got into saddle, taking 
 the place assigned him by his captor, between himself and the boy. 
 In this manner they took their way to the Cypress Swamp, and it 
 was not long before they were, all three, lodged in its safe and deep 
 recesses. 
 
 There we find our almost forgotten friends, the sentimental gour 
 mand, the philosophic Porgy, and the attenuated naturalist, 
 Doctor Oaken burg; the one about to engage in his favourite voca 
 tion, and hurrying the evening meal ; the other sublimely employed 
 in stuffing with moss the skin of a monstrous " coach whip," which, 
 to his great delight, the morning before, he had been successful 
 enough to take with a crotch stick, and to kill without bruising. 
 Carefully skinned, and dried in the shade, the rich colours and 
 glossy glaze of the reptile had been well preserved, and now care 
 fully filled out with the soft and pliant moss, as it lay across the 
 doctor s lap, it wore to the eye of Singleton a very life-like appear 
 ance. The two came forward to meet and make the acquaintance 
 of the partisan, whom before they had not seen. 1 orgy was highly 
 delighted, for, like most fat men, he liked company, and preferred 
 always the presence of a number. 
 
 "There s no eating alone," he would say "give me enough for 
 a large table, and a full company round it : I can then enjoy 
 myself." 
 
 His reception of Singleton partook of this spirit. 
 
 " Major Singleton, I rejoice to see you ; just now particularly, as 
 our supper, such as it is, is almost at hand. No great variety, sir 
 nothing much to choose from but what of that, sir? There s 
 enough, and what there is, is good -the very best. Tom, there 
 our cook, sir, he will make; the very best of it broils ham the best 
 of any negro in the southern r.oui try, and his hoe-cake, sir, is abso- 
 
256 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 lutely perfection. He does turn a griddle with a dexterity that is re 
 markable. But you shall see you shall see for yourself. Here, Tom !" 
 
 And rolling up his sleeves, he took tfee subject of his eulogy 
 aside, and a moment after the latter was seen piling his brands 
 and adjusting a rude iron fabric over the coals, while the epicure, 
 with the most hearty good-will for the labour, busily sliced off 
 sundry huge collops from the convenient shoulder of bacon that 
 hung suspended from a contiguous tree. 
 
 The labours of Porgy were scarcely congenial either with the 
 mood of Singleton or the quiet loveliness of the scene. Evening 
 was fast coming on all the swamp was in a deep shadow, save 
 where, like a wandering but pure spirit, a rose-like effusion, the 
 last dying but lovely glance from the descending sun, rested flicker- 
 ingly upon the top of one of the tallest pines above them. A space 
 between the trees, opening to the heavens in one little spot alone, 
 showed them a sprinkling of fleecy white clouds, sleeping quietly 
 under the sky, their western edges partaking slightly of the same 
 last parting glance of the sinking orb. A slight breeze stirred 
 fitfully among the branches; and the occasional chirp of the 
 nimble sparrow, as it hopped along on the edge of the island, was 
 the only sound, other than that made by the hissing fire, and the occa 
 sional voice of Porgy, which came to the ears of Singleton. He 
 threw himself upon the green bank, under a tree, on the opposite 
 side of which the boy Lance had already placed himself, a little 
 behind him. Suddenly, the boy started to his feet. The wild, 
 unearthly laugh of his father, that eldritch scream which chilled to 
 the very bones of the hearer, was heard on the skirts of the island. 
 Looking to the quarter whence the cry proceeded, they beheld the 
 huge figure of the elder Frampton peering from behind a tree his 
 eyes staring forth vacantly upon them, while his hands were uplifted 
 to a stretching branch above him, which he grasped firmly. He 
 laugher] repeatedly, and Singleton at length arose, beckoned ruid 
 called to him. But he gave no heed to the call, and when tho 
 latter offered to approach him, the maniac moved away rapiJly, 
 with another eldritch laugh, that seemed to mock pursuit. At this 
 moment the boy came up in sight of his father, and the wild man 
 teemed to recognise his son. 
 
FATHER AND SON. 257 
 
 " He will come now, sir," said Lance to Major Singleton ; " he 
 will come now, sir : but we must not seem to urge or to watch 
 him." 
 
 They fell back accordingly, took their old places along the bank, 
 and awaited the result of their experiment. As the boy had 
 predicted, the maniac in a few moments after was beside them. 
 He came forward with a bounding motion, as if now only satisfied 
 with an inordinate extreme of action, corresponding to the sleep 
 less impulse and the fierce fever preying upon his mind. Without 
 a word, but with a perpetually glancing movement of the eye, 
 which seemed to take in all objects around, he squatted down 
 quietly beside his son. He stared for an instant curiously into the 
 boy s eyes, then extending his hand, his fingers wandered uncon 
 sciously in his long black hair. The latter, all the time, with a 
 proper caution, arising from his previous intimacy with his father s 
 habits, took care neither to move nor speak. lie sat patiently, 
 unmoved, while the fingers of the maniac played with his hair, 
 lifted curl after curl with affectionate minuteness, and wound par 
 ticular locks about his finger. Then he stroked down, once or 
 twice, the thick volumes of hair together ; and at length, laughing 
 again more wildly than ever, he withdrew his hand entirely, and 
 turning his face from the two, his eyes became fixed with a strange 
 intensity upon the extended form of the tory whom Singleton had 
 taken, and who now lay tied beneath a tree at a little distance. 
 Soon the maniac slowly rose and moved towards the captive 
 walked all around and examined him in every particular; the 
 latter all the while, with no little anxiety, turned his glance in everv 
 quarter, following the movement of the observer. The fingers of 
 the maniac kept a motion as restless as his person now grasping, 
 and now withdrawn from, the handle of the unsheathed knife thai 
 was stuck in the folds of a thick red handkerchief, ragged and 
 soiled, which was strapped about his waist. At length, leaving 
 the object of his inspection, he approached Singleton, and, with 
 something more of coherence than usual, and a singularly calm 
 expression, he proposed an inquiry about the person whose presence 
 appeared so much to trouble him. 
 
 " He is not a red-coat not a dragoon ?" 
 
258 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " No ; a tory, but a prisoner. lie is a bearer of dispatches a 
 non-combatant." 
 
 The reply of Singleton, which was immediately made to the 
 maniac, brought forward another party in the person of Doctoi 
 Oakenburg, who now having first, with the utmost tenderness, 
 luing his snake over a limb above him-- -joined the group. 
 
 " A prisoner, and yet a non-combatant, Major Singleton ? Sir, 
 oblige me, and explain. Is that possible? have I not heard im 
 perfectly ? I too, sir, am a non-combatant, sir ; that was under 
 stood, sir, when Master Humphries first spoke to me in this behalf. 
 My engagements, sir, required no risk at my hands, and promised 
 me perfect safety." 
 
 " Is he not safe enough ?" was the calm inquiry of Singleton, as, 
 with a smile, he pointed to the corded courier, and thus answered 
 the doctor s question. Just at his ears, in the same moment, the 
 maniac, who, unperceived by the doctor, had stolen close behind 
 him, now uttered one of his most appalling screams of laughter ; 
 and the non-combatant did not seek to disguise the apprehensions 
 which prompted him to a hasty retreat in the rear of Singleton. The 
 partisan turned to him, and changing his topic somewhat, inquired 
 
 " You are the doctor, sir ? Doctor " 
 
 " Oakenburg, sir ; of an old German family of high descent, and 
 without stain of blood. They came over, sir, with the Elector." 
 
 In a whisper, Singleton inquired if his skill could reach the case 
 of Frampton ; but the suggestion was productive of quite too much 
 alarm in the mind of the adventurer. He seemed nowise desirous 
 of martyrdom in the prosecution of the healing art ; and, when 
 he found his tongue, in reply to the demand of Singleton, he gave 
 his opinion in a half-unintelligible jargon, that the case was con 
 firmed and hopeless. The savage, in the meanwhile, had drawn 
 nigher to his son, one of whose hands he had taken into his own. 
 But he said nothing all the while ; and at length, having made all 
 arrangements for the evening- repast, (the provident Porgy carac 
 forward, with the lofty condescension of a host accustomed to 
 entertain with princely bounty, and announced things in readiness. 
 Singleton then spoke to the maniac, and endeavoured to persuade 
 him to the log on which the victuals had been spread, and 
 
SUFFER 259 
 
 around which the party had now gathered ; but his application 
 was entirely unheeded. 
 
 " He won t mind all you can say to him, major; we know him, 
 for he s been several times to eat with us ; that s the way with the 
 creature. But put the meat before him, and his understanding 
 comes back in a moment, lie knows very well what to do with it. 
 Ah, Providence has wisely ordained, major, that we shall only lose 
 the knowledge of what s good for the stomach the last of all. We 
 can forget the loss of fortune, sir, of the fine house, and goodly 
 plate, and pleasant tendance we may even forget the quality and 
 the faces of our friends ; and, as for love, that gets out of our 
 clutches, we don t know how ; but, major, I wont believe that any 
 body ever yet lost his knowledge of good living. Once gained, 
 it holds its ground well ; it survives all other knowledge. The 
 belly, major, will always insist upon so much brnfff?? k^ing pre 
 served in the head, as will maintain unimpaired its own ascend 
 ency." 
 
 As the gourmand had said, the meat was no sooner placed before 
 the maniac, than seizing it ravenously in his ringers, he tore auJ 
 devoured it with a fury that showed how long had been his previ 
 ous abstinence. His appetite was absolutely wolfish ; and while 
 he ate, Singleton watched him with mingled emotions of pity and 
 disgust. His garments were in tatters about him, torn by the 
 thick woods in \\hich he had ranged with as little scruple as the wild 
 beasts whom he now resembled. His face had been scratched with 
 briers, and the blood had congealed along the seams upon his 
 cheek, unremoved and unregarded. His thick, black hair was 
 matted down upon his forehead, and was deeply stained with the 
 clayey ooze of the swamp through which he had crawled. His 
 eyes had a fiery restlessness, and glared ever around him with a 
 baleful, and malignant sort of light, which was full of evil omen. 
 When he had eaten, he, without a word, dashed oft from the place 
 where he had been seated, plunged into the creek, and the fainter 
 and fainter echoes of his wild laugh declared his rapid progress 
 away into the thick recesses of the neighbouring cypress. Over 
 these, darkness now began to consolidate ; and at length, impatient 
 of farther delay in a purposed object, Singleton rose from his place 
 
260 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 and fave orders to Lance to get his own and the horse of his 
 superior in readiness. 
 
 "Shall we ride to-night, sir?" inquired the boy. 
 
 " Instantly : I shall put you on a new duty to-night, Lance, arid 
 nope that you will perform it well. Speed now with the horses, 
 for the dark gathers." 
 
 The bosom of the youth thrilled and throbbed with a new emo 
 tion of pleasure, as lie heard the promise, and the feeling gave 
 a degree of elasticity to his movement, which enabled him to place 
 the steed before his leader instantaneously. 
 
 Singleton sprang the pan of his pistols, renewed the priming, 
 gave several orders touching the prisoner, and some parting 
 directions ; then leaping into saddle, bade Lancelot find the track. 
 Forgy waved a blazing torch over the creek, giving them a brief 
 light at starting, and the two were soon plunging through the 
 gloomy pathway, if by any stretch of courtesy it may be called a 
 pathway, and taking a direction which Singleton thought most 
 likely to give them a meeting with the now approaching troop 
 jfider the command of Humphries. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " The game is lust, and needless to pursue, 
 
 hrough buch a waste, m such a night as this." 
 
 THE course of Singleton lay for " the Oaks." He was about to 
 pay a parting visit, and to seek, if possible, to persuade his uncle 
 to set forth with him for the Santee, with whatever force might 
 have been procured by him from among his neighbours. This was, 
 indeed, his only opportunity. He had arrested one courier, it in 
 true; but others must succeed in giving to Cornwallis the impor 
 tant intelligence which, for the present, he had stayed. The move 
 ment of Cornwallis towards Camden, in compliance with the neces 
 sity of the case, and Rawdon s solicitations, would have the effect 
 of breaking up communication throughout the intervening country, 
 and making any effort to pass it dangerous to the partisan. This 
 was a consideration which he necessarily concluded must influence 
 Colonel Walton s conduct ; and the opportunity of passing at Nel 
 son s, now filled with Marion s men, was one not to be disregarded. 
 llis hopes were, that his uncle would carry with him a decent 
 number of sturdy fellows into the camp of the continentals. Nor 
 was this hope an unreasonable one. Colonel Walton, though slow 
 in taking up the cause of his country, had, at last, set heartily about 
 it. By his earnestness and industry, since his determination had 
 been made to resume his arms, he strove to appease his consci 
 ence, and do away with any reproach that might have been due to 
 his past forbearance. He had made some progress with his recruits, 
 and was night and day indefatigable. He rode through his neigh 
 bourhood among all sorts of people, and played his game with skill 
 and Coolness, lie knew that Proctor watched him, and he was 
 cwcumspect accordingly. But, though cautious, he. did not relax. 
 In the little interval which followed his resolve to come out, and 
 me moment under our view, he had secured some twenty pledges 
 
262 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 pledges of stout, honest woodsmen, men who had been dialed by 
 the insolence of their oppression,, borne down by wrongs, and were 
 impatient for redress. He was now, even while Singleton rode 
 with his attendant towards the river, engaged in close council with 
 a little band at Johnson s house, on Cane Acre, to whom he was 
 successfully urging SUC L considerations as did not fail, in the end, 
 to effect the object he desired. Let us there leave him, for tb<j 
 present, arid return to the camp at Bacon s Bridge. 
 
 With the close of day, Humphries made his preparations for 
 moving to the Cypress in obedience to the command of Singleton. 
 The horses were saddled quickly, the arms prepared, the surplus 
 baggage put upon pack-horses, the prisoners were mounted, aiu 
 all appearance of a camp broken up in that quarter. The prison 
 ers were placed under the immediate surveillance of Davis, who 
 brought up the rear of the troop. 
 
 The custody of Hastings placed the rivals in a novel sort of 
 relationship to one another ; and the sturdy Goose Creeker did not 
 feel less of his bitterness of spirit because he was compelled to 
 suppress its utterance. His old love for Bella Humphries grew 
 active with the feeling of jealousy which the presence of the ser 
 geant necessarily provoked. He really loved the girl, and his hate 
 for the dragoon was, in consequence, entirely without qualification. 
 lie felt that he was getting angry, as, whil<^ arranging the prisoners, 
 his eye continually fell upon Hastings. But he knew and respected 
 the situation of the enemy too much to give utterance to his feel 
 ings at large; feelings which, at the same time, were sufficiently 
 evident to the eye of the dragoon. 
 
 He, on the other hand, conscious of his danger, and apprehensive 
 of punishment corresponding to the outrageous character of his 
 last offence, strove to be very conciliatory, and addressed some 
 soolhing and gracious speech to his rival, as the latter approached 
 him; but the other was not to be soothed in this fashion. A 
 glance of contempt, mingled with hate, was the only response 
 given to the obsequious remark of Hastings ; and, in a few minutes 
 after, when he sould do so unobserved, Davis came back to where 
 his prisoner stood, and in a low tone thus addressed him 
 
 " Look ye, Sergeant Hastings, there s no love lost between >*, 
 
SWAMP PROGRESS. 263 
 
 and it s no use for you to make sweet speeches. You re in no fix 
 to help yourself now ; but I ve got sicli a grudge agin you, that 
 must be satisfied, and I ll be on the look-out, though it s agin orders, 
 to work a clear way for you out of this hobble, if so be you ll 
 only promise to give me satisfaction when I ve done so. Say the 
 word now that you will cross swords with me, if I help you to a 
 clear track, and here s my hand upon it, that you shall have a fair 
 tight and free passage." 
 
 " Well but, Davis, my friend " 
 
 "No friend, if you please. I m yoar deadly enemy, and if so 
 be I can, as God shall help me, I ll cut your heart out of your 
 hide, or there s no snakes." 
 
 " Well, well but I ve no weapor." 
 
 " I ll bring you one only say the word," was the pertinacious 
 and quick reply. Finding there was no escape, the sergeant readily 
 enough closed with the terms, and Davis then promised to seek 
 him out in the swamp, conduct him to a clear ground, and make 
 the terms of fight equal between them. This done, he turned away 
 from the prisoner with something more of light-heartedness than 
 usual, as he anticipated the pleasure of that strife with his enemy 
 which promised to revenge him for so many wrongs. 
 
 The prisoners were soon all mounted, doggie along with them, 
 and so disposed as to ride between alternate files of the troopers. In 
 this order they set forth for the recesses of the swamp, and a route 
 was chosen by Humphries which enabled him to keep away from 
 all beaten roads ; the necessity still existing, while in the neighbour 
 hood of a superior force, for the utmost caution, as the objects of 
 the partisan required security from observation even in preference 
 to any successes which so small a party might obtain. 
 
 It was not long before they began to enter the swamp, and to 
 meet with its obstructions. The twilight gradually ceased to glim 
 mer, the trees crowded more closely on the path, and the shades 
 stalking about them incessantly grew incorporated into huge masses, 
 from winch the trees themselves were scarce distinguishable. Then 
 came the varieties of the swamp ; the black and stagnant puddle, 
 the slimy ooze, the decayed and prostrate tree, and the hanging 
 vine swinging across the route. The night came down shortly 
 
26-4 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 after they had penetrated the morass, and, though a clear starlight 
 evening, it was only now and then that glimpses could be obtained 
 of the pale and melancholy watchers suddenly peering down into 
 the openings of the trees overhead. 
 
 A closer order of march was now imposed upon the troop, as, 
 carefully leading the way, Humphries guided them through one 
 little creek, and along the banks of another. The earth between 
 the two parallel waters lay tolerably high, and formed a defile, as 
 it were, through which they continued to move with no other 
 obstructions than such as were presented by the occasional morasses 
 formed in the curves of the creek, and the close trees, that suffered 
 them to move only in single file. Once fairly in the swamp, Hum 
 phries had a torch lighted and carried by a trooper in front with 
 himself. This serving sufficiently to pick the path, though yield 
 ing no assistance to those who came after, they were compelled 
 simply to keep close, and follow the leader. 
 
 The lieutenant kept unrelaxing v.atch during all this period, and 
 the utmost order was observed during the progress. His ear was 
 keenly observant of every sound that reached his ears, though 
 deceived by none of them. He was skilled in woodcraft, and knew 
 well how to decoy the bird, and to deceive the reptile, by his vari 
 ous imitations. At this time, however, he permitted himself no 
 exercise of his powers in this respect; but watchful in the highest 
 degree, he gave his orders briefly, in a low tone, and without the 
 employment of unnecessary words. 
 
 At length the defile narrowed, the undergrowth thickened about 
 the trees in luxuriant vegetation, and so dark was the place that the 
 figure of each individual horse could only be made out by the 
 rider immediately behind it. To the instinct and better vision of 
 the animals themselves the movement was in great part left; 
 the trooper and his prisoner, alike, only taking care not to fall far 
 behind the steed in advance. This being the case, and heedful of 
 his charge while Davis was directed closely to watch and bring 
 up the rear Humphries stationed himself at the mouth of the defile, 
 having first led the way through which they were yet to pass. 
 There, with uplifted torch, he numbered one by one the steeds of 
 all that came through and j.a^cd before him; and in thib way 
 
GOGGLE S GIFTS. 265 
 
 with a precaution which he considered the most complete that 
 could be adopted, confidently thought that there could be no risk 
 c losing any of his prisoners. And, indeed, with the ordinary 
 prisoner, the man only skilled to fight bulldog fashion, without 
 ingenuity, and solely relying upon his teeth, the precaution would 
 have been enough. 
 
 But Goggle was not of this description. lie had the gift, along 
 with Indian blood, of Indian subtlety. He had kept his course 
 quietly and patiently with the rest, and there was no gloom, no 
 dulness, no flagging of spirits about him. All was coolness in his 
 mood, and he knew his ground. lie had heard the orders of 
 Humphries, readily understood the route, and prepared to avail 
 himself of circumstances as they might occur in his favour. There 
 was H cry which the troops were heard to utter successively, a-- 
 they advanced through a certain point of the defile, the meaning 
 uf which he clearly enough understood. A ragged pine had thruit 
 an arm directly over the path, and so low as to endanger the 
 head of a tall man moving along too erectly. The cry of each 
 rider, therefore, as he passed under it, was to his immediate fol 
 lower 
 
 " Stoop low ! Jicads down !" 
 
 Goggle heard this cry before he reached the obstruction. He 
 coolly prepared himself for a little scout practice, buttoned his 
 jacket closely, and treed his feet from his stirrups as he preceded. 
 He did this without the slightest precipitation or impatience. In 
 order to accustom his horse to the relaxation of the bit, so that his 
 movement might not undergo any change at the trying moment, 
 he gradually yielded up the bridle, until the animal failed entirely 
 to feel its restraints upon his mouth ; then, dropping the reins 
 altogether as he heard the cry of his predecessor to "stoop," instead 
 of doing so, he threw his arms upwards, caught the overhanging 
 branch fir-mly with both hands, and with the activity of an ape, 
 lifted himself fairly out of the saddle, and for a moment swung in 
 air The horse passed from under him, and, with his old habit, 
 followed the lead to which he had been accustomed. The succeed 
 ing steed approached, Goggle gave the cry, in the most measured 
 language and as he did so he whirled himself over, out of th* 
 
266 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 trooper s way, upon the top of the branch, where he sat with all a 
 squirrel s sense of security. 
 
 Here he remained in quiet as the troop proceeded. He knew 
 the length of the defile, and could see in the distance the glimmer 
 ing of the torch by which Humphries enumerated the troopers as 
 they came forth from the avenue; and as the rear of the party 
 with Davis was at hand, he felt secure that all would have passed 
 him some time before his empty saddle would warn the lieutenant 
 of his departure. 
 
 A moment after, the voice of Davis, as he passed under the tree 
 where the fugitive sat chuckling at his success, apprised him of the 
 proper time to commence his flight. The ground was free, and 
 dropping from his perch, the fugitive crossed the path, and took the 
 water of the creek as soon as possible, following its course towards 
 the river for a brief space, then turning aside and shrouding him 
 self, while still keeping his onward way, in a close-set forest of small 
 saplings. 
 
 Here he had scarcely entered when the alarm was given. The 
 vigilant Humphries had discovered the absence of the prisoner, as 
 the untrammelled animal came forth from the defile. A confused 
 shouting, a rush as of one or more in search, reached the ears of the 
 fugitive ; but he was safe, arid laughed at all pursuit. 
 
 The sounds finally died away; and Goggle, who had lain quiet 
 while the confusion lasted, now resumed his flight. Davis and 
 pome of the troopers had dashed back when the alarm was given ; 
 but in the thick darkness which shrouded the region, there was no 
 prospect of retaking the prisoner so long as he kept silent. This was 
 soon evident to Humphries, arid, sore and chagrined, he hurried on 
 the progress of the party, swearing vengeance against the lory, his 
 hostility to whom naturally underwent due increase and animation, 
 as he found himself outwitted by the subtle enemy in so simple 
 a manner. Humphries got back to camp late at night without far 
 ther incident, and without meeting with Singleton, as the latter had 
 proposed. They had taken different routes; and when the com 
 mander emerged from the swamp, he look the road back to the 
 bridge, only accompanied by his youthful protege. He reached the 
 pver ju^t as the fugitive (Joggle was about to emerge from the 
 
WARFARE OF THE WOODS. 267 
 
 Bwamp. The latter heard at a distance the feet of the horse, and 
 lay snug beside the road as they passed. The unobstructed star 
 light was now around them, and he was enabled to distinguish their 
 persons. He conjectured what would be the route of Singleton, and 
 he now beheld the opportunity of finding his reward with the 
 British, and of gaining his revenge upon one, at least, of his 
 American enemies. Toil and fatigue were at once forgotten, fear 
 was discarded *rora his mind ; and, now, running, now walking, 
 with an Indian pertinacity of .spirit, he took the directest course 
 leading to Dorchester. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " Her words are DO much music, caught from ueY 
 When clouds are parting, and the rosy eve 
 Cornea to her sway." 
 
 THE hour was late when the Half Breed reached the village. 
 The sentries were all set, and Proctor had retired for the night ; 
 hut, aware of the value of his intelligence, the fugitive did not 
 scruple to disturb him. Tie told his story at full, and had the satis 
 faction to find that he told it to a willing ear. Proctor at once 
 proceeded to arm a party, and heading it himself, prepared to sur 
 prise the rebel partisan in the quiet dwelling to which Goggle had 
 seen him pursuing his way. The British major was the more will 
 ing to move in this business now, than he otherwise might have 
 been, as he had been troubled with some doubts whether the suspi 
 cious attitude of Colonel Walton had not already called for his 
 attention. He was glad of an opportunity, therefore, of proving 
 his alacrity in the cause, and making amends for what might 
 be construed into previous neglect. Something of his stimulus to 
 present action, may also, not unjustly, be ascribed to the jealous in 
 stincts which coupled Robert Singleton with his fair cousin. We leave 
 him, with a little troop of half a score, getting into saddle, and 
 about to move in the direction of " The Oaks." Goggle remained 
 behind, at the suggestion of Proctor, who needed not his assistance 
 farther, and saw that his fatigued condition craved for immediate 
 rest. 
 
 Let us now return to Singleton and his attendant. Having 
 reached the neighbourhood of "The Oaks," they took the back track 
 leading to the river, which carried them immediately into the rear 
 of the dwelling-house. There, dismounting and carefully conceal 
 ing their horses in the brush. Singleton placed his pistols in hia 
 

 THE DYING GIRL. 269 
 
 belt, and leaving the boy in charge of the animals, with instructions 
 to watch closely, proceeded to the mansion. 
 
 Prone of the trust, Lance Frampton promised his commander to 
 watch well, and approve himself a worthy sentinel. In a few mo 
 ments the partisan was once more treading the well known path, 
 covered with those grave guardians of a century, the spreading 
 and moss-bearded oaks, and on his way to the presence of those 
 well beloved beyond all, and dearer to him than the life-blood at his 
 heart. Many minutes had not elapsed- before he was at the side of 
 the frail and attenuated form of her, the sister and the playmate of 
 his boyhood ; feeble to prostration, sustained by pillows, and scarcely 
 able to turn upon him those lovely eyes, still bright, and brighten 
 ing to the last, as if the reluctant soul had concentrated within all 
 its heavenward fires ; and thence, though clinging still to mortality, 
 was already evolving some of that divine light which it was so soon 
 to be mingled with for ever. 
 
 "Dear, dear JrCmily !" he exclaimed; "my sister, my sweet 
 sister!" and his lips were pressed to her forehead; and, though 
 he strove hard for their suppression, the tears gathered in his large 
 sad eyes. Her s were the only unclouded ones in the chamber. 
 On one side sat Kate Walton, while his aunt moved around the 
 couch of the sufferer, heedful of all her wants. They too were in 
 ..ears, and had evidently, before this, been weeping. It was a scene 
 for tears ; in which smiles had been irreverent, and joy an unbecom 
 ing and most impious intruder. 
 
 Yet, though the dying girl wept not herself, and though her eye 
 had in it that glorious effulgence which is so peculiarly the attribute 
 of the victim to the deadly form of disease under which she 
 laboured, yet the brightness of her glance was no rebuke to the 
 tearfulness of theirs. It was a high and holy brightness ; a deep 
 expression, full of divine speech, and solemnizing even while 
 it brightened with an aspect not of the earth. The light might 
 have streamed from the altar, a halo from heaven around the brow 
 of its most favourite apostle. x 
 
 She spoke to him of the commonest affairs of life ; yet she knew 
 that death was busy at her heart. Whence was this strength of 
 mind this confidence? Is there, indeed, a moment before th 
 12 
 
270 T1IE PARTISAN. 
 
 hour of dissolution when the mortal is vouchsafed communion, 
 a close communion and converse with its God. Are there glimpses 
 of the future from which, at such moments, the sufferer draws his 
 hope, his consolation ? It is, it must be so. The dim confine, the 
 Heavy earth, cannot always be around us. The soul must some 
 times employ the wings of a divine prescience, and shaking 
 off human care with human feeling, forget for a while the many 
 pains, along with the humble pleasures, of humanity, and be only 
 alive to the immortality of the future. The dark mansions of the 
 coming time, and the huge and high barriers which control it, 
 must then be thrown aside ; and faith and the pure spirit, in their 
 white garments, already on, must be suffered to take a momentary 
 survey of the world which is to be their own. 
 
 But the spirit had come back to earth, and now grew conscious 
 of its claims. 
 
 " Dear, dear Robert !" she replied, as she motioned to be free 
 from those caresses which he bestowed upon her ; and which, 
 though studiously light and gentle, were yet too much for a frame 
 spiritualizing so fast: "you are come, Robert, and with no ill 
 news. You have no harshness on your brow, and the vein is not 
 swollen ; and by this I know you have not been engaged in any 
 war and violence. Is it not so ?" 
 
 lie did not undeceive her, and suppressed carefully every allusion 
 to his late adventures ; spoke of indifferent things, and encouraged 
 in her that idea of the national peace, which, from a hope, had 
 already grown into a constant thought within her mind. 
 
 " Oh, would that I could only hear of it, Robert, ere I leave 
 you ! Could I know that you were safe, all safe, before I die you, 
 dear aunt, and you, sister, my more than sister and you, Robert, 
 who have been to me father and brother, and all, so long ; would 
 I could know this, and I should die happy even with joy! But 
 death will have its sting, I feel, in this. I shall go to peace I feel 
 that ; while all the strifes, and all the cares, the wounds, and the 
 dangers, will be left for you !" 
 
 Her eyes now filled, as her earthly sorrows were renewed. Her 
 brother strove to console, her in the usual commonplace. Alas 1 
 there is no language for such a time and occasion, but the com 
 
EARTHLY SORROW. 271 
 
 mon-place and fruitless, and silence then is the only fruitful 
 speech. 
 
 " Fear not for us, dear Emily ; and let not our afflictions fit 
 your mind. Be calm on that subject ; you have pains and suffer 
 ings enough of your own, my dear sister, to keep you from desiring 
 
 " I have no sufferings now, Robert ; I have long ceased to 
 sufferings of my own, Have I not long survived the hope of life ! 
 have I not long laboured to sustain myself against the coining and 
 the fear of death ? God be praised ! for I think I have succeeded. 
 These were my afflictions once, and they are now over. Yet I 
 have sorrows not my own, and they are, that I must leave you 
 to sorrows ^ iefs of an unnatural time, and horrors that come 
 with the disease, as it would seem, of nature. JFor war is her dis 
 ease her most pestilent disease. The sharp sword, the torturing 
 scourge, the degrading rope, the pining and the piercing famine 
 these are the horrible accompaniments of war ; and oh, brother, 
 soldier as you are, when I leave you to the dangers of these, I 
 carry with me all my human sorrows. , I may die, but my soul 
 must bear along with it those thousand fears which belong to my 
 sympathies with you." 
 
 " Ah, too considerate of us, so unworthy such consideration !" 
 was the exclamation of Kate beside her. " Do not, dear Emily, 
 oppress yourself by reflections such as these. You leave us to no 
 difficulties ; for though the country still be at war, yet our quar 
 ter is free from its ravages ; and though under hostile control, it is 
 still quiet, and not now a dangerous one. We are all here at peace." 
 
 " Why seek to deceive me, Kate, when but a glance at Robert tells 
 a different story ? Look at the sword by his side the pistols in his 
 belt, and say why they are there, if war be not around us. if there 
 be no occasion for strife, and if he is not exposed to its dangers ? 
 You cannot persuade me out of my senses, though in this I am 
 quite willing that you should. Would that it could be so ? I 
 would not believe these truths if 1 could help it." 
 
 " Add you need not, Emily, my sister ; for though there be war, 
 and though I may be engaged in it, yet the present prospect 
 is, that it will soon be over, and as we all wish it giving us peace 
 
272 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 and freedom alike, and securing honourable station for our country 
 among the nations of the earth. This last thought, my Emily, ought 
 to make you better satisfied with the risks our people are compelled 
 to run. * 
 
 It does not, brother. I have not that vain ambition, which, for 
 the sake of a name, is content with the bloodshed and the misery 
 of mankind ; and\i hold the doctrine hateful to one professing the 
 Christian faith. How it may be upheld, this warfare in which life 
 vs taken as a worthless thing, and man s blood shed like water, for 
 any pretence, and with any object, by a believer in the Saviour, 
 and the creed which he taught, I can never understand." 
 
 " You would not have us submit to wrong and injustice ?" 
 
 " No ; but the means employed for resistance should be justly 
 proportioned to the aggression. But, alas for humanity ! the glory 
 and the glare of warfare, under false notions of renown, are too 
 often sufficient, not only to conceal the bloodshed and the horror, 
 but to stimulate to undue vengeance, and to make resistance 
 premature, and turn the desire of justice into a passion for revenge. 
 Thee, for the wrong done by one captain, all the captains conspire 
 to do greater wrongs ; and the blazing dwelling by midnight, the 
 poor woman and her naked children escaping from the flames 
 to perish of hunger ; the gibbeted soldier on the nighest tree ; 
 the wanton murder of the shrieking babe, quieted in its screams 
 upon the bayonet of the yelling soldiers these are the modes 
 by which, repairing one wrong, war does a thousand greater. Oh, 
 when, calling things by their right names, shall we discover that 
 all the glory of the warrior is the glory of brutality ?" 
 
 The picture which the enthusiastic girl had given of the terrors 
 of war, was too felicitously just, as it had occurred in Carolina, to 
 be denied by her auditor; and as she had herself made the right 
 distinction between war as an absolute necessity, forced upon a 
 people in their defence, and pursued only so far as adequately 
 to obtain the mere object of justice, and war as a means of national 
 or individual aggrandizement or fame, there was no legitimate 
 answer to her exhortation. A momentary silence ensued, which 
 was due to the exhaustion following her effort at speech. In 
 a little while she again addressed hei brother 
 
THE SWAMP FOX. 273 
 
 " And how long, Robert, do you stay in our neighbourhood ? w 
 
 "But a few days more, Emily: 1 linger now somewhat over my 
 time ; but my objects are various and important." 
 
 " And where then do you go ? " 
 
 " Either to the Santee or the Peedee ; wherever there is a chance 
 of finding Colonel Marion, to whose brigade I am attached." 
 
 " And not so easy a matter," said Kate "VY.i ton, " if reports 
 speak truly of your colonel. He is here, there, and everywhere, 
 and they say cannot often be met with either by friend or foe, ex 
 cept when he himself pleases. What is it Colonel Tarleton calls 
 him ?" 
 
 " The Swamp Fox : and a good name, for certainly he knows 
 more of the navigation of the thick swamps of the Santee and 
 IVedee, than ever seaman of the broad ocean. In a circuit of 
 live miles he will misguide the whole force of Tarleton for as many 
 days; then, while he looks for him in one quarter, Marion will be 
 cutting up his foragers or the tories in another. He is fearless, too, 
 as well as skilful, and in the union of these qualities he is more 
 than a match, with an equal force, for any score of the captains 
 they can send against him." 
 
 As the major spoke with that warm enthusiasm of his com 
 mander, which distinguished the men of Marion generally, an 
 tudible sigh from his sister recalled him to his consideration, and 
 AC turned to her with some observation on an unimportant sub 
 ject. She did not seem to heed what he said, but, after a moment s 
 pause, asked, rather abruptly, if he should not move first for the 
 Santee. 
 
 " I think so," was the reply; "the probability is that I shall 
 there find my orders, if, indeed, I do not find my commanding 
 oflicer. I wait but to fulfil some important duties here, when I 
 shall move direct in that quarter." 
 
 "And when, Robert, do you expect to return ?" was the farther 
 inquiry, put with considerable earnestness of manner. 
 
 " In three or four weeks, Emily ; not before, and probably not 
 even then ; for I may be ordered to join the continentals, on 
 Gates s arrival, and shall then have a more limited range and 
 cise than now." 
 
274 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " That will be too late, too late !" murmured the maiden with an 
 expression of deep regret. 
 
 "Too late for what, dear Emily?" said the major, quickly, iu 
 reply ; but when he met her glance, and saw the mournful utter 
 ance which it looked, he needed no answer to hia question. Never 
 did eye more explicitly speak than hers, and he turned his own 
 away to conceal its tears. 
 
 "Too late to see me die!" she murmured, as he bent his head 
 downward, concealing his face in the folds of her encircling arms. 
 " Ah, Robert ! I leave you, but not lonely I hope not altogether 
 alone." Her eye rested upon the face of Kate Walton, as she 
 uttered this hope ; and though her brother saw not the look, yet 
 the cheeks of the conscious Kate, so silently yet expressively ap 
 pealed to, were deeply crimsoned on the instant. She turned away 
 from the couch and looked through the window opening upon the 
 waters of the Ashley, which wound at a little distance beyond 
 them, stealing off, Tike a creation of the fancy, under the close 
 glance of the observer. Her fingers played all the while with the 
 branches of the oak that rose immediately beside the window. 
 
 Emily then intimated to her brother her increasing debility, the 
 necessity of her own repose and of his departure, with a calmness 
 which was perfect, and painfully appalling to him in consequence. 
 
 "But come to me to-morrow, to-morrow night, Robert; come 
 early I would speak with you ; P have much to say to you, and 
 I feel that I have but little time to say it in. Fail me not, unless 
 there be hazard, and then heed not my desire. You must risk 
 nothing, Robert ; your life is more valuable to me, strange to say, 
 as my own is leaving me. I know its value, as I am now about to 
 be taught its loss. But go now and remember, to-morrow." 
 
 His grief and her farewell were alike voiceless. He pressed her 
 cold cheek with his lips at parting; then, like one who had left 
 Behind him all his consciousness, he descended with his beautiful 
 cousin from that sad but sacred apartment, where life still lingered, 
 neutralizing decay with its latent freshness, but where immortality 
 already seemed to have put on some hue. of that eternal morning, 
 whose bloom and whose freshness speak not only for its lasting 
 existence, but for its holy purity. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " I cannot list thy pleading, though thou plead rt 
 In music which I love." 
 
 HER father being absent, Kate did the honours of the household, 
 and we need not say how much gratification Major Singleton felt 
 when he found himself alone with his sweet cousin in the parlour 
 below. He loved he had much to say, and the present was an 
 .opportunity which he had long desired. We have already seen 
 him urging those claims upon her closest regards which she con 
 tinued to evade. He now determined to press them ; and, hand 
 ing her to the sofa with a degree of rigid solemnity in his manner 
 which led her to conclude that his object was any thing but what 
 it really was, she willingly took the seat to which he conducted 
 her. 
 
 Singleton was no sentimentalist, but a man of sterling character, 
 and deep, true feeling. He was one of those who never trifle ; 
 and the prompter at his heart, though taking the name of that 
 capricious mood which is always fair game for the arch jest and 
 playful satire, was yet altogether a more lofty and dignified senti 
 ment. His love was of his lite a vital part ; it made up his exist 
 ence, and embodied in its own the forms of a thousand strong 
 obligations to society and man. It was now prominent to his own 
 view in the form of a sacred duty a duty to others not less than 
 to himself. Perhaps, too, as he was something of an idealist, and 
 strove to believe in attributes which are not always found profusely 
 in the world, there may have been something of the spiritualizing 
 character of poetry mixed up in his devotions giving dignity U 
 a purpose which is usually urged with timidity, but which, in the 
 present case, was treated with all the straightforward singleness of 
 aim which belongs to the man of mere business. 
 
 * Katharine, 1 he said, afte 1 a brief pause, during which his evw 
 
276 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 azed on her with a calm deep earnestness which at length sent 
 the glance of hers downward beneath them "Katharine, my 
 cousin, months have passed since you were taught to know my 
 feeling towards you. Since I have known you, that feeling has 
 been hourly on the increase. I loved, the more I knew ; and 
 though changes have come over us both changes of fortune, of 
 condition, of appearance yet I have only admired you the more 
 with every change. You have always seemed to me the one the 
 one only whom I could truly love and cherish as a wife ; and 
 this thought, my cousin, has not been because of your beauty, 
 which, though great, has never called forth, and shall never call 
 forth, so long as I think you what I think you now, one single 
 encomium from me." 
 
 She would have interrupted him, but he simply placed his finger 
 upon her arm, and proceeded. 
 
 " Nay, fear not, and do not interrupt mo. I know you too well, 
 and think of you too highly, to endeavour now to fill your ears with 
 praises of that beauty of which neither of us can be utterly uncon 
 scious. I shall speak of other qualities which have recommended 
 you to me, not in praise of them now, but only as, in urging my 
 pretensions to your hand, I would prove to you that I have studied 
 your character, and am so far satisfied with the results as to be 
 willing now to adventure all my affections and they are concen 
 trated very closely now, and will soon be more so in the offer 
 which I shall make you. I_ think now that I know your character. 
 1 have seen its firmness, its masculine good sense, and its unosten 
 tatious delicacy. Such a character will not be apt to misunder 
 stand mine, and in this lies one chief security of domestic bliss. 
 Such, for a long season, has been my thought, and I must now act 
 upon it, or never. I have reasons for desiring it now, which your 
 own reflections may not teach you, but which you must know here 
 after. Cousin, dear Kate, forgive me if my speech be less than 
 gentle if it seem abrupt or harsh. I am not apt at professions ; 
 and with you I would rather avoid that show of sentiment which I 
 know makes up, most commonly, the language of the lover. To 
 you t would rather that my words should be of the most simple 
 ind least equivocal character. To your good sense, net your weak 
 
NECESSITY OF LOVING. 2?S 
 
 nesses, the proffer of my hand is now made. Let me hope that 
 your good sense will determine the question, which I would n:-t 
 w : Hi ugly submit to any other tribunal." 
 
 He took her hand, at the conclusion of his remarks, and she suf 
 fered it to rest passively in his grasp. She did not immediately 
 answer, but appeared lost in reflections, which were not, however, 
 the less pleasing because they exhibited themselves in doubt and 
 indecision. Her eye, meanwhile, did not fall beneath the search 
 ing gaze of his: its deep and beautiful blue met his own unshrink 
 ingly ; nay, with something of a sympathizing fondness in its ex 
 pression, which the tenor of her uttered reply did not, however, 
 confirm. The pause of the moment over, she turned to her suitor. 
 
 " Robert, you have but this moment come from the chamber of 
 sickness soon to be the chamber of death. You cannot deceive 
 yourself as to the condition of Emily ; she is sinking fast." 
 
 " I know it I feel it," he answered, gloomily. 
 
 " How can you know it how can you feel it, Robert, when you 
 come from the presence of one already linked as it were with hea 
 ven, and thus immediately after urge to me so earthly a prayer ? 
 How can I, so iilled as my thoughts should be, and are, with con 
 siderations of gloom and the grave, thus give ear to any less sanc 
 tified consideration ? Pardon me, dear cousin ; but it seems to me 
 almost irreverent that we should discourse of any other themes at 
 this moment than those of sorrow." 
 
 " At another time, and with an affliction less severe than this, 
 your rebuke would have been felt. But this to me is no common 
 affliction. Ii leaves me alone unaccompanied desolate in all the 
 wide world of man. You know our history. For years that girl 
 has been all to me : I had her to love ; I was her brother her 
 protector her all ; and upon her I expended a thousand st?-ong 
 feelings and warm affections which, when she goes, must crowd 
 back upon, and overwhelm me. ,W e mus t have something in life 
 giving us the right to love something which we can make our 
 own exclusive altar-place, which our loves and cares may hallow to 
 themselves, sacred from all intrusion, all rivalry, all denial from 
 another. While she lived while there was hope for her there 
 was always one sacred tj me of whose sympathies, when others 
 12* 
 
278 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 were cold or stern, 1 c. ilcl be certain. When she leaves me, Kate, 
 I am alone ; there is bi.t one to whom I may turn with confidence 
 and trust but one, and of that one I would be secure in the prof 
 fer which I now make to you : it is for you to say, and to say 
 freely, with what hope." 
 
 " Robert, you know well how -I esteem you " 
 
 " Utter no professions, Kate not so coldly, at least if you 
 really have any regard for me." 
 
 " You mistake you do me injustice, cousin I would not be 
 cold or inconsiderate. I do esteem you " 
 
 " Esteem !" 
 
 " Well, well love you, then, if you like the word better." 
 
 He pressed her hand. 
 
 " I do love you, and too well ever to be cold to your claims, or 
 indifferent to your affection. I have heard you with a degree of 
 regard of which I shall not speak ; and I feel, deeply feel, the high 
 compliment which you have paid me, in the offer of your hand. 
 But let me ask of your reason of your own good sense if the pre 
 sent be the season for engagements of this nature ? I speak not 
 now of the condition of your sister, but of the country. What is 
 the hope of repose, of domestic felicity, at such a period, when the 
 strong arm of power, at its caprice, invades every sanctuary ? 
 when the family mansion of the wealthy planter shares the fate of 
 the loghouse of the squatter ? and when a renewal of injury only 
 meets your application for redress ? You will see that this is no 
 season for thoughts such as those belonging to the offer which you 
 make me." 
 
 " It is, then, to the time to the consummation, at this period 
 of my proposal, arid not to the proposal itself, which you object ? 
 Do I understand you thus, dear cousin ?" 
 
 " Not exactly, Robert. I object to all at this seacon. I object 
 to a consideration of the proposal at this moment, as unseemly and 
 improper, for many reasons ; and I beg, therefore, that you would 
 withdraw your application, and not exact from me any answer 
 now" 
 
 " And why not answer for the future, Kate ? Why not speak 
 conditionally in answer, and with reference to the period when 
 
LOYALTY OF WOMAN. 279 
 
 peace shall be restored to the country ? I would not, indeed, that 
 we should many now. I would only be assured that I have in 
 you, whatever may be the chances of war or the vicissitudes of 
 life, one to love me, and who could meet me with an affection like 
 niy own. I would have you ever as an ark to me, shrining and 
 preserving my best affections, however the storms raged and the 
 billows rolled around us." 
 
 44 1 will not deny to you, Robert, that, were I disposed to make 
 at this moment a pledge of my heart to any, I know not one to 
 whom I would sooner make it than to you. If my character has 
 been your study, I too have been somewhat observant of yours. I 
 have long regarded you as one to whom honour is dear, and man 
 liness habitual as one delicate and true in feeling, gentle in de- 
 portmont, and properly sensible of that consideration of the claims 
 of others, without which no man can possibly be the gentleman. 
 These, I hold, in addition to your acknowledged bravery and good 
 sense, to be your characteristics ; and they are such as all sensible 
 women must esteem, and such as, in you, my cousin, I have long 
 been accustomed to esteem and love. Is not this enough ? 
 Wherefore press me to say that I will not, at this time, make 
 pledges of affection to any man that I will not bind myself or my 
 affections for the future that in this season of peril}- owing as I do 
 the duty of a child to her parent, I will not, while he may need 
 my attendance, bind myself to other duties, which may be incon 
 sistent with those which I owe to him ? Such must be my answer. 
 Robert, to the proffer which you make me." 
 
 " Ah, Kate ! your pledge would be everything to me, amid the 
 dangers of the war we wage." 
 
 " Nothing S" she replied quickly ; " nothing more than I would 
 be to you, Robert, even now, were those dangers to come home to 
 you. AVere you wounded, believe me, cousin, or brother, or lover, 
 I should watcli by your bedside, bathe your head, bring you re 
 freshment ; ay, dress your wounds I pledge it a^ a true woman 
 with as little scruple as if you uere even now my wedded husband. 
 Nay, shake not your head ! You know me not, Robert, if you doubt 
 me in this. I may not have the strength, but I have the heart, I 
 am sure, to do all this that I promise." 
 
280 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 "And wherefore not say more ? Why, if you are willing to per 
 form such duties, will you not give me the right to claim them at 
 your hands 2" 
 
 " Because such a pledge may prove inconsistent with the duties 
 which I owe to another. Urge me no more, Robert. Be content 
 with what I have said. At this moment I cannot make the pledge 
 that you require. I dare not ! Wait the due season : when the 
 war is over ; when Carolina shall be free from hostile footsteps ; and 
 when the land is cleansed of its pollution ; come to me then, if 
 you hold this same temper, and then, if there be no change in me 
 nay, there can be no change I shall give you my hand, pei- 
 fectly and all your own, as fully as I give it to you this moment in 
 sisterly regard. There, take it, and leave me, for the hour is grow 
 ing late." 
 
 lie carried the extended fingers to ms nps, and without farther 
 word was about to hurry from the apartment, when he was arrested 
 in his progress by the sudden appearance of his aunt bringing a 
 message from his sister, requiring to see him again, if he had not 
 already departed. An unlooked-for change had come over her, ac 
 cording to the old lady s representations ; she had grown sensibly 
 weaker, and she thought her mind incoherent and slightly wan 
 dering. 
 
 With palpitating heart and trembling footsteps, followed by the 
 two ladies, Singleton again ascended the stairs leading to the cham 
 ber of death ; but, remembering the reference of Emily to his sword 
 and pistols, and how their presence had disturbed her, he took them 
 from his belt and placed them upon a table which stood in the pas 
 sage. The next moment, he resumed his seat beside the shadowy 
 person of the maiden. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 * How the flame flickers in the lamp ! how bright, 
 With a strange beauty and now, dim for ever." 
 
 AND two opposing and mighty principles wore at fearful strife in 
 ihat chamber. Death was there with power not to be withstood 
 and there life vainly endeavoured to combat him. Yet there were 
 no shows of terror or of violence in the struggle no exhibition of 
 the torturing pain, and of the spirit vainly resisting and striving to 
 escape. AjHvas gentleness, even in the murmurs which occasion 
 ally fell from the lips of the dying girl. Her cheek was transpa 
 rent her eye wore a sublimated light, as it quivered in its socket, 
 and flickering in changing directions, seemed in search of some 
 expected presence. Her pale lips were slightly parted, and the 
 even tops of the pearly teeth below were just perceptible. The 
 gauze of her drapery was scarcely lifted by the heave of her bosom ; 
 and as her hand lay partially upon it, you might even trace out the 
 smallest of her blue veins, like so many fibres of the flower, shin 
 ing through the delicate skin. She was dying dying without 
 seeming pain ; and well might her brother fancy, from the pleasant 
 smile upon her countenance, that the whispering sound which 
 reached his ears on entering the apartment, had fallen from the 
 sister angels already busy around her. 
 
 He sat beside her, took her hand, pressed his lips upon her fore 
 head, and for a few seconds remained without attracting her notice. 
 Her eye at length glanced wildly upon him, and the lips, which 
 had fallen apart, were reclosed as she recognised him. At last a 
 faint smile enlivened them a fond effulgence filled her eye she 
 laid one of her hands upon that with which he had already clasped 
 her own, and murmured something faintly which he could not 
 understand. It was a strong effort which her mind had made to 
 
282 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 concentrate itself upon a single object, and some minutes elapsed 
 before it was quite successful. At length she spoke : 
 
 " Oh, Robert, I sent for you. Fm so glad you were not yet gone, 
 for I feel that I am dying. I am not mistaken now. I know it to 
 be death. This darkness these shades that come across my eyes 
 are its cloud, and it presses momently closer and closer upon them. 
 It must be so; and I have been afraid very much afraid since 
 you left me, that my thoughts were crowding and confused. The> 
 were strangely mixed up together very strangely ; and once 1 
 felt that they were escaping me ; and then I grew terrified. 1 
 would not lose my senses I would have them to the last ; for 1 
 would speak to you and to Kate, even with my parting breath. It 
 is sweet to die so. I could bear it then : but not to know, not to 
 say farewell, and pray fur you in the moment of parting, would be 
 terrible indeed terrible, terrible !" 
 
 Her eyes closed, and her hands were clasped, as she concluded 
 the sentence, while her lips separated, and her voice was heard in 
 whispers, as if in prayer. When her eyes again opened, there 
 was a wildness in their expression a misty gleaming, that seemed 
 to confirm to those around her, the fear which she had expressed. 
 The mind was evidently wandering; but the strong will, still pre 
 eminent, enabled her to bring back the forgetting thoughts, and to 
 fix them in expression. Her words now were in broken murmurs. 
 
 "Not my will, not my will, but thine, Father! yet for him 
 for Robert, my poor brother could it only be for him for 
 Robert !" 
 
 The name recalled her more vividly to him who sat beside her, 
 and her eyes were again fixed upon his face. 
 
 " Old mauma ! is she here, Robert where ?" 
 
 He shook his head negatively, but made no other reply. 
 
 " Be good to her for me ; tell her ah !" 
 
 She closed her eyes, and a slight distortion of the lips declared 
 the pang which she felt at that moment, and from which it was 
 several minutes before she was so far recovered as to be able to 
 speak again. When she did, it was with a sweet smile of patient 
 resignation. 
 
 "Strange that death cannot take his prey without inflicting 
 
SURPRISE. 283 
 
 pain ! I am willing to go with him. 1 offer no resistance ; yet he 
 strikes arid rends, the same as if I did. Life struggles still, even 
 when you desire it not; but it does its duty it holds on to 
 its trust, and I must not complain. But, dear Robert, forget not old 
 mauma! Give her all my things; and there is a new frock which 
 I have made for her. Kate will give you the message that is 
 to go along with it. And, Robert the garden the ah, how 
 cloudy, cloudy so very dark; arid that is through sin sin 
 
 The lips continued to mutter, though the words grew indistinct. 
 The mind was again wandering the soul was anxiously seek 
 ing to escape its earthly tabernacle ; but the flesh as tenaciously 
 strove to detain its prisoner. Singleton on one side, and Kate 
 upon the other, bent speechlessly over the dying maiden. The 
 eyes of Kate were full of tears; but Singleton choked with the 
 grief to which tears could give no utterance. She started while 
 he lay in this position, and her head, with unusual vigour, was 
 lifted from the pillow ; while her eye, glancing with a strong light, 
 looked down upon him with a bewildered glance, as if terror and 
 astonishment prompted its expression. He was roused less by her 
 movement, of which, as his face was buried in the pillow, he had 
 been unconscious, than by the words which followed it. 
 
 "Oh, you are here? Well, take it; but it s a sin, and you \ 
 know that it is a sin. There were but two, and they both died ; and 
 yes, yes, they both died one in the morning and the other in 
 the evening, but all on the same day, and that was God s blessing. 
 It s" 
 
 She shook her head, as she checked herself in her wandering 
 expressions, and, with a sad look, remarked upon it 
 
 "It is so I feel it I feel how uncertain my thoughts are; they 
 Are continually going from me, or putting on strange forms, and J 
 only get them back with an effort which is painful. 
 
 She raised her right hand as she concluded, gazed upon it atten 
 lively, and then begged Kate to hand her a mirror. She looked 
 in it for a few moments, and then put it away from her, with 
 a melancholy but sweet smile. 
 
 " I shall not look in it again, I think. I do not wish it ; for it* 
 tells me how young I am how very young to die: but the les 
 
284 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 sorrow, the less sin ! I have loved you all you, Robert you, and 
 you, Kate and you, too dear aunt, I have indeed loved you very 
 much ; yet sometimes I have, pained and angered you." 
 
 "Oh! no! no! no!" 
 
 " Yet, it could not have been otherwise ; but I know that you 
 will forgive me all. Forgive me, if I have said a cross word, 
 or done any thing unkindly. Forgive me will you not? for 
 indeed I would not thinkirigly have pained you." 
 
 "Forgive you ! ay, that we do, my child ; if there be any thing 
 you have done needing forgiveness from us, or anybody which I 
 believe not I forgive you from my soul, my blessed angel God 
 almighty bless and forgive you !" 
 
 Her aunt was the only one about her who could reply ; she 
 understood the speechless sorrow in the faces of her brother and 
 cousin, and the pressure of her hand in theirs had a sufficient 
 answer. This pressure seemed to prompt a new feeling and desire ; 
 and with an eye turned pleadingly to Kate, she strove to carry her 
 hand towards that of Irer brother. Without scruple, Kate freely 
 extended it, and the hands of the cousins were clasped above the 
 form of the sufterer. She nodded her head, and smiled in appro 
 bation. At this moment a servant from below beckoned Kate 
 away, and she left the room. A sudden stir a commotion, rather 
 louder than usual, and certainly not desirable at such a place and 
 hour, reached the ears of Singleton ; and while he was wondering, 
 Kate reappeared. Her face was full of alarm, and, hurriedly, she 
 informed Singleton of the approach of enemies. 
 
 " Oh, Robert, you must fly ! A troop is below from the garrison, 
 with Major Proctor at their head. They are now moving rapidly 
 down the avenue, and will soon be here. Fly to the back balcony, 
 while I keep the door closed in front." 
 
 He bowed his head slightly in reply, but took no other heed ot 
 her information ; while, proceeding to do as she had said, Kate 
 descended to the hall below. With head bent down upon the 
 pillow, Singleton gave way to that abstraction of the soul which 
 belonged to a sorrow so trying as his own. He seemed utterly to 
 have forgotten the words of his cousin, and made no movement, 
 and showed no disposition to heed the warning. Seeing this, hi >; 
 
DANGER. 286 
 
 aunt now came towards him, and endeavoured tc arouse him to a 
 
 sense of his danger. 
 
 " You waste time, Robert, that is precious. For God s sake fly, 
 my son ; fly while the chance is allowed you." 
 
 It was a moment when he seemed not to comprehend. His 
 thoughts were not with himself. lie answered inconsequentially 
 
 " Why do you tell me this ? Wherefore ?" 
 
 "Why, Robert, why? It will soon be too late. Why not do 
 as Kate advised you ? Take the back piazza, and delay no longer." 
 
 " Ah, leave her ?" was the melancholy reply, as he gazed dow* 
 with a look of self-abandonment upon the scarce conscious girl 
 before him. 
 
 " What is it what is it, aunt?" she cried, starting up from the 
 pillow, as the entreaties of the old lady, rather loudly expressed, 
 reached her senses, and aroused them. 
 
 " He is in danger the British are coming ; and he won t fly, 
 though he knows they will hang him without judge or jury." 
 
 " Robert, Robert !" said the girl, turning to him quickly all 
 her thoughts coming back to their proper activity. "Delay not an 
 instant, my dear brother. Delay not, delay not but fly." 
 
 "Urge me not, Emily ; there is little danger, and I would much 
 rather remain here with you." 
 
 " Deceive me not, brother I warn you, deceive me not !" she 
 exclaimed, with a sterner tone of expression than heretofore. 
 
 " There is danger, and your stay involves your saftty. Do I not 
 know the doom which they hold for him whom they call the rebel 
 do I not ? Leave me, and go at once I implore, I command you." 
 
 44 1 cannot" 
 
 " You must not vex me now chafe me not, dearest brother, in 
 these moments which should be sacred to peace. Do not embitter 
 ray thoughts by uselessly exposing yourself to danger. Ha ! they 
 come they come ! Fly, I command you fly fly from me, or I 
 will leave you in anger. Fly, fly !" 
 
 Lie turned to press his lips to her forehead, but she motioned him 
 away. 
 
 " Say that you will go yes 1" was her brief sentence. 
 
 44 1 willI will, my poor Emily 1 will." 
 
286 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 She turnul to him with affectionate fondness, gave him her hand, 
 and his lips were glued to her own. 
 
 " God bless you God bless you, and keep you safe for ever. Fly 
 now, and delay not." 
 
 A noise from below of .approaching feet, warned him of the neces 
 sity of a rapid flight ; but as he was about to leave the chamber, 
 the little black girl who attended upon it, informed him that a 
 guard had been posted at both the doors, in the front and rear of 
 Uie building. There was but one resource, and that was suggested 
 by his aunt. She pointed to the chamber window, against which 
 the shrouding branches of the massive oak from below had lifted 
 themselves, as with a friendly offer of succour. lie returned to the 
 chamber his lips were once more hurriedly pressed to those of his 
 sister, whom he was never more to see ; but now she repulsed him 
 impatiently. He obeyed her sadly ; tearing himself at leugt.li away, 
 he passed through the window and was soon descending the tree, 
 which fortunately stood on the side of the dwelling, remote from the 
 two entrances, and hiding every thing in the deepest shadow. 
 
 " Look, look down, aunt, and say if he is safe," said Emily, pant 
 ing with the impatient effort. The old lady gazed attentively, as the 
 rustling of the tree indicated his progress down. 
 
 " He is now at the bottom, my child. He is safe down." 
 
 " Does he fly unseen ?" 
 
 " No, my child, he stands at the bottom." 
 
 " Oh, call to him to go bid him not delay does he go now?" 
 
 " Yes ; now he moves ; he moves towards the big walnut-tree." 
 
 " Oh heavens ! he will be seen by others, if you can see him so 
 far. Say, dear aunt, where is he now ?" 
 
 " He moves from tree to tree, rny child. Be patient, they see him 
 not. Now I lose him, he goes behind the kitchen. Now he moves 
 along the fence he is over it, and in the shadow. They cannot see 
 him now, and he will soon be at the river. He is safe I m sure 
 he must be safe !" 
 
 "Thank God, thank God ah ! mercy ! What is that, wUt ia 
 that? They have slain him, they have slain him!" 
 
 A sudden rush of fecit., loud voices in dispute, and the discharge 
 of a pistol, were the sound* which had so acted upon the sensei 
 
iNTKrsiox. 28V 
 
 of the dying girl. These circumstances require an attention to the 
 progress of the party under Proctor, and their success in entering 
 the house before the doors could be closed against them, accord 
 ing to the original design of Katharine. Finding her purpose 
 hopeless when she descended to the hall, she met Major Proctor 
 at the threshold. His manner was studiously respectful ; how could 
 it be otherwise, when met by the majestic form of a woman like the 
 one who stood before him ? her figure erect her high forehead 
 seeming to expand with the swelling veins upon it her eye kin 
 dling with intensest light, and the whole expression of her face that 
 of dignified rebuke. 
 
 "Major Proctor chooses strange hours for doing honour to my 
 father s household ; but when he learns that the master of the house 
 is from home, 1 trust that, as a gentleman, he will forbear to tres 
 pass farther upon the privacy of ladies. I doubt not that my 
 father will freely see him in any seasonable visit he may think fit to 
 make." 
 
 She stood directly before him in the passage-way, and it was not 
 so easy to pass by her. He had previously given orders to a couple 
 of soldiers to secure the back entrance ; and feeling himself, accord 
 ingly, perfectly secure in his hold upon his prey, having himself tho 
 command of the front, there was no necessity for any precipitation 
 which might seem to diminish his respectful deportment towards 
 her who addressed him, and whom he was so desirous to conciliate. 
 Lifting his cap with a modest and even humble air, while speaking 
 in the most cautious and gentle accents, he replied 
 
 " The hour is certainly an unseasonable one, Miss Walton, and 
 nothing but an imperative sense of duty to my king and command 
 could prompt me, in this manner, to any trespass upon the privacy 
 of those whom I so much respect as the family of Colonel Walton. 
 It is my deep regret that any thing should occur rendering such an 
 assurance on my part necessary." 
 
 "Mere compliment, Major Proctor, contrasts oddly with the 
 violation of that sacred privacy which should be conceded to our 
 sex, when unprotected by the presence of any one of yours." 
 
 " I knew not of your father s absence, Miss Walton," returned 
 the Englishman, quickly. Ho reply was instant. 
 
288 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " And the knowledge of it now, sir, secures us, I trust, from an) 
 farther intrusion ?" 
 
 The retort annoyed him, since his previous remark led obviously 
 to the inference which she had made from it. There was a flush 
 upon Proctor s cheek as he replied, with an air of decision 
 
 " I am sorry, Miss Walton, to say that it does not. I know the 
 unamiable light in which I must appear to you from such a decla 
 ration, but I must be content to rely for my justification on 
 your own knowledge of what is most becoming in a soldier. I 
 must do my duty." 
 
 " You are imperative, Major Proctor but I am yet to know 
 what part of your duty it is that brings you to our poor abode at 
 midnight." 
 
 " The arrest, Miss Walton, of a rebel a traitor to his king and 
 country a disloyal citi:v n n, who has been skulking about the 
 swamps, coming forth only to murder, and who, I am informed on 
 good authority, is even now in this dwelling." 
 
 The epithets conferred so freely upon her cousin, awakened 
 all the Indignation of the high-spirited maiden. Her eye shot 
 forth angry and brighter fires, and the curling hauteur of her lip 
 looked a volume of contempt upon the speaker. She suppressed 
 much of this in hei language, and subdued the fever of her fierce 
 thought to something like a quiet expression of unconcern. 
 
 " Your rebel has a name, Major Proctor ?" 
 
 "He has, Miss Walton; regard for your ft.toily has alone 
 prevented me from giving it utterance." 
 
 " Ha ! indeed you are considerate. But, sir, you will please 
 me not to constrain yourself too far. I would know this brave rebel 
 who gives you so much annoyance. Thank God ! there are some 
 still in Carolina, like myself, who owe no allegiance to the king of 
 England : who hate his rule as they despise the slaves who 
 obey it." 
 
 Major Proctor, with a flushing face, simply bowed as he replied 
 
 " The rebel, Miss Walton, now supposed to be in this house, is 
 one Robert Singleton, one of Marion s men, and ranking as a major 
 in the army of rebellion. You will suffer me, T hope, to proceed in 
 searching for him, since it is my duty, and one that I &m resoIuU 
 
COMMAND. 289 
 
 to perform. Your language, Miss Walton, is such as to render any 
 scruples unnecessary ; but I was a gentleman, Miss Walton, before 
 I became a soldier. As a lady, I cannot be your enemy, whatever 
 may be the wrong which I may suffer at your hands." 
 
 The respectful, manly deportment of Major Proctor could not 
 fail to exercise its full force upon a woman of so much character 
 as Katharine Walton. She replied almost instantly, making 
 at once a dignified acknowledgment of the undue severity of her 
 speech, yet insisting upon the provocation which she had received. 
 
 " Robert Singleton is my relative, my friend, Major Proctor 
 one whom I dearly love. You knew much of this, if not all, yet 
 your epithets were unscrupulous and unqualified in connection with 
 his name. I am a S-.uthron, sir; one of a people not apt to suffer 
 vvr^ng to their friends or kindred, without resenting and resisting it; 
 and though a woman, sir a weak woman I feel, sir, that I have 
 he \\ilJ and the spirit, though I may lack (he skill and tin; strength, 
 to endeavour to do both." 
 
 " It is a spirit which I honour, Miss Walton, and my speech to 
 you, in reference to your relative, my own sense of propriety 
 has already taught me was highly unbecoming. You will forgive 
 rne, if I rightly understand your nature, Miss Walton, much more 
 readily than I will forgive myself for the error. Meanwhile, I trust 
 that you will permit me to pursue this search, s"ince you have not 
 assured me that its object is not here." 
 
 " I trust that Major Proctor, aware of my fathar s absence, will 
 leave us unmolested until his return." 
 
 "I cannot I dare not, Miss Walton -my duty forbids it." 
 
 " Your duty gives you no command here, Major Proctor, and 
 your troops must be withdrawn, though I call upon my father s 
 slaves with a view to their expulsion." 
 
 "Will they obey you, Miss Walton?" 
 
 "Ay, sir, to the last ! I have but to say the words and they will 
 rush upon your bayonets." 
 
 " I am wasting time, Miss Walton permit me to pass onward." 
 
 And he advanced as he spoke. She stood resolutely fixed in the 
 spot where she had first encountered him, and he saw that he 
 would be compelled to employ some gentle force to put her aside. 
 
290 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Annoyed and chagrined at the idea of any such necessity, he sought 
 by farther exhortation to gain his object, but she refused to hear 
 him. At length, as a last resort, he said 
 
 " Miss Walton, I have no desire to press this matter. Give me 
 your word that the person I seek is not here, and I withdraw my 
 men instantly." 
 
 " Withdraw your men, sir you keep them here at your peril 
 . give no assurances." 
 
 Finding his efforts unavailing, Proctor at once advanced, and, 
 resolute to put her aside and proceed in his search, his hands were 
 already extended for that purpose, when, seeing his object, she 
 hastily drew back. 
 
 " Touch me not, sir, if you please. If you are resolute to intrude 
 upon us, you do so at your own risk." 
 
 And before he could pass she had withdrawn herself from his 
 presence, and hastily ascended the staircase. Placing a guard at 
 the entrance, he quickly followed her, and as he entered the upper 
 passage-way he found her standing firmly in front of the door lead 
 ing to Emily s chamber. 
 
 " Major Proctor," she said, solemnly, " this is the chamber 
 of sickness soon to be the chamber of death ! I charge you not 
 to approach it." 
 
 " Miss Walton, I will do my duty, if you will allow me, with a* 
 much forbearance as possible ; but I must do it." 
 
 " At your peril, sir ;" and as he approached she presented one 
 of the pistols of Singleton which she had seized from a neighbour 
 ing table. The sight of it only impelled the soldier in his forward 
 progress. 
 
 " Back, sir ! I command I implore you ! I would not use thia 
 weapon if I could avoid it ; but I certainly shall use it, if you dare 
 to approach. Force me not to do so, I entreat you." 
 
 " I cannot hesitate I cannot hear you ;" and with the words he 
 resolutely advanced. She thrust the weapon forward, fixed its aim 
 as nearly as possible upon him, and with the single words 
 
 " God forgive me, if I err in this," resolutely drew the trigger. 
 
 In the next moment Proctor put her aside with the utmort 
 gentleness. 
 
DEATH. 291 
 
 * You are spared a crime, Miss Walton. The spilling oi 
 is not, always grateful to man ; what should it be to woman ?" 
 
 He turned from her to the handle of the chamber door, and sne 
 was too much stunned to seek to arrest him further. But, as he 
 entered the appartment, he started back in horror. The picture 
 that met his sight was too unexpected too imposing too unlike 
 any thing he had ever looked upon or seen. He had beheld the 
 field of battle, strewn with dead and wounded ; but the sublimer 
 powers of death, in which he effects his conquest without visible 
 stroke or weapon, had never met his eyes till now ; and he gazed 
 with something like stupefaction upon his features, as the spectacle 
 rose vividly before him. 
 
 There, rising from her couch, and partially erect under the sud 
 den convulsion, as well of physical pang as of mental excitement, 
 Emily Singleton met the first glance of the intruder. Her face was 
 ghastly pale, but still how beautiful ! her eye was glazing fast, but 
 still how expressive ! and the look which she addressed to the 
 intruder a look which seemed to signify that she understood his 
 purpose was that of some angry ghost rising from its shroud for 
 the purposes of solemn rebuke. A wan, spectral light from her eye, 
 scorned to fall in rays about the wasted cheek below it ; and tlit 
 slight exhibition of her teeth, which the lips, parting as in speech 
 had developed, contributed still more strongly to the awful, spell 
 like expression which her whole countenance wore at that moment 
 She murmured, but incoherently it might be an imprecation 
 and so the Englishman thought it. Her arm was slightly moved 
 and her fingers separated, as she strove to lift them ; but the fingen 
 closed again feebly, and the lifted arm sank back again beside her 
 He stopt to see no more, but rushed from the apartment. KaU 
 took her place beside the dying maiden, and her hand adjusted the 
 pillows while supporting her. A sweet smile now overspread her 
 features, and her hand sank upon one shoulder. Gradually the glaze 
 overspread her eyes, as a cloud shutting in the blue skies, and she 
 fell silently into the sacred slumber. 
 
 " Go up, go up, my blessed angel ! the heavens are open for 
 you!" 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 
 These were the words of the aunt, while Kate lay beside tho life 
 less girl immersed in a sorrow which was speechless. The spirit 
 had gone for ever from the trying and troubling earth ; the siivei 
 oord had been loosed the golden bowl was broken. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIJL 
 
 "The courage that looks up, though numbers press, 
 And takes a newer vigour from the sto m " 
 
 PUSHING Hastily from the chamber of death, Major Procter pro 
 ceeded to the court below, where lie assembled his men for th* 
 pursuit. Though profoundly impressed with the solemn event 
 which lie had witnessed so far different from any thing he had 
 expected to see in the apartment he was too good a soldier, and 
 too mindful of his duty, to lose time in those now idle regrets at 
 his own abruptness, which he yet properly felt. A few brief words, 
 directing his men upon different routes having equally divided 
 them, and the party dispersed in obedience to his commands. One 
 of them, consisting of four men, he himself led, and in the very 
 direction taken by our flying partisan. 
 
 Singleton knew his danger if taken, and at once, as soon as he 
 reached the horses, prepared for the most rapid flight. He WHS 
 weaponless, and there was no other alternative for safety ; other 
 wise he would most willingly have stood his ground, for his was 
 the spirit prompt always to extricate itself from its difficulties by 
 the boldest daring. The strife with Proctor also promised him a 
 large degree of satisfaction, apart from that which the exercise itself 
 might yield. It was with some vexation, therefore, that, feeling for 
 his pistols in his belt, he remembered where he had left them. It 
 was too late to retrieve, and idle to lament the misfortune. It was 
 only in flight that it could be lessened ; and he took his measures 
 accordingly. 
 
 " Tighten your girth, Lance, and mount quickly ; we shall be 
 pursued shortly, and I am without weapon of any sort. I have 
 .eft my sword and pistols behind me." 
 
 " Here are mine, sir ; they are small, but they ve got a good 
 charge, and new flints both." 
 13 
 
294 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " Give me one of them, quickly now, and mount. We must get 
 into the main road, if we can, before they come out of the avenue ; 
 so hasten, hasten but hurry not ; cool, boy cool." 
 
 He tightened his own saddle-girth as he spoke ; took off the 
 handkerchief that encircled his neck, and thrust it into his pocket 
 then seeing that the boy was mounted and ready, he was soon in 
 saddle himself. 
 
 " Now pick the way, Lance ; speak nothing, but keep cool and 
 silent : gently, gently at first ; let us send them as few sounds as 
 jwssible." 
 
 The boy, with goodly promptitude, obeyed to admiration. Start 
 ing with an easy, slow motion, they emerged from the heavy oaks 
 by the water s side, ascended the rising ground, and skirted along 
 the low fence which girdled one corner of the estate, and led directly 
 to the main road. The track was sim^y a negro foot-path ; but the 
 evening was sufficiently clear to enable them to trace it out per 
 fectly and keep it with little trouble. " We shall escape them ! 
 A few hundred yards more will j^ive us a fine start, boy, and that is 
 all I care for. How far is it now to the main track ?" 
 
 " Not far, sir ; just ahead. I think I see the opening in the 
 trees. We shall soon be in it. Ua ! did you hear a noise, sir 
 now T 
 
 " Yes : they are in saddle ; they are after us. Push on, push 
 on ; we have little time to waste." 
 
 " Yes, sir, that they are ; and if I m not very much mistaken, 
 they are after us from two sides down on our trail, and coming 
 out from the avenue. You hear, sir? somebody cried out from the 
 quarter of the road, and we hear the horses feet from the river, at 
 the same time." 
 
 " More reason for speed, far more, boy ; we shall have to trust 
 entirely to that. There is the main road, and they will soon sec 
 us on it. You know your horse, Lance you are not afraid of him ?" 
 
 " Afraid of him ! no, sir, that I m not ; never was afraid of any 
 horse yet." 
 
 " Then go ahead ; strike in your rowel, and spare not. There s 
 no danger in front of you, so drive on." 
 
 This little dialogue was al over in a few moments. The boy 
 
PURSUIT. 295 
 
 put spurs to his animal as soon as the main road was entered, and, 
 with an easy mastery of his own steed, Singleton kept his place 
 close beside him. The road was a heavy sand, over which they had 
 to speed for the few minutes succeeding their first entrance upon it; 
 but soon they got upon a tough, pine land ridge, upon which the 
 beating of their hoofs might clearly be distinguished at some dis 
 tance by a heedful ear ; and it was not long, accordingly, before a 
 Icud shout from the pursuers announced their discovery. 
 
 " We could turn down here, sir, into the woods ; and there s a 
 sort of wagon track somewhere about here, I think I could find, 
 sir, leads to the Stono. That would lose them, certain, from our 
 trail," said the boy. 
 
 " No matter, no matter, keep on as you are ; if they come no 
 nigher we are safe." 
 
 "But I think they gain on us, sir; shall I go faster? My nag 
 can do much more." 
 
 " No, keep his strength ; they don t gain much now, and we 
 shall find it more useful What is that ?" 
 
 A sound a rushing motion in the woods they had but recently 
 left, warned them of new pursuers : the crackling of the dry sticks 
 under feet was distinctly heard, as the enemy moved over the same 
 ground with more haste and less caution than had been observed 
 by them. 
 
 " Ha, we have them there, have we ! and they will soon be on the 
 road. They hear us, and know our route. Push on, boy, a little, 
 but not much faster; a breath more of speed only, is all we want 
 so, so." 
 
 The coolness with which Singleton spoke and acted took from the 
 flight most of the terrors which it otherwise might have occasioned 
 in the mind of the boy. His figure grew more and more upright 
 with the feeling of confidence, as it swelled in his bosom ; he began 
 to imagine the events of a struggle ; he began to fancy the features 
 of the collision ; and, with all its disadvantages, to hope for the 
 strife. There was much of the same mood at work in the mind of 
 his leader ; and his chagrin may not be expressed, when, under its 
 stimulus, he reflected upon his want of his weapons. There was an 
 air of vexatious indifference, a sort of reckless hardihood in Jii 
 
296 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 demeanour, which, looking occasiomilly behind him, the boy could 
 not avoid perceiving" Singleton caught the movement once or 
 twice ; and, at length, in sharper tones than usual, addressed him 
 
 " Why do you loot around, sir ? are you afraid ?" 
 
 " No, sir oh no ! I don t think I am that is to say but 1 
 
 never tried." 
 
 "Tried what?" 
 
 " To fight with men, sir, and to shoot them ; and I don t know, 
 sir, whether I should be afraid or not." 
 
 Singleton smiled ; tb<2 feeling of the boy rebuked his own, as it 
 was somewhat boyish also. 
 
 " Go on, sir ; look not behind you again, unless you would have 
 your own shoulders riw up to frighten you. And you may urge 
 your nag a little faster ; those fellows are now out of the bush, and 
 in the heavy sand ; yoi* will soon hear them on the ridge, and then 
 they will have the same clear track with ourselves ; go on, now, ana 
 to keep you from looking behind you more frequently than is need 
 ful, remember that I arp between you and danger. Touch up your 
 nag ; let him feel the tb^rn, and be lively." 
 
 The boy felt inortinVt that Singleton should think that he looked 
 round from apprehension ; and thought how happy he should be to 
 show his superior that he was not afraid ; but without a word, he 
 did as he was directed struck the spur quickly into the yet 
 unbreathed animal, which bounded away under the keen impulse 
 with a far more generous movement. 
 
 As the partisan b*4 said, the pursuers were soon upon the pine- 
 land track, over wMch they had themselves passed but recently. 
 Proctor led them with an earnestness which arose, not less from his 
 own estimate of tta value of the game, than from a personal feeling, 
 if not interest, which he seemed to entertain in the arrest of Single 
 ton. He had preserved his temper, under great provocation, dealing 
 with Katharine Walton ; but he remembered with bitterness that her 
 sharp -sarcasms had been uttered in defence of the very person he 
 pursued. This quickened his eagerness. 
 
 As he entered the little negro trail running by the fence, he 
 heard the -hout of the party from the avenue below; and, as this 
 * "ay that the fugitive was within his reach, a new impetus 
 
KEEN CHASE. 297 
 
 wa. given to ln s exertions. By dint of bard riding he soon got up 
 with the party which led off the pursuit; and the spur was not 
 spared in order to diminish the vantage ground which the partisan 
 had already won, in the space thrown between them. The compo 
 sure and coolness of the flight tended to this object not less than the 
 speed of the pursuers ; and it was with no small satisfaction that 
 Proctor was now enabled to distinguish the regularly recurring tread 
 of the flying horses. He readily imagined that Singleton would 
 put his animal to its fullest speed, and so thinking, he did not doubt 
 that a little more effort must result in their overhauling him ; believ 
 ing this, he shouted encouragingly, crying out to his men, whiU 
 bending forward with all speed in the chase himself 
 
 " Five guineas to the man who first lays hands on the rebel ! s< 
 to it, men he cannot now escape us. We gain on him at even 
 leap, his horse will soon be breathed. Heed riot the boy, but sef. 
 that the other is secure at all hazards alive if you can take him, 
 dead if he resist you : we must have him, dead or alive ; and the 
 reward is the same. On on !" 
 
 A cheer a hearty cheer thoroughly English, followed this 
 speech. Five guineas ! The spell was potent. Fiercely did they 
 urge the rowel in the warming flanks of their chargers. They dashed 
 headlong through the thicket ; they wound about following the 
 sinuous pathway, and at length found themselves upon the broad 
 trace over which Singleton and the boy were riding. Their horses 1 
 feet were heard, but they themselves remained unseen. The thick 
 shadow of the forest lay over the road ahead, and under its friendly 
 shelter the two fugitives were then speeding, with a pace somewhat 
 quickened in obedience to the necessity. The boy wondered at 
 Singleton s coolness as their pursuers drew more nigh, lie knew 
 not the recklessness of danger which follows habitual strife, lie 
 heard the cries of the pursuers to their steeds. He remembered 
 that their own had not been forced, and he felt more assured. 
 
 " Now, boy now is the time ; they are drawing nigher, and we 
 may as well leave them for a while. Bend to it and keep beside 
 me." 
 
 The boy did as he was bidden, and the difference was soon per 
 ceptible the noble animals .sprang off with all the elasticity of. 
 
298 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 freshness, while (hose of their pursuers, which had been ridden rapidh 
 to The Oaks," and then as rapidly after them, failed, in spite of the 
 repeated urging of their riders, to increase their speed a second. 
 Gradually, the sounds grew less and less distinct upon their ears, and 
 were nearly lost,- when all on a sudden, and quite unexpectedly, the 
 steed of Singleton stumbling along the ground, precipitated his rider 
 clean over Lis head. The boy instantly gathered up his reins, and 
 leaped from his animal beside him. 
 
 " Oh, sir ! you are hurt ! I m afraid you are hurt !" was his pas 
 sionate exclamation, as he approached the partisan. 
 
 " A little, Lance a little ; but I m afraid Sorrel is hurt a great 
 deal more. He moves with difficulty." 
 
 Singleton rose with some effort from the ground. He had been 
 slightly stunned and somewhat bruised by the fall ; but not so much 
 as to incapacitate him from movement. He approached his horse, 
 which had also risen to his feet, and now remained trembling upon 
 the spot where he had fallen. Singleton took the bridle in hand, 
 and led him off a few paces. This was sufficient to satisfy him 
 that the animal was too much lamed to yield him much if any ser 
 vice in the flight that night. The danger was pressing, as in tht, 
 brief time occupied by the event recorded, the pursuing party had 
 regained the ground, and something more, which, in the increased 
 speed of the partisan, they had previously lost. Singleton at once 
 adopted his decision. 
 
 "Lauce, you must, mount instantly and fly ; I ll take the bush 
 and try to get into safe cover. There s no time to waste, so at once 
 about it. To horse, boy ; why do you stand ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, it s you that s wanted in camp, not me. I can hide 
 in the bush just as well as you, sir; I m not afraid!" 
 
 " Go to, my poor boy ; go to, and be riot foolish ; do as you re 
 told, and no trifling. Know you not that if they take you they ll 
 hang you to the tree as a rebel ?" 
 
 "But, sir, they will hang you too I know that; and I m small 
 I can hide better in the bush than you." 
 
 * Answer not, but do as I have told you. Mount at once and 
 tly, or I shoot you down on the spot. Go. I shall save myself" 
 
 The boy obeyed reluctantly, and it was high time that he should 
 
BEATING THE BUSH. 299 
 
 He bad barely time to remount, which he did with a sad, slow motion 
 when he heard the voices of the pursuers, who in all this while had 
 failed to bear the tread of the fugitives. The boy sped quickly on 
 his way, while Singleton, leaving the lamed horse in the road, not 
 . having time to remove him, plunged into the thick woods alongside, 
 just in season to avoid the immediate observation of the pursuers. 
 They came up to the spot, and though his horse, with a native 
 instinct, hobbled forward feebly, as it were to escape them, they 
 quickly surrounded him, and, perceiving his condition, at once con 
 jectured that the rider was in the neighbouring woods. The voice 
 of Proctor was at once heard with the promptest order 
 
 " Dismount, fellows dismount, and search the wood he must 
 be close at hand, and cannot escape us if you look well. The 
 woods are thin and open. Five guineas, you know, dead or alive, 
 to the man that first takes him." 
 
 " Ah ! there s a chance then, for a choice of death, at least," said 
 Singleton to himself, bitterly, as, standing immediately beside the 
 road, he heard the sanguinary order. His hands fingered his belt 
 unconsciously, where the pistols had been placed, and he cursed 
 the thoughtlessness which had brought him off from the dwelling 
 without having first secured them. But he made up his mind 
 to resist at all hazards, weaponless or not, if once encountered. He 
 had his hope of escape, however, and one that did not seem 
 so very unreasonable. Instead of rushing off into the woods, 
 where, from the lack of undergrowth, he might have been dis 
 covered readily, he clung to the luxuriant brush, the product of a 
 vigorous sun acting freely upon it, that .skirted the road. The 
 troopers dismounted, all but Proctor himself, and a single corporal. 
 Supposing, very naturally, that the fugitive would seek to embower 
 himself as far in the woods as possible, the troopers scattered them 
 selves over too large a surface; and the cries and clamour of 
 the search gradually receded from the highway. 
 
 Proctor, meanwhile, accompanied by his single companion, kept 
 moving to and fro along the road ; and as he moved down the 
 path, a new prospect of escape was suggested to the active mind 
 of the partisan. The horses of the troopers were fastened to the 
 swinging boughs of a tree only a few paces distant. Co aid h 
 
300 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 reach them unheard ? He looked out, and waited until the forms 
 of the two mounted men grew more indistinct upon the road, then 
 cautiously skirting the track, and still behind the bush, he ap 
 proached the tree. The horses heard him, but did not whinny 
 or show alarm as he drew nigh ; and before emerging from cover, 
 he sought with his eye to determine the nag of best speed and 
 bottom. He did so one a few yards distant pleased him best, and 
 he anxiously awaited until the two riders, who were now return 
 ing, should again wander away from the spot, to rush out and 
 secure him. In the mean while the hunt of the troopers continued 
 in the wood. The dancing shadows of the starlight occasionally 
 deceived them into hopes of the fugitive sometimes the persons 
 of one another ; and on these occasions their hurras and encourag 
 ing shouts were prodigious. Proctor passed close beside the tree as 
 he came up, in the rear of which Singleton had sheltered himself. 
 He was chafed at the delay, and shouted to his men as laggards, 
 repeating the reward offered, and in his tone and language showing 
 an anxiety to capture the fugitive which could not well be ascribed 
 to his love for his king. 
 
 " lie must be there, Corporal Turner he could not have gone 
 far, sir but a moment before he was mounted, and we heard both 
 horses distinctly. This beast is Singleton s, for so the fellow Blonay 
 described him a bright sorrel, with long tail, and a white blaze on 
 his right shoulder. This is the animal." 
 
 " It is, sir the very nag ; and, as you say, sir, he cannot have 
 gone far into the bush, if he went in at all ; but may he not, sir, 
 have gone double with the boy on the other horse ?" 
 
 " The devil ! yes I did not think of that ; and if so, we have 
 lost him. Damnation ! it must be so." 
 
 And in his chagrin Proctor resumed his sauntering ride to and 
 fro along the high-road, followed by the corporal at a little distance. 
 How impatiently, yet cautiously, did the partisan look forth from the 
 bush, watching their movements ! Satisfied at length with the dis 
 tance thrown between them, and impelled the more readily to action 
 by the increasing and approaching clamour from the wood, he re 
 solutely advanced from his cover, and with a most marvellous com- 
 posun- undid the loop of the bridle fr.m the bou^h, arid led out 
 
FLIGHT RESUMED. 301 
 
 the steed which his eye had already chosen. It was a broad 
 chested, strong-shouldered, and well built animal, that, under ordi 
 nary circumstances, would have been admirably well calculated 
 both for flight and burden. But he had been hardly ridden thai 
 night, and there was no erectness .n his head and neck nothing 
 elastic in his tread as Singleton led him out from the group. But 
 there was no time to be lost in lamenting this misfortune. Besides, 
 his condition was that of all the rest, and the prospect of the escape 
 now was quite as good as that of the pursuit. In an instant more 
 the partisan was mounted the head of his animal turned up the 
 road, and, with a single glance behind him to note the distance 
 of his enemy, he plied the sj ur, and once more resumed his flight. 
 
 " What is that ?" cried Proctor to the corporal. " Ila ! it must bo 
 the rebel ; and, by Heaven ! upon one of our own horses. Ride 
 ride, sir after him with me, and lie shall not escape us yet my 
 horse is too good for any lie could get from that pack, and I can 
 soon overhaul him. Sound, sir, sound for the men to saddle ; and 
 follow sound, sir, and follow." 
 
 His orders were given with a rapidity almost emulating his 
 horse s speed. Vexation at being so foiled, anger at the cause, and 
 a sense of his duty to say nothing of motives and feelings working 
 in his bosom, which Proctor did not dare to analyse all combined 
 to stimulate the Briton to the most hearty endeavours. His steeJ 
 went over the ground like an arrow, while the corporal wound his 
 bugle, calling up the wandering troopers dispersed about the wood. 
 II is animal failed utterly to keep up with that of his commander, 
 and Proctor had the satisfaction to perceive that he gained upon 
 t.he fugitive. Singleton was soon conscious of this fact, and seeing 
 there was but one enemy, he began to calculate the necessity of a 
 conflict at all hazards, almost without a weapon, and trusting only 
 to a proper management of his steed to foil and overthrow that of 
 his pursuer. lie was a famous horseman, and knew most of the 
 arts by which this might be accomplished. His calculations 
 became momently more and more necessary. The closer tramp of 
 the pursuing steed was now sharply in his ears, and he had already 
 meditated a sudden turn upon him as soon as he should reach the 
 top of that slight elevation of land to which he was fast speeding. 
 13* 
 
302 TUE PARTISAN. 
 
 This would give him an advantage in descending upon the uptoil- 
 ing charger. \\ ith this purpose, lie gathered up the reins with 
 a firm but not a close grasp upon the animal, as his object was not 
 by any means to restrain him ; he placed his feet firmly in the 
 stirrups, which he threw close under the belly of the steed, wrap 
 ping his legs, as it were, around him ; then, crouching forward 
 upon the saddle, he awaited the proper moment for the contem 
 plated evolution. The pursuer came on with a reckless, unrest rain- 
 able motion, and had already begun to move along the elevation, 
 when he drew the curb so suddenly upon his horse s inouth as 
 almost to throw him back upon his haunches. 
 
 Both parties were suddenly arrested in their plans and pro 
 gresses. The rush of a troop in front was in their ears, with the 
 cry of many voices. The partisan looked forward, and wondered, 
 dreading to find himself between two enemies ; but the next 
 moment reassured him, as he heard the voice of the boy, Frampton, 
 who was evidently in advance of the new-comers. 
 
 " Here they are ! here they are, Colonel Walton ! They have 
 killed the major ! shew em no quarter ! cut em down cut em 
 down ! There s not many of them." 
 
 " Back, boy ! keep from the track ! to the rear, to the rear !" 
 cried the individual in command of the new-comers, while waving 
 his sword and advancing towards Singleton. The partisan cried 
 ut to his uncle in the next moment 
 
 " Ha ! a friend in need, good uncle ! I shall remember the pro 
 verb." And, without a word farther, he wheeled in with the, 
 advancing troop, which consisted of a little party of volunteers 
 pledged to go out with Walton. 
 
 Proctor was near enough to hear the dialogue and to understand 
 the danger. It was now his turn to fly, and he delayed not a mo 
 ment in the endeavour r to do so. But the troop of Walton, com 
 paratively fresh for they had just started forth from their place of 
 assemblage near the Cross Roads when they met with Lance was 
 down upon him in an instant. Proctor bravely threw himself for 
 ward upon the first trooper that approached him, and his sword 
 flashed back defiance upon them, while his voice shouted encourag 
 ingly as if it could have been heard to his men, who were now 
 
THE RENCOUNTER. 303 
 
 approaching, though not yet in sight. They certainly could not 
 have come up in time to save him, had Walton pressed the assault; 
 but that gentleman disdained the advantages which were in his 
 grasp. 
 
 Forbear, Major Proctor," he said, mildly and respectfully, as he 
 rode up in front of his enemy. " We purpose you no harm at this 
 moment. You are free to return to your troop. When we meet, 
 sir, again in strife, there will be no surprise on either side, and OUT 
 several positions will then be understood." 
 
 " Colonel Walton," replied the Briton, " I bitterly regret to see 
 vou thus espousing a cause so indefensible and hopeless." 
 
 "Neither indefensible nor hopeless, sir, as you shall see in time, 
 But there is no need of comment here. I forbear all the advan 
 tages of the present moment, as I am unwilling that you should 
 think I have played the hypocrite to deceive you thus to your 
 ruin. You have forborne, sir, heretofore, in your treatment of my 
 house your intentions have been friendly : permit me, sir, to re 
 quite them as 1 do now. You are at liberty. Farewell, sir. The 
 terms of our meeting, henceforward, must accord with those exist 
 ing between my country and yours peace or war ! peace or war 1 
 Farewell, sir." 
 
 Proctor, chagrined at his disappointment, was nevertheless highly 
 touched with the courtesy of his new enemy. In a few brief words 
 he uttered his acknowledgments, and turned back to me t his 
 troop, with a bitter spirit, sore on many accounts. His present 
 hope of Katharine was evidently at an end ; and, feeling towards 
 her as he did, how painful was the new position in which he stood 
 to her father ! The subject distressed him ; and he strove, by a mo 
 tion as rapid as that of the pursuit, to escape from thoughts too 
 little calculated to yield him satisfaction to win him to their indul 
 gence. The parties were separated ; the one on its way back to the 
 garrison ; the other, somewhat more imposing from its new acqui 
 sition of force, speeding boldly for the Cypress Swamp. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " I take the nancl of my fierce enemy 
 
 In a true pledge a pledge of earnest faith 
 I f ain would seal in blood his blood or mine." 
 
 WHILE the events which we have just recorded had been 
 on in one quarter, others not less imposing, though perhaps less 
 important to the partisans, had taken place in the swamp. There, 
 as we remember, Humphries, after the escape of (Joggle;, had he 
 stowed his men in safety. Deeply mortified by that occurrence, the 
 lieutenant had been more than usually careful of his remaining pri 
 soners, as well as of his appointments at the camp. The fires had 
 been w Jl lighted, the several watches duly set, and all preparation* 
 were in even progress for the quiet passage of the night, 
 
 To John Davis much of these matters had been given in charge, 
 and, in their proper execution, he approved himself the same t.rnsly 
 soldier that we have elsewhere found him. The prisoners were pu* 
 entirely and particularly under his direction ; and having 1 placed 
 them separately, each securely tied, in the little bark huts which 
 were scattered about the island, through the co-operation and con 
 tinued presence of the sentries closely set around them, their custody 
 was quite as complete as, under existing circumstances, it could 
 possibly have been made. 
 
 Such, amono- others, was the condition of the luckless Ilastino-s. 
 
 & c^ 
 
 His hut was isolated from the rest, and stood, on the very edge of 
 the island, upon a slight elevation. Tied, hand and foot, with cords 
 too stout for his strength, he lay upon a pile of rushes in the corner 
 of his cabin, musing, doubtless, like most of his fellows who have 
 experienced a sudden reverse, upon the vexatious instability of for 
 tune. Nor did his musings prompt him at all times to that due 
 resignation which a proper course of reflection, in such a case, would 
 be most usually apt to occasion. Tie suffered himself to be too 
 much disquieted by his thinking; and, at such moments, seeking to 
 
NIGHT WATCH. 305 
 
 elevate himself from his prostrate condition, he would lose his ba- 
 Jance, and roll away from his place, like a ball under some foreign 
 compulsion. A few feeble efforts at release, resulting always in the 
 same way, taught him at last to remain in quiet, though, had he 
 known the fate of Sergeant Clough, upon whose bed of death he now 
 Jay at length, his reflections, most probably, would have been far 
 less satisfactory than even now he found them. 
 
 They were far from agreeable. The sergeant chewed but the cud 
 of bitter fancy ; the sweet was all denied him in his dungeon of bark. 
 lie could not misunderstand or mistake the dangers of his position, 
 lie was the prisoner of the man he had striven to wrong in the 
 tenderest part ; he beheld the authority which that man exercised 
 over those around him; he well knew the summary character of the 
 times, which sanctioned so frequently the short shrift and sudden 
 cord ; and, considering himself reserved for some such fearful mode 
 of exit, as the meditative vengeance of Humphries might best deter 
 mine, he bitterly denounced his own evil fortune, which had thus 
 suffered him to be entrapped. He writhed about among his rushes, 
 as these thoughts came more vividly to his mind ; and despair of 
 escape nt length brought him a certain degree of composure, if not 
 of resignation. lie drew up his knees, turned his face to the dark 
 will, and strove to forget his predicament in the kindly arms of 
 sleep. 
 
 Yet there was hope for him at hand hope of a change of condi 
 tion ; and any change was full of promise to Hastings. The hope 
 which had been partially held out to him by Davis, before con 
 ducting him *o the swamp, was now about to be realized. The 
 watches had all been set, Humphries himself had retired ; and, apart 
 from the sentries, but a single trooper was visible upon the island, 
 in the centre of which, by a blazing fire, lie stood, with one foot of 
 liis horse over his knee, from the quick of which he was striving 
 hard, with hook and hammer, to extract a pebble. 
 
 From his couch of pine brush, under the dark shadow of a tree, 
 Davis looked forth, momently and anxious, upon the horseman. 
 At length the latter proved successful. The horse was led away to 
 the end of the island, and, after a little while, the trooper himself 
 had disappeared. With the exception of the sentries, all of whom 
 
306 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Davis himself Lad placed, the partisans had each taken the slieltei 
 of his greenwood tree. Some were pillowed here, some there, in 
 httle clusters of two or three, their heads upon their saddles, theii 
 hands clutching fast the rifle or broadsword, and the bridle hanging 
 above, ready for sudden employment. Sometimes, a solitary troopei 
 stretched himself alone, under a remoter shelter, and enjoyed to 
 uimself those solacing slumbers which it is always so pleasant to 
 share. 
 
 With the perfect quiet of all things around him, Davis rose from 
 his own place of repose. lie cautiously surveyed the course he pro 
 posed to take, and stealing carefully from the inclining shadow of 
 one tree to that of another, he approached unobserved the hut of 
 Sergeant Hastings. The sentinel was prompt. 
 
 " Ho ! stand the word !" 
 
 4i Continental Congress ! It s a big word, Ralph Mason, and hard 
 to come at; the more so when it s a quick sentry like you, that 
 doesn t give a body time to look it up. But that aint much of a 
 fault, any how, in a soldier. Better too quick than too slow, and 
 the good sentry is more to the troop than the good horse, though 
 the one may carry him oft when the lories are upon him in double 
 quick time. You can go now, Ralph ; go to my straw, and you 
 can lie down till I come to wake you up. I m to ax the prisoner 
 here some questions." 
 
 Glad of this relief, the sentinel made his acknowledgments to his 
 superior, and did not hesitate to avail himself of the proposed 
 luxury. Taking his place for a moment, to and fro before the door 
 ot the hut, the Goose Creeker employed the time between the 
 departure of the sentinel, and his probable attainment of the bed of 
 rushes to which he had assigned him, in the meditation of that plan 
 which his mind had partially conceived, while escorting his prisoners 
 to the swamp, and of which he had given a brief hint to Hastings 
 himself; a plan which promised him that satisfaction for his pre 
 vious injuries at the hands of Hastings, which his excited feelings, 
 if not a high sense of honour, had long insisted upon as necessary 
 to his comfort. The present time seemed a fitting one for his pur 
 pose ; and the opportunity which it offered, as it might not occui 
 again, was quite too good to be lost. 
 
ON" HIS BACK. 307 
 
 Having projxi-!y deliberated, lie put aside the bushes which hung 
 partially across the entrance, and at once passed into the hut of the 
 prisoner. Hastings was not asleep, and started hastily at the 
 intrusion. His vorst fears grew active, as he saw the figure of 
 one before him, whom, in the dimness of the place, he could not 
 distinguish. He could only think of Humphries, and his breathing 
 was thick and rapid, as he anticipated, each moment, some fearful 
 doom at the hands of the avenger. His tones were hurried, as 
 he demanded 
 
 " Who s there ? speak ! what would you ?" 
 
 " Don t be scared, Sergeant Hastings ; it s me, John Davis him 
 they call Prickly Ash, of Goose Greek. Mayhap you may remem 
 ber sich a person. I m that man." 
 
 Hastings rather freely avowed his recollection. 
 
 "Well, I m mighty glad you re not asleep, as I didn t want 
 to put hands on you for any business but one, and that s the one T 
 come to see you about now. You re sure, now, Sergeant Hastings, 
 you re wide awake, and able to talk about business." 
 
 The reply was in the gentlest and most conciliatory language. 
 The tones were singularly musical, indeed, for a throat so harsh as 
 that which Davis formerly knew in possession of the same person ; 
 and the sigh-like utterance which told the partisan that he was all 
 attention, contrasted oddly, in the thoughts of Davis, with those 
 nutes which he had been taught hitherto to hear from the same 
 quarter. 
 
 " Well, if you re wide awake, Sergeant Hastings, I ve some talk 
 tor you that maybe you ll be glad enough to hear, for it consarns 
 both you and me a little." 
 
 " Any thjng. Mister Davis any thing you have to say, I shall be 
 happy, very happy, to listen to." 
 
 " Very good," said the other ; " that s very good, and I m mighty 
 glad to see you ve got your mind made up as to what s to come ; 
 and so, since you re ready to hear, I m cocked and primed to speak, 
 and the sooner I begin the better. Now, Sergeant Hastings, mind 
 what I say, and don t let any of my words go into one ear and out 
 of the other. ThevVe all words that cost something, and pome- 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 
 thing s to be paid for them in the eend. I give you this warning, 
 as it aint fair to take a man onawares." 
 
 Hastings modestly promised due heedfulness, and the other pro 
 ceeded as follows : 
 
 " You see, then, Sergeant Hastings, you re not in garrison now ; 
 ycu re riot at the Royal George, nor in any of them places where I 
 used to see you, with the red-coats, and them lickspittles the tories, 
 all about you, ready to back you agin their own countrymen, whe 
 ther you re right or wrong. You re turned now, as I may say, on 
 the flat of your back, like a yellow-belly cooter, and nobody here to 
 set you on your legs agin, but me, and me your iniiuy." 
 
 Hastings sullenly and sadlv assented to the truth of this picture, 
 in a groan which he accompanied by a writhing motion of the body 
 that turned his face completely away from the speaker. 
 
 " You needn t turn your back, Sergeant Hastings ; it s no part 
 of a gentleman to do so : but jist listen a bit to the God s truth, 
 and you ll larn a little civility, if so be it s in your skin to larn any 
 thing that s good. You see, now, the game goes agin you 
 the cards is shuffled, and trumps is changed hands. You re in 
 as bad a fix, now, as if you was at old sledge, and all seven up was 
 scored down agin you. You re riot cock of the walk any longer ; 
 you aint where you can draw sword agin a man that s got none, 
 and have a gang of chaps to look on, and not ax for fair play. 
 There s some chance now for a small man, and I reckon you feels 
 the difference." 
 
 A sullen response from Hastings, who though irritated greatly, 
 thought it the wiser policy not to appear so acknowledged the 
 correctness of what his companion had said. 
 
 " But don t think," the other proceeded " don t think, Sergeant 
 Hastings, that I come to crow over you in your misfortunes. No ! 
 dang it, I m not the lad to take advantage of any man in his 
 troubles, even though I despise him as I despise you. I m for fair 
 play all the world over, and that s the reason why 1 come to you 
 now." 
 
 " What would you have, Mister Davis ?" inquired the sergeant, 
 with something of his old dignity of manner. 
 
PLAIN SPEAKING. 309 
 
 " Well, that s a civil question enough, and desarves a civil 
 answer. You ax me what I will have. I ll tell you after a bit ; 
 but there s something, you see, that s like a sort of history, and, if 
 you ll listen, I 11 take leave to put that afore it." 
 
 " Go on, Mister Davis ; I shall be glad to hear you." 
 
 " Well, I don t know that for certain ; but we ll see how glad 
 you are as we git on in the business. What I ve got to say won t 
 take long, though I must begin at the beginning, or you mightn t 
 so well understand it. It s now going on nine or ten years since 
 old Dick Humphries that s the father of Bella first come into 
 our parts, and made acquaintance with our people. Bella was a 
 little girl at that time; but from that time I took to her, and she 
 sort-a-took to me. The more we know d, the more we liked one 
 another. I can say for myself, I never liked anybody half so well 
 as I liked her. Well, everybody said it was a match, and Bella 
 seemed willing enough till the war broke out, and you came into 
 our parts, with your red coats, and flashy buttons, and topknots; 
 and then everything was at odds and ends, and there was no living 
 with the gul at all. Her head got turned with your flummery, and 
 a plain lad like myself stood no chance." 
 
 " Well, but, Mister Davis, that was no fault of mine, if the girl 
 was foolish." 
 
 " Look you, no ill words about the gal ; becase, dang it, 1 
 don t stand it. She may be foolish, but you ha vnt any right yet, 
 that I can see, to call her so ; and it s more shame if you do, seeing 
 that it s all on your account that she is so." 
 
 " I mean no harm no offence, Mister Davis." 
 
 u Well, well, I aint taking any harm and any offence at that. 
 I only want to mind you to keep a civil tongue in your head when 
 you talk of Bella ; for, though she shies away fron- me, and I stand 
 no chance with her, and the game s all clear done atween us, 1 
 won t hear anything said to her disparagement ; arid it will be 
 mighty ridiculous for you if you say it. I m trying to speak to you 
 civilly, and without getting in a passion and it s not so easy for 
 you re my prisoner, you see ; and it s not the part of a gentleman 
 to say ugly things to a man that can t help himself; but it s in the 
 way of what I ve got to tell you, and you ll be good-natured nnd 
 
810 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 excuse it, if I sometimes graze upon a part of you that s sore, and 
 say sick words in your hearing, as makes you feel like a rascal, 
 and if I don t stop to pick what words I shall say it in. But that s 
 neither here nor there ; and I may as well go on with what 1 was 
 saying. Bella took a liking to you, and to your coat, and buttons 
 monstrous little else, Sergeant Hastings, now, I tell you, for the 
 gal has sense enough to see that you re not the properest looking 
 chap, nor the finest, nor the best-natured, that comes into theso 
 parts. But it was the showy buttons and the red clothes the big 
 feather, and I don t want to say it, Sergeant Hastings, becase, 
 as I said before, you re my prisoner, and it s not genteel to say uglv 
 things to one s prisoner ; but my mother always trained me to have 
 an ambition for truth, and a man s not a gentleman if he doesn t 
 speak it ; so that s the reason, you see, that makes me tell you that 
 it was partly because you were so flashy, and so impudent, and had 
 such a big way about you, that took in the poor gal at first, and 
 that takes in so many that ought to know better. It was your 
 impudence, you see, sergeant that was it ; and, as sure as there s 
 snakes, she ll get tired of you, you can t reckon how fast, if she once 
 gets you for a husband." 
 
 * But that she ll never do, Mister Davis ; oh, no, leave me alone 
 for that. I m no fool, I can tell you. It s the young bird only 
 that s to be caught by the chaff." 
 
 " Chaff ! -well, you can t mean to say that Bella Humphries is 
 chaff; but do you mean that you won t marry her and the gal so 
 loves you too ?" The astonishment of Davis was conspicuous in his 
 emphasis. 
 
 " Marry her, indeed ! No, I thank ye ! I never thought of such 
 a thing !" was the contemptuous reply of the prisoner. 
 
 " Now, dang it, Sergeant Hastings, but I do despise you more 
 than a polecat. You re a poor, mean skunk, and a dirty varmint, 
 that s only fit for killing ; and I ve the heart to do it now, on the 
 spot, I tell you ; but I won t, for you re my prisoner." 
 
 The indignation of Davis was kept down with difficulty ; and 
 Hastings, lacking entirely that delicacy which should have taught 
 him that the considerations of his rival, in what he had said, h;ul 
 been singularly unselfish, only made the matter worse by under 
 
FAIR FIELD AND NO FAVOR. 311 
 
 taking to assure bim that his determination had been made, the 
 better to open the way for himself in the renewal of his addresses. 
 This assurance neither deceived nor satisfied the lieutenant ; and hia 
 words, though cool, were very bitter, and solemnly urged. 
 
 " You re a shoat, a mean shoat, Sergeant Hastings , and if I had 
 nothing else to hate you for, I should hate you mighty long and 
 heartily for that. But it s no use talking ; and the sooner we stop 
 the better. Now, can you guess what I come to you for to-night ?" 
 
 " I cannot no what ?" 
 
 " To set you frfee ; to cut your ropes ; put you on a clear track, 
 and mount you on a nag that ll take you into Dorchester in a short 
 hour and a half, free riding. I told you I would do it. I will keep 
 my word." 
 
 " Indeed ! Do I hear you, Mister Davis ? my dear friend " 
 
 " No friend, I thank you no friend, but a bitter inimy, that 
 won t do nothing for you without the pay. I will do all this for 
 you, as I have said, but there s something I ax for it in return." 
 
 " What ! speak ! aye ! What price ? name your reward, sir, 
 and" 
 
 " I will only be quiet and keep a civil tongue in your head 
 while I tell you. You ve put the flat of your sword to my shoulder, 
 Sergeant Hastings, when I had none to lift up agin you ; that s to 
 be paid for. You ve come between me and the gal I had a liking 
 for, ever since I was a boy ; that s to be paid for. You tried to git 
 her to like you, and then you laugh at her liking ; and that s to be 
 paid for too. No .r, can you reckon up what ll best pay for these 
 matters ?" 
 
 The sergeant was silent ; the other continued 
 
 " I ll tell you. A fair fight, as you promised me a fair fight 
 with broadswords, in a clean track, and no witnesses but them there 
 bright stars, and the round moon that ll soon be rising up to give 
 us enough light to do our business." 
 
 " I m willing, Mister Davis ; but I ve no sword, and I m tied here 
 as you see." 
 
 " Never be a bit afeard. I ll come in an hour, and I ll cut your 
 cords. I ll carry you out to the skairts of the swamp, where the 
 clear moon will look down upon us. I ll hitch a stout horse to th* 
 
312 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 banging bough ; and it shall stand in sight waiting for you, tin. 1 mo 
 ment you get clear from me. I ll give you the pick of a pair of 
 swords, which shall lie flat upon the airth before you ; and you 
 shall then give me satisfaction for all them there matters that I tell 
 ye of. You re a bigger man than me ; you re used to the broad 
 sword : I can .handle it too, though I does it rough and tumble, and 
 had no schooling in the we pori ; and you shall have as fair a chance 
 as ever you had in all your born days before. Arid that s the offer 
 I make you. Only say the word, and Fll go to the spot carry out 
 the horse carry out the swords, and send the sentries oil from the 
 track where I shall take you." 
 
 The proposition took Hastings by surprise. lie was no coward ; 
 but, under existing circumstances, he would rather have avoided the 
 encounter in the novel shape which it now put on. Yet, as he re 
 flected, he grew more and more satisfied with the plan, lie had 
 manifestly all the advantages of strength, and personal knowledge 
 and practice of the weapon ; and his apprehensions of Humphries 
 were too great not to desire to escape at all hazards from his 
 clutches. Guilt made a coward of him, as he thought of Bella s 
 brother, and as he remembered how completely he had been un 
 masked before him. In a few moments he had determined upon 
 his answer, and the Goose Creeker rejoiced to find it in the aflirm 
 ative. 
 
 " It s a bargain, then," said Davis " you swear to it ?" 
 
 " I do : I will go with you. Get all things ready, as you have 
 said, and I will fight you whenever you please." 
 
 " Well, now, that s what I like ; and I m glad to find you re so 
 much a man. after all. Keep quiet while I m gone, and when the 
 horse is clear upon the skairt of the swamp, I ll come to you and 
 set you loose; all you have to do is to follow nobody will see 
 us; but you must be shy how you speak. Only follow, that s 
 all." 
 
 Saying these words, Davis departed from the hut. As he 
 emerged from its entrance, he was startled to hear the wild laugh 
 of the maniac Frainpton, as he bounded away from the immediate 
 neighbourhood. Framptori had evidently been a listener. But 
 Davis was too much absorbed in the ail air before him, to give much 
 
THE MANIAC SPY. 313 
 
 heed to an interruption so slight, and hurry Ing away, without farther 
 hindrance, proceeded to the execution of the devised plan. 
 
 The plan had all been heard by the watchful ears of the maniac. 
 Crawling to the hut of Hastings, as once before he had done, when 
 differently occupied, he was about to lift the birch cover from the 
 rear, probably with the same murderous intent which he had before 
 put into execution, when the approach and entrance of Davis had 
 compelled him to be quiet. Concealed in the edges of the hut, and 
 well covered by its shadow, he had lain close and heard every syl 
 lable of the preceding dialogue. A strange purpose took ^o^es- 
 sion of his unsettled mind while he listened ; and when Davis left 
 the hovel, he ran off howling and laughing with the fancied accom 
 plishment, before his eyes, of that new scheme which, with all that 
 caprice which marks the diseased intellect, had now so suddenly 
 superseded the original object which he had in view. Hastings, 
 meanwhile, with as much philosophy as he was master of, stj jve to 
 season his thoughts fo: the events which were at hand. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 " Such the wild purpose of degenerate mau, 
 Vex d by injustice into greater wrong 
 For many sins must ever spring from on* * 
 
 Tus prospect of his revenge before him, Davis hurried away with 
 trie view to its accomplishment. The rough countryman had too 
 deeply embarked his feelings in the frail vessel which his more au 
 dacious and imposing rival had, to his eyes, so completely carried 
 away, not to desire this object at all the hazards which he was 
 .about to incur. He was violating his duty a matter which, in that 
 day, an inexperienced militia-man was not apt to regard as any very 
 great offence and was about to peril his life, as well as his honour, 
 or the gratification of his passions. Yet these were too greatly 
 excited to make him regret, or even feel his risks, in the hope of 
 the strife on which he had set his heart. Too burningly eager for 
 this strife, to be at all regardful of the inequality of skill and strength 
 between himself and his enemy, he thought only of the moment 
 when he should confront him with the weapon and the will to slay. 
 Thus excited and eager, he sped across the narrow islet, broken with 
 quagmire and pond and brooklet, with a haste that heeded no ob 
 structions. He had nearly reached the spot, where, as in a pound, 
 the horses of the partisans were all securely tethered. Verily, John 
 Davis was a magnanimous enemy, with all his vindictiveness. He 
 was to free his foe, put weapons into his hands, find him a horse 
 ready saddled and bridled for his flight, and asked nothing in re 
 turn but the chance of slashing him to pieces in single combat a 
 gratification for which he was to yield a like privilege to his oppo 
 nent. 
 
 But as he approached the horses, it was necessary to observe a 
 greater degree of caution than he had thus far shown. To remove 
 one of them, without disturbing the sleeping encampment, or the 
 watching sentinels witho.it causing a stampede among the stood* 
 
JUST IN TIME. 315 
 
 themselves was no easy matter ; and when lie fancied lie Lad 
 nearly attained his object, he was destined to a sudden interruption. 
 When on the edge of the thicket where the horses were kept, and 
 which skirted a long dark pond, which was fed by numerous sluices 
 from the swamp, our forester came rather unexpectedly upon no 
 less a person than Lieutenant Porgy. 
 
 What was the fat lieutenant doing in such a situation ? What 
 was the nature of that occupation which he pursued by the precious 
 starlight, and when most honest men are sleeping ? Davis could 
 not divine the answer to his own questions. It was enough that 
 the lieutenant was greatly in his way. Ilad Porgy been sleeping ? 
 No ! He was bright enough when he found himself disturbed. But 
 he had certainly been in a state of very profound reverie when the 
 unconscious footstep of Davis sounded in his ears. Rifle in grasp, 
 and crouching low upon the bankside, looking out upon the dark 
 water which glittered in spots only beneath the starlight, the 
 philosophic epicure was as watchful as a sentinel on duty, or a 
 scout on trail. Davis could not say at first whether he lay flai; 
 upon the ground, or whether he was on his knees. To suppose 
 him to be crawling upon all fours, would be a supposition scarcely 
 consistent with the dignity of his oflice and the dimensions of his 
 pei-sou. Yet there was so much that was equivocal in his attitude, 
 that all these conjectures severally ran through the head of the 
 woodman. He started up at the approach of Davis, disquieted by 
 the intrusion, yet evidently desirous of avoiding all alarm. His 
 challenge " Who goes there ?" though given in very quick, was 
 yet delivered in very subdued accents. Our woodman gave the 
 answer; and the tones of Porgy s voice underwent some change, 
 but were still exceedingly soft and low. They embodied a good- 
 natured recognition. 
 
 " Ah ! Davis, my good fellow, you are just in time." 
 
 "For what, lieutenant?" 
 
 " For great service to me, to yourself, to the whole encampment. 
 But no noise, my good fellow. Not a breath not a word above 
 your breath. He is a fool who suffers his tongue to spoil his sup 
 per. As quiet as possible, my boy." 
 
 " What s to do, lieutenant ?" was the whispered query of Davia, 
 
816 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 much wondering at the anxiety of the speaker, who seldom showed 
 himself so, and who usually took events, without asking for the salt 
 or sauce to make them palatable. 
 
 " What do you see ?" he continued, as the eyes of Porgy were 
 straining across the imperfectly lighted pond. 
 
 " See ! what do I see ? Oh ! Blessed Jupiter, god of men as 
 little fishes, what do I not see?" 
 
 And as he spoke, he motioned to Davis to sink down, crouch 
 close, and creep towards him. Davis, much bewildered, did as ho 
 was required, Porgy meanwhile, sot to voce, continuing to dilate 
 after his usual fashion of eloquence a style, by the way, that was 
 very apt to bewilder all his hearers. Davis had never studied in 
 the schools of euphuism; nor in any school, indeed, except that of 
 the swamp. lie fancied he knew the philosophy of the swamp as 
 well as any other man , and that Poro-y should extract from it a 
 source of knowledge hitherto concealed from him, was a subject of 
 very great amazement. lie began, accordingly, to question the 
 sanity of his superior, when he heard him expatiate in the following 
 language : 
 
 We live in a very pleasant world, Master John Davis. Nature 
 feeds us in all our senses, whenever we are willing and wise enough 
 to partake. You breathe, you see, you smell, you taste, and you 
 ought to be happy, Davis ; why an; you not happy ?" 
 
 " Well, I don t know, lieutenant ; [ only know I ain t happy, and 
 I can t be happy in thjs world, and I don t expect to be." 
 
 " Oh ! man of little faith. It is because you won t use your 
 senses, John Davis your eyes. You ask me what I see! Blind 
 mote, that thou art ! Dost tliou see nothing >" 
 
 " I see you, lieutenant, and the dark pond and water, and the 
 big cypresses, and the thick vines and bushes, and just above, a 
 little opening in the trees that shows where the stars are peeping 
 down. 1 don t see nothing else." 
 
 " And what wen; the stars made for, John Davis, but to show 
 you the way to other things? Look for yourself now, and let me 
 show you the pleasantest prospect, for a dark night, that your eyes 
 ever hungered over. Stoop, I say, and follow my finger. There ! 
 See to the lagune just beyond that old cypress, see the dead tre> 
 
PORGY S JOY. 317 
 
 half rolled into the water. Look now, at the end of the fallen tree, 
 there just where the starlight falls upon it, making a long streak 
 in the black water. Do you sec, man of little faith, and almost as 
 little eyesight! Do you not understand now, why it is that I 
 rejoice; why my bowels yearn, and rny soul exults? Look, and 
 feast your eyes, Jack Davis, whom they call of Goose Creek, while 
 you anticipate better feeding still hereafter. But don t you utter a 
 word not a breath, lest you disturb the comely creatures, the 
 dainty delights our quail and manna of the swamp sent for our 
 blessing and enjoyment by the bountiful Heaven, which sees that 
 we are intensely deserving, and mortal hungry at the same time. 
 Hush ! hush ! not a word !" 
 
 Here he stopt himself in the utterance of his own raptures, which 
 were growing rather more loud than prudence called for. The eye 
 of Davis, meanwhile, had followed the guiding finger of the epicure, 
 and the woodman nearly laughed aloud. But he dared not. 
 Porgy was evidently too seriously bent to permit of such irreve 
 rence. The objects that so transported the other, were such as had 
 been familiar to the eyes of both from their earliest consciousness 
 of light. The little lagune, or bayou, on the edge of which they 
 crouched, showed them, drowsing on the old and half-decayed tree 
 to which Porgy had directed his own and the gaze of Davis, three 
 enormous terrapins of that doubtful brood which the vulgar in the 
 southern country describe as the alligatoi terrapin an uncouth 
 monster, truly, and with such well developed caudal extremities 
 as seem to justify them in classing the animal in this connexion. 
 The terrapins lay basking, black and shining in the starlight, their 
 heads thrust out, and hanging over the lagune, into which the slight 
 est alarm of an unusual nature would prompt them to plunge incon 
 tinently. Their glossy backs yet seemed to trickle with the water 
 from which they had arisen. Their heads were up ind watchful ; 
 as if preparing for that facile descent into the native home, a region 
 black as Avernus. Porgy continued now in a whisper 
 
 "That s a sight, John Davis, to lift a man from a sick-bed. 
 
 That s a sight to make him whole and happy again. Look hew 
 
 quietly they lie ; that farthest one I would it were nigher is a 
 
 superb fellow, fat as butter, and sticking full of eggs. There * 
 
 14 
 
318 THE PARTISAN 
 
 soup enough in the three for a regiment; and now, my good lei 
 low, if you will onl} be quiet, I will give you such a lesson of 
 dexterity and stratagem as shall make you remember this night as 
 long as you live. There never was a terrapin trapper that could 
 compare with me in my youth. We shall see if my right hand 
 hath lost its cunning. You shall see me come upon them like an 
 Indian. I will only throw off this outer and most unnecessary 
 covering, and put on the character of a social grunter. Ah, the 
 hog is a noble animal what would we do without him ? It s 
 almost a sin to mock him but in making mock turtle, John Davis, 
 the offence is excusable : a good dinner, I say, will sanctify a dozen 
 sins, and here goes for one." 
 
 " But, lieutenant, them s alligator terrapins." 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 " Well, nobody eats alligator terrapins." 
 
 " Nobody s an ass, then, for his abstinence, let me tell you ; an 
 alligator terrapin is the very prince of terrapins." 
 
 " Well, he s the biggest." 
 
 " And the best ! His meat is of the rarest delicacy, and with 
 my dressing, and the cooking of my fellow, Tom, the dish is such 
 as would tickle monstrously the palate of any prince in Europe 
 that is, of any prince born to a gentlemanly taste, which is not to 
 be said of many of the tribe, I grant you. But, there s no time to 
 be lost. Hold my rifle, and witness my exertions." 
 
 Here he forced the rifle into the hands of the Goose Creek forester, 
 and prepared for the proposed achievement ; which we may venture 
 to say, in this place, requires a degree of dexterity and pains 
 taking which few can show, and which no one would attempt, not 
 stimulated by tastes so exquisite and absorbing as those of our 
 epicure. 
 
 Porgy s agility greatly belied his appearance. You have seen 
 a heavy man move lightly, no doubt. It requires a certain con 
 formation to show this anomaly. Porgy possessed this conformation 
 His coat was off in a jifl y. His vest followed it, and he was soon 
 stealing away, along the edge of the hammock, and in the direction 
 of his victims. Davis had become interested, almost to the utter 
 fbrgetfulness of his own vic*.im. Sergeant Hastings. He watched 
 
TKKRAHN8. 319 
 
 our epicure, as, almost without a sound, he pressed forward upon 
 hands and knees, his huge form, in this attitude, appearing in tin 
 dusky light very like the animal whose outer habits he was striv 
 ing to assimilate. 
 
 The terrapins were a little uneasy, and Porgy found it neces 
 sary to pause occasionally and survey them in silence. When the> 
 appeared quiet, he renewed his progress ; as he drew nearer, h<? 
 boldly grunted aloud, after the porcine habit, and with such excel 
 lerice of imitation that, but for his knowledge of the truih, Davis 
 himself might have been deceived. Porgy knew the merit of his 
 imitation, but he had some scruples at its exercise : but for (he 
 want of fresh meat in camp, and the relish with which he enjoyed 
 his stew of terrapins, he would have been loath to make an exhi 
 bition of his peculiar powers. Even at this moment he had his 
 reflections on his own performance, which were meant to be apolo 
 getic, though unheard. 
 
 " The Hog," he muttered as he went, " has one feature of the good 
 aristocrat. He goes where he pleases, and grumbles as he goes. 
 Still, I am not satisfied that it is proper for the gentleman to put on 
 the hog, unless on occasion such as this. The pleasures of a din 
 ner are not to be lost for a grunt, lie must crawl upon his belly 
 who would feel his way to that of a terrapin." 
 
 Thus fortifying himself with philosophy, he pressed forward to 
 the great delight of Davis, who had become quite interested in the 
 performance, and grunt after grunt testified to the marvellous 
 authority which his appetite exercised over his industry. The 
 terrapins showed themselves intelligent. Alas ! the best of beasts 
 may be taken in by man. Porgy s grunts were a sad fraud upon 
 the unsuspecting victims. At the first sound, the largest of the three 
 terrapins, having the greatest stake (Qu 2 steak) of all, betrayed a 
 little uneasiness, and fairly wheeled himself round upon his post, 
 prepared to plunge headlong with the approach of danger. His 
 uneasiness was naturall) due to the importance of the wealth which 
 had been intrusted to his keeping. His bullet head, his snaky neck, 
 were thrust out as far as possible from beneath the covers of 
 his dwelling. Like an old soldier, he pricked his ears, and stood 
 on the alert; but he was soon sati.^ti. d. His eye took in the formi 
 
320 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 of his drowsy companions, and he saw no sign of danger in th 
 unbroken surface of the stagnant pond. A second grunt from the 
 supposed porker reassured him. He had lived in intimate com 
 munion with hogs all his days. The sow had made her wallow 
 beside his waters, and reared her brood for a hundred years along 
 their margins. lie knew that there was no sort of danger from 
 such a presence, and he composed himself at his devotions, and 
 prepared once more to reknit his half-unravelled slumbers. 
 
 * Beautiful creature, sleep on !" murmured Porgy to himself, in 
 tones and words as tender as made the burden of his serenade, in 
 the days of his youth, to the dark-eyed damsels upon the waters of 
 the Ashley and Savannah. He made his way forward, noiselessly 
 the occasional grunt excepted until he found himself fairly 
 astride the very tree which his unconscious victims were reposing 
 on. 
 
 You have heard, no doubt, of that curious sort of locomotion 
 which, in the South and West, is happily styled " cooning the log?" 
 It is the necessity, where you have to cross the torrent on the 
 unsteady footing of a spear, or rather, where you must needs cross 
 on a very narrow and very slippery tree, which affords no safe foot 
 ing, lii plain terms, our fat friend squatted fairly upon the log, 
 hands and knees, and slided along in a style which John Davis 
 thought infinitely superior to anything he had seen. Telling the 
 story long afterwards, John always did the fullest justice to the 
 wonderful merits of the lieutenant, in some such phrase as this : 
 
 "Lord! twas as slick going as downhill, with the wheels greased 
 up to the hub !" 
 
 " Greased up to the hub !" 
 
 Porgy, you may be sure, was never suffered to hear of the villa- 
 nous comparison. 
 
 The anxiety of Davis, at this point of the adventure, made him 
 fidgety and restless. It required strong resolution to keep quiet. 
 But, though himself anxious enough, the stake was too great to 
 Buffer our epicure to peril its loss by any undue precipitation. 
 He moved along at a snail s pace, and whenever the hu.tn; f ,-(y~ 
 would vibrate beneath his prodigious weight, the cautious trappei 
 would piuise in liis joiirtH-v, un<i sni-l forth ;is go.,d a giuut MS t-vei 
 
THE CAPTURE. 321 
 
 echoed in Westphalian forests. The poor terrapins were completely 
 taken in by the imitation, and lay there enjoying those insidious 
 slumbers, which were now to be their ruin. 
 
 Nigher and nigher came the enemy. A few feet only separated 
 the parties, and, with an extended hand, Porgy could have easily 
 turned over the one which was nighest. But our epicure was not to 
 be content with less than the best. Ilis eyes had singled out the most 
 remote, because the largest of that sweet company. lie had taken 
 in at a glance its entire dimensions, and already, in his mind, esti 
 mated, not only the quantity of rich reeking soup which could be 
 made out of it, but the very number of eggs which it contained. 
 Nothing short, therefore, of this particular prize would have satis 
 fied him ; and, thus extravagant in his desires, he scarcely deigned 
 a glance to the others. At length he sat squat almost alongside 
 of the two the third, as. they lay close together, being almost in 
 his grasp, he had actually put out his hands for its seizure, when 
 the long neck of his victim was again thrust forth, and, with arms 
 still extended, Porgy remained as quiet as a mouse. But the 
 moment the terrapin sheltered his head within the shell, the hands 
 of the captor closed upon him with a clutch from which there was 
 no escaping. One after another the victims were turned upon their 
 backs; and, with a triumphant chuckle, the captor carried off his 
 prey to the solid tussock. 
 
 " I cannot talk to you for an hour, John Davis, my boy not for 
 an hour here s food for thought in all that time. Food for 
 thought did I say ! Ay, for how much thought ! I am thoughtful. 
 The body craves food, indeed, only that the mind may think, and 
 half our earthly cares are for this material. It is falsehood and 
 folly to speak of eating as a mere animal necessity, the love of 
 which is vulgarly designated an animal appetite. It is not so with 
 me. The taste of the game is nothing to the pleasure of taking il 
 nothing to the pleasure of preparing it in a manner worthy of 
 the material, and of those who are to enjoy it. I am not selfish, I 
 share with all ; and, by the way, John Davis, I feel very much like 
 whipping the fellow who shows no capacity to appreciate. I am a 
 sort of Barmecide in that respect, though I suspect, John, you 
 know nothing of the Barmecides." 
 
322 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " No ; I never heard tell of them." 
 
 " So I suppose ! Well, I won t vex you by talking of fine people 
 not of your acquaintance. Now, John, tell the truth, did I not 
 seem to you very peculiar, very remarkable, and strange nay, 
 something ridiculous, John, when you saw me crawling after the 
 terrapins ?" 
 
 " Well, to say truth, lieutenant, you did seem rather ridickilous." 
 
 " Ridiculous ! do you say ? Well, perhaps ! I forgive you, Jack 
 Davis ; though there are times when to hint such a word to me, would 
 insure you a broken head. A man of my presence ridiculous !" 
 
 " Oh ! I don t mean no offence, lieutenant." 
 
 " To be sure not ! Do I not know that ! But, John, think of 
 the soup that we shall get out of these terrapins. Think of our 
 half-starved encampment ; and do you not see that the art which 
 traps for us such admirable food, rises, into absolute sublimity? 
 Some hundreds of years from now, when our great-grandchildren 
 think of the sort of life we led when we were lighting to secure 
 them an inheritance, they will record this achievement of mine 
 as worthy of Roman fame. But you don t know anything of the 
 Romans, John." 
 
 " Not a bit, lieutenant. Is it a kind of terrapins?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! a kind of terrapins that crawled over the whole 
 earth, and claimed it for their own." 
 
 u You don t say so !" 
 
 " True, every syllable ; but the breed s died out, John, and such 
 as are left havVt marrow enough in em for a stew for a single 
 squad. But, John, it was not the soup only that I thought of 
 when I trapped these beauties. Did you ever feel the pleasure. 
 John, of chasing a fox ?" 
 
 " Yes, to be sure : a thousand times. It s prime sport, I tell you." 
 
 " But you never ate the fox, John ?" 
 
 " No, indeed ! the stinking creature !" 
 
 " Well, even if I shouldn t taste these terrapins, the pleasure of 
 their capture is a feast. I have exercised my skill, my ingenuity 
 I feel that my right hand has not forgot its cunning. That, John, 
 is the sort of practice that proves the true nature of the man. He 
 is never so well satisfied as when he is contriving, inventing, schem- 
 
CUTTING UP. 323 
 
 ing, planning, and showing Low cunning he can be. Whether it s 
 red-fox or red-coat, John, it s a sort of happiness to chase, and trap, 
 and catch, run down and cut up." 
 
 U I reckon that s true, lieutenant. I feel jist so when I m on a 
 scout, or a hunt, or anything like it ;" and John Davis was reminded 
 of his practice with respect to Sergeant Hastings. He began to 
 be impatient of the long speeches of Porgy; but there was no get 
 ting him out of the way, except at his own pleasure. 
 
 " Talking of cutting up, John, brings up the terrapins to-morrow. 
 You shall see what a surprise I shall give the camp. You shall 
 see what a thing invention is! How beautiful is art! Now I 
 shall dress each of these beauties in a different style. Steaks and 
 soup you shall have, and enough to satisfy, in the old fashion. But 
 1 have some inventions I thought of them as I rieared the log ; 
 and when the cunning senses of that patriarch there almost found 
 me out, a timely grunt silenced his doubt. With that grunt came 
 the idea of a new dish. It was a revelation. That terrapin, I said, 
 shall be compounded with the flesh of the porker that Joe Witsell 
 brought into camp at noon. There shall be a hash that shall make 
 your mouth to water. There shall be such a union of the forces 
 of hog and terrapin as shall make them irresistible; and you will 
 then learn the great truth great to us at short commons in the 
 swamp that alligator terrapin is a dish worthy to be set before 
 a king." 
 
 John Davis looked dubiously, but said 
 
 " Yes, I reckon, lieutenant." 
 
 " You reckon ! well, but whither do you go ?" he asked, as he 
 saw the other lay down his rifle and prepare to go. 
 
 "I ve got to scout for two hours, out here on the skairte of the 
 swamp." 
 
 "Very good! But before you go have you a handkerchief 
 about you 2" 
 
 "A mighty old one, lieutenant." 
 
 " The very one for my purposes. Mine is a new one, John, and 
 meant for great occasions, when I am entertaining some of the big 
 bugs in epaulettes. Let me have it, and but old fellow, won t 
 you help me home with my captives ?" 
 
324 THE PAKT1SA.N. 
 
 " Iu course, lieuteiiaut, I ll take em all for you." And John soon 
 had the monsters gathered up, and on his shoulders. 
 
 " Yo-.i are a good fellow, John, and must havg your share of the 
 hash as well as stew. Be sure, John, that you don t absent your 
 self to-morrow. I wouldn t have you miss the mess for the world. 
 There s too much at stake ; so remember. A day lost to a good 
 stomach is a serious grievance. You not only cannot recall it, but 
 it affects your health the day after. Don t incur any such peril." 
 
 And thus talking, 1 orgy led the way, and the two parties dis 
 appeared together, taking the backward route to the camp. Davis 
 was beginning to be impatient of lost time. But there was no 
 way to rid the precinct of the lieutenant s presence, but by helping 
 him on his progress, And the epicure was not satisfied to let him 
 off until the spoil had been fairly deposited in safety in the shadow 
 of Porgy s tent. Leaving the epicure to stir up Tom, the cook 
 for he was not the man to sleep, till all things were discussed 
 and arranged with this able agent of his pleasures John Davis 
 stole away unseen, and proceeded, without further interruption, in 
 searc.li of his own peculiar prey. He succeeded in detaching his 
 own steed from the group, and in carrying away a couple of heavy 
 broadswords. It now needed only that he should conduct his 
 rival in safety to the spot chosen for the proposed duel. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 44 What savage man is this ? What fearful strife 
 Makes night to shudder in her gloomy halls ?" 
 
 THE spoi chosen by John Davis for the scene of mortal combat, 
 was weil calculated, no less for this than for the conflict of mortal 
 passions, The area was sufficiently large for unembarrassed action 
 with the broadsword, while the trees completely encircled it, an< la 
 shrouded it from sight of all without. The ground itself was 
 mere sandbank ; such as, in such a neighbourhood, will 
 rise suddenly out from a swamp, and drink up the still 
 waters of a streamlet running beside it. The starlight ga\ nner 
 sufficiently strong light for the combat, and the moon was iltUe 
 about to rise. Davis surveyed the ground in silence, and wii ln 
 something of grave reflection crowding upon his mind as he did so. 
 His desire for revenge had made him almost entirely unmindful of 
 the possible results to himself of the contemplated struggle ; and 
 now that he looked upon the sands, so soon, as he thought, to soak 
 up the blood of himself or his enemy, or both, his reflections were 
 neither so calm nor so pleasant as he could have wished them. 
 Not that he feared death ; but the idea had not often forced itself 
 upon him before as a near prospect, and it does not lessen one s 
 bravery, that he should meditate the danger even when he advances 
 to encounter it. 
 
 John Davis did begin to think of the prospect before him ; but 
 the die was cast, and no useful result could possibly arise from his 
 reflections now, as it was out of the question to suppose that his 
 determination could be changed. That was forbidden by the 
 general sense of society in the quarter in which he lived; and 
 striving heartily to dismiss all consideration from his mind, save 
 that which told him of the injuries he was to avenge, he fastened 
 to a neighbouring tree the horse which was destined fcr the survi- 
 14* 
 
326 THE TAUT I SAN. 
 
 vor, and plunging hack into the swamp, took his way towards the 
 place where the prisoners were kept. 
 
 But the time which Davis had lost in the terrapin hunt with his 
 superior, and in the subsequent removal of the horse and the 
 weapons, had not been left unemployed by others. There was a 
 wild spirit at work and sleepless in the camp of the Partisans, 
 which was even more terrible and threatening than that of our 
 jealous duellist. It has not been forgotten that, in the interview 
 between Davis and Sergeant Hastings, they had been startled at 
 its close by the eldritch laughter of the maniac, Frampton. There 
 was a strange method in the madness of this now savage person. 
 He had eagerly drunk in the language of the parties, and with a 
 ydculation and cunning which we are apt mistakenly to suppose 
 o fj onsistent with insanity, he had treasured the matter in his 
 of P<L OI 7> an( l prepared to mar the plans and preparations after a 
 for h( m f his uvvn - He suffered Davis to depart, and for a time 
 and Belied his movements. Satisfied of his absence, if not of his 
 stoJ-.iediate whereabouts, the maniac emerged again from the swamp, 
 -,u. d made his way to the hut in which the sergeant was imprisoned. 
 Hastings, anxiously awaiting his rival s coming, had not slept. He 
 looked up in the imperfect starlight, as the huge furm of Frampton 
 darkened the entrance. It appeared to him that the form of Davis 
 had suddenly shot into great bulk and height, but he soon dis 
 missed the notion that such was the case, with a feeling of shame, 
 ascribing it to cowardice that he should think so. 
 " Is that you, John Davis ?" 
 " Come !" said the maniac, " come !" 
 
 " How can I come, John Davis," was the reply, " unless you cut 
 the cord ? I m tied, you know, hand and foot, and can t budge a 
 
 peg-" 
 
 Without a word, the maniac entered and did as he was required, 
 lie divided the ropes with a hunting knife, which he carried at 
 his girdle. He might just as easily have cut the jugulars of 
 the victim ; but he did not, and quietly restored the weapon to 
 his belt. 
 
 " Come !" said he. 
 
 Hastings rose from his rushes, feeling very stiff and sore. EI 
 
THE MANIAC. 327 
 
 stretched himself with a painful effort, and wondered how lie should 
 ever be able to handle the broadsword. 
 
 " A d d hard bed IVe had of it, John Davis, and all my joints 
 feel as if they wanted greasing. A sup of Jamaica, now, wouldn t 
 be a bad thing. I want something to warm me before I fight." 
 
 "Come!" was the sullen monosyllable of the maniac in answer. 
 
 "Come! Is that all that you can say, I wonder?" growled 
 Hastings in reply ; something wondering at the sullenness and 
 unsociability of one whom he was about to indulge with a fight. 
 But he did not oppose the wishes of his visitor, and, of a sudden, 
 appeared to think it prudent to forbear further speech to so moody 
 a companion. Stretching himself accordingly, with infinite yawn- 
 ings, the sergeant slowly complied with the requisition of his 
 visitor, and followed him forth from the hut. 
 
 Now, but that madness is whimsical in its purposes, the proba 
 bility is that Frampton would have used the knife upon Hastings, 
 as he had already done upon Clough, in a most summary manner. 
 But the insane man usually exhibits the possession of no little 
 vanity. A diseased self-esteem is apt to be an active condition in 
 the mind of most lunatics, and has contributed not a little to their 
 mental overthrow. The madman s vanity is delighted when he 
 can show you that he schemes and contrives. He loves to startle 
 you. He anxiously seeks to extort from you acknowledgments of 
 this character, and would seem to be pleased with complicating his 
 own purposes, if only to compel your admiration. The lingering 
 reason still strives to maintain some of the shows of its authority 
 of its presence, at all events in the brain of the unhappy man, 
 in which it harbours, like the fiery volume in the core of the volcano 
 only for explosion. Feeble, wilful, and deprived of all its best 
 auxi liars of steadfastness and judgment, it still seeks, if not to 
 establish, to assert its supremacy. How it plans, with what effort; 
 how contrives ; how chuckles over its contrivances ; and with what 
 grotesque ingenuity it will combine and create ! This cunning of 
 the madman is, perhaps, the true key if there be any to his 
 disorder. Properly studied, and you may find in it the clue to his 
 secret, and in some degree the suggestions for his guidance. 
 
 Now, Frampton had shown himself thus cunning arid wilful. 
 
828 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 after a whimsical fashion, when we first found him squat, watchirg 
 behind the hovel where Hastings was imprisoned. He had made 
 his way to that spot with the full purpose of destroying the pri 
 soner as he had destroyed Clough, in the same situation. The 
 approach of Davis had compelled him for the moment to forbear, 
 and to lurk in waiting. As he listened, and heard the proposed 
 plan of the duel, as suggested by our Goose-Creeker, the mercuria 1 
 fancies of the madman adopted the affair as his own. ( He liaa 
 watched, accordingly, till Davis had gone to effect his preparations, 
 and had then chosen his time, as we have seen, to complete for him 
 what he had so well begun. We see how far he has succeeded. 
 $till unknown by the prisoner for he avoided all unnecessary 
 speech, and the obscurity of the place did not allow of his detec 
 tion the maniac led the way at once through the creek, taking a 
 route different from that which would have been pursued by Davis. 
 
 " Come !" he cried impatiently to Hastings, as the latter floun 
 dered slowly and with difficulty through the mire and water. 
 " Come !" 
 
 The sergeant did his best to keep up with his conductor, but he 
 found it no easy matter. Familiar with the swamps a wild )** 
 dweller in their depths Frampton strode away almost as easily as 
 if upon the solid land. lie picked no path he availed himself of 
 no friendly log, offering sure footing and an unimpeded path through 
 the slough ; but dashing in, through bad and good alike, he led 
 the luckless sergeant over a territory the worst he had ever in his 
 life travelled. Occasionally, the maniac would pause, as the other 
 lingered behind, to utter the expressive monosyllable " Come !" a 
 thrilling, half-suppressed sound, which, from his lips, had a singu 
 larly imposing accent in the ears of his destined victim. 
 
 The fatigue of this progress served in some degree to excite the 
 apprehensions of the captive sergeant ; particularly as the dimen 
 sions of his guide seemed so much larger than those which belonged 
 to Davis. How had the latter grown ? He shook off this thought 
 as well as he could, ascribing it to his own imbecility, and trying 
 to account for the apparent size of his enemy, by ascribing it to 
 the exaggerative medium of the imperfect light through which he 
 beheld him. Still his imagination was painfully impressed, and he 
 
THE SEAKCH. 329 
 
 half wished himself fairly safe from the encounter. Bui when he 
 thought of the brother of Bella Humphries, and his superior rights, 
 and superior power for vengeance, he plucked up courage, and con 
 gratulated himself on the choice which fortune offered him between 
 the two enemies. He toiled forward accordingly, with most praise 
 worthy perseverance, at the bidding of the maniac, who still kept 
 ahead, until they reached a hammock a solemn-looking place 
 enough closely embowered with the highest pines, and almost 
 isolated by the long and sinuous lagune, through which Frampton 
 had already scrambled. The sergeant shuddered to behold the 
 black-looking water, the depth of which seemed immeasurable. 
 But Frampton stood upon the hammock, tall, seemingly, as one 
 of its pines, and waited for the victim, and welcomed him with a 
 wave of the hand, and still that stern monosyllable " Come !" 
 
 The prospect disquieted the nerves of our sergeant, already con 
 siderably disordered. 
 
 "Ugh!" he cried, with a shudder, as he looked at the lagune, 
 and thought of its depth and blackness. " Am I to go through 
 this ? It will take me to the neck." 
 
 The maniac waved him forward impatiently. 
 
 " Surely," thought Hastings, " he will give me time to rest for 
 awhile. He will not be for the fight right away. I have scarcely 
 any breath." 
 
 " Come !" cried his enemy to him across the lagune. It was with 
 a feeling akin to desperation that the sergeant plunged into it, and 
 soon found himself in a bed of mixed mire and water, which closed 
 round him instantly, almost to his middle. There was no help 
 but to struggle forward through the ooze into which, while station 
 ary, lie continued to sink. With unsteady footing he scrambled 
 through the slough, and drenched and dripping, chilled and 
 breathless, he at length stood upon the bank, confronted by the 
 person who had led him thus far through perilous ways. At the 
 moment, a wild and terrible laugh, a shrill demoniac screech 
 gave him welcome ; and he recoiled from the sound and from the 
 Btrange person who now met his eyes, with unmitigated horror. 
 
 u Who who are you ?" demanded Hastings in feeble inquiry 
 "Where s John Davis?" 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 / 
 
 /John Davis? Ha! ha! ha! John Davis! Yes! John Davis. 
 Come ! come !" 
 
 Such was the response of the madman. 
 
 * Oli ! you are to lead me to him ?" said the other, but imper 
 fectly reassured. 
 
 " Come !" was all the reply. 
 
 " But he told me he would come for me himself." 
 
 " Come !" in a voice of thunder ; and like amerce spirit of wrath, 
 the maniac waved his arms aloft, in the direction of the cleepeT 
 and darker woods forest wall, dense and dark, which spread 
 away impenetrably beiure them. The nerves of Hastings were not 
 in a condition to enable him to resist the command. The action of 
 the stranger awed him. The terrible tones of his voice seemed to 
 paralyse all the faculties of the victim. lie went forward passively, 
 as a bullock to the slaughter. The maniac U:d the way without 
 looking behind him. He seemed to think that the other must 
 follow. More than once the sergeant found himself measuring the 
 size and estimating the powers of his conductor. Had he been 
 weaponed, it might have been easy to spring upon his guide, and 
 strike him down without resistance. But Hastings could not 
 bring his will to co-operation with his thoughts. Besides, this was 
 not his man. " Were it John Davis or Bill Humphries now !" 
 was his muttered cor^.lusion as he went forward. 
 
 The two penetrated the thick forest, and passed through a dense 
 copse of some fifty paces. Suddenly, the scene opened before their., 
 upon a space, and into a degree of light, that, emerging as they did 
 from the darkness, seemed really to blind and dazzle the prisoner s, 
 eyes. The hammock was here quite bald, showing somewhat like 
 what the western men call the " Door Prairie," that is, they come 
 upon it as through a door in the woods. Such if M as upon a 
 small scale. 
 
 Hastings looked upwards. The deep vaults of heaven were bare, 
 and spread clear before him, without a cloud, and flowered with 
 its profuse myriads of stars, looking down upon the two with a 
 loving softness, as if there were no crimes to be wept over in the 
 wide world of humanity. The moon, too, had sent up in the east 
 a faint glory, the liarbi iger of her own coming, which sprea.l itself 
 
THE MANIAC S PRAYER. 331 
 
 afar like a gauzy veil, clearly distinguishable from the starlight 
 which it now began to supersede. 
 
 The wild man paused, looked briefly upon the rich assemblage 
 above him, turned back to beckon his companion, and once more, 
 with a waving hand, led the way over the prairie. Hastings 
 followed like a tame dog. In a few moments they had gained a 
 tree a huge cypress which stood on the opposite side of the 
 hammock and there the maniac paused. Acquiring confidence 
 as he came up, Hastings approached his conductor, and was about 
 to speak to him, when, with a finger upon his lips, he silenced the 
 forthcoming speech by a look, while he pointed to his feet. The 
 sergeant looked down upon the spot, and started back with some 
 thing like astonishment, if not terror, in his countenance. 
 
 They stood before a newly made grave the clay freshly piled 
 above it, and the whole appearance of the spot indicated a recent 
 burial. The maniac did not heed the expression of the sergeant s 
 face ; but after a moment, seemingly of deliberation, he prostrated 
 himself before the grave. 
 
 Much wondering at what he saw, Hastings awaited in silence 
 the further progress of the scene. Nor did he wait long. Thj3 
 maniac prayed and such a prayer such an appeal to a spirit 
 supposed to be then wandering by, and hearing him, was never 
 before uttered. Incoherent sometimes, and utterly wild, it was 
 nevertheless full of those touches of sublimed human feeling which 
 characterise the holiest aspirations of love, and which, while they 
 warm and kindle, purify at the same time, and nobly elevate. 
 His prayer was to his departed wife. He prayed her forgiveness 
 for a thousand unkindnesses, a thousand instances cf neglect 
 of querulous rebuke of positive injustice, with all which he 
 bitterly reproached himself. Then followed a tender and really 
 exquisite description of the humble and secret pleasures which they 
 had known together the joys of their childhood and youth, and 
 the enumeration of many little incidents of domestic occurrence, 
 qTwEicE he now reminded the hovering spirit. Tears poured from 
 him freely as he repeated them, an- , for a few moments, the wild 
 man was absolutely softened into calm ; but the change was terri 
 fic which describee her cruel murder; how, stricken down by thd 
 
832 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 brutal soldiery, she lay trampled upon the floor, dying at last IL 
 torture, with her infant, yet unborn, adding its prayers to that :>f 
 its mother for the vengeance to which he had devoted himself. 
 
 This brought him to the point when the trial must come on 
 with his victim. He started to his feet, and rushed madly towards 
 Hastings. The sergeant, to whom the latter part of the prayer 
 had taught his danger, prepared to fly in terror. But the swift, 
 foot of the maniac was after him, and his strong arm hurled him 
 backward upon the grave, over which the victim stumbled hea.I- 
 long, sprawling hopelessly upon his face. His heart entirely failed 
 for the moment. lie cried out aloud in his desperation, as he beheld 
 the maniac bounding towards him. He cried aloud, and the 
 echoes only replied ; and a white owl that hooted from the cypress 
 over the grave, moaned mockingly in answer to his cry. The 
 fierce executioner seized him with a grasp which defied and dis 
 dained all resistance. He dragged him to the grave stretched 
 him out upon it, placed his knee upon his breast, and with that 
 dreadful screech which fitly accompanied his movements, he drew 
 the always bared knife from the belt which contained it. 
 
 "Mercy! mercy!" implored the sergeant, while his shout of 
 terror a voice beyond his own rang wildly through the swamp 
 and forest, craving mercy, and craving it in vain. 
 
 " You showed her none ! none ! You struck her down your 
 foot was upon her, and she died under it. Come come !" 
 
 The maniac was impatient for his prey, and he yelled scornfully 
 at the impotent struggles of his victim. At that moment a loud 
 voice was heard calling to them from the swamp. The wild man, 
 with all the caprice of insanity, sprang to his feet as he heard it ; 
 and, seizing that moment of release, the sergeant also started up, 
 and rushed away to the wood in the direction of the voice. 
 
 The maniac looked at the fugitive scornfully, and for a brief 
 space did not offer to pursue ; but the delay was only momentary. 
 In another instant, Hastings heard the bounding tramp of his 
 heavy feet he heard the ominous screech of his enemy, speaking 
 death to his imagination ; and a fresh speed came to him from his 
 renewed terrors. He shouted ever, as he flew, to the approaching 
 Larson, and had the satisfaniou to find that his cry was responded 
 
DESPAIR. 838 
 
 to by the voice nearer at hand. He rushed into the little wood 
 which separated him from the mire, through which he had groped 
 his way before with so much difficulty. The wretch prayed as he 
 ran probably for the first time in his life and the cold sweat 
 trickled over his face as he uttered his first fervent appeal to his 
 God. 
 
 The prayer was unheard certainly unheeded. The maniac 
 was upon him, and the first bound which the fugitive made into 
 the mire of the swamp, was precipitated by the hand of the avenger. 
 Rushing into the mud after him, the maniac grappled with him 
 there. Though hopeless of his own strength in the contest with 
 one so far his superior, and only desirous of saving himself unhuit 
 until Davis for it was he who now approached them should 
 come up to his relief, Hastings presented a stout front, and resolutely 
 engaged in the conflict. He shouted all the while the struggle 
 was going on, and his shouts were chorused by the dreadful yells 
 of hia murderer. 
 
 "Come to me quickly, John Davis quickly quickly for 
 < <(><r.s Hake, come, or 1 am murdered ! w 
 
 "Come! come!" cried the murderer, in mockery; and the 
 sound of his victim s voice died away in a hoarse gurgle, as the 
 strong arm of the maniac thrust down the head of the unhappy 
 wretch deep into the mire, where he held it as long as the body 
 continued to show signs of life. Davis at last came up. 
 
 "Where is the prisoner, Frampton? where is Hastings?" 
 
 ** Ho ! ho ! ho I See you not see you not ? he is here 
 look!" And he pointed him to the legs of the victim, which 
 seemed to move still above the mire. 
 
 " Great God ! man, pull him out pull him out, for Heaven s 
 sake, Frampton !" And, as he spoke, the Goose-Creeker, horrified 
 by what he saw, bounded into the mire himself for the extrication 
 of the dying man. But, at his approach, the wild savage thrust 
 the victim still more deeply into the ooze, until it was evident, from 
 the quiet of the body, long before Davis could extricate him, that 
 all life had departed. 
 
 " Why have you done this, Frampton ?" cried the aroused and 
 disappointed partisan to the murderer ; but the maniac onlv 
 
384 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 replied by another of his terrible screeches, as, bounding out of the 
 mire, he took his way back to the grave where his wife lay buried. 
 The feelings of Davis were melancholy and self-reproachful enough, 
 as he returned slowly to the encampment, lie felt, in some de 
 gree, as if he had been the murderer of the wretched captive. He 
 was guilty, in one sense, and might be severely punished for 
 breach of trust and neglect of duty ; but the secret of his error 
 was pretty much his own, and he had not the courage to confess 
 it. The maniac was not the person to reveal it. His insanity 
 made him heedless of the offences which he had no motive him 
 self to punish. Enough for him, that he had done something 
 more towards the satisfaction of the one passion of his life -*bf. 
 avenging of his wife s murder 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 " Oh, thought may tread that lone.y wild, 
 
 Aud carving on each tree, 
 May dream that some, who once have smil d, 
 
 Will still be there to see : 
 The bark o er former names hath grown, 
 Yet there is one remains, alone, 
 Whose freshness cannot flee 
 A spirit memory comes by night, 
 To make its fading traces bright." 
 
 EVEN as the pilgrim, bound upon some long travel, pauses b? 
 the wayside to plant a flower, or utter a devout prayer upon the 
 spot once sacred to some sweet affection, which he would not wiTi- 
 ingly forget ; so, gentle reader, ere we depart for scenes of trial 
 and vicissitudes whose issues we may not foresee, let us pause for 
 a moment, and wander aside together into walks of solitude, and 
 regions which are hallowed l>y powers greater than those of earth. 
 The grave is riot simply a monitor ; it is a power. Instinctively 
 the heart sinks under its silent spells. We naturally feel a dimi 
 nution of hardihood and courage, of strength and audacity, when 
 we stand above the little hillock which hides from us the form of 
 him who once trod the earth with a powerful footstep and a swell 
 ing heart. And if your mood be contemplative, as it should be, 
 after the scenes of wild strife and savage excitements through 
 which it has been our fortune to conduct you, it will be a pleas 
 ing relief, perhaps, to turn aside for a few brief moments from the 
 camp of our partisans, and look, ere we shall have left the sacred 
 precincts, upon the ancient burial-place of Dorchester. As yet, 
 the spot is one in which Death is a fresh empire. Here he dwells 
 in full commerce with the living. The old cemetery, and the 
 village church and spire, are still in the daily use of a populous 
 neighbourhood. It is destined, however, to an early change ; and 
 the picture of it that we show you now, will soon be obliterated. 
 
TIIK PARTISAN. 
 
 leaving few vestiges of what we may at this moment behold. The 
 time will come, and very shortly, when this venerable shrine will 
 be in ruins, when yon old tower will be dismantled and over 
 thrown, and when these silent graves and solid tombs will all 
 disappear, levelled with the sands, or swallowed up in the vast 
 weeds and dense growth of a new and unconscious forest. Fifty 
 years hence, behold the prospect. We leave the great thoroughfare, 
 and the woods girdle us thickly. The very streets of the village, 
 the scene of so many events, so mirthful and so excited once, are 
 overgrown with triumphant pines and cedars. They crowd fitly 
 here, among the shrines of Death, as trophies of that sleepless con 
 queror. They shroud from light, and thus shrouding, seem to 
 hallow and to sanctify the spot. You shall pursue your quest, and 
 seek out tlie"few~rnemorials which remain, without dread of the 
 thoughtless jeer of the vulgar, or the heartless laugh of uu- 
 sympathising irreverence. Living man disturbs not often tins 
 sacred neighbourhood. The spot lias no attractions for the hurry 
 ing crowd. Here nature has thrown up no heights of grandeur. 
 Here she descends in no glorious torrents. The place is a simple 
 plain, overrun with a tangled forest growth, showing for ruin only, 
 or a savage untutored nature. The whole region, to the ordinary 
 mood, is uninviting and desolate enough. Desolating it is, but to 
 us who know something of its history, it is not wholly uninviting. 
 We shall recall many sweet sad histories in this silent ramble. 
 We shall gather something for thought from these mansions of 
 decay ; and Death, bearing the torch for life, shall show us his 
 most secret places and teach us his most solemn truths. 
 
 One reflection commonly occurs to us in the survey of the 
 fabrics of ancient times, and while we feel the contrast with our 
 own performances, which is forced upon us by the survey. How 
 much more solid than ours, seem to have been the tastes of OUT 
 ancestors! How earnest did they appear in all their labours! 
 They seem to have built rather for their children than themselves. 
 Now, alas ! who is it that plants or builds for other generations 
 than his own ? How sad this reflection, how full of omen, when we 
 regard this change as significant of a change in character as 
 expressive of a decay of moral purpose, and, accordingly, of moraJ 
 
THE RUINED CHURCH. 337 
 
 In other words, they seem to have contemplated use&, 
 Our object is appearances. How nobler, how far less selfish, were 
 their tastes and objects ! T^hey honoured death, while rearing such 
 vaults as these. How thick and huge, cumbrous perhaps, but time- 
 defying. Is it a nobler sentiment, a more Christian humility that 
 prompts us, now-a-days, in our forest country, simply to put our 
 dead away from our sight, and so leave the unprotected hillock 
 which covers the sacred remains, that the rains of a single year 
 shall obliterate all earthly traces of the being that we professed to 
 love? We err in deeming it an idle vanity to bestow care and 
 pains and art and beauty on a human monument, set up in the 
 domains of death. Love and veneration delight in such tributes, 
 and are justified by all the affections, and all the charities, and all 
 the humanities of life. Indeed, there is a powerful moral to be 
 adduced from the survey of the noble monument. How impressive 
 is the lesson that teaches us that all the worth, and valour, and 
 nobleness of the beinuf whom we thus honour, were yet unavailing 
 
 O *> i5 
 
 to afford security against the inexorable Fate. The thick and 
 massive tomb seems also well conceived to illustrate those impassable 
 barriers which shut out the living man entirely from him who has 
 already shaken off the coil of mortality. We stand before the 
 tomb, gazing vainly into the blank region of another world which 
 we are soon to enter. "^And when the vault is rent asunder, as in 
 the one now before us, and we see nothing, may we, not infer the 
 Ascent upward of the triumphant spirit, throwing aside all the idle 
 estraints, even of the affection that would keep it for ever to itself, 
 and rising, on the transparent wings of an eternal morning, to the 
 fair and wooing mansions of eternal bliss ? 
 
 And there is the old church, like a thoughtful matron, sitting in 
 quiet contemplation among her children. Their graves are all 
 around her ; but she, deserted by those she taught and cherished, 
 without even the tongue to deplore them dumb, as it were, with her 
 excess of woe she still sits, a monument like themselves, not only 
 of their worship, but of the faith which she taught. It is a grace 
 ful ruin, that will awaken all your veneration, if the gnawing en res 
 of gain, and the world s baser collision, have "not kept it too long 
 inactive. It stands up, like some old warrior, grey with many 
 
338 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 winters, scarred ami buffeted with conflicting storms and strifes, 
 but still upright still erect. The high altar, the sacred ornaments, 
 the rich pews, like the people who honoured and occupied them, 
 are torn away and gone. Decay and rude hands have dealt with 
 them, as death has dealt with the worshippers. The walls and 
 roof are but little hurt. The tower has been stricken and shattered, 
 but still more hallowed by the lightning which has done it. Some 
 white owls are in quiet possession of it, but as they are innocent, anc. 
 seem in venerable keeping with the place, the gentle spirit will hold 
 them sacred from harm ; and may no profane hand drive them 
 away. 
 
 Here, to the right of the church, is a goodly cluster of tombs, 
 fringed in thickly by the pine and cedar. The cattle stray here 
 at noonday for the shady quiet, not less than for the rank grass 
 which the spot affords. They are not the least gentle of its visit 
 ors. Rude hands, in some cases, have torn away and broken up, 
 in sinful wantonness, the thick marble slabs which covered the 
 vaults, and recorded the history of their indwellers. This was a 
 double wrong a wrong to those of whom they told, and not less 
 a wrong to those who read, and who might have won useful 
 knowledge from a lesson at the grave. Here, now, is the bone of 
 an arm a slender bone perhaps that of a woman. It lies before 
 us, unconscious of its exposure. We will disturb it no further 
 enough, if what we have seen shall have the effect of persuading us 
 to regard with less complacency the vigour, and the power, and the 
 beauty in our own. Pass on. 
 
 Here we may muse for hours, and our thoughts shall be as 
 various as the records we have about us. Some of these tombs 
 belong to history. Here lies one of a man who was killed and 
 scalped at Goose Creek, in the war of the Yemassees, when those 
 brave savages came down in 17 15. This stone tells us of another 
 who died at Eutaw in the Revolution, and who was brought hero 
 for burial, at his own request. The spot was sacred even then. 
 You, who can " find sermons in stones, and good in every thing," 
 shall be at no loss for matters of thought in the huge volumes of 
 time which death has here bound up together their leaves closely 
 written upon, and every page full of a sweet though sad morality 
 
MONUMENT. 339 
 
 But, if you will descend with me to the bottom of this little 
 slope, inclining from the burial-ground towards the Ashley, which 
 steals in and out below us, I will take you to one monument, now 
 sacred in our narrative one monument, the history of which is 
 more familiar to our regards than all the gravestones can possibly 
 make it. The plane descends gradually here, and the young pines 
 crowd upon it thickly. You see a little runnel of water that 
 trickles down its sides. The traveller, who knows where to seek 
 it, draws in from the roadside and drinks of it freely, though he 
 well knows that it finds its source among the dwellings of the 
 dead. At the foot of the hill you behold a little inclosure a neat 
 paling fence, once whole and white, but now sadly wanting repair. 
 It is in better condition, however, than most of those around it. 
 The seclusion of the spot tends somewhat to its protection. This 
 is the " Walton Burial-place." The old barony has given it many 
 tenants. Here, now, is a solid slab, twelve feet in length, that 
 covers a generation. A long inscription tells us of grandsire, son, ! 
 grandson of their wives and children how they were worthy 1 
 and beloved in life, arid how they were be wept and remembered j 
 after death. X There are others, equally imposing, at the side of 
 this monument, a goodly range of graves, each having its memo 
 rial in stone. But as we know nothing of them, beyond their 
 names, we need not linger to behold them. They can teach us 
 but the one lesson which the dead everywhere dedicates to the 
 warning of the living. We obey only a common mood of heed- 
 lessness when we turn coldly from these unknown sleepers. 
 
 But not with such indifference may we pass the slender white 
 shaft to which I now conduct you. Here is a little hillock, grassy 
 and speckled with daisies in the spring. They are proper emblems 
 of the pure, soft, gentle heart of the being who sleeps below. 
 Tread lightly about the spot. It should be sacred to us. It hides 
 one whom we knew and loved in life. There is something in all 
 the natural objects that surround it that seems to be in keening 
 with youth, and innocence, a nd beauty. See this infant cedar. 
 Plucked up by the roots, from the neighbouring woods, when the 
 grave was fresh, it was planted at its foot, has taken root vigorously, 
 and is now a beautiful 8hrub-trc% casting a soft and genial shadow 
 
340 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 over the spot. Shall we read the few words that appear upon the 
 slender marble headstone ? Stoop with me, while my knife enables 
 us to discern the inscription. 
 
 " E. S. 
 "BoRN 7th May, 1763; DIED 21st June, 1780." 
 
 This is all. No ! There are two words below but two and 
 they declare, as fondly perhaps as words may declare, for the 
 affections of a noble brother : 
 
 " My Sister !" 
 
 This is all the whole story, with what our narrative has 
 already given, of that sweet suffering creature, whom we knew on 
 earth as Emily Singleton, whatever may be her accepted name in 
 heaven. We may not withhold from these pages the simple 
 tribute of George Dennison, the rustic minstrel of the Partisans, 
 made long afterwards, and when we visited the spot together, 
 fondly pursuing the ancient avenues of the graveyard, and deci 
 phering the old inscriptions : 
 
 THE GRAVE OF INNOCENCE. 
 
 Tia a lowly grave, but it suits her best, 
 
 Since it breathes of fragrance and speaks of rest; 
 
 And meet for her is its calm repose, 
 
 Whose life was so stormy aud sad to its close. 
 
 Tis a shady dell where they ve laid her form, 
 And the hill gathers round it, to break the storm ; 
 While, above her head, the bending trees 
 Arrest the wing of each ruder breeze. 
 
 A trickling stream, as it winds below, 
 Has a music of peace in its quiet flow ; 
 And the buds, that are always in bloom 
 Tell of some minut ring spirit s love. 
 
THE GRAVE OF INNOCENCE. 341 
 
 It is sweet to think, that wheii all is o er, 
 And life s fever d pulses shall fret no more, 
 There still shall be some, with a gentle regret^ 
 Who will not forsake, and who cannot forget- 
 
 Some kindlier heart, all untainted by earth, 
 That has kept its sweet blo^ir *-*>vt. V 1 \d its bills; 
 Whose teaib lor the sorrows ol youth snail be shed, 
 Ajid whose, pray r shall still rise for the earlv 
 
 15 
 
CHAPTER ZXXIII. 
 
 jt raE SWAMP 
 
 BUT, tL . 4& *r permit ourselves to turn aside occasionally from 
 the highway, to plant or to pluck the flower, we ar^ not to linger 
 idly or long in the grateful employment. The bus rcti of life calls 
 for progress rather than repose ; for perseverance rather than con 
 templation. The repose is needed for renovation, and in itself, as 
 an interval from action, implies the presence of the duty to be done. 
 Contemplation itself is simply an essential to proper action ; prepara 
 tive wholly, so that design shall not be crudely conceived, and 
 performance rendered rash and incomplete. The play of existence 
 vibrates between two extremes, which yet cooperate in their results. 
 We are not to fly heedlessly and for ever, no matter how much of 
 the race-horse may be in our temperament; so, equally must it be 
 fatal to proper life, to fling ourselves down beside the highway and 
 only contemplate the performances in which we do not seek to 
 share. 
 
 For us, it is enough that we have lingered for a moment, to 
 muse over sacred memories, and restore half-obliterated inscriptions. 
 Contenting ourselves with having cast our tribute flower upon the 
 grave of the beautiful and peaceful, we must hurry away to the 
 encounter 7??th the fearful and the wild! We must exchange, for 
 a season, T3ace for war, love for strife, and the beautiful for the 
 terrible an 5 dread; striving, in obedience to wild necessities, if 
 not to for Z L at least not improvidently to remember. And now 
 to our narrative. 
 
 The hot chase over, which Proctor had urged after Singleton, 
 tli6 latter, accompanied by his uncle, now fairly out, returned 
 quickly to tne shelter of the cypress swamp. The party reached 
 its wild recesses at a \aic hour of the night, and were very soon 
 
THE DEPARTURE. 348 
 
 wrapt in those slumbers, which were as necessary as grateful after 
 their late excitement and fatigue. 
 
 With the dawn, however, Colonel Walton was on the alert. 
 Arousing his little troop, he prepared at once to depart. Unen 
 cumbered with baggage wagons or prisoners, movement was easy ; 
 and he resolved to push forward with extra speed, making his way 
 to the borders of North Carolina, where it was his hope to meet 
 with the continentals of Maryland and Virginia, then known to be 
 advancing under the conduct of Baron De Kalb. His own force 
 was quite too small for a distinct command, and he proposed to 
 unite himself with some one of the corps, most deficient in numbers, 
 in the incomplete squadrons of the southern army. His personal 
 services he resolved to volunteer to Gates, whom he had known in 
 Virginia prior to the war, and between whom and himself there 
 had once existed a certain intimacy. He did not suffer himself to 
 doubt, under these circumstances, that he should receive an honour 
 able appointment near the General s person. 
 
 The squadron of Singleton was not able to move with such 
 rapidity as that of Walton. It had, in its few days practice along 
 the Ashley, been accumulating the impedimenta of war, baggage 
 and prisoners. There were munitions too, of no small importance 
 to the partisans of Marion powder and ball and buckshot a few 
 stacks of extra muskets and some spare rifles all of which required 
 precious painstaking, nice handling, a strong guard, and compara 
 tively slow movements. Singleton, accordingly, resolved to defer 
 his movement to a later moment, But the preparations for Wal 
 ton s departure naturally aroused the whole camp, and the troopers 
 generally turned out to take leave of their friends and comrades. 
 
 Among those who rose early that morning, we must not forget 
 to distinguish Lieutenant Porgy. But it would be a mistake to 
 suppose that he was stirred into activity at the dawn by any mere 
 sentiment, such as prompts youth, in its verdancy, to forego its 
 pleasant slumbers, in order to take a farewell gripe of the hand of 
 parting friends, and meditate, with no appetite for breakfast, on 
 ruptured ties and sundered associations. Porgy s sentiment took 
 a somewhat different direction. He had survived thai green season 
 of the heart, when it delights in the things which make it sad 
 
344 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 His sentiment dealt in solids. lie might be pathetic in soups and 
 sauces ; but never when a thinning camp increase- the resources 
 of the larder. He rose that morning to other considerations than 
 such as were involved in Walton s departure ; though, no doubt, 
 the bustle of that evening had contributed to his early rising. His 
 dreams, all night, had been a mixed vision of terrapin. It floated 
 in all shapes and aspects before his delighted imagination. At first, 
 his lively imagination re-enacted to his sight the scene in which 
 ho became the successful captor of the prey. There was the 
 picture of the sluggish water, beneath the silent starlight. There, 
 justing out from the bank, was the fallen tree ; and snug, and safe, 
 and sweet in the imperfect light, there were the grouped victims, 
 utterly unconscious, and drowsing to their doom, even as his eyes 
 had seen them, some six or eight hours before. Nothing could 
 seem more distinct and natural. Then followed his experience in 
 the capture. How he " cooned" the log, slowly but surely wearing 
 upon his prey, he again practised in his dreaming mood. How, 
 one by one, he felt himself again securing them, turning them 
 upon their backs, and showing their yellow bellies to the starlight ; 
 while their feet paddled ineffectually on either side, and their long 
 necks were thrust forth in a manifest dislike of the fortune which 
 put them in such unnatural position. Porgy experienced an illu 
 sion, very common to old fishermen, in being suffered to re-enact in 
 his dreams the peculiar successes which had crowned his labours 
 by day. As the angler then goes through the whole adventure 
 with the cunning trout beguiles him with the favourite fly, dex 
 terously made to settle over his reedy or rocky retreat, as he plays 
 him from side to side, now gently persuades him with moderate 
 tension of his line, now relaxes when the strain threatens to be 
 too rude, and at length feels his toils crowned with victory, in the 
 adroit effort which spreads his captive on the bank ; even so did 
 the pleasant servitors of Queen Mab bring to the fancies of our 
 epicure a full repetition of all the peculiarities of his adventure. 
 
 But the visions of our fat friend were not confined to the mere 
 taking of his victims. His imagination carried him further ; and he 
 was soon busied in the work of dressing them for the table. The 
 very dismembering of the captives the breaking into their house* 
 
LOVK OF TKKKAP1N. 345 
 
 the dragging forth of the precious contents the spectacle of 
 crowding eggs and genei ?us collops of luxurious swamp-fed meat; 
 all of these gave exercise in turn to his epicurean fancies ; nor must 
 we forget the various caprices of his genius, while preparing tho 
 several dishes out of the prolific mess before him. He awoke from 
 his dream, crying out " Eureka," and resolved soberly to put some 
 of his sleep devices to the test of actual experiment. Of course, h 
 does not forget the compound of terrapin with pig, which he has 
 already declared his purpose to achieve ; but he has other inven 
 tions even superior to this; and, full of the one subject, the proposed 
 departure of Colonel Walton, of which he hears only on awaking, 
 provoked all his indignation. He grew eloquent to Humphries. 
 from whom he heard particulars. 
 
 " To go oft at an hour so unseasonable, and from such a feast as 
 A-e shall have by noon it s barbarous ! I don t believe it I won t 
 oelieve a word of it, Bill." 
 
 " But I tell you, lieutenant, it is so. The colonel has set the 
 boys to put the nags in fix for a start, and him and the major only 
 talk now over some message to Marion and General Gates, which 
 the colonel s to carry." 
 
 "He s heard nothing then of the (errapin, you think? He d 
 scarcely go if he knew. I ll see and tell him at once. I know 
 him well enough." 
 
 "Terrapin, indeed, Forgy ! how you talk! Why, man, he don t 
 care for all the terrapin in the swamp." 
 
 u Then no good can come of him ; he s an infidel. I would not 
 march with him for the world. Don t believe in terrapin ! A man 
 ought to believe in all that s good ; and there s nothing so good as 
 terrapin. Soup, stew, or hash, all the same; it s a dish among a 
 thousand. Nature herself shows the value which she sets upon it, 
 when she shelters it in such walls as these, and builds around it 
 such fortifications as are here. See now, Bill Humphries, to that 
 magnificent fellow that lies at your feet. You should ha>e seen 
 how he held on to his possessions ; how reluctantly he surrendered 
 at the last ; and, in the mean time, how adroitly, as well as tena 
 ciously, he continued the struggle. I was a goodly hour working 
 at him to surrender. To hew off his head cost more effort than in 
 
 16* 
 
346 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 taking off that of Charles the First. No doubt, he too was a tyrant 
 in his way, and among his own kidney a tyrant among the terra 
 pins. His self-esteem was large enough for a dozen sovereigns, 
 even of the Guelph family. But if the head worried me, what 
 should I say about the shell the outer fortress ? I marched up to 
 it, like a knight of the middle ages attacking a Saracen fortress, 
 battle-axe in hand. There lies my hatchet : see how I have ruined 
 the edge. Look at my hand : see what a gash I gave myself. 
 Judge of the value of the fortress, always, from the difficulty of 
 getting possession. It is a safe rule. The meat here was worthy 
 of the toils of the butcher. It usually is in degree with the 
 trouble we have to get at it. It is so with an oyster, which I take 
 to be the comeliest vegetable that ever grew in the garden of 
 Eden !" 
 
 " What, lieutenant, the oyster a vegetable ?" 
 
 " It originally was, I have no doubt." 
 
 " And growing in the garden of Eden ?" 
 
 u And if it did not, then was the garden not to my taste, I can 
 assure you. But it must have grown there ; and at that period 
 was probably to be got at without effort, though I am not sure, my 
 good fellow, that the flavour of a thing is at all heightened by the ease 
 with which we get at it. It s not so, as we see, with terrapin and 
 oyster, and crab and shrimp, and most other things in which we take 
 most delight which are dainties to human appetite ; if indeed 
 we may consider appetite as merely human, which I greatly ques 
 tion." 
 
 "Well," quoth Humphries, after a short fit of musing, "that 
 does seem to me very true, though I never thought of it before. All 
 the tough things to come at are mighty sweet, lieutenant ; and 
 them things that we work for hardest, always do have the sweetest 
 relish." 
 
 "Yes; even love, Humphries, which considered as a delicacy a 
 fine meat, or delicate vegetable " 
 
 " Mercy upon us, lieutenant, what can you be thinking of? Love 
 a me.it and a vegetable !" 
 
 " Precisely ; the stomach 
 
 44 Oh ! that won t do at all, that sort of talking, lieutenant Tt 
 
SEAT OP^ INTELLECT. 347 
 
 uoes seein to me as if you brought the stomach into every thing, 
 even sacred things." 
 
 "Nay, nay, reverse the phrase, Humphries, andf bring all sacred 
 things into the stomach." 
 
 " Well, any how, Lieutenant Porgy, it does seem to me that it s 
 your greatest fault to make too much of your belly. You spoil it, 
 and after a while, it will grow so impudent that there will be no 
 living with it." 
 
 "There will be no living without it, my good fellow, and that s 
 sufficient reason for taking every care of it. What you call my 
 greatest fault is in fact my greatest merit. You never heard of 
 Menenius Agrippa, I reckon ?" 
 
 "Never; didn t know there was such a person." 
 
 " Well, I shall not trouble you with his smart sayings, and you 
 must be content with mine to the same effect. The belly is a great 
 member, my friend, a very great member, and is not to be spoken 
 of irreverently. It is difficult to say in what respects it is not 
 great Its claims are quite as various as they are peculiar. It 
 really does all one s thinking, as well as " 
 
 " The belly do the thinking ?" 
 
 " That s my notion. lam convinced, however people may talk about 
 ;he brain as the seat of intellect, that the brain does but a small busi 
 ness after all, in the way of thinking, compared with the belly. Of 
 one thing be certain: before you attempt to argue with an obstinate 
 customer, give him first a good feed. Howels of compassion are neces 
 sary to brains of understanding, and a good appetite and an easy 
 digestion are, essentials to a logical comprehension of every subject, 
 the least difficult. A good cook, I say, before a good school house, and 
 a proper knowledge of condiments before orthography. It is a bad 
 digestion that makes our militiamen run without emptying a musket ; 
 and when you find an officer a dolt, as is too much my experience, 
 you may charge it rather upon his ignorance of food than of fighting. 
 A good cook is more essential to the success of an army than a good 
 general. But that reminds me of Colonel Walton. Go to him, Kill 
 Humphries, with my respects. I know him of old ; he will remember 
 me. I have enjoyed his hospitality. If he be the gentleman that 1 
 think him, he will find H sufficient reason for delaying his iowiiev 
 
348 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 till afternoon, when he hears of our terrapin. Be off and see him, 
 lieutenant, and let him understand what he loses by going. Give 
 him particulars ; you may mention the dexterity of Tom, my cook, 
 in doing a stew or ragout. And, by the way, lieutenant, pray take 
 with you the buckler of that largest beast. If the sight of Jiat 
 doesn t make him open his eyes, I give him up. See to it, quickly, 
 rnv good fellow, or you may lose him, and he the stew." 
 
 Humphries laughed outright at the earnestness of the epicure. 
 Of course he understood that Porgy had a certain artificial nature 
 in which lie found the resources for his jests ; and that he covered 
 a certain amount of sarcasm, and a philosophy of his own, under 
 certain affectations at which he was quite content that the world 
 should laugh, believing what it pleased. Humphries found no lit 
 tle pleasure in listening to the shrewd absurdities and thoughtful 
 extravagances of his brother officer ; and he could sometime* 
 understand that the gravity of Porgy s manner was by no means 
 indicative of a desire that you should take for gospel what he said. 
 But he was this time thoroughly deceived, and was at much pain? 
 to prove to him how utterly impossible it was for Colonel Walton 
 to remain, even with such temptations to appetite as might be set 
 before him. 
 
 " The fact is, lieutenant, I did tell the colonel what you had for 
 .him, and how you were going to dress the terrapin in a way that 
 never had been seen before." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! Hash, stew, ragout, the pig. Well ?" 
 
 " Yes, I told him all, as well as I knew, but " 
 
 " Ah, you boggled about it, Bill ; you couldn t have given him 
 any just idea " 
 
 " T did my best, lieutenant ; and the colonel said that he liked 
 terrapin soup amazingly, and always had it when he could get it ; 
 and how he should like to try yours, which he said he was sure 
 would prove a new luxury." 
 
 " Ay, that was it. I would have had his opinion of the dish, for 
 he knows what good living is. There s a pleasure, Humphries, in 
 having a man of taste and nice sensibilities about us^ Our affec 
 tions our humanities, if I may so call them are then properly 
 exercised Tut it is throwing pearl to swine to put a good dish 
 
A MONSTER. 349 
 
 before such a creature as that skeleton, Oakenburg Doctor Oaken- 
 burg, as the d d fellow presumes to call himself. He is a monster 
 a fellow of most perverted taste, arid of no more soul than a 
 skiou, or the wriggling lizard that he so much resembles. Only 
 yesterday, we had a nice tit-bit an exquisite morsel only a taste 
 a marsh hen, that I shot myself, and fricasseed after a fashion 
 of my own. I tried my best to persuade the wretch to try it only 
 to try it and would you believe it, he not only refused, but 
 absolutely, at the moment, drew a bottle of some vile root decoc 
 tion from his pocket, and just as I was about to enjoy my own 
 little delicacy, he thrust the horrible stuff into his lantern jaws, and 
 swallowed a draught of it that might have strangled a cormorant. 
 It nearly made me sick to see him, and with difficulty could I keep 
 myself from becoming angry. 1 told him how ungentlemanly had 
 been his conduct taking his physic where decent people were 
 enjoying an intellectual repast for so I consider dinner and 
 I think lie felt the force of the rebuke, for he turned away instantly, 
 liumbled rather, though still the beast was in him. In a minute 
 after, he was dandling his d d coach whip, that he loves like 
 a bedfellow. v lt is strange, very strange, and makes me sometimes 
 doubtful how to believe in human nature at all. It is such a 
 monstrous budget of contradictions, such a diabolical scene of con 
 flict between tastes and capacities." 
 
 The departure of Humphries left Porgy to the domestic duties 
 which lay before him, and cut short his philosophies. While the 
 whole camp was roused and running to the spot where Walton s 
 little command was preparing for a start, our epicure and his man 
 Tom the cook par excellence of the encampment were the only 
 persons who did not show themselves among the crowd. As for 
 Tom, he did not show himself at all, until fairly dragged out of his 
 bush by the rough grasp of his master upon his shoulder. Rubbing 
 his eyes, looking monstrous stupid, and still half asleep, Tom could 
 not forbear a surly outbreak, to which, in his indulgent bondage, 
 his tongue was somewhat accustomed. 
 
 " Ki ! Maussa : you no lub sleep you se f, da s no reason why 
 he no good for udder people. Nigger lub sleep, Mass Porgy 
 15* 
 
350 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 an* taint spec ful for um to git up in de morning before de 
 sun." 
 
 " Ila ! you ungrateful rascal ; but you get up monstrous often 
 when its back is turned. Were you not awake, and away on 
 your own affairs, last night for half the night, you might have found 
 it quite respectable to be awake at sunrise. Where were you last 
 night when I called for you ?" 
 
 " I jist been a hunting a ter some possum, maussa. Enty you lub 
 possum." 
 
 " Well, did you get any ?" 
 
 " Nebber start, maussa." 
 
 "Pretty hunting, indeed, not to start a possum in a cypress 
 swamp. What sort of dog could you have had ?" 
 
 " Hab Jupe and Slink, maussa." 
 
 " You will be wise to invite me when you go to hunt again. 
 Now, open your eyes, you black rascal, and see what hunting I can 
 give you. Look at your brethren, sirrah, and get your senses about 
 you, that there may be no blunder in the dressing of these dear 
 children of the swamp. Get down to the creek and give your face 
 a brief introduction to the water; then come back and be made 
 happy, in dressing up these babes for society." 
 
 " Dah mos beautiful, fine cooter, maussa, de bes I see for manj 
 a day. Whay you nab em, maussa ?" 
 
 " Where you were too lazy to look for them, you rascal ; on the 
 >iu cypress log running along by the pond on Crane Hollow 
 There I caught them napping last night, while you were poking 
 after possum with a drowsy puppy. Fortunately, I waked while 
 they were sleeping ; I cooned the log and caught every mother s 
 son of them : and that s a warning to you, Tom, never to go U> 
 sleep on the end of a log of a dark night." 
 
 u Hah ! wha den, maussa ! S pose any body gwine eat nigger 
 eben if dey catch em ? Tom berry hard bittle (victual) for buckmli 
 tomach." 
 
 " Make good cooter soup, Tom, nevertheless ! Who could tell 
 the difference ? Those long black slips of the skin in terrapin soup, 
 look monstrous like shreds from an Ethiopian epidermis ; and the 
 
Niav DISH. 351 
 
 l>oni will pass current every where tor nigger toes ami fingers, 
 The Irish soldiers in garrison at Charleston and Camdeii wouldn t 
 know one from t other. Tom, Tom, if ever they catch you sleep 
 ing, you are gone for ever gone for terrapin stew!" 
 
 " Oh ! Maussa, I wish you leff oft talking bout sich things. You 
 mek my skin crawl like yellow belly snake." 
 
 u Ay, as you will make the skin of other people crawl when they 
 find they have been eating a nigger for a terrapin. But away, old 
 boy, and get every thing in readiness. See that your pots are well 
 scoured. Get -me some large gourds in which we may mix the 
 ingredients comfortably. We shall want all the appliances you 
 can lay hands on. I am about to invent some new dishes, Tom ; a 
 stew that shall surpass anything that the world has ever known of 
 the sort. Stir yourself, Tom, if you would have a decent share of 
 it. When you once taste of it, you rascal, you will keep your eyes 
 open all night, for ever after, if only that you may catch terrapin." 
 
 " Ilah ! I no want em mek too good, maussa, eider! When 
 de t ing is mek too nice, dey nebber leabs so much as a tas e for 
 de cook. Da s it !" 
 
 "I ll see to it this time, old fellow. You are too good a judge 
 of good dressing not to be allowed a taste. You shall have your 
 share. But, away, and get everything in readiness. And see that 
 you keep off the dogs and all intruders, bipeds and quadrupeds. 
 And, Tom !" 
 
 " Sa ! wha gen, maussa ?" 
 
 " Mind the calabashes ; and be sure to get some herbs dry sage, 
 Jiyme, mint, and, if you can, a few onions. What would 1 give 
 for a score or two of lemons ! And, Tom !" 
 
 " Sa !" 
 
 " Say nothing to that d d fellow Oakenburg do you hear, 
 sir?" 
 
 " Enty I yerry, maussa ; but it s no use; de doctor lub snake 
 better more nor cooter." 
 
 " Away !" 
 
 The negro was gone upon his mission, and throwing himself at 
 length upon the grass, the eyes of Torgy alternated between th 
 rising sun and the empty shells of Iiis terrapins. 
 
352 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " How they glitter !" he said to himself : " what a beautifu* 
 polish they would admit of! It s surprising they have never been 
 used for the purposes of manly oruamennt. In battle, burnished 
 well, and fitted to the dress in front, just over humanity s most con 
 spicuous dwelling-place, they would turn off many a bullet from 
 that sacred, but too susceptible, region." 
 
 Musing thus, he grappled one of the shells, the largest of the 
 three, and turning himself upon his back, with his head resting 
 against a pine, he proceeded to adjust the back of the terrapin, as a 
 sort of shield, to his own extensive abdominal domain. Large 
 as was the shell, it furnished a very inadequate cover to the ample 
 territory, at once so much exposed and so valuable. It was while 
 engaged in this somewhat ludicrous experiment, that Lieutenant 
 Porgy was surprised by Major Singleton. 
 
 Singleton laughed aloud as he beheld the picture. Porgy s 
 face was warmly suffused when thus apprised of the presence of his 
 superior. 
 
 " Not an unreasonable application, lieutenant," was the remark 
 of Singleton, when his laughter had subsided, " were there any 
 sort of proportion between the shield and the region which you 
 wish it to protect. In that precinct your figure makes large exac 
 tions. A turtle, rather than a terrapin, would be more in place. 
 The city has outgrown its walls." 
 
 " A melancholy truth, Major Singleton," answered the other, as 
 he arose slowly from his recumbent posture, and saluted his supe 
 rior with the elaborate courtesy of the gentleman of the old school. 
 "The territory is too large certainly for the walls; but I am a 
 modest man, Major Singleton, and a stale proverb helps me to an 
 answer : Half a loaf, sir, is said to be better than no bread ; and 
 half a shelter, in the same spirit, is surely better than none. 
 Though inadequate to the protection of the whole region, this 
 shell might yet protect a very vital part. Take care of what we 
 can, sir, is a wholesome rule, letting what can, take care of all the 
 rest." 
 
 " You are a philosopher, Mr. Porgy, and I rejoice in the belief 
 that you are fortified even better in intellectual and moral than 
 physical respects. But for this, sir, it might not be agreeable to 
 
THE NECESSITY. 353 
 
 you to have to hurry to the conclusion of a repast, for which, I 
 perceive, you are making extraordinary preparations." 
 
 "Hurry, Major Singleton hurry T demanded the epicure, 
 looking a little blank. " Hurry, sir ! I never hurried in my life. 
 Hurry is vulgar, major, decidedly vulgar a merit with tradesmen 
 only." 
 
 " It is our necessity, nevertheless, lieutenant, and I am sorry for 
 your sake that it is so. We shall start for the Santee before sun 
 set this afternoon. This necessity, I am sorry to think, will some 
 what impair the value of those pleasant meditations which usually 
 follow the feast." 
 
 Porgy s face grew into profound gravity, as he replied 
 
 " Certainly, the reveries of such a period are the most gratefu 
 and precious of all. The soul asserts its full influence about an 
 hour after the repast is over, and when the mind seems to hover 
 on the verge of a dream. I could wish that these hours should be 
 left unbroken. Am I to understand you seriously, major, that the 
 necessity is imperative that we are to break up camp here, for 
 good and all P 
 
 "That is the necessity. For the present we must leave the 
 Ashley. We move, bag and baggage, by noon, and push as fast 
 as we can for Nelson s Ferry. Our place of retreat here will 
 not be much longer a place of refuge. It is too well known for 
 safety, and we shall soon be wanted for active service on the 
 frontier." 
 
 " I confess myself unwilling to depart. This is a goodly place, 
 my dear major ; better for secresy could scarce be found ; and then, 
 the other advantages. Fresh provisions, for example, are more 
 abundant here than in Dorchester. Pork from the possum, mutton 
 from the coon ; these ponds, I am convinced, will yield us cat 
 quite as lively if not quite so delicate as the far-famed ones of the 
 Kdisto ; and I need not point you more particularly to the interest 
 ing commodity which lies before us." 
 
 " These are attractions, Mr. Porgy ; but as our present course 
 lies for the Santee, the difference will not be so very great cer 
 tainly not so great as to be insisted upon. The Santee is rich in 
 numberless variet.es offish and fowl, and my own eyes have feast 
 
354 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 ed upon terrapin of much greater dimensions, and much larger 
 numbers, than the Cypress yields." 
 
 " And of all varieties, major ? the brown and yellow not to 
 speak of the alligator terrapin, whose flavour, though unpopular 
 with the vulgar, i? decidedly superior to that of any other \ You 
 speak knowingly, najor ?" 
 
 " I do. I know all the region, and have lived in the swamp for 
 weeks at a time. The islands of the swamp there are much larger 
 than here ; and there are vast lakes in its depths, where fish are 
 taken at all hours of the day with the utmost ease. You will see 
 Colonel Marion, himself, frequently catching his own breakfast." 
 
 "I like that a commander should always be heedful of his 
 example. That s a brave man a fine fellow a very sensible fel 
 low catches his own breakfast ! Does he dress it too, major ?" 
 
 " Ay, after a fashion." 
 
 " Good ! such a man always improves. I feel that I shall like 
 him, major, this commander of ours; and now that you have 
 enlightened me, sir, on the virtues of the Santee, and our able 
 colonel, I must own that my reluctance to depart is considerably 
 lessened. At late noon, you said?" 
 
 " At late noon." 
 
 "I thank you, Major Singleton, for this timely notice. With 
 your leave, sir, I will proceed to these preparations for dinner, 
 which are vather precipitated by this movement. That rascally 
 head there, major," kicking away the gasping head of one of the 
 terrapins as he spoke, " seems to understand the subject of our con 
 versation of mine at least and opens its jaws every insta\ t, as 
 if it hoped some one of us would fill them." 
 
 * lie contributes so largely to the filling of other jaws, that the 
 expectation seems only a reasonable one. You will understand 
 me, lieutenant, as an expectant with the rest." 
 
 "You shall taste of my ragout, my dear major, a preparation 
 of " 
 
 Hut Singleton was gone, and Porgy reserved his speech for 
 Tom, the cook, who now appeared with his gourds, and other vessels, 
 essential to the due composition of such dishes as our fat friend 
 had prescribed for the proper exercise of his inventive genius. 
 
COURTEOUS INTERCOURSE. 355 
 
 Major Singleton was one of that fortunately constituted and pe 
 culiar race of men who are of all others the best fitted for the 
 conduct of a militia soldiery. The restive, impulsive, eager, 
 untrained, and always independent character of our people of the 
 South and West, requires a peculiar capacity to direct their energies, 
 reconcile them to unwonted situations, hard usage, incessant toil, 
 and the drudgery of a service, so much of which is held to be de 
 grading to the citizen. Singleton possessed the art in perfection 
 of getting good service out of his followers, and keeping them at 
 the same time in good humour with their superioi. He could be 
 familiar without encouraging obtrusivencss ; could descend without 
 losing command; could wink at the humours which it might bo 
 unwise to rebuke, yet limit the mercurial spirit within such bounds, 
 as kept him usually from trespassing beyond the small province of 
 his simple humours. In obeying him, the followers of Singleton 
 somehow felt that they were serving a friend, yet never seemed to 
 forget their respect in their sympathy. 
 
 When Singleton left Lieutenant Porgy, it was simply to walk 
 the rounds of his encampment. In this progress, he had his 
 friendly word for all some words, in every ear, of kind remark 
 and pleasant encouragement. No person, however humble, went 
 utterly unnoticed. The trooper, trimming away the thick hairs 
 from the fetlocks of his horse, or paring down his hoofs ; the horse 
 boy who took the steed to water; the camp scullion who washed 
 the kettles ; the group of nameless persons food for powder 
 huddled together in idle chat, or at some game, or mending 
 bridles, moulding bullets, or, more homely yet in their industry, 
 repairing rents in coat or breeches all in turn were sure, as the 
 Major of Partisans went by, to hear his gentle salutation, in those 
 frank tones which penetrated instantly to the heart, a sufficient 
 guaranty for the sincerity of the speaker. And there was no 
 effort in this familiar frankness, and no air of condescension. He 
 was a man speaking to men ; and did not appear to dream of any 
 necessity of making every word, look, and tone remind them of his 
 authority. His bearing, when not engaged in the absolute duties 
 of the service, was that of an equal, simply. And yet there was 
 really no familiarity between the parties. There was a certain 
 
356 TI1E PARTISAN. 
 
 calmness of look and gesture a certain simplicity of mauuei 
 about our partisan, too easy for reserve, too graceful for indiffer 
 ence, which always and effectually restrained the obtrusive. Ho 
 could smile with his followers, but he rarely laughed with them. 
 When he ^..dressed them, he did so with great respect, which 
 always tutored them when they spoke to him. He always rose 
 for tliis purpose, if previously he had been sitting. His was that 
 due consideration of the man, as a man, that never permitted tlu 
 same person, as an animal, to suppose that his embraces would be 
 proper to his intercourse. Yet nobody ever thought of accusing 
 Singleton of pride. His gentleness of manner, ease and grace and 
 frankness of speech, were proverbial among his men. Truly, he 
 was the man to be a leader of southern woodsmen. Even now, 
 while his heart was sorely bleeding with fraternal sorrows fearing 
 all, yet ignorant still of the extent of his loss he smiled pleasantly 
 with his followers, and spoke in that language of consideration 
 which seemed to show that he thought of them rather than him 
 self. They did not know that the reason why he lingered so long 
 among them, was chiefly that he might escape from himself and 
 his own melancholy thoughts. 
 
 Having gone the rounds, seen to all things, and properly prepared 
 his men for the march by sunset, Singleton threw himself down in 
 the shadow of a dwarf oak, beneath which he had a couch of 
 moss, on which he had slept the night before. While he lay 
 here, musing equally over his duties and affections, Lance 
 Frampton plu^d himself quietly on the other side of the tree. It 
 was some time before the lad attracted his attention. When at 
 length he noticed his appearance, it seemed to him that the boy s 
 face was full of a grave interest. 
 
 " What s the matter, Lance ?" he inquired kindly. 
 
 " I thought, sir I was afraid that you were sick," answered 
 the boy. 
 
 " Sick ! I ? sick ! Why, what should make me sick ? Why 
 should you suppose that I am sick ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, you talked and groaned so, in your sleep, thi 
 morning." 
 
 " No, surely I Is it possible I" 
 
OF 
 
 MG11TMAKK. 357 
 
 "Ob, yes, sir; I woke before daylight and heard you, and it 
 frightened me, sir." 
 
 " Frightened you, boy ! That is an ugly confession for a soldier 
 to make. You must not suffer yourself to be frightened by 
 anything. A soldier is not to be frightened, even when surprised 
 But what did I say to frighten you ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, you were quarrelling with somebody in your sleer, 
 and you swore too " 
 
 " Swore ! Did I ? A trooper habit, Lance, and a very bad 
 one," said the other gravely. " Surely, Lance, I did not swear. 
 You must be mistaken. I never swear. I have an oath in heaven 
 against the habit." 
 
 This was said with a grave smile. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but you did it in your sleep." 
 
 " Well, I suppose I am not quite responsible for what is done in 
 my sleep ; but the fact argues for the possibility of my doing the 
 thing when awake. But are you sure, Lance, you were riot asleep 
 yourself, and dreamt the whole matter ?" 
 
 " Oh ! quite sure, sir, for I got up and looked at you. It was 
 just before morning, and the moon was shining right upon your 
 face. I went round and broke the end of the branch you so x 
 where it hangs, sir so as to make it fall betwixt your eyes and the 
 moonlight, and after that your face was quite shaded. But you 
 swore again, and you gnashed your teeth together, and threw out 
 your hands, as if you were fighting somebody in your sleep." 
 
 " &. decided case of nightmare ; and you would have done me a 
 xxi service, Lance, had you taken me by the shoulders, and 
 jerked me out of my dream. But I thank you for what you did. 
 ?ou are a good youth, and properly considerate ; and so you 
 broke that twig to protect my eyes from the glare ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but I reckon it was not the moonshine that troubled 
 you, but something in your own thoughts, for you swore after 
 wards worse than ever." 
 
 44 It is strange," said femgleton, gravely. " It shows the 
 thoughts to be more wicked than we suspect I had almost said 
 more wicked when sleeping than waking." And the speaker 
 mused silently after hearing this account. lie looked to the 
 
858 THE PART1SAJN. 
 
 broken bush, and the gentle devotion of his yoithful proteg$ 
 touched his heart Resuming, he said gently 
 
 " I am very sorry, Lance, that I swore in your hearing. 1 
 certainly do not swear wittingly. I try not to fall into the foolish 
 habit, which I beg that you will not learn from me, for I detest it. 
 In kindness to me, forget what you heard, and in duty to yourself, 
 never imitate the lesson. To make you remember this counsel, I 
 give you a little token. Take this dirk, and recal my advice 
 whenever it meets your eye. Fasten it there, with the sheath, 
 close by the left side. Let the point come out a little in front, 
 while the handle rests under the arm. Take care of it. It may 
 be useful to you in various ways. It has saved my life once ; it 
 may save yours; but use it only when it is necessary to such a 
 purpose. You may leave me now, and for the morning, amuse 
 yourself as you please within the camp." 
 
 The boy, made happy by the kindness of his superior, would 
 gladly have lingered beside him, but he quickly saw that Singleton 
 desired to be alone. He disappeared accordingly from sight, 
 rinding no difficulty, among the various humours of a camp, in 
 whiling away the hours assigned to him for leisure. 
 
 These humours of the camp ! But it is time that we see what pre 
 parations for his feast have been made by our corpulent Lieutenant 
 of Dragoons. Of course he was busy all the morning. Porgy had 
 a taste. In the affairs of the cuisine, Porgy claimed to have a genius. 
 Now, it will not do to misconceive Lieutenant Porgy. If we have 
 said or shown anything calculated to lessen his dignity in the eyes 
 of any of our readers, remorse must follow. Porgy might ploy 
 the buffoon, if he pleased ; but in the mean time, let it be 
 understood, that he was born to wealth, and had received the 
 education of a gentleman. He had wasted his substance, perhaps, 
 but this matter does not much concern us now. It is only 
 important that he should not be supposed to waste himself. He 
 had been a planter was, in some measure, a planter still, with 
 broken fortunes, upon the Ashepoo. " He had had losses," but he 
 bore them like a philosopher. He was a sort of laughing 
 philosopher, who, as if in anticipation of the free speech of others, 
 dealt, with himself as little mercifully as his nearest friends rnigai 
 
DIGNITY. 359 
 
 one. He had established for himself a sort of reputation as 
 a humourist, and was one of that class which we may call 
 conventional. His humour belonged to sophistication. It was 
 the fruit of an artificial nature. He jested with his own tastes, 
 his own bulk of body, his own poverty, and thus baffled the more 
 serious jests of the ill-tempered by anticipating them. We may 
 mention here, that while making the greatest fuss, always 
 about his feeding, he was one of the most temperate eaters in the 
 world. 
 
 He has effected his great culinary achievement, and is satisfied. 
 See him now, surrounded by his own mess, which includes a 
 doctor and a poet. A snug corner of the encampment, well 
 shaded with pines and cypresses, affords the party a pleasant 
 shelter. Their viands are spread upon the green turf; theii 
 water is furnished from a neighbouring brooklet, and Tom, the 
 cook, with one or two camp scullions waiting on him, is in attend 
 ance. Tin vessels bear water, or hold the portions of soup 
 assigned to the several guests. The gourds contain adequate 
 sources of supply, and you may now behold the cleansed shells 
 of each of the fated terrapins made to perform the office of 
 huge dishes, or tureens, which hold the special dishes in 
 the preparation of which our epicure has exhausted all his 
 culinary arts. 
 
 He presides with the complacent air of one who has done 
 his country service. 
 
 " Tom," he cries, " take that tureen again to the major s 
 mess. They need a fresh supply by this time, and if they do not, 
 they ought to." 
 
 The calabash from which Porgy served himself was empty 
 when he gave this order. In being reminded of his own wants, 
 our hoet was taught to recollect those of his neighbours. Porgy 
 was eminently a gentleman. His very selfishness was courtly. 
 Tom did as he was commanded, and his master, without show of 
 impatience, awaited his return. In those days no one was 
 conscious of any violation of propriety in taking soup a second 
 time ; and though the prospect of other dishes might have taught 
 forbearance to certain of the parties, in respect to the soup, yet it 
 
360 TUE PARTISAN. 
 
 was too evident that a clue regard to the feelings of the host 
 required that it should receive full justice at all hands. 
 
 Porgy was in the best of humours. He was conciliated by his 
 comrades ; and he had succeeded in his experiments to his own 
 satisfaction at least. He even looked with complacency upon the 
 lantern-jawed and crane-bodied doctor, Oakenburg, whom, as we 
 have seen, he was not much disposed to favour. He could even 
 expend a jest upon the doctor instead of a sarcasm, though the 
 jests of Porgy were of a sort, as George Dennison once remarked, 
 " to turn all the sweet milk sour in an old maid s dairy." Dr. 
 Oakenburg had a prudent fear of the lieutenant s sarcasms, and 
 was disposed to conciliate by taking whatever he offered in the 
 shape of food or counsel. lie suffered sometimes in consequence 
 of this facility. But the concession was hardly satisfactory to 
 Porgy, and his temper was greatly tried, when he beheld his 
 favourite dishes almost left untouched befoi e the naturalist, who 
 evidently gave decided preference to certain bits of fried eel, which 
 formed a part of the dinner of that day. 
 
 "Eel is a good thing enough," he muttered sotto voce, "but to 
 hang upon eel when you can get terrapin, and dressed in this 
 manner, is a vice and an abomination." 
 
 Then louder 
 
 " How do you get on, George ?" to Dennison ; " will you scoop 
 up a little more of the soup, or shall we go to the pie ?" 
 
 " Pie !" said Dennison. " Have you got a terrapin pic ?" 
 
 " Ay, you have something to live for. Tom, make a clearance 
 here, and let s have the pie." 
 
 Tom had returned from serving Singleton and his immediate 
 companions. These were Humphries, John Davis, Lance Framp- 
 ton, and perhaps some other favourite trooper. They had dipped 
 largely into the soup. They were now to be permitted to try th-e 
 terrapin pie upon which Porgy had tried his arts. They sat in a 
 quiet group apart from the rest of the command, who were squat 
 ting in sundry messes all about the swamp hammocks. Let us 
 mention, par parenthese, that John Davis had mustered the courage 
 to make a full confession to his superior of his last night s adven 
 ture, of his projected duel with Hastings, and how the latter was 
 
MODESTY. 361 
 
 murdered by the maniac Frampton. Of course, Singleton heard 
 the story with great gravity, and administered a wholesome rebuke 
 to the offender. Under the circumstances he could do no more. 
 To punish was not his policy, where the criminal was so clever a 
 tiooper. lie had done wrong, true; but there was some apology 
 for him in the wrongs, performed and contemplated, of the British 
 sergeant. Besides, he had honestly acknowledged his error, and 
 deplored it, and it was not difficult to grant his pardon, particularly 
 while they were all busy over the soup of Porgy. If forgiveness 
 had been reluctant before, it became ready when the pie was set in 
 sight. Porgy s triumph was complete. Singleton did not finish 
 his grave rebuke of the offender, while helping himself from the 
 natural tureen which contained the favourite dish. Nothing could 
 be more acceptable to all the party. When the pie, shorn largely 
 of its fair proportions, was brought back to our epicure, his pro 
 ceeding was exquisitely true to propriety. Loving the commodity 
 as he did, and particularly anxious to begin the attack upon it, he 
 yet omitted none of his customary politeness a forbearance 
 scarcely considered necessary in a dragoon camp. 
 
 There, Tom, that will do. Set it down. It will stand alone. 
 Did the major help himself?" 
 
 " He tek some, maussa." 
 
 " Some ! Did he not help himself honestly, and like a man with 
 Christian appetite and bowels ?" 
 
 "He no tek nough, like Mass Ilomphry, and Mass Jack 
 Dabis, but he tek some, and Mass Lance, he tek some, jis like 
 the major." 
 
 " Humph ! he took a little, you mean. A little ! Did he look 
 sick, Tom the major ?" 
 
 " No, sah ! He look and talk berry well." 
 
 "Ah ! I see ; he helped himself modestly, like a gentleman, a 
 first; we shall try him again. And now for ourselves. Gentlemen, 
 you shall now see what art can do with nature ; how it can glorifj 
 the beast ; how it can give wings to creeping things. George 
 Dennison, you need not be taught this. Help yourself, my good 
 fellow, and let this terrapin pie inspire your muse to new flight*. 
 
 16 
 
362 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Mr. Wilkiris, suffer me to lay a tew spoonsful of this pie in yom 
 calabash. Nay, don t hang back, man ; the supply is abundant." 
 
 The modest Mr. Wilkins, who was coquetting only with his hap 
 piness, was easily persuaded, and Porgy turned to Oakenburg, who 
 was still eeling it. 
 
 " Dr. Oakenburg !" with a voice of thunder. 
 
 " Sir Lieutenant ah !" very much startled. 
 
 "Doctor Oakenburg, let me entreat you to defile your lips no 
 longer with that villanous fry. Don t think of eel, sir, when you 
 can pet terrapin ; and such as this." 
 
 " I thank you, lieutenant, but- yes, I really thank you very 
 much ; but, as you see, I have not yet consumed entirely the 
 soup which you were so good " 
 
 " And why the d 1 haven t you consumed it ? It was cooked to 
 be consumed. Why have you wasted time so imprudently ? That 
 soup is now not fit to be eaten. You have suffered it to get cold. 
 There are certain delights, sir, which are always to be taken warm. 
 To delay a pleasure, when the pleasure is ready to your hands, is 
 to destroy a pleasure. And then, sir, the appetite grows vitiated, 
 and the taste dreadfully impaired after eating fry. The finest 
 delicacy in the world suffers from such contact. Send that soup 
 away. Here, Tom, take the doctor s calabash. Throw that 
 shrivelled fry to the dog, and wash the vessel clean. Be quick, 
 you sou of Beelzebub, if you would hope for soup and salvation." 
 
 The indignation of Porgy was making him irreverent. His 
 anger increased as the tasteless doctor resisted his desires and clung 
 to his eel. 
 
 " No ! Tom, no. Excuse me, lieutenant, but I am pleased with 
 this eel, which is considerably done to my liking. It is a dish 
 I particularly affect." 
 
 Porgy gave him a savage glance, while spooning the pie into hia 
 own calabash. Tom, tne negro, meanwhile, had possessed himseJ* 
 of the doctor s dishes, and the expectant dog was already in pos 
 session of the remnant of his eel. 
 
 " Maussa say I must tek um, Mass Oakenbu g, was th 
 apologetic response of the negro to the remonstrances of the 
 doctor. 
 
EATING. 363 
 
 " Clean the gourds, Tom, for the doctor as quickly as possible ! 
 That a free white man in a Christian country should prefer eel fry 
 to terrapin stew ! Doctor Oakenburg, where do you expect to gc 
 when you die ? I ask the question from a belief rather staggered, 
 I must confess, by what I have seen that you really have some 
 thing of a soul left. You once had, doubtless." 
 
 The poor naturalist seemed quite wobegone and bewildered. 
 His answer was quite as much to the point as it was possible for 
 him to make it at any time. 
 
 "Really, lieutenant, I don t know; I can t conjecture, but I 
 trust to some place of perfect security." 
 
 " Well, for your own sake, I hope so too ; and the better to 
 make you secure, could I have a hand in disposing of you, I should 
 doom your soul to be thrust into an eelskin, and hung up to dry in 
 (he tropic from May to September every year. Of one thing you 
 may rest assured if there be anything like justice done to you 
 hereafter, you will have scant fare, bad cooking, and fry for ever, 
 wherever you go. Prefer eel to terrapin ! Tom !" 
 
 " Sah !" 
 
 " Bring me a clean calabash of water, and hand the jug. A little 
 Jamaica, my good fellow, to wash down our Grecians. Prefer eel to 
 terrapin ! George Dennison, have you done at last ? How these 
 poets eat ! Mr. Wilkins, you have not finished ? Come, sir, don t 
 spare the pie. It is not every day that happiness walks into one s 
 lodgings and begs one to help himself. It isn t every day that one 
 captures such terrapins as these, and sits down to such cooking and 
 compounding. Tom and myself are good against a world in arts. 
 What ! no more ? Well, I can t complain. I too have done, 
 a little morsel more excepted. Tom, hand me that tureen. I must 
 have another of those eggs." 
 
 The epicure scooped them up and swallowed. 
 
 " What a flavour how rich ! Ah ! George, this is a day to be 
 marked with a white stone. Tom, take awav the vessel. I have 
 done enough." 
 
 " Ki, maussa, you no leff any eggs. 
 
 " No eggs !" cried the gourmand ; " why, what the deuce do yon 
 #11 that, and that, and that ?" stirring them over with the spool 
 
364 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 as he spoke. " Bless me, I did not think there were half so many 
 Stop, Tom, I will take but a couple more, and then there tha 
 will do you may take the rest." 
 
 The negro hurried away with his prize, dreading that Porgy 
 would make new discoveries ; while that worthy, seasoning his 
 calabash of water with a moderate dash of Jamaica from the jug 
 beside him, concluded the repast to which he had annexed so much 
 importance. 
 
 "So much is secure of life!" he exclaimed, when he had done. 
 " I am satisfied I have lived to-day, and nothing can deprive me 
 of the 22d June, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hun 
 dred and eighty, enjoyed in the Cypress Swamp. The day is com 
 pleted : it should always close with the dinner hour. It is then 
 secure we cannot be deprived of it : it is recorded in the history 
 of hopes realized, and of feelings properly felt. Arid, hark ! the 
 major seems to think with me, since the bugle rumbles up for a 
 start. Wilkins old fellow if you ll give me a helping hand 
 in hoistiag on this coat" taking it from the bough of a tree (he 
 had dined, we may add, in his shirt sleeves) " you will save me 
 from exertions which are always unwisely made after dinner. So ! 
 that will do. Thank you ! It is a service to be remembered." 
 
 The camp was all astir by this time. Porgy looked around him 
 coolly, and chafed at the hurry which he beheld in others. 
 
 " Ho ! there, Corporal Millhouse, see to your squad, my good fel 
 low. Dennisou, my boy, you will ride along with me. I shall want 
 to hear some of that new ballad as we go. Ah ! boy, we shall 
 have to put some of your ditties into print. They are quite as 
 good as thousands of verses that are so honoured. They are good, 
 George, and / know it, if nobody else. ... So ho ! There ! Tom, 
 you rascal, will you be at that stew all day ? Hurry, you sable son 
 of Ethiop, and don t forget to unsling and to pack up the hambone. 
 Needn t mind the calabashes. We can get them every where 
 along the road. . . . What \ you re not about to carry that snake 
 along with you, Doctor Oakenburg ! Great Heavens ! what a 
 reptile taste that fellow has ! . . . Ha ! Lance, my boy, is that 
 rou ? Well, you relished the pie, didn t you ?" 
 
 44 ^Twas good, lieutenant." 
 
SOLILOQUY. 366 
 
 " Good ! It was great ! But you are in a hurry. Mounted 
 already ! Well, I suppose I must follow suit. I see the major s 
 ready to mount also. Do me a turn, Lance ; help me on with rny 
 belt, which you see hanging from yonder tree. It takes in a world 
 of territory. There ! That will do." 
 
 Humphries now rode up. 
 
 " To horse, lieutenant, as soon as you can. The major s looking 
 a little wolfish." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! needs must when the devil drives. And yet this 
 moving just after a hearty meal upon terrapin ! Terrapin stew 
 or pie seems to impart something of the sluggishness of the beast 
 to him who feeds upon it. I must think of this ; whether it is not 
 the case with all animals to influence with their own nature, that 
 of the person who feeds on them. It was certainly the notion of 
 the ancients. A steak of the lion might reasonably be supposed to 
 mpart courage; wolf and tiger should make one thirst for blood ; 
 and" seeing Oakenburgride along at this moment "who should 
 wonder suddenly to behold that crane-bodied cormorant, after eating 
 fried eel, suddenly twisting away from his nag, and, with squirm 
 and wriggle, sliding oft into the mud ? If ever he disappears 
 suddenly, I shall know how to account for his absence." 
 
 Thus it was that Lieutenant Porgy soliloquized himself out of 
 the swamp. He was soon at the head of his squad, and Singleton s 
 orders became urgent. Once with the duty before him, our epi 
 cure was as prompt as any of his neighbours. In an hour, and all 
 were ready for the start the partisans and their prisoners ; and, 
 conspicuous in the rear of his master s command, Tom, the cook, 
 followed closely by his dog ; a mean looking cur significantly called 
 " Slink." Never was dog more appropriately named. All negro 
 dogs are more or less mean of spirit, but surly, and cunning in the 
 last degree ; but Slink was the superb of meati t ess even among 
 negro dogs. He was the most shame-faced, creeping, sneaking 
 beast you ever saw ; as poor of body as of spirit ; eating vora 
 ciously always, yet always a mere skeleton, besmeared with the 
 ashes and cinders in which he lay nightly a habit borrowed, we 
 Rusooct. from his owner ; and such was the meanness of his spirit^ 
 mat, having, from immemorial time, neglected the due eleva- 
 16 
 
866 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 tion of his tail, he now seemed to have lost al. sense, and indeed, 
 all capability, for the achievement. There it hung for ever deplor 
 ably down, as far as it could go between his legs, and seemed everv 
 day to grow more and more despicably fond of earth. Such was 
 "Slink" always in the white man s eye; but see "Slink" when it 
 is his cue to throttle a fat shote in the swamp, and his character 
 undergoes a change. You then see that phase of it, which, more 
 than any thing besides, endears the dirty wretch to his negro master 
 
 It was an evil hour for Slink, when, under the excitement of 
 departure, he suffered himself to trot ahead of his owner, and pass 
 for a moment from rear to front of the command. It was not 
 often that he suffered himself to put Ins beauties of person too 
 prominently forward. What evil mood of presumption possessed 
 him on the present occasion, it is difficult to conceive; but Slink 
 in proper keeping with Tom, his owner, in the swamp, might keep 
 himself in perfect security, as well as Oakenburg. His danger was 
 in passing out from his obscurity into the front ranks. Lieutenant 
 Porgy beheld the beast as he trotted in advance, with a rare 
 sentiment of disgust, a feeling which underwent great increase 
 when he saw that the dog s spirit underwent no elevation with his 
 advance, and that his caudal extremity was just as basely drooping 
 as before. Porgy summoned Tom to the front, and pointed to the 
 dog. Slink instantly saw that something was wrong, and tried to 
 slink out of sight under the legs of the horses. But it was too 
 late. Eyes had seen his momentary impertinence which seldom 
 saw in vain. 
 
 " Tom," said Porgy, " that dog s tail must be cut off close to his 
 haunches." 
 
 "Cut off Slink s tail, maussa! You want for kill de dog for 
 ebber f" 
 
 " It won t kill him, Tom. Cut it off close, and sear the stump 
 with a hot iron. It must be done to-night." 
 
 " But, maussa, he will spile de dog for ebber." 
 
 "Not so, Tom; it will make him, if any thing can. Don t you 
 see that he car. t raise it up ; that it s in the way of his legs; that 
 It makes him run badly. It is like a dragoon s sword when he s 
 walking : always getting between his legs and tripping him." 
 
SLINK S TAIL. 367 
 
 "Slink can t do widout he tail, maussa!" answered Toin with 
 becoming doggedness. 
 
 " He must, Tom." 
 
 "He lub he tail tvvix he leg so; he no hu t (hurt) he running." 
 
 " All a mistake, Tom. It s in his way, and he feels it. That s 
 the true reason why he looks so mean, and always carries his head 
 so sheepishly. It must be a terrible mortification to any dog of 
 sensibility when he has a tail that he can never elevate. Cut off 
 the tail, and you will see how he will improve." 
 
 " You t ink, so, maussa ! / nebber ken t ink so. Twon t do 
 for cut off Slink tail." 
 
 "Either his tail or his head. He must lose one or t other to 
 night, Tom. See that it is done. If I see him to-morrow with 
 more than one inch of stump between his legs, I shoot him ! By 
 Jupiter Amrnon, Tom, I shoot him ! and you know when I swear 
 by a Greek god that I am sure to keep my oath. In this way, 
 Tom, T mortify Greek faith ! You understand, Tom, with more 
 than one inch of tail he dies ! Let it be seen to this very night 
 when we come to a halt." 
 
 " He mos (almost) as bad for cut he tail as he head, maussa." 
 
 " Be it the head then, Tom ; I don t care which ; and now fall 
 back, old fellow, and whistle back the beast. The sight of his 
 miserable tail distresses me." 
 
 And Porgy rode forward ; and Tom, whistling back the unhappy 
 cur, muttered as he fell behind : 
 
 "Maussa berry sensible pusson, but sometime he s a raos too 
 d n foolish for talk wid. Whay de harm in Slink tail ? Slink 
 carry he tail so low to de groun , people nebber sh urn (see em) 
 nobody gvvine sh um but inaussa, and he hab he eye jes whay 
 nobody ebber want em for look." 
 
 But the last bugles sound shrilly and mournfully as the cavalcade 
 speeds away in a long train through the swamp avenues, and Tom 
 is compelled to forego his soliloquies and hurry forward with the 
 dog, Slink, who, as if conscious of his error, has dropped just as 
 far back in the rear, as before he indiscreetly went ahead. The 
 miserable beast little anticipates the loss that awaits him. Fortu 
 nately Tom feels for him all that is proper. He rides forward 
 
368 TIIK PARTISAN. 
 
 enveloped in his own and master s luggage, and lie too and Slink 
 both finally disappear in the far shadows of the wood. The cypress 
 swamp of the Ashley -ests in the profoundest silence, as if it -.eve? 
 had been inhabited. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 The hour at hand, the foeman near 
 The biting brand, the steely spear, 
 
 The spirit vex d and warm, 
 And these are all the freeman wants, 
 Who, for the struggle, pines and pants, 
 
 And never knew alarm. 
 Then let the foeman come and feel 
 How dread the blow his hand can deal, 
 
 When freedom nerves his arm." 
 
 A* hour after these movements, and no one would suspect, 
 from die dead silence that prevailed throughout the region, that it 
 ever had been occupied by such wild and royatering fellows as 
 those with whom we have just had dinner. Proctor s scouts might 
 find everywhere the proofs of their occupation, in the beaten 
 ground, the broken utensils, and the embers of recent fires. But 
 of the occupants themselves there were no signs. 
 
 Singleton, meanwhile, sent his scouts forward at a scouring pace 
 He led his little command more slowly, but still at a gait which 
 would render pursuit difficult by a force larger than his own, or 
 less admirably mounted. One secret of the success of Marion s 
 men, was in the excellence of their horses, which were always well 
 chosen from the best stables in the country. Our partisan made 
 them show their legs. Aiming to make the Nelson s Ferry road as 
 soon as possible, he struck directly across the country, under the 
 guidance of Humphries and Davis, who knew every turn and twist, 
 short cut and blind path, leading through the forests of this neigh 
 bourhood. Speaking comparatively, however, they sped along but 
 slowly, leaving the scouts considerably in advance. They had 
 made no great progress when night began to settle down upon the 
 Darty. With the approach of darkness, Singleton cast about for a 
 secluded spot in which to form a temporary encampment. This 
 was finally found in a thick wood to which they inclined out of 
 
370 THE PARTISAN 
 
 sight and hearing from the road. The scouts had received theii 
 instructions to fall back with the setting in of dusk, and report 
 their discoveries ; all of which was done. Here, without building 
 fires, they took a brief and supperless rest, until the moon rose, 
 when the troop was again set in motion, and uosting forward along 
 the prescribed route. 
 
 With the dawn of day, they found themselves, according to the 
 calculations of the guides, within a few miles only of the Ferry 
 road. A little more caution was now necessary to their progress. 
 They were in a travelled region, and the scouts were doubled. 
 The troop entered the road an hour or so after sunrise, without 
 meeting with any interruption or object worthy their attention. 
 In this manner they proceeded for some hours, seeing no human 
 being. The whole route, however, was marked by the devastating 
 proofs of war, which were thick on every side of them. The 
 broken fences, the shattered or half-consumed dwellings, the 
 implanted and unploughed fields, all in desertion, spoke fearfully 
 for its attributes and presence. But suddenly, towards noon, the 
 scouts were met by a countryman, his wife, and two children, 
 flying from the foe. It was difficult to convince them that they 
 had not fallen in with another ; and they told their story, accord 
 ingly, in fear and trembling 1 . 
 
 They told of a tory named Amos Gaskens, a notorious wretch 
 before the war, who had raised a party and had been devastating 
 the neighbouring country throughout St. Stephens and St. Johns, 
 Berkley.* Uis numbers were increasing, and he stopped at no 
 excesses. On most of the plantations through which he had gone, 
 every house was burned to the ground, the stock wantonly shot, the 
 people plundered, and either murdered, forced to follow their captors, 
 or compelled to fly to places of refuge the most wild and deplorable. 
 Hie little family they had encountered had been thus dispossessed. 
 They had only saved their lives by a timely notice, which a friend 
 among the tories had given them of their approach. They insisted 
 
 * History has deemed this monster of suffic ent importance to record 
 KAiay of his deeds. He was, lr -<me time, tl e dread of this section of 
 eotmtry. 
 
THE AMBUSH. 371 
 
 that Gaskens could not be many miles off, and would certainly 
 meet them before noon, as lie was on his way to Charleston with 
 his prisoners and seeking his reward. 
 
 Singleton determined to prepare for him a warm reception, and 
 having ascertained that the force under Gaskens fully doubled his 
 own, he laid his plans to neutralize this superiority by the employ 
 ment of the usual cunning of the partisan. According to the 
 account of the flying countryman, there was a beautiful little spring 
 some three miles higher, not more than a stone s throw from the 
 roadside ; this was the only good drinking water for some distance, 
 and, as it was well known to wayfarers, it was concluded that Gas- 
 kens would make use of it as a place of rest and refreshment. 
 Ilere, Singleton determined to place his ambuscade ; and as it was 
 necessary to reach it some time in advance of his enemy, he pushed 
 his troop forward at a quicker pace. They reached the spot in 
 time, and gliding out of the road, were soon in possession of the de 
 sired station. 
 
 The spring was one of those quiet waters that trickle along the 
 hollow which they have formed, and with so gentle a murmur, that, 
 though but a brief distance from the road, no passing ear, however 
 acute, could possibly detect its prattling invitation. The water was 
 cool and refreshing ; the overhanging trees gave it a pleasant and 
 fitting shelter, which scarcely rendered necessary the small wooden 
 shed which had been built above it by some one of the considerate 
 dwellers in the neighbourhood. War, in its violence, however 
 destructive else, had spared, with a becoming reverence, the foun 
 tain and the little roof above it. The whole spot was exceedingly 
 pretty ; wild vines and florid grapes clustered over it ; a little clump 
 of wild flowers grew just at its porch ; while a fine large oak, 
 standing on the brow of the little hill at the bottom of which the 
 fountain had its source, took the entire area into its sheltering 
 embrace. The wild jessamine, and the thousand flaunting blossoms 
 of the southern forests, grew profusely about the place ; and in that 
 hour of general repose in Carolina during the summer months 
 the hour of noon when all nature is languid ; when the bird 
 hushes his fitful note, or only 
 
 " Starts into voice a moment, and ia still ;* 
 
372 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 vben man and boast, reptile and insect, alike seek for the shade 
 and paiit drowsily beneath its shelter this little hollow of the 
 woods, and the clear stream welling over the little basin around 
 which its dwelling-place had been formed, and trickling away in a 
 prattling murmur that discoursed twin harmonies to the sluggish 
 breeze that shook at intervals the tree above it, seemed eminently a 
 scene chosen for gentle spirits, and a purpose grateful to the softest 
 delicacies of humanity. Yet was its sacred and sweet repose about 
 to be invaded. War had prepared his weapon and lay waiting in 
 the shade. 
 
 Having chosen his ground, Singleton proceeded to his prepara 
 tions for the due reception of Gaskens and his tories. The troopers 
 and the prisoners were at once dismounted ; the latter, with the 
 horses, were escorted to a sufficient distance in the wood, beyond 
 the reach of the strife, and where they could convey no intimation 
 by their voices to the approaching enemy. Here a guard was put 
 over them, with instructions to cut down the first individual who 
 should show the slightest symptom of a disposition to cry out or to 
 fly. A command, otherwise so sanguinary, was necessary, however, 
 in the circumstances. This done, Singleton despatched his scouts, 
 headed by Humphries, whose adroitness he well knew, on the road 
 leading to the enemy ; they were to bring him intelligence without 
 suffering themselves to be seen. He next proceeded to his own 
 immediate disposition of force for the hot controversy, and ap 
 proved himself a good disciple of the swamp fox in the arrange 
 ment. The ambush was formed on two sides of the spring, the 
 men being so placed as to possess the advantages of the cross-fire 
 without being themselves exposed to the slightest danger from their 
 mutual weapons. All approach to the waters was thus commanded, 
 and Singleton, trusting to the advantages obtained from the sur 
 prise aar? the first fire, instructed his men to follow him in the 
 charge which he contemplated making, immediately after the dis 
 charge of their pieces. In the way of exhortation he had but few 
 words ; he resembled Marion in that respect, also : but those words 
 were highly stimulating. 
 
 "Men, I have the utmost confidence in you ; you are no cowards, 
 and I am sure will do your duty. I do not call upon you to de 
 
LANCE FRAMPTON. 373 
 
 stroy men, but monsters ; not countrymen, but those who have no 
 country who have only known their country to rend her bowels 
 and prey upon her vitals. You will only spare them when they 
 are down when they cry, enough. There must be no Tarleton s 
 quarters, * mind you ; the soldier that strikes the man who has 
 once submitted, shall be hung up immediately after ; *br though 
 they be brutes and monsters now, yet even the brute has a claim 
 upon man s mercy when he has once submitted to be tamed. Go 
 now, men, each to his place, and wait the signal. I will give it 
 at the proper moment myself. It shall be but one word, and when 
 you hear me say, * Now ! let each rifle make its mark upon an 
 armed tory. Shoot none that have not weapons in their hands 
 remember that ; and when you sally out, as you will immediately 
 after the discharge and while they are in confusion, let the same 
 rule be observed. Strike none that throw down their arms none 
 that do not offer us resistance. Enough, now ; the brave soldier 
 needs no long exhortation. The soldier who fights his country s 
 battles has her voice at his heart, pleading for her rescue and relief. 
 Remember the burnt dwellings of your country her murdered and 
 maltreated inhabitants her desolate fields her starving children^ 
 and then strike home ! Your country is worth fighting for, and 
 he who dies in the cause of his country, dies in the cause of man : 
 he will not be forgotten. Go, and remember the word." 
 
 There was no shout, no hurrah ; but eyes were bent upon the 
 ground, lips knit closely in solemn determination ; and Singleton 
 saw at a fiance that his men were to be relied on. 
 
 o 
 
 "They will do," he muttered to himself, as, seeing them all pro 
 perly sheltered, he threw himself at the foot of a tree, a little 
 removed from the rest, and only accompanied by the boy, Lance 
 Frampton. We have seen the increasing intimacy between the lad 
 and his commander ; an intimacy encouraged by the latter, and 
 earnestly sought for by the boy. lie studiously kept near the per 
 son of the partisan, listened to every word he uttered, watched every 
 
 * Tarleton made himself feared and infamous by giving no quarter. 
 When, according! v, the patriots obtained any successes in battle, the} 
 were apt to answer the |>!e;i for mercy by shouting out "Ay, i**ieton 
 quarters," wkile hewing dowu the 
 16* 
 
374 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 movement, and carefully analysed, so tar as his immature capacities 
 would admit, every feeling and thought of his superior. From this 
 earnest and close contemplation of the one object, the boy grew lo 
 be exclusive in his regards, and slighted every other. Singleton be 
 came one and the same with his mind s ideal, and a lively imagina 
 tion, and warm sensibilities, identified his captain, in his thought, 
 with his only notion of a genuine hero. The more he studied him, 
 the more complete was the resemblance. The lofty, symmetrical, 
 strong person the high but easy carriage the grace of movement 
 and attitude the studious delicacy of speech, mingled, at the same 
 time, with that simple adherence to propriety, which illustrates 
 genuine manliness, were all attributes of Singleton and all obvious 
 enough to his admirer. 
 
 " How I wish I was like him !" said the boy to himself, as he 
 looked where Singleton s form lay before him under the tree. " If 
 I was onl) sure that I could fight like him, and not feel afraid, 
 when the time conies ! Oh ! how I wish it was over !" 
 
 Had the words been uttered loud enough to be heard by the par 
 tisan, the mood of the boy would have been better understood by 
 his commander than it was, when the latter heard the deep sigh 
 which followed them. Singleton turned to look upon him as 
 he heard it, and could not avoid being struck with the manifest de 
 jection in every feature of his countenance, lie thought it might 
 arise from the loneliness of his situation, his recent loss of a tender 
 mother, and the distressing condition of his father, of whom they 
 had seen nothing since their departure from the swamp. True, the 
 brother of Lance was along with them, but there was little sym 
 pathy between the two. The elder youth was dull and unobservant, 
 while the other was thoughtful and acute. They had little inter 
 course beyond an occasional word of question and reply ; and even 
 then, the intimacy and relationship seemed imperfect. These 
 things might, nay, must necessarily produce in the boy s mind a 
 sufficient feeling of his desolation, and hence, in Singleton s thought, 
 his depression seemed natural enough. But when the sigh was re 
 peated, and the face, even un ler the partisan s glance, wore the 
 same expression, he could no help addressing him on the 
 : ect 
 
SELF-QUESTIONING. 376 
 
 u Why, how now, Lance what s the matter ? Cheer up, cheer 
 up, and get ready to do something like a mau. Know you not 
 we re on the eve of battle ?" 
 
 " Oli, sir, I can t cheer up," was the half-inarticulate reply, as the 
 emotion of the boy visibly increased, and a tear was seen to gather 
 MI his eyes. So much emotion was unusual in one whose mood 
 was that of elastic enthusiasm ; and the pallid cheek and downcast 
 look stimulated anew the anxiety of the partisan. He repeated his 
 question curiously, and, at the same time, rising from his place of 
 rest, he came round to where the boy was standing, leaning against 
 his tree. 
 
 " What s the matter with you, boy what troubles you are you 
 sick ?" 
 
 "Oh, no, sir no, sir I m not sick I m very well but, sir n 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 " Only, sir, I ve never been in a battle before never to fight 
 with men, sir." 
 
 " Well! And what of that, Lance ? What mean you? Speak !" 
 
 The brow of Singleton darkened slightly, as he witnessed the 
 seeming trepidation of the youth. The frown, when Frampton 
 beheld it, had the natural effect of adding to his confusion. 
 
 "Oli, sir, only that I m so afraid " 
 
 " Afraid, boy !" exclaimed Singleton, sternly, interrupting the 
 speaker " afraid ! Then get back to the horses get away at 
 once from sight, and let not the men look upon you. Begone 
 
 The rheek of the boy glowed like crimson, his eye tlashcd out a 
 fire-like indignation, his head was erect on the instant, and his 
 whole figure rose with an expression of pride and firmness, which 
 showed the partisan that he had done him injustice. The change 
 was quite as unexpected as it was pleasant to Singleton ; and he 
 looked accordingly, as be listened to the reply of the boy, whose 
 speech was now unbroken. 
 
 "No, sir you wrong me I m not afraid of the enemy that 1 * 
 not it, sirr I m not afraid to fight, sir ; but " 
 
 " But what, Lance of what then are you afraid ?" 
 
 " Oh, air, I m afraid I shan t fight as I want to fight. I m afraid. 
 
876 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 sir, I won t have the heart to shoot a man, though 1 know he will 
 shoot me if he can. It s so strange, sir, to shoot at a true-and-true 
 man so very strange, sir, that I m afraid I ll tremble when the 
 time comes, and not shoot till it s too late." 
 
 u And what then how would you help that, boy ? You must 
 make up your mind to do it, or keep cut of the way." 
 
 " Why, sir, if I could only see you all the time if I could only 
 hear you speak to me in particular, and tell me by name when to 
 shoot, I think, sir, I could do it then well enough ; but to shoot at 
 a man for the first time I m so afraid I d tremble, and wait tor 
 long, unless you d be so good as to tell me when." 
 
 Singleton smiled thoughtfully, as he listened to the confused 
 workings of a good mind, finding itself in a novel position, ignorant 
 of the true standard for its guidance, and referring to another on 
 which it was most accustomed, or at least most willing, to depend. 
 The boy laboured under one of those doubts which so commonly 
 beset and annoy the ambitious nature, solicitous of doing greatly, 
 with an ideal of achievement drawn before the sight by the imagi 
 nation, and making a picture too imposing for its own quiet con 
 templation. He was troubled, as even the highest courage and 
 boldest genius will sometimes become, with enfeebling doubts of 
 his own capacity even to do tolerably, what he desires to do well. 
 lie trembled to believe that he should fall short of that measure of 
 achievement which his mind had made his standard, and at which 
 he aimed. 
 
 Fortunately for him, Singleton was sufficiently aware of the 
 distinction between doubts and misgivings so honorable and so 
 natural, and those which spring from imbecile purpose and a 
 efficient and shrinking spirit. He spoke to the boy kindly, assured 
 him of his confidence, encouraged him to a better reliance upon 
 his own powers; and, knowing well that nothing so soon brings? 
 out the naturally sturdy spirit as the quantity of pressure and 
 provocation upon it, he rather strove to impress upon him a highor 
 notion than ever of the severity and trial of the conflict now before 
 him. In proportion to the quantity of labour required at his hands. 
 did his spirit rise to overcome it; and Singleton, after a few 
 moments conversation with him, had the satisfaction to see hi* 
 
IN POSITION. 377 
 
 countenance brighten up, while his eye flashed enthusiasm, and nis 
 soul grew earnest for the strife. 
 
 " You shall have the place under my own eye : and mark ine, 
 Lance, that eye will be upon you. I will give you a distinct duty 
 to perform, and trust that it shall be done well." 
 
 " I ll try, sir," was the modest answer, though his doubts of his 
 own capacity were sensibly decreasing. The time was at hand, 
 however, which was to bring his courage into exercise and trial, 
 and to put to the test that strength of mind which he had been 
 himself disposed to underrate. One of the scouts charged with 
 the intelligence by Humphries now came in, bringing tidings of 
 the tories. They were computed to amount to eighty men ; but 
 of this the scouts could not be certain, as, in obedience to the 
 orders of his commander, Humphries had not ventured so nigh 
 as to expose himself to discovery. He computed the prisoners 
 in their charge, men, women, and children, to be quite as nume 
 rous. 
 
 Singleton, on the receipt of this intelligence, looked closely to 
 the preparations which he had made for their reception, saw that 
 his men were all in their places, and went the rounds, addressing 
 them individually in encouragement and exhortation. This done, 
 he took the young beginner, Lance Frainpton, aside, and leading 
 him to the shelter of a thick bush at the head of the little hillock, 
 he bade him keep that position in which he placed him, throughout 
 all the events of the contest. This position commanded a view of 
 the whole scene likely to be the theatre of conflict. The partisan 
 bade him survey it closely. 
 
 "There is the spring, Lance there in short rifle distance. 
 How far do you call it V" 
 
 " Thirty yards, sir." 
 
 " Are you a sure shot at that distance ?" 
 
 " Dead sure, sir ;" and he raised the rifle to his eye, which Sin 
 gleton handed him. 
 
 " Your hand trembles, boy." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but I m not afraid ; I m only anxious to begin." 
 
 " Keep cool ; there s no hurry, but time enough. Throw off 
 vour ja( ket give me your rifle. Th/ re now roll up your sleevea 
 
378 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 and go down to the spring plunge your arms up to their pits into 
 the cool water a dozen times, until I call vou. Go." 
 
 The boy went ; and before lie returned, Humphries rode in with 
 accounts of the near approach of Gaskens and his tories. Singleton 
 called up his pupil from the spring, and continued his directions. 
 
 "Take your place here, by the end of the log ; don t mind your 
 jacket better off than on. Our men, you see, are ranged on either 
 side of you. They can see you as easily as you can see them." 
 
 This sentence was emphatically uttered, while the piercing glance 
 of Singleton was riveted upon the now unfaltering countenance of 
 the boy. 
 
 " Below you is the spring, and in that shade the tories will most 
 probably come to a halt. They will scarcely put their prisoners 
 under cover, for fear they should escape ; and they will be likely 
 to remain at the opening there to your left there, just by those 
 tallow bushes. Now, observe : I am about to trust to you to com 
 mence the affair. Upon you, and your rifle shot, I depend greatly. 
 Don t raise it yet : let it rest in the hollow of your arm until you 
 are ready to pull trigger, which you will do the moment you hear 
 me say, * Now ! I will not be far from you, and will say it suffi 
 ciently loud for you, to hoar. The moment you hear me, lift your 
 piece, arid be sure to shoot the man, whoever he may be, that may 
 happen to stand upon the rise of the hill, just above the spring, and 
 under the great oak that hangs over it. It is most probable that 
 it will be Gaskens himself, the captain of the tories. But no 
 matter who he is, shoot him : aim for the man that stands on the 
 hillock, and you must hit an enemy. You will have but a single 
 tire, as our men will follow your lead, and in the next moment we 
 shall charge. When you see us do so, slip round by the tallow 
 bushes, and cut loose the ropes that tie the prisoners. These arc 
 your duties; and remember, boy, I shall see all your movements. 
 I shall look to you, and you only, until the affair commences. Be 
 in no hurry, but keep cool : wait for the word, and don t even lift 
 your rifle until you hear me give the signal. Remember, you have 
 a duty to perform to yourself and country, in whose cause your 
 life to-day begins. 
 
 The boy put his hand upon his heart, bowed his head, and made 
 
READY. 379 
 
 no other reply ; but his eye glistened with pride ; and as the 
 partisan moved away, he grasped his rifle, threw his right foot 
 back a pace, as if to feel his position, then, sinking quietly behind 
 the bush, prepared himself as firmly for the contest as if he had 
 been a veteran of MY*V 
 
CHAPTER XXX* 
 
 - And war shall have its victims, and grim death 
 Grow surfeit with his prey. The signal soou, 
 That marks the feast prepared, their ears shall not* 
 A sound of terror and the banquet spread, 
 Shall call the anxious appetite that sees 
 And gloats upon its garbage from afar." 
 
 SILENCE and a deep anxiety hung like a spell above the ambus 
 cading party. The woods lay at rest, and the waters of the 
 fountain trickled quietly, as if Peace lay sleeping in their neigh 
 bourhood, and Security watched over her. So well had Singleton 
 made his arrangements, and so cautiously had his plans been exe 
 cuted, that no necessity existed for bustle or confusion. Each 
 trooper had his duty as carefully assigned him as the boy Framp- 
 ton ; and all of them, taking direction from their gallant leader, 
 lay still in the close shadow of the thicket, silent as the grave, and 
 >nly awaiting the signal which was to fill its unfolding jaws. 
 
 They waited not long before the advance of the tories appeared 
 in sight ; then came the prisoners a melancholy troop men, 
 women and children ; and then the main body of the marauders, 
 under Gaskens, bringing up the rear. la all, there was probably 
 over a hundred persons ; an oddly assorted and most miscellaneous 
 collection, with nothing uniform in their equipment. They were 
 not British, but tories ; though here and there the gaudy red coat, 
 probably a tribute of the battle field, was ostentatiously worn by an 
 individual, upon whom, no doubt, it conferred its own character, 
 and some of that authority which certainly would have been pos 
 sessed by its owner were he a Briton. The present troop of banditti 
 for, as yet, they could be styled by no other more proper epithet 
 was one of the many by which the country was overrun in every 
 direction. Banding together in small squads, the dissolute and tba 
 wicked among the native and foreign thus availed themselves of t.ha 
 
TORY DESPERADOES. 381 
 
 distractions of the war to revenge themselves upon old enemies, 
 destroy the property they could not appropriate, and, with the 
 sword and the rope, punish the more honest, or the more quiet, 
 for that pacific forbearance which they themselves were so little dis 
 posed to manifest. 
 
 In every section of the province these squads were continually 
 forming. In one night, ten, twenty, thirty, or more, would collect 
 together, and by a sudden and impetuous movement, anticipating 
 all preparations, would rush with fire and sword upon their whig 
 neighbours, whose first knowledge of the incursion would be the 
 brand in the blazing barn, or the bullet driven through the crash 
 ing pane. They shot down, in this manner, even as he sat with 
 his little circle at the family fireside, the stout yeoman who might 
 have defended or avenged them. The arm of the law was staid by 
 invasion, and the sanction of the invaders was necessarily given, 
 under all circumstances, to the party which claimed to fight in 
 their behalf. The tory became the British ally, and the whig his 
 victim accordingly ; and to such a degree were the atrocities of 
 these wretches carried, that men were dragged from the arms of 
 their wives at midnight, and Buffered for their love of country in 
 the sight of wife and children, by dying in the rope, and from their 
 own roof trees. 
 
 Of this character was the body of tories, under Amos Gaskens, now 
 rapidly approaching the place of ambush. They had formed them 
 selves on the Williainsburgli line, chiefly the desperadoes and outcasts 
 from that quarter, and had chosen among themselves an appropriate 
 leader in Gaskens, of whom we are told by the historian, that even 
 before the war he had been notorious for his petty larcenies. From 
 this quarter they had passed into St. Johns, Berkley, marking their 
 progress everywhere with havoc, and stopping at no atrocity. Such 
 employment was not less grateful to themselves than to their new 
 masters, to whom they thought it likely, and indeed knew, that it 
 must commend th em. Gaskens aimed more highly, indeed, than 
 Mis neighbours. He had already been honoured with a British 
 captaincy he desired a still loftier commission ; and the reckless 
 ness of his deeds was intended still further to approve him in the 
 sight of those from whom he hoped to receive it. If the atrocitie* 
 
382 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 of Taileton resulted in his promotion and hoi.our, why not lik* 
 atrocities in Amos Gaskeris ? Reason might well ask, why not 
 since, in cruelty, they were fair parallels for one another. 
 
 The prisoners brought with Gaskens were chiefly taken from th 
 parish of St. Johns, Berkley. One family, consisting of a man 
 named Griffin, his wife, and daughter, a tall, good looking girl, 
 about seventeen, were closely watched, apart from the rest of the 
 captives, by a guard especially assigned for this purpose. The tak 
 ing of this man had cost the tory two of his best soldiers, and he 
 had himself been wounded in the arm by a stroke from Griffin s 
 sabre. Griffin had fought desperately against his captors ; and an 
 old grudge between himself and Gaskens had stimulated them both, 
 the one to desire his capture, the other to resist, even unto death, 
 the effort of his enemy. The result, so far, has been shown. 
 Griffin tried to escape at the approach of the tory, but the back 
 track to the neighbouring swamp had been intercepted by Gaskens, 
 who knew the route, and three of his men who went there in ad 
 vance to watch it ; while the main body of the troop pressed for 
 ward to the cottage. It was there that the flying man encountered 
 them, and the light was desparately waged before they conquered 
 him. This did not happen until, as we have said, two of his das 
 tardly assailants had fallen beneath his good sword and vigorous 
 arm. He pressed Gaskens himself backward, and would have pro 
 bably slain him and escaped, but for the aid of other tories coming 
 on him from behind. 
 
 Though not seriously wounded in the fray, Griffin had been 
 much chopped and mangled. A large seam appeared upon his 
 thigh, and there were two slight gashes over his cheek, not so deep 
 as ugly. Conquered at last, his jtands were bound, and, with his 
 family, he was made to attend his captors on foot. The manly re 
 sistance which he had offered to his enemy, instead of securing him 
 respect, exposed him only to the most torturing irritations in his 
 progress with them. Before his eyes, they hurled the brand into 
 his little cottage, and he saw the fierce flames in full mastery over 
 his little homestead, IOIIGJ before they had left the enclosure. In 
 spite of his wounds and injuries, the sturdy fellow maintained a 
 tout heart, and showed no sign of despondency ; but, bearing 
 
ANTIPATHY. 383 
 
 himself as boldly as if he were not the victim but the vioor, lie de 
 fied the base spirit of his conqueror, and with an eye that spoke all 
 the feeling of the fiercest hatred, he looked the defiance which, at 
 that time, he had no better mode of manifesting. 
 
 Nor was the feeling of Gaskens towards his prisoner a jot less 
 malignantly hostile than that of Griffin. There was an old grudge 
 between them such a grudge as is common to the strifes of a. 
 wild and but partially settled neighbourhood. They had been 
 neighbours that is to say, they dwelt on contiguous plantations 
 but never friends. For many years they lived in the same district, 
 seeing each other frequently, but without intercourse. This was 
 entirely owing to Griffin, who disliked Gaskens, and studiously 
 withheld himself from all intimacy with him. Griffin was an 
 industrious farmer Gaskens the overseer for the Postell estate. 
 Griffin was a sober, quiet man, who had been long married, and 
 found his chief enjoyment in the bosom of his family. Gaskens 
 loved the race-turf and the cockpit, and his soul was full of theii 
 associations. It is the instinct of vice to hate the form of virtue, 01 
 that habit which so nearly resembles her, as to desire no exciting 
 indulgences, no forced stimulants, no unwonted and equivocal 
 enjoyments. Griffin sought for none of those pleasures which were 
 all-in-all to Gaskens, and the other hated him accordingly. 
 
 But there were yet other causes for this hostility, in the positive 
 rejection of his proffered intimacy, which Griffin had unscrupulously 
 given. Though but a small farmer, with means exceedingly mod 
 erate, the sense of self-respect, which industry brought with it to his 
 mind, taught him to scorn and to avoid the base outrider, and lluj 
 dishonest overseer of the neighbouring plantation. Words of strife, 
 more than once, had fallen between them, but not with any serious 
 rupture following. Gaskens, finally, removed to another plantation 
 somewhat further off, and all acquaintance ceased between them. 
 There he pursued his old courses ; and at length, left without 
 employ, as he had lost the confidence of all those whom he had 
 served heretofore in his capacity of overseer, he had become the 
 regular attendant of the tavern. 
 
 The arrival of the British forces, the siege and the surrender of 
 7hfvrleston, with the invasion of the state by foreign mercenaries, 
 
384 THE PARTISAN 
 
 presented him witli a iiew field for action ; and, with thousands of 
 others, to whom all considerations were as nothing, weighed against 
 the love of low indulgence, unrestrained power, and a profligate 
 lust for plunder, he did not scruple to adopt the cause which was 
 strongest, and most likely to procure him those objects for which 
 his appetite most craved. He became a furious loyalist, mustered 
 his party, and became the assessor of his neighbours estates. The 
 fortune which threw into his hands the person of Griffin revived 
 the old grudge ; and the stout defence made by his prisoner, deter 
 mined him upon a measure but too often adopted in that saturnalia 
 of crime, the tory warfare in Carolina, to excite much attention or 
 provoke many scruples in the party employing it. With a spiteful 
 malignity which belongs to the vulgar mind, he had ridden along 
 by the side of his captive ; and finding, as he rode, that the pres 
 ence of his wife and daughter was a consolation still, he ordered 
 them to the rear with the other prisoners, not permitting them to 
 approach, or even to speak with him. As thus he rode he taunted 
 his captive with low remark and insolent sneer at his present for 
 tune, compared with his own, and with the past. The wounded 
 man, with his hands tied behind him, could only demonstrate his 
 scorn by an occasional sentence from his lips, while his eye, gleam 
 ing with the collected vengeance of his heart, spoke well what the 
 other might expect, were they only permitted a fair field and equal 
 footing for contest. It was when they had reached the immediate 
 precincts of the spring, that the intercourse between them had 
 reached the extremest point of savage malignity on the one hand, 
 and fierce defiance on the other. 
 
 " Yes, you d d rebel," continued Gaskens, " you see what s come 
 of your obstinacy and insolence. You fly in the face of the kin^ 
 and refuse to obey his laws ; and now you have your pay. By 
 G d, but it does my heart good to see you in this pickle." 
 
 " Coward ! if I could lay hands on you but for two minutes 
 only two minutes, Amos Gaskens and by the Eternal, chopped 
 up as I am, you should never have it in your power to say again 
 to an honest man what you have said to me." 
 
 "Two minutes, do vou say ?" said the other "two minutes? 
 You shall have two minutes, Griffin two minutes, as you ask; but 
 
TWO MINUTES. 
 
 the* .nail be for prayer, and not for fighting. I remember you of 
 oK I have forgotten nothing and you shall pay oft to-day a 
 .ong score that s been running up against you. You remember 
 *vhen I was overseer to John Postell, and you gave me to know 
 you didn t want to see me at your house, though that was a log- 
 house like my own ? I wasn t good enough for you, nor for yours, 
 eh ? What do you say now ?" 
 
 " The same. I hold you worse now than I did then. And then 
 I didn t despise you because you were poor, for, as you say, I was 
 poor myself; but because I thought you a rascal, and since then I 
 know d it. You are worse now." 
 
 " Talk on I give you leave to talk, you d d rebel and that s 
 a mercy you don t deserve ; but I have you in my power, and it 
 won t be long you ll have to talk. I wonder what your pride 
 comes to now, when I, Amos Gaskens, who wasn t good enough 
 for you and your daughter, have only to say the word, and it s all 
 dicky with both of you. You yourself you can t stir a hand but 
 at my orders ; and look there that s your wife and daughter 
 and what can you do for em, if I only gives the word to the boys 
 to do their likes to them ?" 
 
 " Oh ! villain ! oh ! monster ! If I only had my arms free and 
 a we pon in my hand !" cried the prisoner, vainly struggling with 
 his bonds. But he writhed in them in vain. The tyrant looked 
 down upon him from his horse with a grin of delight which com 
 pleted the fury of the victim, until he rushed, though with a fruit 
 less vengeance, against the sides of the animal, idly expending his 
 strength in an innoxious and purposeless effort against his persecu 
 tor, A blow from the hilt of his sabre drove him back, while, <if 
 he reeled among the troop, a shriek from the wife and daughter in 
 the rear, at the same moment, announced their consciousness of 
 the whole proceeding. 
 
 " Two minutes you shall have, my boy two minutes, as you 
 asked for them," said Gaskens to the prisoner, as they now ap 
 proached the spring. 
 
 " Two minutes for what ?" he inquired. 
 
 " For prayer and quite long enough for one that s passed BO 
 good a life as you," was the sneering reply. 
 
386 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" was the farther inquiry of the prisoner 
 
 Gaskens pointed to the huge oak that surmounted the spring, 
 and at the same moment a corporal approached with a rope, the 
 running noose of which as this agent was frequently in requisition 
 was already made, and now swung ostentatiously in his hands. 
 
 " Great God ! Amos Gaskens, wretch as you are, you do not 
 mean to murder me 2" 
 
 u May I be totally d d if I do not. You shall hang to that 
 tree in two minutes after I say the word, or there are no snakes." 
 
 " You dare not, ruffian. I claim to be a prisoner of war I ap 
 peal to the troop." 
 
 " Appeal and be d d. My troop know better than to disobey 
 the orders of a lawful officer in commission of his majesty ; and as 
 for your being a prisoner of war, that s a lie. You are a murderer, 
 and I have proof enough of it. But that s neither here nor there. 
 I will answer for all I have done to the commander of the Dor 
 chester post, and if you can make him hear your voice at this dis 
 tance, you have a better pipe than my rope has touched yet 
 that s all. So, to your prayers, whife I take a sup of this water. 
 Here, boy, hold the bridle." 
 
 The wretch descended, and the boy reined up the steed, while 
 Gaskens strode onward to the spring. The corporal approached 
 the doomed victim, and was about to pass the loop over his head 
 but he resisted by every effort in his power. 
 
 " Great God ! but this is not in earnest ? Hear me, Amos 
 Gaskens hear me, man ! Monster ! are you not ashamed to sport 
 in this way with the feelings of my poor wife and child ?" 
 
 Gaskens looked round contemptuously, but still strode onward, 
 as he replied " Do your duty, corporal, or blast me but I run you 
 up, though I have to do it myself. You shall know, Wat Griffin, 
 whether I am not good enough for your d d log-cabin now, or not. 
 Two minutes, corporal only two minutes, and a short cord re 
 member two minutes, I say no more." 
 
 With the assistance of two of the tory squad, Griffin was thrown 
 upon his back, and lay struggling upon the ground, while the rope 
 was adjusted to" his neck. 
 
 " My wife! my child ! let them cone to me, Amos Gaskena 
 
THE DOOM. 387 
 
 let them see me, Gaskens man or devil ! Will you not suffe 
 them to come to me ? let me see and speak to them, I pray 
 
 "They will see you better when you are lifted up ! Be quick 
 SHV your prayers, man, and lose no time. One minute is almost 
 gone already. Make the most of the other." 
 
 The ruffian spoke with the coolest indifference, while mixing a 
 gourd of spirits and water at the spring. This done, he ascended 
 the hili, bearing the liquor in his hand, and bade the execution 
 proceed. They hauled the victim by the rope up the little rising, 
 and towards the tree, almost strangling him before he reached the 
 spot. In the meanwhile the air was rent with the shrieks of his 
 wife and daughter in the rear, who were pressed back with the 
 other prisoners, the guard keeping them back from any approach 
 to the doomed man, then about to be separated from them for 
 ever. He cried to them by name, in a thick, choking voice, for 
 the rope svas now drawn, by the party hauling him along, with a 
 suffocating tightness. 
 
 " Ellen ! Ellen, my wife ! Oh, Ellen, my poor child ! Amos 
 Gaskens God remember you for this ! Oh, Ellen ! God help 
 me ! Have you no mercy, monster none ?" lie screamed to his 
 murderer, in agony and in vain ! 
 
 " Father, dear father !" cried the girl. 
 
 The mother had simply stretched forth her hands as she beheld 
 the threatened movement, and, overpowered by her emotions, had 
 fallen senseless in the effort to speak. The daughter strove to rush 
 forward, but the strong-armed sentinel rudely thrust her back with 
 a heavy hand, and pressed her down with the rest of the prisoners, 
 who had been made to file into the grove of tallow bushes, which 
 the prescience of Singleton had already assigned them. 
 
 Gasping, but struggling to the last, the victim had been already 
 drawn up by his executioner within a few feet of the broad limb 
 stretching over the spring, which was to serve the purpose of a 
 gallows; and the brutal leader of the party, standing upon the 
 little eminence the liquor in hand, which he was stirring, yet un- 
 tasted had already declared the time to be elapsed which he 
 allowed to the prisoner IV the purposes of prayer, when, distinctly 
 
888 THE PARTISAN 
 
 and clear, the voice of Singleton was heard above the shrieks of 
 the daughter above the hoarse cries of the prisoner in parting to 
 his wife above all the bustle of the transaction. The single word, 
 as given to the boy Frampton, was uttered ; and, in the next 
 instant, came the sharp, thrilling crack of the rifle, fatally aimed, 
 and striking the legitimate victim. The body of Gaskens, between 
 whose eyes the bullet had passed the word unspoken the draught 
 in his hand untasted tumbled forward, prostrate, immovable, 
 upon the form of his reprieved victim, whom still struggling, but 
 half strangled the corporal had just diagged beneath the fatal 
 tree. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Too brig a laggard, he hath stood, 
 Until the heurlh \v i drenched in blood, 
 
 Until the tyrant ^rew 
 All reckless, in his bloody game; 
 The cities proud, he wrapped in flame, 
 
 Their brave defenders slew." 
 
 THE young partisan, Frampton, to whom Singleton had intrusted 
 so leading a part in the enterprise, had well fulfilled the duty 
 assigned him. He put himself in readiness with the first appear 
 ance of the marauders ; and, with a heart throbbing with anxiety 
 all the while, witnessed impatiently the progress of the preceding 
 scene, until broken by the emphatic utterance of the signal, and 
 nis own prompt obedience to its dictates. Then, with an instinct, 
 which in that moment silenced and stilled the quick pulsations of 
 his breast, he raised the deadly weapon to his shoulder ; arid, with 
 a determined coolness that arose, as it were, from a desire to con 
 vince himself, not less than his commander, that he could be firm, 
 he twice varied his aim, until perfectly assured, when he drew the 
 trigger, and most opportunely singled out a different victim from 
 the one whom Gaskens had contemplated for the fatal sisters, in 
 the person of that foul murderer himself. 
 
 There was a moment of dreadful pause after this event. The 
 rope fell from the hands of the executioner, and his eyes, and the 
 eyes of all, were turned in doubt and astonishment upon the quar 
 ter from whence the deadly missile had proceeded. The condemned 
 man seized the opportunity to throw from his body the lifeless 
 carcase of the slain tory; and not doubting that further aid was at 
 hand, and looking for a closer struggle between the parties, in 
 which his condition did not suffer him to hope to share, he crawled 
 along the hill for shelter to the neighbouring tree. His effort was 
 interrupted ; for, in the next moment, another and another shot 
 17 
 
390 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 *(.;K cted their victims ; then came the full volley ; and then tluj 
 loud voice of Singleton, as, plunging through the copse, he led the 
 way for his men, who charged the confused and terrified tories on 
 every side. They scarcely showed sign of fight. One or two 
 jftered resistance boldly, and with as much skill as resolution ; but 
 they were soon overpowered, as they received no support from their 
 comrades, who were now scampering in the bushes in every direc 
 tion. The surprise had been complete ; not a man was seriously 
 hurt among the whigs, while every rifle, fired in the first of the 
 fray, had told fatally upon its victim. Seven were slain outright, a 
 few more sabred, and some few were made prisoners the rest took 
 the back track into the woods, and though pursued, contrived, with 
 few exceptions, to make their escape. 
 
 The boy, Lance, meanwhile, had well performed the other duty 
 which had been given to his charge. The conflict, pcllmell, had 
 scarcely begun, when, slipping noiselessly round to the hollow 
 where the prisoners were confined, so as not to arouse the notice 
 of the two sentinels having them in custody and whose eyes were 
 now turned in surprise upon the unlooked-for contest he cut the 
 cords which bound them ; and, prompt as himself, they were no 
 sooner free, than they seized upon their guards and disarmed them. 
 The ropes were transferred to other hands than tlu-ir own. This 
 was all the work of an instant; so, indeed, was the affray itself; 
 and the first object that met the eyes of Singleton as he returned 
 from the charge to the spot where it first began, was the person of 
 the boy, Lance, bending over the man lie had shot, and curiously 
 inspecting the bullet-hole which he had made through and through 
 his forehead. 
 
 " Ha, Lance !" said Singleton ; " you have done well you have 
 behaved like a man." 
 
 Lance Frampton looked the picture of the personification in the 
 ode of Collins, where Fear 
 
 " recoils, he knows not why, 
 Even at the sound (wound) himself hath made." 
 
 " What do you wonder at, Lance ? " demanded Singleton. 
 <4 Oh! sir, I can scarcelv believe that this was the same man" 
 
REGRET. 391 
 
 pointing to the body " who was swearing so dreadfully but a 
 minute ago; and it was my rifle that made this awful bullet- 
 hole !" 
 
 " A good shot, Lance, and at the right moment !" 
 
 " Ah ! sir, but how terrible to think ! He was swearing dread 
 fully at the very moment when I pulled trigger, and it was my hand 
 that stopped his mouth, full as it was of curses ; and he s gone 
 gone where ? Oh ! sir, I do feel so strange !" 
 
 "The thought is a sincere and solemn one, Lance, that of send 
 ing a fellow creature to judgment, while his mouth is full of curses ! 
 But how else could we have saved his worthier victims the poor 
 captives the wretched father whom he was about to hurry out of 
 life ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, that s true; and how fearful I was lest you wouldn t 
 say the word * now soon enough to let me save him. Oh ! I felt 
 so eager to shoot; but I m afraid it was a wrong feeling. It makes 
 me feel very strange, sir, to feel that I have killed a man and one 
 so much older than mysdf. What would poor mother say, if she 
 was alive and knew it !" 
 
 How many secret avenues to the boy s nature, and his mother s 
 training, were laid open to Singleton s eyes, with these words of 
 boyhood. But the time was not favourable to philosophy. 
 
 "Enough, now, Lance, that you have done your duty, as you 
 were bid that you slew this miserable creature in a good cause, 
 and for the safety of more innocent people. Let that content you. 
 You will soon get over all that is strange in your emotions. One 
 rifle shot will cover another. Go now, put on your jacket, and 
 think no more of the matter." 
 
 " Ah !" murmured the boy, upon whom new and inly half re 
 volting experiences were rapidly dawning, " ah ! I can t help 
 thinking of it! I have taken the life of a man 1 What would 
 mother say, if she was alive and knew ?" 
 
 lie moved slowly to the copse where he had thrown down his 
 rifle and jacket, his thoughts wandering wide from his immediate 
 objects, while, to his eyes, the whole atmosphere, sky, and wood, 
 seemed bathed in a deep crimson dye, that showed the sort of pas 
 sion that was taking possession of his brain. Ah ! how rnpidlv 
 
392 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 may the pure young soul of innocence the path once open, the 
 first step taken become bloody with sanguine tide, from a heart 
 whose billows but too quickly rise, and swell above the brain, and 
 sweep away all its landmarks of justice, and love, and mercy ! That 
 first lesson in the work of strife that first blow struck, which tears 
 the life away from the heart of the victim ! Alas ! how easy after 
 wards to wade out deep in the sea of batte, and find a tumultuous 
 joy in sounding through its red and raging billows, forgetting, so 
 easily, with what reluctance and horror, at first, we prepared for 
 the deed, and approached to the performance of the fearful work 
 of death. 
 
 But we are not permitted to linger only on the gloomier and 
 more revolting aspects of the picture. It has other scenes, which 
 justify the work, if they cannot wholly reconcile us to its more 
 fearful results. Let us turn, with Singleton, to another quarter ol 
 the scene of this little skirmish. The group which now meets his 
 eyes amply compensate, by the innocent joy which they feel, by 
 the glad sense of escape which they share together, for all that 
 has been painful and oppressive in the trial he has just gone 
 Vhough. There we see the freed captives, rescued by the blow 
 which destroyed the murderous tory, and dispersed his band 
 there rise the wretched prisoners, trembling but a moment before 
 with terrors worse than death, to the consciousness of life, safety, 
 and liberty ! The beaten and bound man stands erect. lie has 
 shaken oft his pangs of body, in the feeling of his new sense of 
 safety for himself and kindred his wife and little ones. Oh ! 
 what compensation to the gallant soldier is that cry, that cheei 
 of joy, and thanks, and gratulation, from every lip, of that recently 
 doomed and trampled circle ! They hail their deliverer they 
 cliig around him tears are in their eyes, the most expressive 
 utMjranse of their joys ; and murmurs and shouts, on all sides, 
 attest the new consciousness of delight and freedom which they feel. 
 
 Conspicuous among these poor captives, in the sudden revulsion 
 
 or their feelings, growing upon the new and fortunate change in 
 
 ti i> .ir condition, is the family of the brave but greatly suffering man 
 
 \nrkom Gaskens had singled out as the especial victim of his malig- 
 
 *nt power. lie had escaped the halter, but how narrowly ! But 
 
SAFETY. 393 
 
 where is he now ! Scarcely had the strife ceased, when the wife 
 of Griffin, whom the tender cares of the daughter had recovered 
 from her swocn, was seized with new apprehensions and anxieties. 
 She had been told that the seasonable ambush of Singleton had 
 rescued her husband from the rope ; but a new terror filled hei 
 soul, as, when the skirmish ceased, her husband did not appear. She 
 ran through the crowd of captives and partisans, crying aloud his 
 name. For a moment, a silent dread filled all hearts, as the woods 
 returned no answer. Wildly the woman was about to rush away 
 into the thickets, the daughter following, when she felt a pair of 
 strong arms thrown around her. Blinded by her tears and fears, 
 she could see nothing ; but she heard a voice but a single word, 
 and her arms were thrown around the neck of the brave man, and 
 she sobbed convulsively. 
 
 < Oh ! Wat ! oh ! Wat ! I haven t lost you, Wat," 
 
 " Mo ! no ! Ellen ! no ! Not this time." 
 
 And the girl clung about him, with her one word also thrice 
 and thrice repeated " Oh ! Father ! my dear, dear father !" 
 
 Singleton was a strong man, not much given to the melting 
 mood, but the tears, spite of himself, grew into his eyes as he sur 
 veyed the simple,- touching, wordless embraces of these poor, fond 
 people, and beheld the deep sorrowful sweetness of the rapture they 
 enjoyed the rapture which is kin to agony the pleasure which 
 grows into a very pain, in the extreme of its intensity. 
 
 " Oh ! are you indeed safe, my husband ? Tell me true, Wat 
 Griffin, is there no more danger ?" 
 
 " Safe ! safe ! Ellen ! Thanks to these brave men. We are all 
 safe from this danger." 
 
 " And you you are not hurt badly ?" 
 
 " Spurred only riled a little, back and sides ; but sound at the 
 core, and tough enough to do mischief to the enemy when they 
 give me but a chance." 
 
 " And that cruel Gaskens !" said the woman, with a shudder, 
 looking round her as she spoke, as if still dreading the power of the 
 tory. 
 
 " The wretch is on his back. God bless the bullet that came in 
 time, and the true hand that sent it." 
 
394 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 "And we are free, my father; free to go home again to our 
 own home ?" said the daughter, as she took the hand of her father 
 in both of her own. 
 
 " Home ! where is it ?" he exclaimed fiercely, and with the same 
 savage expression with which his eyes had regarded Gaskens, even 
 in the moment of his greatest danger. " Where is it ? Did you 
 not see the blaze through the trees, as we looked back 1 Did he 
 not throw the torch into the loft with his own accursed hands? 
 and yet you ask for our home We have no home, girl." 
 
 " But we are free, my husband, we are free. You will go 
 to work we will soon have another in the old place, we can build 
 a log-house in a short time." 
 
 " Never, never ! I do no such folly. What ! to be burned 
 down again by other tories ? no, no ! I am chopped already I 
 cannot be chopped much worse, and live ; and if I must suffer, let 
 me suffer with those who will help me to strike, too, and to revenge 
 my wrongs! I will burn too; I will kill too. I will have blood 
 for what I have lost, and the sufferings of others shall pay me for 
 my own and yours." 
 
 Singleton approached at this moment, and the prisoners, so late 
 ly freed, gathered around him. Each had his own story of afflic 
 tion to tell, and each more mournful than the other. 
 
 "They chased me, it mought be a matter of three miles, fore I 
 gin up, captain, and they wore out a bunch of hickories on my 
 back, becaise I run jest see the marks," was the complaint of one. 
 Another had his tale of petty treachery : his neighbour who had 
 eaten* a hundred times of his bacon and hoecake, had come in the 
 night time, shot down his cattle, and, finally, led the tories to his 
 door to butcher him. Another had his wife shot in her bed, 
 in mistake for himself, while he was traversing the swamp to make 
 his escape. And so on one with a tale of simple cruelty, one with 
 a, burning, another with a murder, and some with even more 
 atrocious crimes each of the prisoners had his own and his 
 family s sufferings, at the hands of the bloodthirsty tories, to nar 
 rate to their deliverer. 
 
 Singleton administered his consolations, and put arms into their 
 hands. The gmater number of them joined him ; those who did 
 
DECISION. 395 
 
 not, receiving the upbraidtngs, in no stinted measure, of those who 
 did. The lately doomed prisoner, Griffin, seized upon a broad 
 sword a massive weapon, which had fallen from the hands of a 
 huge-limbed tory and proffered himself among the first. His wife 
 laid her hand upon his arm 
 
 " Oh, husband, you are not a-going to join the soldiers ? You are 
 not going a-fighting ?" 
 
 He looked sternly upon her, and shook away her grasp with 
 indignation. 
 
 "Ay, but I am ! you shan t keep me from my duty any longer. 
 I wanted to come out six months ago, but you tried the same game 
 over me, and I was fool enough to mind you, and see how it s 
 turned out. Our cattle shot the house burnt the farm destroyed 
 and me chopped up, and almost hung; and all owing to 
 you." 
 
 The woman sank back at the reproach. The girl came between 
 them. She only said : 
 
 " Oh, father i" 
 
 The tearfully bright eyes of the girl did the rest. He felt their 
 reproach ; and more deeply when the girl turned to the sad and 
 stricken mother, and with arms about her neck, murmured 
 
 " He don t mean it, mother ; it s only because he s wild with the 
 fighting. He don t mean what he says." 
 
 But there was a truth at the bottom of Griffin s reproaches, 
 thong?! the blame was rather his than his wife s. If the fears of the 
 woman kept him back unwisely from his duties, the weakness was 
 his. But without meaning unkindness, and only desiring to 
 declare his new resolution, Griffin answered the apologetic speech 
 of his daughter in a rough fashion. 
 
 " I do mean it ! I do mean it ! She whined, and begged, and 
 cried, and kept me back, until the bloody varmints overcrowed us 
 at every turn. She shall keep me back no longer. I say to you, 
 major, here s an arm, and here s a :,word. To be sure the arm s 
 chopped, and the owner is ragged with cuts and scratches; but no 
 matter, they re true blood, and, by G d, it s at your service for 
 old Carolina. Put me down in your orderly book as one of your 
 men, as long as the troop holds together. Wat Griffin, is one of 
 
396 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 your men, and one of Marion s men, and one of all men that ar 
 enemies to the torres." 
 
 The man was resolute, and his wife spared all farther speech. She 
 knew how unavailing was the woman s pleading against the stern 
 will of the man, once determined upon. She clung to his arm, 
 however ; and it could be seen, in that moment of reserve and of 
 doubt, of trying adventure and long fatigue rising up before them, 
 that the firmness of her resolution to share his fortunes was equal 
 to that which had determined him upon them. 
 
 An hour s labour buried the bodies of the men who had fallen in 
 the conflict. The recruits were well armed from the hands of those 
 who had perished and become prisoners; and, with a troop now 
 grown to a respectable size from the acquisitions of the morning, 
 Singleton prepared for his farther progress. The men were soon 
 mounted, some riding double as the number of horses was not 
 now equal to that of the partisans. The prisoners were driven 
 along before them ; and rather more slowly than they otherwise 
 would have marched, not thus embarrassed, oar little corps of 
 patriots was soon in motion. Singleton led the march at a gentle 
 pace the boy, Frampton, as had latterly been his wont, taking his 
 place and keeping close alongside of his 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIL 
 
 u And nubile the design, and deep the snare, 
 And various the employ of him who seek* 
 To spoil his fellow, and secure himself* 
 
 CERTAINLY, man is never so legitimately satisfied, as when in the 
 realization of his own powers. The exercise of those attributes 
 which make his nature, is the duty that follows his creation; and 
 it is only when he exceeds the prescribed limit, and runs into excess, 
 that he suffers and is criminal. How various are these powers 
 how extensive their range how superior their empire! Creative, 
 destructive, perceptive all co-operating for the same end the 
 elevation of his own capacities and condition. They are those of 
 a God however subordinate and they prove his divinity. Ba 
 lanced duly, each in its place, and restrained as well as promoted 
 by its fellow, he deserves to be, and most probably will be, happy. 
 But, whether the balance be preserved or not, the discovery, on his 
 part, of any one of these powers, must have the effect of elevating 
 him in his own thought, and giving him pleasure accordingly. 
 Sometimes, indeed, to such a degree does its realization delight 
 him, that he maddens and gluttonizes in its enjoyment he gloats 
 upon it : and, from a natural attribute, cherished for a beneficial 
 purpose, and forming a necessary endowment, it grows into a dis 
 ease, and preys upon its master. 
 
 Sr.ch is that love of enterprise which sometimes leads to unge 
 nerous conquest; such that stern desire of justice which sometimes 
 prompts us, in defence of our own rights, not to scruple at unne 
 cessary bloodshed. In the pursuit of both, the original purpose is 
 soon lost sight of. We gauge riot our revenges in measure with the 
 wrongs we suffer ; and the fierce excitements which grow out of 
 their prosecution, become leading, if not legitimate, objects of pur 
 suit themselves. The conquest of new countries, to this day, at 
 17* 
 
S98 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 whatever expense of blood and treasure, is scarcely criminal in the 
 eyes of civilized and Christian man ; and where conscience does 
 suggest a scruple, the doubt is soon set aside in the gracious con 
 sideration of those vast benefits which we assume to bring to the 
 people, whose claims we despise, and whose lands and lives we 
 appropriate. Yet is the enterprise itself legitimate, according to 
 our nature ; and the sense of resistance to injustice and oppression 
 is a virtue that could not be dispensed with. They form vital 
 necessities of our condition, but only while we keep them subordi 
 nate to our virtues and necessities. The misfortune is that we 
 pamper them, as we do favourite children, till they rise at last into 
 tyrants, and change places with us. 
 
 The boy Frampton had undergone a change which did not 
 escape the eye of Singleton as he rode beside him. -The lively 
 laugh had left his countenance, the gentle play of expression had 
 departed from his rich, red, and well chiselled mouth, and in place 
 of them the eye was kindled with a deep glare of light, lowering 
 and strong, while the lips curled into a haughty loftiness becoming 
 the lord of highest station. A vein that crossed his forehead 
 was full almost to bursting, and his brow lowered with an expres 
 sion that indicated feelings, even then warmly active with the brief- 
 hcene of strife through which they had so recently passed. The 
 boy was a boy no longer ; he had realized one of the capacities of 
 manhood ; he had slain his man ; he had taken one step in 
 revenging the murder of his mother ; he had destroyed one of the 
 murderers ; but, more than all he had taken human life. 
 
 Something of a higher feeling than this was at the same time 
 working in his bosom. Though previously untaught, he had learned 
 too much of the struggle going on in the colonies, not to have 
 acquired some knowledge of the abstract question upon which ir 
 depended ; and though his thoughts were all vague and indistinct 
 11 the subject, the rights of man, the freedom of the citizen, and 
 the integrity of his country, he had learned to feel should all be 
 among the first considerations, as their preservation was always the 
 first care, of the true patriot. The furious popular discussions of 
 the five preceding years had not be<ai unheard by the youthful 
 oldier * and its appeals were not lost upon one, who, in his OWP 
 
PRECOCITY OF THE PASSIONS. 399 
 
 raiuil> > had beheld such a bloody argument as had long since 
 taught him to illustrate by the real and actual those lessons which 
 otherwise might have floated through his mind as only so much 
 spirited declamation. His country entered into his thoughts, there 
 fore, in due connexion with his feeling of the individual wrong 
 which he had sustained ; and that personal feeling which prompted 
 the desire of revenge, was lifted higher, and rendered holier, by this 
 connexion. It became hallowed in his bosom, where it contem 
 plated, not only the punishment of the wrong- doer, but the pro 
 tection of the- cottage-home -his own, and his people s from the 
 injustice and the violence of the invader. It grew into a solemn 
 principle of action thus associated, and the moral abstraction over 
 which the unassailed citizen might have dreamed through a long 
 season of years, without duly considering its force or application, 
 became purely practical in the eyes of young Frampton a feeling 
 of his heart, rather than a worked out problem of his understanding. 
 The thought grew active in following out the feeling; and Single 
 ton, as the boy rode abstractedly beside him, revolving a thousand 
 new and strange sensations that were running through his mind, 
 regarded his countenance with a glance of melancholy rather than 
 approval. He saw that in his glance, which taught hiai the lead 
 ing activity of his new emotions. The boy had a new sentiment 
 in his bosom, the contemplation of which made it eminently more 
 familiar. He could destroy and he could do so without his own 
 rebuke. He could take the life of his fellow and good men could 
 approve. He had penetrated a new world of thought, and he was 
 duly enamoured of his conquest ; and, even as we all desire to renew 
 the novelty, and partake a second time of the strange pleasure, so 
 the heart of the boy panted for a repetition of that indulgence 
 which had lifted him into premature manhood. The passions grew 
 active without the least countenance of reason to uphold them, and 
 this is the dangerous point in their history. Crime was made legi 
 timate to him now, and the fruit once forbidden, was forbidden no 
 longer. He could now pluck with impunity so he began to 
 think and his mind was on that narrow eminence which divides 
 a duty from an indulgence which separates the close approach of 
 a principle to an appetite which changes the means into an end : 
 
400 TUP: PARTISAN. 
 
 and, identifying the excuse for violence with an impelling motive 
 to its commission, converts a most necessary agent of life into a 
 powerful tyranny, which, in the end, runs riot, and only conquers 
 to destroy. 
 
 Singleton regarded his charge with a close attention, as he sur 
 veyed the unsophisticated emotions of his heart, plainly enough 
 written upon his face. He read there all that was going on within ; 
 and his own heart smote him at the survey. He thought of his 
 sister Emily, of her prayer for peace, her denunciation and her 
 dread of war ; and though he knew not yet of her death, the 
 thought that she might, even then, be a silent watcher from the 
 heavens, was enough to persuade him to an effort to quiet the fierce 
 spirit at work within the bosom of the boy. He spoke ; and his 
 voice, modulated by grief into a tone as soft as that of a girl, smote 
 strangely upon the ear of his companion. It was so different from 
 the wild strain of thought with which his mind was crowded. A 
 note of the trumpet the shriek and shout of advancing foemeri 
 had been far less discordant ; and the boy trembled as he heard 
 the simple utterance of his own name. 
 
 " Lance Lance Frampton." 
 
 For a moment he was incapable of all repty. The eye of Single 
 ton was fixed upon him ; and when he met, and felt the look, ho 
 seemed to understand the rebuking mood of his superior. His 
 lips, which were rigidly compressed before, now separated though 
 it was still with seeming difficulty that he answered 
 
 " Sir !" 
 
 " Your father is not with us, boy ?" 
 
 " No, sir I have not seen or heard him. I don t think he ll 
 come out of the swamp, sir ; he loves the Cypress : though I reckon, 
 if he only knew we should have had some fighting so soon, I m 
 sure, sir, he would be glad to come. He loves to tight with the 
 tories, sir. He always hated them, and more since mother s death 
 them, and the dragoons." 
 
 " And you too, boy, seem to have acquired something more of 
 fondness for the sport than you had before. You have learned also 
 to love to fight with the tories." 
 
 The words of Singleton were cold rather stern, indeed; and hif 
 
RAPTURE OF THE STRIFE. 401 
 
 glance was not calculated to encourage the stern passion which was 
 growing so active in the breast of the boy. Lance felt the 
 meaning of Singleton s tones and glances, and the disapprobation 
 they conveyed ; but the excitement in his bosom was too great to 
 be brought into immediate subjection. His eye flashed and light 
 ened, his lip quivered, closed firmly, then parted and quivered 
 again, arid his hand twisted convulsively the bridle of his steed. 
 
 " Oh, sir, I m not afraid now. I know I shan t be afraid. I didn t 
 know at first how I should feel in shooting at a man ; but now, sir, 
 I m not afraid. I wanted to run in, sir, when you told the men 
 to charge, butj had to go round and cut loose the prisoners; but 
 I watched you all the time, sir ; and I clapped rny hands, sir I 
 couldn t help it when I saw your sword go clean down through 
 the tory s arm and into his head, in spite of all he could do. It was 
 a great blew, that, sir a great blow ; but I couldn t handle a 
 sword so heavy." 
 
 There was something of a desponding earnestness in his tones, 
 as tins last regret was uttered, and Singleton surveyed, as some 
 curious study, the face, so full of transitions, of the boy beside him. 
 After the pause of a moment, in a calm, subdued voice, he said to 
 him 
 
 " You shall have a sword, Lance a small one to suit your hand. 
 But remember, boy, war is not a sport, but a duty, and we should 
 not love it. It is a cruel necessity, and only to be resorted to as it 
 protects from cruelty ; an4 must be a tyranny, even though it 
 shields us from a greater. It is to be excused, but not to be jus 
 tified ; and we should not spill blood, but as the spilling of blood is 
 always apt to discourage the wrong-doer in those practices by 
 which all men must suffer, and through which blood must be spilt 
 in far greater quantity." 
 
 The boy looked on the speaker with an expression of astonish 
 ment which he did not seek to conceal. Singleton noticed the 
 expression, and continued with his lesson. But it is not the youth 
 ful mind, full of spirit, and resolute in adventure, which will draw 
 such nice distinctions as the partisan insisted on. The duty would 
 be performed, doubtless, while it continued a pleasure ; but wheii 
 \he pleasure to the mind survives the duty, it is not often that tha 
 
4:02 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 unregi lated impulse can be persuaded to forbear. The boy replied 
 accordingly 
 
 "Ah, sir, and yet I watched your face -when you were fighting, 
 and you seemed glad to cut down your enemy, and your eye was 
 bright, and Hashing with a joy, and your lip even laughed, sir 1 
 saw it laugh, sir, as plainly as I see it HOW ; and then your shout, 
 sir, and your cry to charge Oh ! sir, it was like a trumpet." 
 
 " Still war is a duty only, and should not be made a pleasure, 
 Lance. It has its pleasures, as every duty must have ; but they 
 are dangerous pleasures, and not the less so because we can smile 
 when indulging in them. It is a sad reflection, boy, that we can 
 laugh when taking the life of a fellow-creature, and taking the life, 
 too, that we can never restore." 
 
 " Yet, sir, where can be the harm of killing a tory ? They don t 
 mind killing our people, and burning their houses, and driving off 
 their cattle. I wish I could kill a thousand of them." 
 
 Singleton looked again on the boy, and saw that he was nevei 
 more in earnest. lie thought once more of his sister s pleadings, 
 and her fine eloquence in defence of humanity, while considering 
 this very subject. What a contrast ! l>ut the one was on the 
 verge of the grave and of heaven, and her spirit attuned to the 
 divine and gentle influence of the abodes of bliss. The; other was 
 on the verge of life its storms yet to go through, and by them to 
 be purified, or never. No wonder that the mood was sanguinary. 
 The trial and the path before him seemed to call for it. 
 
 " Alight, boy," said Singleton, " and bring me a gourd of that 
 vater, while the troop is coming up." 
 
 A branch ran across their path, and an opportunity was sug 
 gested to the partisan for a useful lesson to his charge. With 
 alacrity the youth alighted from his horse, and went to gather the 
 water, while Singleton waited the coming up of the long cavalca^u 
 of troop and prisoners, women and children, behind. 
 
 The boy stooped over the clear streamlet which trickled without 
 a murmur over the road ; it gave back his features from its untrou 
 bled mirror, and he started back from their contemplation. Ho 
 had never before seen that expression the expression of triumph 
 in war, and a sanguinary desire for a renewal of its fierce and 
 
DEFORMING EFFECTS OF WAR. 403 
 
 feverish joys. The blood-shot eye, the corded vein, the wild and 
 eager expression, were all new and startling as new, to him who 
 had been the favourite of a mother, gentle to weakness, and foster 
 ing him with a degree of sensibility almost hostile to manhood. 
 
 lie dashed the gourd into the water, and hurried away with the 
 draught to his commander. Singleton barely looked upon him, 
 and the eye of the boy was turned instinctively from his gaze but 
 for a moment, however. His firmness was soon restored, the strong 
 fire again filled it, and once more it met that of his superior 
 unshrinkingly. Singleton gave him back the vessel, and from that 
 moment felt assured of his nature, lie saw that courage to despe 
 ration, and a love of the fight that rapture of the strife, which 
 was the Hun s passion were all working with a fiery ardour, 
 which no immaturity of strength, no inexperience, could keep 
 down or diminish. He waited till he was again mounted, and at 
 his side ; and he himself felt, in despite of his own exhortations, a 
 feverish sort of pleasure at seeing, so clearly depicted as they were 
 upon the face of the boy, the emotions of so bold and promising 
 a spirit. 
 
 By this time the lengthening files of the cavalcade had all con 
 tracted, and had overtaken the advance, where it had rested with 
 Singleton. Humphries, who had given his attention hitherto chiefly 
 to the prisoners and the rear, now rode up to his commander. 
 They conferred upon the subject of their next proceeding, and as 
 the evening was at hand, and there could be little prospect of their 
 reaching the Santee that night in time to cross it, burdened as they 
 were with baggage and prisoners, they had almost resolved to lie by 
 with the coming darkness ; but while they spoke, Davis, who had 
 been sent on ahead with the scouts, rode in with intelligence which 
 partially altered their determination. 
 
 "There are outriders, sir, that hang on our skirts, all well 
 mounted. We have had a glimpse at them through the bush, but 
 not to overhaul them. Once or twire, sir, we saw men peeping 
 out from the woods, sir, but though we pushed hard, they got shet 
 of us mighty quick, and we lost em. I only rode up to put you 
 on your guard, for I reckon there s more of em that we don t 
 
404 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 "Tis well: put out again, Davis, and do not let them escape 
 you now if you can help it. We shall see to the troop." 
 
 Davis rode away, and Singleton proceeded to arrange his men 
 for all circumstances. 
 
 " Close up, Humphries, and bring your prisoners into the centre 
 see that they do not straggle, and let your men look to their arms. 
 Put them in preparation for any chance." 
 
 Then calling to the front a squad of the better armed and 
 mounted, the partisan extended his line on the advance, so as to 
 throw a few troopers, on either hand, into the woods that skirted 
 the road. It was not long after this that Davis, Avith the scouts, 
 who had more than once detected a pair of keen eyes watching 
 them from the distant copse, now came suddenly upon a country 
 man, who sat mending a bridle upon a log at the road-side. He 
 did not seem much startled at their appearance, and his whole 
 features wore an expression of the most approved simplicity and 
 tang-froid. lie made no movement until the scouts had actually 
 surrounded him, then blurted out his astonishment with the cool 
 est composure. 
 
 " Why, hello ! now ; but you block a fellow in, mighty like as 
 ef you wanted to look at his teeth. What inought your wish be, 
 stranger 2" 
 
 Thus addressing Davis, the countryman rose, and with an air 
 half of doubt and half of defiance, confronted the new-comers. 
 The Goose-Creeker looked on his big bones with admiration, for 
 the man was huge of limb, though uncomely ; and the contract 
 between him and Davis was calculated at once to command atten 
 tion. The lieutenant, however, did not long delay his answer. 
 
 " Well, now, friend, our wish aiut mighty hard to come at ; and 
 the first question 1 hev to ax you, is after yourself. What may 
 your name be, and what s your business?" 
 
 The man chuckled incontinently for a moment, then recovering, 
 and looking grave, he replied 
 
 " Look you, stranger, I never let a man poke fun at me twice on 
 the same day ; so I give you fair warning. I m all hell a ter a 
 varmint, and no tree your eyes ever looked on will come a f all 
 uigh to hide you, if 1 once sartainly set out to hunt you up. So 
 
THUMBSCREW. 405 
 
 uow, you ll see it s a mighty ridiculous notion you have if you think 
 to poke fun at Thumbscrew without paying for it." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Thumbscrew, if so be that s your true name, I m 
 much obligated to you for your civility in warning me about your 
 ways. I ve no doubt you re thought a big man in your part of the 
 country ; but I m thinking they d look at you for a mighty small 
 one in mine. But that s not the business now. Big or little, Mr. 
 Thumbscrew, there s too many upon you now to give you much 
 chance, so the best way for you is to bear one dry scraping kindly, 
 and that ll save you from two." 
 
 " What ! won t you give a fellow fa r play ? Well, that s not so 
 genteel, stranger. Fa r play s a jewel, all the world over ; and, 
 man for man, or if so be you inought like it better, I m not scru 
 pulous to take two of you for a bout or so on the soft airth ; bat 
 more than that ll be a leetle on comfortable." 
 
 " We haiut got time for that, friend," was the careless reply of 
 Davis; " and all that we wants from you in the way of civility is 
 jest to answer a few questions that we shall ax you." 
 
 "Well, ax away," was the half-surly reply "ax away; but it 
 wouldn t take too much time for a lift or two on the soft grass, 
 I m thinking." 
 
 " You say your name is Thumbscrew ?" 
 
 "Yes, my boy-name ; but at the christening they gin me another, 
 that aint so easy to mention. The true name is John Wether- 
 spoon, at your sarvice ; but Thumbscrew comes more handy, you 
 see, and them that knows me thinks it suits me better." 
 
 " Very well, Mr. Thumbscrew, or Wetherspoon now, will you 
 tell us what you re doing here in these parts at this time of day ?" 
 
 " Well, that s jest as easy to larn now, sence you see I m mend- 
 ling my bridle, and looking arter my critter that s been stolen, I 
 reckon, by some thieving soldiers saving your presence, and axing 
 your pardon." 
 
 " What soldiers ?" 
 
 "Why, how do I know* Sometimes they re one thing, and 
 sometimes another ; now they re whigs, and now they re tories. 
 One time they re Gainey s, another time they re Marion s men, just 
 a* the notion suits em." 
 
406 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " And what are r ou ? Are you a whig or tory ?" 
 
 " Neither, thank God, for all his civilities and rnarcies. I m 9 
 gentleman, and not a soldier, no how, I ll hev you to know " 
 
 " And where do you live when you re at home ?" 
 
 " In the Big Bend, by Red Stone Hollow, close to the Cla) 
 Church, and right side oiM^lack Heifer Swamp. My farm is called 
 Hickory Head Place ; and the parson who does our preaching i> 
 named Broadcast he preaches through his nose, and has a wa} 
 with him." 
 
 " What way ?" 
 
 " Margery Way, what does his mending ; all the parish knows 
 her." 
 
 " Well, but I don t know any of these places or people you ve 
 been telling me about," said Davis. 
 
 " I reckoned as much. They say, though I ve never been in 
 them parts, that you folks, from low down by the sea, are most 
 unmarcifully stupid." . 
 
 " Humph ! arid how far are we here from the river ?" 
 
 " A small chance of a run, if so be you mean the Santee. This 
 morning, when I left it, it was ten miles off, but it s been running 
 ever since ; and God knows, stranger, I can t tell how far it s got to 
 by this time." 
 
 "I m jub otis, Mr. Thumbscrew, that you re playing possum with 
 me, after all ; and if so be I find you at that work, I ll hang 
 you, d n my buttons, if I don t, by your own bridle, and no two 
 ways about it, old fellow how far is the Santee?" 
 
 ** Well, now, you re mighty like getting in a passion, and that ll 
 be quite too ridiculous. The Santee, now, if it stands still, you 
 see, is jest about ten miles away to the right. It mought be more, 
 and it mought be less, but it s tharabouts, if it stands where it 
 ought; but I tell you it runs mighty fast; and thar s no knowing 
 whar yoamay catch up with it, the next time you happen to find 
 it." 
 
 " Ten miles and what have you seen in the shape of men and 
 soldiers about here ? Have you seen* any tories or any whigs ? 
 Marion s men, they say, are thick along the swamp." 
 
 "It s a bad business that, stranger, hunting after sodgere. I 
 
OWLS AT ROOST. 407 
 
 knows nothing about them. If I could only find Nimrod, now, 
 stranger, you can t count up how little I d care about all your big 
 sword-men, tories or whigs, red coats or blue. Thar all the same 
 to Thumby. They ve stolen the nag, and may he ride to the ugly 
 place with the rapscallion that straddles him, drop him fairly inside 
 the door, and come back a minute after to Red Stone Hollow." 
 
 In this way, until Singleton s approach, did Davis seek, ^n vain, 
 to obtain his information from the stranger. He communicated 
 his ill success to his superior, and the incorrigible Thumbscrew was 
 brought before him. The partisan surveyed him closely, and saw 
 at a glance that the fellow, in southern phrase, had been " playing 
 possum," and knew much more than he delivered. But the kej 
 was at hand, and the first words of Singleton unsealed the mystery. 
 
 " How are the owls, Thumbscrew ?" 
 
 " At roost, but ready for the moon," was the instant reply ; and 
 every feature was full of awakening intelligence. Singleton or 
 dered his men back, and conferred with him alone. 
 
 "The swamp fox is ai hand not moving?" 
 
 "He waits for Major Singleton, and prepares for the continen 
 tals ; but must lie close for the present, as the tories under Pylea, 
 lluck, Tynes, and Harrison, are all around him." 
 
 " And how far are we now from Nelson s ?" 
 
 "Just nine miles, and the road clear, all but our scouts. Horry, 
 with twenty men, scours to the left, and ten of us skirt the track 
 to Nelson s, partly on the look out for you, sir, and partly for the 
 tories." 
 
 44 Tis well you have a horse?" 
 
 44 Ay, sir, close in the wood." 
 
 " Shall we be able to reach the Santee before dark ? w 
 
 " Impossible, sir, with all your men ; but a detachment may, and 
 Had better ride on to prepare for the rest. Colonel Marion is fast 
 transferring the boats to the other side, and as the road is clear, 
 sir, you would do best to spur forward with a few, while the Jeute- 
 nant brings up the remainder." 
 
 Desirous of securing the passage, Singleton adopted the coun 
 sel, and singling out a dozen of his best horse, he led the waj 
 with his new guide, and left Humphries to bring up the cavalcad* 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIIJ 
 
 " thick woods. 
 
 Strange aspects, and the crowding things tha> roye, 
 Peopling their deep recesses." 
 
 THE little force led by Singleton, in advance of his mam body 
 continued to make acquisitions at every step of its progress. The 
 scouts of Marion, lining the woods at convenient interval* from 
 each other, were soon notified of the approach of friends by the 
 peculiar whistle which Thumbscrew employed ; a whistle shrill in 
 itself, and singularly modulated, which Marion s men were all taught 
 to understand. They came out, one by one, from the bush ; brought 
 out their hidden horses, and each, answering to his nom de <juerre, 
 as it was called out by Thumbscrew, took his place along with the 
 advancing party. There were Supple Jack and Crabstick, Red 
 Possum and Fox Squirrel, Slickfoot and Old Ben ; all men of make 
 and mettle, trusty and true, and all of them, in after years, winning 
 a goodly reputation in the land, which the venerable tradition, in 
 sundry places, will " riot willingly let die." 
 
 The river WhS now at hand, and Thumbscrew was required to 
 give the signal to the scouts who were at watch along its banks. 
 lie did so, and the effect was admirable. From one bush to ano 
 ther, cover to cover, they all gave back the emulous sounds. The 
 old cypress had a voice from its hollow, the green bush from its 
 shade, and the shrill echoes rollingly arose from the crowding leave s 
 uf the thick tree that overhung the river, reverberating far away 
 along its bosom. The signal was but once repeated, and all was 
 still for a moment. Suddenly, the approaching troop heard the 
 plash of paddles, the plunge of a horse in the water, and a quick, 
 lively blast from the common horn, the sounds seeming to ari&e 
 from the swamp on the opposite shore. Pushing his steed forward, 
 and followed by his men, Singleton rode up to the bluff of the 
 river, just as the last gav glimpses of the setting sun hung like so 
 
THE SWAMP FOX. 409 
 
 many rose-streaks upon its bosom, trembling to and fro like so 
 much gossamer on the green edges of the gathering foliage. 
 
 And what a sight, in addition, was before their eyes! The sur 
 face of the river was strewn with boats of all sorts and sizes. A 
 dozen or more, filled with the men of Marion, were in progress from 
 one side of the stream to the other, while they towed behind them 
 as many more, laden with live-stock and provisions a large assess 
 ment having just been made upon the farmsteads of the neighbour 
 ing tories. 
 
 They had reached the centre of the stream, when the signal of 
 the scouts struck their ears; and the quick command of their 
 leader, the renowned partisan for it was Marion himself who led 
 them arrested their further progress. "He stood erect when the 
 troopers rode up to the bank ; and the eye of Singleton soon dis 
 tinguished him from the rest. 
 
 Yet there was little in his appearance, to the casual spectator, to 
 mark him out from his compatriots. His Ijabiliments were not 
 superior to theirs. They had borne the brunt of strife, and needed, 
 quite as much as those of the rest, the friendly hand of repair and 
 restoration. His person was small, even below the middle stature, 
 and exceedingly lean and slender. II is body was well-set, however, 
 with the exception of his knees and ankles, which were thick, in 
 compact, and badly formed. At this time, he rested almost entirely 
 upon one leg the other being at ease upon the gunwale of the 
 boat. He still suffered pain in one of his limbs from a recent hurt ; 
 and in walking, an unpleasant limping movement was readily per 
 ceptible. His dress, as Singleton now beheld him, was one rather 
 unusual for a commanding officer from whon^ so much was ex 
 pected. It consisted of a close-bodied jacket, of a deep crimson 
 colour, but of coarse texture. His smallclothes, of the fashion of 
 the day, were badly conceived for such a figure. The free Turkish 
 trowsers might have concealed those defects which the closely 
 fitting fashions of the time rendered unnecessarily conspicuous. His 
 were of a blue stuff, coarse like the jacket, and made with exceeding 
 plainness, without stripe or ornament of any description, beyond the 
 frog of his sword, the small cut-and-thrust which hung rather low 
 at his side. A white handkerchief about his neck, wound loosely 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 
 accorded strangely with the rest of his dress, and did not seem, 
 in its disposition, to have tasked much of the care of the wearer, 
 His uniform, if so it may be styled, was completed by the round 
 leathern cap, forming a part of the dress which he wore when an 
 officer in the second South Carolina regiment. It bore in front a 
 silver crescent, with the words, " Liberty or death," inscribed be 
 neath. He wore no plume, but in its place a white cockade, which 
 was also worn by all his men, in order that they might be more 
 readily distinguished in their night actions with the tories. Such 
 was the garb and figure of the famous guerilla the Swamp Fox 
 of Carolina. 
 
 The features of his face did not ill accord with the style of his gar 
 ments. His skin was dark and swarthy ; his eyes, black, piercing, 
 and quick; his forehead, high, full, and commanding; his nose was 
 aquiline; his chin bold and projecting, though not sharp ; and his 
 cheek sunken and deeply touched with the lines of thought. He 
 was now forty-eight years of age in the very vigour of his man 
 hood hardened by toil and privation, and capable of enduring 
 every sort of fatigue. Cool and steady, inflexible, unshrinking; 
 never surprised ; never moving without his object, and always with 
 the best design for effecting it, Marion, perhaps, of all the brave 
 men engaged in the war of American liberty, was the one best cal 
 culated for the warfare of the partisan. His patriotism, wisdom, 
 and fearlessness moved always together, and were alike conspicuous 
 Never despairing of his cause, he was always cheerful in vicissitude 
 and elastic under defeat. His mind lose, with renewed vigour, 
 from the press of necessity ; and every new form of trial only sti 
 mulated him to newer and more successful efforts. His moral and 
 military character, alike, form the most perfect models for the 
 young, that can be furnished by the history of any individual of 
 any nation. 
 
 The paddles of the rowers were lifted as Singleton appeared in 
 sight. The boats rested in the centre of the river, and, shading his 
 eye with his hand, Marion closely noted the troop as its several 
 members wound out of the woods and gathered along the bank. 
 He did not need much time in the survey, before his keen eye 
 singled out the persons of such of the new-comers as he had before 
 
CONFERENCE. 411 
 
 known. His voice, strong, regular, and clear, though at the same 
 time subdued and musical, was heard immediately after. 
 
 " All, Major Singleton, you are as prompt as ever. 1 rejoice to 
 see you. You come in good season, though you seem but poorly 
 accompanied." 
 
 A few words from Singleton explained the cause of his apparent 
 weakness, and the orders of Marion were promptly given. 
 
 " Lieutenant Conyers, throw off the empty boats and put back 
 after me in your own, leaving the spare ones. Take the whole of 
 them, for the squad of Major Singleton will doubtless fill them all. 
 McDonald, convey the rest to the camp, and let Oscar* bring Ball f 
 with him. It may be difficult otherwise to get the strange horses 
 over, and there is no flat." 
 
 With these, and a few other instructions, Marion led the way 
 back to where Singleton with his troop awaited him ; and a few 
 minutes only had elapsed when they stood once more together in 
 close conference. The brief history of past events was soon given, 
 and the major was delighted to meet with the unqualified approval 
 of his superior, lie learned from Marion that Col. Walton had 
 -gone forward to join with Gates only a few hours before his arrival, 
 having being anxious to find active service at as early a time as 
 possible. He had not endeavoured to dissuade him, as his was an 
 independent commission ; though the determination of Marion 
 himself, was to proceed with the same object in the same direction. 
 His force, with the recruits brought by Singleton, was now some 
 thing more respectable in numbers, if not in equipment. In arms and 
 ammunition, not to speak of clothes and the usual equipages of 
 camp and horse, they were miserably deficient; but with the hope 
 that the continentals were provided well, and with a surplus, this 
 matter gave the partisan but little concern. The small supplies of 
 arms and ammunition which Singleton had succeeded in picking 
 up and bringing from the neighbourhood of Dorchester, were grate 
 fully welcomed; and, with a new hope from this seasonable arrival 
 of his men, Marion determined earnestly to press his advance to 
 
 * His favourite servant called " Buddy " in the family, 
 f Ball, his horse a noble animal, that always led the advance in awim 
 ming the rivers. 
 
412 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 a union with the powerful array supposed to be coming on witi 
 
 Gates. 
 
 To Singleton he partially unfolded his determination, thougj he 
 entered into no particulars. He had not yet determined as to the 
 time and route of his purposed movement. It was necessary that 
 he should first ascertain the precise position of Gates ; and, again, 
 iie had the duty yet to perform, in part, which he had voluntarily 
 undertaken, of destroying all the boats upon the river at the vari 
 ous crossing-places, which might otherwise be employed to facilitate 
 the progress of Lord Cornwallis to the assistance of Rawdon 
 at Camden ; upon which place it was now understood the first 
 effort of the approaching southern army would be made. There was 
 little doubt that Cornwallis would soon be apprised, if, indeed, he 
 was not already of the necessity for his presence at Camden ; for, 
 though Singleton h.id arrested one courier, and Marion himself 
 another, it was not to be expected that others would not succeed 
 in passing with intelligence, where the line of country to be 
 watched was so extensive. To retard the movements of the com 
 mander at Charleston to keep him back until Gates should be 
 able to strike his first blow, was an object quite too important 
 to be foregone or given up but with great effort ; and an under 
 standing between Surnter and Marion had assigned one of the two 
 leading routes, to the designated ground of battle, to each of the 
 partisans. 
 
 Marion had done much already towards his object. He had 
 destroyed more than two hundred boats on both sides of the river, 
 sparing neither canoe nor periagua. All within reach had been 
 broken up, save the few which he still employed for his own pur 
 poses in the swamp, gathering provisions, Miid for the facilitation 
 of his own progress. Another day, and Singleton would not have 
 found it so easy to 
 
 " Swim the Esk river, where ford there was none." 
 
 That night, as soon as the whole party had come up, the pas 
 sage was effected, and without any great difficulty. The horses 
 swam beside the boats, secured by ropes and bridles, while their 
 riders, for the time, occupied a more secure seat within them than 
 
THE PASSAGE OF THE SANTEE. 413 
 
 they might have done upon their saddles. Ball, the famous horse 
 of Marion, led the way for the rest, aud he went through the water 
 as freely and fearlessly as a native-born of the element. The rest 
 followed with some little shivering and restiveness, but, with the 
 boats, they soon reached the shore, and were then mounted and 
 ridden through the river-sedge, over the fallen tree, and safely, at 
 length, into the island thicket which formed the hiding-place 
 of the Swamp Fox on the Santee. 
 
 The boats, filled with the women, children, and prisoners, under 
 a small guard, had a more tedious, though more secure and easy 
 passage to the same spot. Soon as they left the current of the 
 river and got within the foliage, the swamp-suckers, with an old 
 experience, seized upon their long canes, twenty feet in length, to 
 the end of each of which a prong of the deer s antlers, and some 
 times a crotched stick of some hard wood, had been tightly fastened. 
 With these, catching the overhanging limbs and branches that 
 fenced in a crooked creek that led to the island, they drew them 
 selves along. Without dip of oar or plash of paddle, silently and 
 still, as if endued with a life of its own, the boat swept through its 
 natural abode, a familiar tenant of its depths. Torches flashed 
 along at intervals upon the banks to guide them, but they were 
 perfectly unnecessary to the frequent dwellers in the swamp. They 
 who steered and led the way could have travelled by night and 
 day, unfearing, and unswerving from their designated path, with the 
 ease of a citizen along the high-road. The rapidity of their move 
 ments, through scenes only distinguishable when the torch flashed 
 over them, delighted and astonished the men from the low country, 
 who now traversed them for the first time. Porgy was absolutely 
 overcome with anticipations. He could not refrain such was the 
 good-humour which the novelty of their progress inspired from 
 addressing Doctor Oakenburg, who sat beside him in the. boat, on 
 the subject of his musings. 
 
 "_This, Doctor Oakenburg," said he, " this is a region so Major 
 Singleton tells me which, in the language of Scripture, may be 
 said to flow with milk and honey." 
 
 The doctor, terrified before into silence, was now astounded into 
 speech. 
 
 18 
 
4:14 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " Milk and honey !" he exclaimed, with wondering. 
 
 " Ay, doctor, milk and honey ! that is to say, with fish and tei- 
 rapin, which I take to mean the same thing, since nobody would 
 desire any land in which there was no meat. The phrase, milk 
 and honey, simply means to coi.vey the idea of a land full of all 
 things that men of taste can relisl. ; or we may even go farther in 
 this respect, and consider it a land teeming with all things for all 
 tastes. Thus, yours, Doctor Oakenburg even your vile taste for 
 snakes and eels has been consulted here not less than mine for 
 terrapin. Along the same tussock on which the bullet-head 
 reposes, you will see the moccasin crawling confidently. In the 
 same luxurious wallow with the sow, you will behold the sly alliga 
 tor watching the growth daily of her interesting little family. The 
 summer duck, with its glorious plumage, skims along the same 
 muddy lake, on the edge of which the d d bodiless crane screams 
 and crouches ; and there are no possible extremes in nature to 
 which a swamp like this will not give shelter, and furnish some 
 thing to arouse and satisfy the appetite. It is a world in itself, 
 and, as I said before, with a figurative signification of course, it is 
 indeed a land of milk and honey." 
 
 " Land indeed !" said one of the troopers ; " I don t see much of 
 that yet. Here s nothing but rotten trees and mud-holes, that 1 
 can make out when the lightwood blazes." 
 
 " Never mind, my lark." said one of the conductors in a chuck 
 ling reply ; " wait a bit, and you ll see the blessedest land you ever 
 laid eyes on. It s the very land, as the big-bellied gentleman says, 
 that s full of milk and honey ; for, you see, we ve got a fine range, 
 and the cattle s a plenty, and when the sun s warm you ll hear the 
 bee trees at midday and such a music as they ll give you ! Don t 
 be afeard now, and we ll soon come to it." 
 
 u I doubt not, my good friend," replied Porgy, with a singular 
 gravity of tone and aspect " I doubt not what you say, and I re 
 joice that your evidence so fully supports my opinion. Your 
 modes of speech are scarcely respectful enough, however ; for, 
 though a man s teeth are prime agents and work resolutely enough 
 for his bcllv, yet it is scarcely the par of good manners to throw 
 one s belly continually into one s teett. n 
 
THE SAXTEK CAMP. 415 
 
 " Oil, that s it/ said the other ; " well, now don t be skittish, 
 mister, for though I am Roaring Dick, I never roars at any of our 
 own boys, and I likes always to be civil to strangers. But it s 
 always the way with us, when we don t know a man s name, to 
 call him after that part that looks the best about him. There s 
 Tom Uazard now, we calls him by no other name than Nosey ; 
 cause, you see, his nose is the most .rambunctious part that he s 
 got, and it s a most the only part you see when you first look on 
 him. Then there s Bill Bronson as stout a lark as you ve seed 
 for many a day now, as he s blind of one eye and can hardly see 
 out o t other, we calls him Blinky Bill, and he never gets his back 
 up, though he s a main quick hand if you poke fun at him. So, 
 stranger, you must not mind when we happen to call you after the 
 most respectable part." 
 
 " Respectable part ! I forgive you, my friend you re a man of 
 sense. Dr. Oakenburg, your d d hatchet hip is digging into my 
 side ; can t you move a jot farther ? There, that will do ; I am not 
 desirous of suffering martyrdom by hip and thigh." 
 
 " Now we re most home," said Master Roaring Dick to his little 
 crew. " One more twirl in the creek, and you ll see the lights and 
 the island; there, there it is. Look, now, stranger, look for your 
 self, where the Swamp Fox hides in the daylight, to travel abroad 
 with old blear-eye the owl that is when the round moon gets 
 out of her roost." 
 
 And very picturesque and imposing, indeed, was the scene that 
 now opened upon Porgy and the rest, as they swept round the 111(10 
 bend in the waters of the creek, and the deeply embowered camp of 
 the partisan lay before them. Twentyomerent fires, blazing in all 
 quarters of the island, illuminated it with a splendour which no palace 
 pomp could emulate. The thick forest walls that girdled them in 
 were unpierced by their rays ; the woods were too impenetrably dense 
 even for their splendours; and, like so many huge and blazing pil 
 lars, the larger trees seemed to crowd forward into the light with a 
 solitary stare that made solemn the entire and wonderful beauty of 
 the scene. Croup after group of persons, each busy to itself, ga 
 thered around the distinct fires; while horses neighed under conve 
 nient trees; saddles and bridles, sabres and blankets, hung from 
 
416 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 their branches, and the cheery song, from little parties more remote, 
 made lively the deep seclusion of that warlike abiding-place. 
 
 The little boat floated fairly up to one of the fires ; a dozen busy 
 hands at once assisted the new comers to alight, and a merry greet 
 ing hailed the acquisition of countrymen and comrades. Boat after 
 boat, in the same way, pressed up to the landing, and all in turn 
 were assisted by friendly hands, and saluted with cheering words 
 and encouragement. It was not long before the strangers, with the 
 readiness which belongs to the life of the partisan, chose their com 
 panions in mess and adventure, and began to adapt themselves to 
 one another. Lively chat, the hearty glee, the uncouth but plea 
 sant jest, not forgetting the plentiful supper, enlivened the first three 
 hours after the arrival of Singleton s recruits, and fitted them gene 
 rally for those slumbers to which they now prepared to hasten. 
 
 "Well, Tom," said Porgy to his old retainer, as he hurried to 
 his tree, from a log, around which his evening s meal had been 
 eaten in company with Roaring Dick, Oakenburg, and one or two 
 others " well, Tom, considering how d d badly those perch were 
 fried, I must confess I enjoyed them. But I was too hungry to. 
 discriminate ; and I should have tolerated much worse stuff than 
 that. But we must take care of this, Tom, in future. It is not 
 always that hunger helps us to sauce, and such spice is always a 
 monstrous bad substitute for cayenne and thyme. How about the 
 dog, Tom ?" 
 
 " I cut he tail, maussa, as you bin tell me." 
 
 " Well, how did he like the operation ?" 
 
 " lie bleed bad. He no like em tall. I don t tink he can ebber 
 run like he been run before." 
 
 " Poll! poh ! I ve no doubt he ll run a thousand times better for 
 it, besides being able to carry his head more genteelly. He ll be a 
 little sore for a few days, but a sore tail is a cure for a sore head, 
 Tom ; as an ulcer is a relief to a troubled liver. Let me see the 
 dog in the morning. You left him but an inch, Tom ?" 
 
 " Jis about, maussa." 
 
 " Well, only tie a pine-burr under the stump, and that inch will 
 stand out with proper dignity. Did you sear the wound with a hot 
 iron, boy ?" 
 
A BLANKET. 417 
 
 " Jis as you tell me, maussa. A tervvard, I put some pine-gum on 
 de cut." 
 
 " No use, Tom ; but no man is quite free from quackery of some 
 sort, and where water is a good wash of itself, the fool fancies it still 
 needs salting. Make yourself clean to-night in the Santee, Tom, 
 before you sleep, and Slink needs a dipping also. Take him with 
 you. Here, help me oft with this coat." 
 
 With Tom s assistance, the man of girth proceeded to strip for 
 the night. He was helped out of his coat, the dimensions of which 
 seemed daily more and more to contract ; and after certain exami 
 nations of his belt, which needed to have a few extra holes opened, 
 to admit of freer use, Porgy prepared to lie down for the night ; 
 when the examination of the place assigned for his repose aroused 
 his discontent anew. 
 
 " This will never do, Tom. The bed is as hard as a bed of ra 
 coon oysters. You must get me a good armfull or two of rushes 
 and pine straw, though you rob some other man s sleeping quar 
 ters for it. Stay ! Whatf is that hanging from yonder beech I 
 Isn t it bless my soul, Tom, isn t it a blanket?" 
 
 " Da blanket for true, maussa. Spec (expect) he b long to some 
 body." 
 
 " Very likely, Tom; but God knows I m somebody I have some 
 body, at least, to take care of and provide for : so bring it hither. 
 It shall help to smoothe the rough places among these roots. 
 
 The blanket was brought, Tom remarking, as he spread it accord 
 ing to the directions of his master 
 
 " Ha ! de man wha claim dis blanket will sartin to be feel bout 
 vou to-night, maussa !" 
 
 " Will he, then ? Well, you may let the whole swamp know 
 that I sleep with sword and pistols, and, if waked too suddenly, that 
 I am sure to use them. Do you hear ? But you needn t roar 
 about, you rascal, of what materials my bed is made ?" 
 
 Tom .chuckled, while the epicure rolled himself up in the bor 
 rowed blanket, and in such a way as to leave no ends free to med 
 dling fingers. His saddle formed his pillow, and all things adjusted 
 to his satisfaction, he bade the negro take himself off, and, take care 
 of himself. Ten minutes had not elapsed when the proprietor of 
 
418 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 the blanket came to look after his property, Porgy had already 
 oecome an old soldier. Never did nose insis 1 more sonorously upon 
 its owner s slumbers than his. The intruder looked upon the appa 
 rently sleeping man, and saw how comfortably he was enveloped. 
 In the dim light of the camp-fires, he fancied the blanket bore a 
 resemblance to his own ; but our epicure lay in it, calm, assured, 
 confident, as if he were the real proprietor. The man doubted 
 retired, plucked a brand from the fire, and waved it over the 
 figure of the sleeper. Meanwhile, the hilt of our lieutenant s sabre, 
 and the muzzles of his big horseman s pistols, had been made to pro 
 trude from the covering, convenient to his gripe. The stranger 
 was duly cautioned. Still he looked and lingered. Porgy s nose, 
 at this moment, sent forth an emphatic and prolonged snore. The 
 man began to meditate. The night was tolerably warm and plea 
 sant. He really did not know that he should need the blanket, to 
 which he yet felt ready to make oath. No doubt the usurper of 
 his goods had only made a slight mistake. There is something 
 cruel in disturbing a man in a profound -sleep after a long journey," 
 only to correct a mistake ; and so the good-natured proprietor of 
 the stolen goods resolved to forego his claim, for the night at least ; 
 and retired quietly, to the great relief of our cunning epicure. 
 Scarcely had he gone from sight, when Tom heaved himself up 
 from the opposite side of the tree, and, with a chuckle, cried out 
 " Hah ! niaussa, you snore de man out o he blanket dis time." 
 " Ah ! rascal, are you watching me ?" answered Porgy, in good- 
 humoured accents. " Well, remember to restore the blanket to the 
 fellow in the morning, and give him, with my compliments, a sup 
 of the Jamaica. He has the bowels of a Christian, and will relish 
 it. Meanwhile, Tom, let this be a lesson for you. Always fall 
 asleep when the lion s in your path. When your conscience don t 
 feel easy, make your body easy. And now, begone, for I must do 
 tome real sleeping, if I can." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 " Tis some time yet, 
 
 To the grey dawning ; but we move betimes, 
 And our impatience ushers in the day." 
 
 THE stars were yet shining, when the slumbers of Major Single 
 ton were broken. His page, Frampton, stood beside him, where 
 he slept in the shadows of the greenwood tree, his hand gently laid 
 upon his shoujder. 
 
 " How now, Lance ; what s stirring ? What disturbs you ?" 
 
 Such was the demand of Singleton as he started into conscious 
 ness. But he needed no answer to his own question. His senses, 
 completely awakened, took in sounds of stir from every side. The 
 partisans were stirring all about, rousing from sluggish dreams, 
 ind filling the woods with bustle; and the shrill voice of Marion 
 himself, a few rods distant, brief and emphatic, was heard in accents 
 of command. The Swamp Fox suffered nobody to surprise his 
 people but himself. But he beat up their slumbers frequently 
 enough. lie was preparing for one of his rapid movements. His 
 policy was here to-day to-morrow where ? on the wing, not to 
 be traced, not to be pursued ; not found by his enemies, except at 
 moments when his presence was not wanting, and far less than 
 grateful. Singleton soon comprehended what lay before the bri 
 gade, and was on his feet and in armour in the twinkling of 
 an eye. Lance Frampton already had his horse in readiness. 
 Meanwhile, the buzz of preparation everywhere went on. Horses 
 were heard approaching from the upper edge of the swamp ; below 
 other steeds were in motion also. Above all other sounds, wild, 
 shrill, and sudden, came the quick, significant whistles of the scouts 
 coming in. The bugle sounded soon after and Singleton hastened 
 to join his commander. 
 
 ** You are prompt, major, and as I would have it," said Marion 
 
420 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 as he rode up. "Make your own men ready still keep theii 
 command, till our disposition may be made more uniform and 
 put them into a column of advance. Ilorry is just coming in with 
 his troop, from which your lead will be taken. Our scouts are all 
 in, and one brings me a courier with news from the army. Do 
 Kalb is Dow on the way, in rapid march from Salisbury, with two 
 thousand continentals ; Colonel Porterfield, with Virginia horse, is 
 moving to join him ; and General Gas well, with the North Carolina 
 militia in force, arming for the same object. Though better pro 
 vided than ourselves, as well in arms as in numbers, we must not 
 hesitate to show ourselves among them. General Gates will doubt 
 less bring a force with him ; and it will be hard, if our boys, ragged 
 though they be, should not win some laurels and blankets 
 together." 
 
 Alas ! for these fond estimates these famous promises of Con 
 gress and continental generals. De Kalb s force consisted of only 
 o?vr, instead of two thousand regulars, and Gates joined his com 
 mand without bringing any accessions of force. But of these 
 details hereafter. The present movement of our Swamp Fox was 
 to join his little squadron to the grand army. His proceeding was 
 that of scores of partisan leaders besides, each of whom made his 
 little contribution of militia-men, swelling the nominal strength of 
 the conqueror of Burgoyne with additions which, in their unfed, 
 untrained, unarmed, and naked condition, added little to his real 
 capacity for action. One of Marion s best military virtues was 
 celerity. He roused his people with the view to a timely junction 
 with the continentals, while yet they were on the march, and within 
 the limits of North Carolina. He had a wild region to traverse 
 before he could attain this junction, and every league of ground 
 was in the possession of certain enemies or very doubtful friends. 
 To work his way through these, demanded all his caution, and 
 required that he should lose no time. As soon, therefore, as his 
 advices brought him positive intelligence of De Kalb s progress, he 
 set his troop in motion. He had no reserves with Singleton, and 
 readily told him all that he had need to hear. Our hero soon 
 set his own little command in motion, and was as promptly 
 on the ground as any of the rest. But we must not so summarily 
 
PORGY DISTURBED. 421 
 
 dismiss from notice the routing up of certain of our dramatis ^>tT- 
 sonce. 
 
 Porgy had slept, and still slept, with the profound wisdom of a 
 soldier, who will always secure every opportunity for the performance 
 of this duty. Porgy valued sleep too well to abridge its enjoyment 
 unnecessarily. Whenever this necessity occurred in his case, it 
 impaired the serenity of his temper. Now, his colleague, Lieutenant 
 Humphries, had kindly dispatched a sergeant to awaken his brother 
 officer. The sergeant was a rough, untutored forester, who usually 
 adopted the most effectual processes for effecting his object. In 
 the present case, he had seized forcibly upon the ends of the 
 blanket in which our epicure was still comfortably wrapped, and 
 had hauled away with the energies of a person whose muscles were 
 perpetually claiming to be employed. Under his very decided 
 action, one of Porgy s arms was nearly twisted from its socket, and 
 one of his legs was dragged out from beneath the covering, tossed 
 over its fellow, and let to foil with an emphasis which effectually 
 tested the sensibilities of the other member. Porgy opened his eyes 
 in the dim light of the morning star, with a soul full of indignation. 
 
 " It is scarcely civil, young man," he cried, endeavouring to 
 unwrap himself from the thrice twisted folds of blanket in which 
 he slept his anger increasing with the increasing difficulties of the 
 effort. " Scarcely civil, young man, I repeat ! What if the blanket 
 is your property" the idea of its adroit appropriation by himself, 
 the night before, still running in his head " suppose it true, I 
 say, that the blanket is your property, is this the way to seek foi 
 it? I have never denied it, sirrah, and a polite demand for it would 
 have at once obtained it. But to disturb, in this rude and insolent 
 manner, the repose of a gentleman ! It s a foul offence an offence 
 which shall have its punishment, by Hercules, or I m not the man 
 to thresh an impertinent. Let me but unwrap. I m a pacific 
 man. My temper is not harsh, not irritable. I m slow to take 
 offence. I m of forgiving nature.. But there are some thing? 
 which mortal patience cannot bear, and which, by Jupiter, I will 
 not bear. To disturb one s slumbers, which are so absolutely essen 
 tial to the digestive functions of a large man, is an offence not to 
 b*< ibrgiven." 
 
 18* 
 
422 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 By this time lie had extricated himself from his wrappings, and 
 stood erect. What would have been his next proceeding, it would 
 be difficult to say. The sergeant, who aroused him, was evidently 
 bewildered by his evident indignation. Porgy advanced upon him, 
 and with sabre in hand, though scabbarded, he would, in all pro 
 bability, have laid it heavily on the shoulders of the offender, 
 but for the happy interposition of Humphries, who now showed 
 himself. 
 
 u What s the trouble, lieutenant ?" demanded this third party. 
 " What vexes you ?" 
 
 " This rascal I but wrapt myself in a strange blanket, which, I 
 suppose, belongs to the brute I s-ay this rascal has been pulling me 
 to pieces, dislocating my legs and shoulders, and depriving me of a 
 glorious morning nap, and a most delicious dream ; and all because 
 of his d d blanket." 
 
 u Pshaw, that s a mistake ; I sent the sergeant to wake you." 
 
 * You did ! and why the devil did you take an improper liberty, 
 I pray ?" 
 
 " Why, man, don t you hear the bugles don t you see all the 
 camp in motion ? Don t you know that the Swamp Fox is for an 
 early start, before daylight ? It was a kindness, lieutenant, to have 
 you wakened in season." 
 
 " It was d d unkindly done. Hark you, my good fellow," to 
 the sergeant " remember, hereafter, when you waken a gentleman, 
 that it is scarcely necessary to pull him to pieces to effect your 
 object. I forgive you this time, as you meant well ; but see that 
 you sin no more in the same manner. You were, no doubt, a 
 blacksmith before you became a soldier. Forget your old vocation 
 hereafter when you deal with me. If you seek to make a vice of 
 your fingers, you will find something more than vicious at the end 
 of mine !" 
 
 The sergeant moved off much wondering. 
 
 "Now, bestir yourself, lieutenant, and get yourself in harness," 
 quoth Humphries. 
 
 "Take that fiery faggot from my eyes, Humphries, unless you 
 wish to blind me eternally. What blasted folly is this of moving 
 daily and loading the troops with such nn infinity of broken 
 
KEEP COOL. 423 
 
 slumbers ! Are you dreaming, or I ? Do you really mean that we 
 are to leave the swamp ?" 
 
 " Even so." 
 
 " Why, we have just got into it. I haven t seen it fairly, and 
 know nothing of its qualities. Major Singleton assured rue that it 
 was boundless in its treasures of fish, flesh, and felicity. lie spoke 
 of its terrapin as superb. To leave it without tasting ! This is 
 shocking. I had hoped to kave had a rest here of a few days to 
 have compared its products with those of the cypress." 
 
 "You re to.be disappointed, nevertheless. I m sorry for your 
 sake, old fellow, that it is so ! But the major s orders are to breeze 
 up as fast as possible. You mustn t delay now for trifles." 
 
 " What do you call trifles ? Life, and that which feeds it, are 
 no trifles. The tastes which enter into the dressing of food are 
 among the best essentials of life. Who presumes to call them 
 trifles ? I trust, Lieutenant Humphries, that it is you who are the 
 trifler now. There is surely no movement now on foot ?" 
 
 " As sure as I m a sinner, it s truth ; and you must stir up. Let 
 me help to brace you. The major s on horse a ready. The Swamp 
 Fox, as the people here call Marion, has been about and busy this 
 hour. Look at him yonder he that has his cap off standing 
 where those dragoons are in the saddle. He s talking to the men. 
 and they say he talks seldom, but short and strong ; and we ought 
 to be there to hear him. Hurry yourself a bit now, or we shaL 
 lose it all." 
 
 " There s no policy so vicious. Never hurry, John Humphries. 
 Keep cool, keep cool, keep cool ! These are the three great pre 
 cepts for happiness. Life is to be hoarded, not to be hurried. Hap 
 piness is found only in grains and fractions, and he who hurries 
 finds none. It is with pleasure, as with money-making according 
 to that cunning old Pennsylvania printer take care of the pence, 
 and the pounds will take care of themselves. Take care of the 
 moments, and you need never look after the hours. That s my doc 
 trine for happiness that is the grand secret. Hurry foibids all 
 this. You skip moments you skip happiness. Why do you sip 
 rum punch ? Why, indeed, do you sip all goodly stomachics ? 
 uimply to prolong the feeling of enjoyment. It is your beast only 
 
424 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 that gulps, and gapes, and swallows. It is only your boast thai 
 harries. Happiness is not for such." 
 
 " But we must hurry now, Porgy, if we want to hear what he 
 says." 
 
 " I never hurried for my father, though he looked for me hourly 
 I will not hurry for the best speech ever delivered. Do oblige me 
 \vith that belt ; and lay down your torch, my good fellow, and pass 
 the strap through the buckle for me. There not so tight, if you 
 please ; the next hole in the strap will answer now ; an hour s rid 
 ing will enable me to take in the other, and then I shall probably 
 try your assistance. Eh ! what s that ?" 
 
 The pitiful howling of a negro, aroused from his slumbers pre 
 maturely by the application of an irreverent foot to his ribs, now 
 called forcibly the attention of the party, and more particularly 
 that of Forgy. 
 
 " That s Tom s voice I ll swear to it among a thousand ; and 
 somebody s beating him ! I ll not suffer that." And with the 
 words he moved rather rapidly away towards the spot whence the 
 noise proceeded. 
 
 " Don t be in a hurry now, Porgy ; remember keep cool, keep 
 cool, keep cool," cried Humphries, as he followed slowly after the 
 now hurrying philosopher. 
 
 " Do I not, Humphries ? I am not only cool myself, but I go 
 with the charitable purpose of cooling another." 
 
 " But what s the harm ? he s only kicking Woolly-head into 
 his senses." 
 
 " Nobody shall kick Tom while I m alive. The fellow s too valu 
 able for blows ; boils the best rice in the southern country, airl 
 hasn t his match, with my counsel, at terrapin in all Dorchester. 
 Holla ! there, my friend, let the negro alone, or I ll astonish you." 
 
 The soldier and Tom, alike, became apparent the next moment, 
 the former still administering a salutary kick and cuff to the growl 
 ing and grumbling negro. Porgy soon grappled the assailant by tha 
 collar, and shook him violently. The latter, taken by surprise, arid 
 seemingly in great astonishment, demanded the cause of this assault. 
 He was one of that class, some of whom are still to be found in f. ie 
 o-ountry, who, owning no slaves, are very apt to delight in the abuse 
 
SLINK S DISCRIMINATION. 426 
 
 of those of other people. Porgy had his answer in his usual 
 fashion. 
 
 " That s the cause, my good fellow ; that s the cause," pointing 
 to the negro, " an argument that runs upon two legs, and upon 
 which no two legs in camp shall trample." 
 
 " Da s right, rnaussa," growled Tom, indignantly. " Wha fcr he 
 kick nigga, what s doing not ing but sleep ? Ax uni dat, inaussa." 
 
 The soldier grew ruffled, in spite of Porgy s uniform, and answers! 
 savagely 
 
 " llis dog stole my bacon, cappin, and when I chunked the var 
 ment, the nigga gin me sass. lie s a sassy fellow." 
 
 " Ah ! he s a saucy fellow, is he ? That may be, but I ll let you 
 know that I m the only one to take the sauce out of him. As foi 
 the dog so, Tom, your dog stole this man s bacon?" 
 
 " He say so, maussa, but I am t sh um (see um). De dog hab 
 shinbone, but how I know whey he git um? Slink never tief we 
 bacon, rnaussa." 
 
 u Ah ha ! Slink never steals our bacon, you say ? That shows him 
 to be a dog of discrimination that knows where his bread is but 
 tered what we can t often say for wiser animals. But did he ever 
 steal bacon before to your knowledge, Tom ?" 
 
 " Nebber, maussa." 
 
 " Then, Tom, it s all owing to that cutting oft his tail. You see he 
 plucks up spirit, you rascal ; for a certain amount of spirit is neces 
 sary to a thief. His enterprise grows the moment that you take 
 oil the miserable appendage that kept down his spirit. The only 
 misfortune is, that in exercising his new quality, he has not been 
 trained to distinguish between the mcum &nd tuum. Now, that s 
 your fault, Tom." 
 
 " Wha you mean by meum and tuum, liiaussa ?" 
 
 " Well, Tom, as far as concerns us, who have no goods to lose, 
 the distinction is not of much moment ; but the lesson is not the 
 less valuable for Slink to learn, in a camp v?hero other people pos 
 sess ham bones, in which they claim special rights. See to it, 
 hereafter. As for you, my good fellow, you must see that the dog 
 bad no felonious intentions. The animus makes the offence. He 
 did not steal he simply appropriated. Do not suffer yourself, mv 
 
426 THE PAliTISAN. 
 
 friend, to indulge again in the defamation of character. The ri^ ng; 
 spirit of the clog must not be kept down because you have a shin- 
 bone of ham. Do you hear that ! And further, let me tell you, 
 that any second attempt to kick that fellow who is decidedly the 
 best cook in the Southern army will subject you to the chance 
 of being kicked in turn. As it is, I let you off this time, with a 
 simple shaking." 
 
 The soldier grew savage and insolent. lie was tall and vigoiuus ; 
 did not seem to regard the epicure s epaulet with any great degree 
 of veneration ; and, as he replied with defiance, Porgy again took 
 hold of his collar. The affair might have ended in the soldier s 
 tumbling our fat friend upon his back, but for the timely approach 
 of Singleton on horseback, at sight of whom the soldier stole away, 
 pocketing his hurts of self-esteem for a more advantageous occa 
 sion. 
 
 " To saddle, Mr. Porgy, to saddle," was the command of Single 
 ton. " Be ready, sir, for a movement in five minutes. The Colonel 
 has already given orders for a start, and I would not that any of my 
 command should occasion a moment s delay." 
 
 " Nor I, Major Singleton nor I. Honourable emulation is the 
 soldier s virtue, and though I would never hurry, sir, yet I would 
 never be a laggard. The golden medium, major, between hurry 
 and apathy, is still to be insisted upon. It is a principle, sir, which 
 I approve. But haste, sir, hurry, is my horror. Slumbers once 
 broken visions rudely intruded upon seldom return to us in ther 
 original felicity. Here have I had my sleep torn in twain, as I may 
 ay, just when the web of it had become precious to body and soul. 
 Just as the one was at perfect repose, after a toilsome march, and 
 just as the other had become refreshed with a dream of delights 
 v hich almost compensated for an empty stomach " 
 
 "It is a hard case," was the reply of Singleton, who knew the 
 humours of our friend, " but you must allow for circumstances. 
 Perilous necessity is a despotism, Mr. Porgy, to which it is only 
 wisdom to submit with as much resignation as we may. Necessity 
 overrules all laws, as well of stomach as of soul." 
 
 " A manifest truism, Major Singleton ; and in its recognition, I 
 will even hasten to obey cur present orders. But you err, major. 
 
DETERMINATION. 427 
 
 in speaking of soul and stomach as independent organizations. Be 
 assured, sir, the relation between them is much more near than is 
 vulgarly supposed. For my part, I would not give a sixpence for 
 any human soul without a stomach." 
 
 Singleton waited to hear no more, but putting spurs to his horse, 
 repeated his request that Porgy should follow soon. The latter 
 turned to Tom. 
 
 " So, Tom, that fellow has bloodied your nose. There is an uo-ly 
 abrasion of your left nostril." 
 
 " He feel so, maussa. He feel berry much as ef he been breck 
 (break for broken)." 
 
 u Pon my soul, you re right. The bridge is broken. It was 
 ugly enough before ; it is scarcely passable now. You are disfi 
 gured for ever, boy. Fortunately, the nose, however essential lo the 
 lungs, is hardly of importance to the genius. You are no doubt 
 as good a cook as ever. Were it likely to affect your skill in that 
 department, I should deem it a duty to have that soldier up at the 
 halyards. Well ! I don t see what we can do for it. Wash it, as 
 often as you can. Meanwhile, tighten that girth, and bring up the 
 horse. Lead him to that stump. One s own girth is greatly in 
 the way of his steed s. By the way, Tom, you re sure that Slink 
 has riot made off with our ham as well as the soldier s. If he has, 
 he s a dead dog from this moment. You have it in the buckskin 
 safely ? We shall need it to-morrow, old fellow, for our hard riding 
 promises nothing better." 
 
 Tom s assurances in respect to the ham-bone and Slink s fidelity, 
 were, promptly given, and, talking to himself or others as he rode, 
 Por^ soon joined himself to his command, where he found the 
 several squads of the partisans already assembled, prepared to .see 
 and heai " The Swamp Fox," whom many of them were now to 
 behold for the first time. 
 
 Under that forest canopy, in the cold light of the morning stars, 
 now rapidly paling in the west, amid waving torches and pran 
 cing steeds Marion unfolded his plan, and briefly informed his men 
 of the condition of things, not only as they affected the colony, but 
 as they concerned the confederation. He read to them a resolve 
 of Congress, in which that body had declared its determination to 
 
428 THK PARTISAN. 
 
 save eacli and every province that had linked its fortunes with the 
 federal union ; particular^ declaring its resolution, in the teeth of 
 a report to this effect, which the British and tones had industri 
 ously circulated in South Carolina and Georgia, not to sacrifice 
 these two colonies to the invader, on any terms of peace or com 
 promise which they might make with him. Such a resolve ha^ 
 become highly necessary ; as the great currency given to the ru 
 mour of such a compromise, and on these especial terms, had pro 
 duced, in part, the results which had been desired by the enemy 
 The patriots, drooping enough before, had begun to despair entirely 
 while the tories were encouraged to perseverance, and stimulated to 
 the most adventurous and daring action. This statement read 
 and the formal resolution as it had been adopted by Congress was 
 in his hand for the purpose Marion then proceeded to recapitulate, 
 not only the information which he had been enabled to obtain of 
 their own army, but of that of their enemies. His information, 
 gathered from various sources, was comparatively extensive ; and 
 while it taught his men the full extent of the danger with which 
 they were to contend on all hands, it also served greatly to increase 
 their confidence in a commander, whose knowledge of passing and 
 remote events seemed intuitive ; and whose successes, though small, 
 had been so unbroken, as to inspire in them a perfect assurance of 
 his invincibility. 
 
 The military force of the British then in Carolina, was distributed 
 judiciously throughout its entire circuit. The 23d and 33d 
 regiments of infantry, the volunteers of Ireland, the infantry of 
 the legion (Tarleton s), Brown s and Hamilton s corps, and a detach 
 ment of artillery under the command of Lord Rawdon, hutted in 
 and about the town of Camden. Major Me Arthur with the 71 st 
 regiment was stationed at Cheraw, near the Peedee region, covering 
 the country between Camden and Georgetown, and holding con 
 tinued correspondence with the rank and thickly settled tory 
 region of Cross Creek, North Carolina. With the approach of 
 (he continentals, this regiment had been ordered in, to a junction 
 with himself, by Rawdon ; and they left the passage open for 
 Marion through the country where most of his warfare was to be 
 earned on. In Georgetown, a large force of provincials vrm 
 
BRITISH FORCK IN CAROLINA. 429 
 
 stationed. The chain of British military posts, to the. west of Cain- 
 den, was. connected with Ninety-Six by Rocky Mount, itself a strong 
 post OP the Wateree, occupied by Lieutenant-Colonel Turnbull of 
 the New York tory volunteers and militia. Lieutenant-Colonel Bal- 
 tbur, and subsequently Lieutenant-Colonel Cruger, commanded at 
 Ninety-Six. The troops there consisted of battalions of Delancy s, 
 Innis s, and Allen s provincial regiments, with the IGth regiment 
 and three companies besides, of light infantry. Major Ferguson s 
 corps, with a large body of tory militia, traversed the country be 
 tween the Wateree and the Saluda rivers, and sometimes stretched 
 away even to the borders of North Carolina. Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Brown held Augusta with a large force of British and tories; 
 Savannah was garrisoned by Hessians and provincials under Colonel 
 Alured Clark ; Charleston contained the 7th, 63d, and 64th regi 
 ments of infantry, two battalions of Hessians, a large detachment of 
 the royal artillery, and several corps of provincials under the imme 
 diate command of Brigadier-General Paterson. The legion dragoons 
 (Tarleton s) were employed in keeping open the communication 
 between the several cantonments. In addition to these, there were 
 the posts of Fort Watson, Biggins Church, Dorchester, and many 
 others, which, as the whole colony lay at the feet of the conquerors, 
 were maintained with small bodies of men, chiefly as posts of rest, 
 and not likely to be perilled by assaults in the present condition of 
 the country. 
 
 Having narrated, at full, the amount of the British force dis 
 tributed thus throughout the colony, Colonel Marion did not scruple 
 to present, without any exaggeration, a true picture of the strength 
 of that power which was to meet and contend with it. He painted 
 to them the depressed condition of Congress, the difficulties of 
 Washington, and taught them how little was to be looked for, in 
 the shape of succour and assistance, apart from that which he 
 insisted was in their own hands in their own firm determination, 
 fearless spirits, and always ready swords. 
 
 " I take up the sword, gentlemen," said he, " with a solemn vow 
 never to lay it down, until my countiy, as a free country, shall no 
 longer need my services. I have informed myself of all these diffi 
 culties and dangers these inequalities of numbers and experience 
 
430 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 between us and our enemies of which I have pliirily told you 
 Having them all before my own eyes, T have yet resolved to live o 
 die in the cause of my country, placing the risks and privations o) 
 tLe war in full opposition to the honour and duty the one whici 
 I may gather in her battles, and the other which T owe to her in 
 maintaining them to the last. I have told you all that I know, in 
 order that each man may make his election as I have done. I will 
 urge no reasons why you should love and fight for your country, 
 as my own sense of honour and shame would not suffer me tc 
 listen to any from another on the same subject. Determine for 
 yourselves without argument from me. Let each man answer, 
 singly, whether he will go forward under my lead, or that of any 
 other officer that General Gates shall assign, or whether he will 
 now depart from our ranks, choosing a station, henceforward, of 
 neutrality, if such will be allowed him, or with the forces of our 
 enemy. Those who determine with me, must be ready to depart 
 within the hour, on the route to Lynch s creek, and to the con 
 tinental army." 
 
 The piercing black eye of Marion, darting around the assembly 
 at the conclusion of his speech, seemed to look deep into the 
 bosom of each soldier in his presence. There was but a moment s 
 pause when he had concluded, before they gave a unanimous an 
 swer. Could they have had other than a single sentiment on such 
 an occasion ? They had not : and no one voice hesitated in the 
 utterance of the cheering, soul-felt response 
 
 " We will all go ! Marion for ever !" and from the rear came 
 up the more familiar cry 
 
 " Hurra for the Swamp Fox ! let him take the track, and we ll 
 be after him." 
 
 A single bow a slight bend of the body, and brief inclination 
 of the head testified their leader s acknowledgment ; and, after a 
 few directions to Horry, he ordered the advance. With a calm 
 look and unchanging position, he noted, with an individual and 
 particulai glance, each trooper as he filed past him. A small 
 select guard was left behind, who were to conduct the women and 
 children to the friendly whig settlement of Williamsburg. The 
 partisans were to follow, after this, upon a prescribed route, am) 
 
GOOD SPEECH. 43 i 
 
 meet with the main body at Lynch s creek. An hour later, and 
 the silence of the grave was over the dim island in the swamp of 
 the Santee, so lately full of life and animation. The brands were 
 smoking, but no longer in blaze; and the wild-cat might be seen 
 prowling stealthily round the encampment which they had left, 
 looking for the scraps of the rustic feast partaken at their last 
 supper by its recent inmates. 
 
 U A devilish good speech," said Porgy to Humphries, as the 
 latter rode beside him, a little after leaving the island "a devil sh 
 good speech, and spoken like a gentleman. No big words about 
 liberty and death, but all plain and to the point. Then there 
 was no tricking a fellow persuading him to put his head into 
 a rope without showing him first how d d strong it was. I 
 like that. I always desire to see the way before me. Give me 
 the leader that shows me the game I m to play, and the odds 
 against me. In fighting, as in eating, I lovv. to keep my eyes 
 open. Let them take in all the danger, and all the dinner, that 
 I may neither have too little appetite for the one, nor too much 
 for the other." 
 
 " Ah, Porgy," said Humphries in reply, " you will have your 
 joke though you die for it." 
 
 "To be sure, old fallow, and why not? God help me when I 
 cease to laugh. When that day comes, Humphries, look for an 
 aching shoulder. I m no trifle to carry, and I take it for granted, 
 Bill, for old acquaintance sake, you ll lend a hand to lift a leg and 
 thigh of one that was once your friend. See me well buried, my 
 boy ; and if you have time to write a line or raise a headboard, 
 you may congratulate death upon making the acquaintance of one 
 who was remarkably intimate with life." 
 
CHAPT&ri XL 
 
 " Sound trumpets let the coil be set an j 
 That now breaks in upon our eonferenco." 
 
 MEANWHILE, the hero of Saratoga a man who, at that time, 
 almost equally with Washington, divided the good opinion of 
 his countrymen arrived from Virginia and took command of the 
 southern army. The arrival of Gates was a relief to the bravo 
 German soldier, Baron L)e Kalb, who previously had the command. 
 The situation of the army was then most embarrassing. It lay at 
 Deep river, in the state of North Carolina, in a sterile country, 
 filled either with lukewarm friends or certain enemies. The execu 
 tive of the colony had done but little to secure aid or co-operation 
 for the continentals. Provisions were procured with difficulty, 
 and the militia came in slowly, and in unimportant numbers. The 
 command of the state subsidy had been intrusted to Mr. Caswell ; 
 a gentleman who has been described as beiqg without the qualities 
 which would make a good soldier, but with sufficient pretension to 
 make a confident one. He strove to exercise an independent com 
 mand, and, on various pretences, kept a-way from a junction with 
 De Kalb, in whom his own distinct command must have been 
 merged. Even upon Gates s arrival, the emulous militia-man kept 
 aloof until the junction was absolutely unavoidable, and until its 
 many advantages had been almost entirely neutralized by the 
 untimely delay in effecting it. This junction at length took place 
 on the fifteenth day of August, nearly a month after Gates s 
 assumption of the general command. We repeat here what was 
 the army criticism upon Caswell ; but this should be taken with 
 some grains of allowance. Caswell had previously shown himself 
 a man of merit, and had done good service. 
 
 A new hope sprang up in the bosoms of the continental* 
 the arrival of a commander already so highly distinguished 
 
BARON DE KA.LB. 433 
 
 noble appearance, erect person, majestic height and carriage, and 
 the bold play of his features, free, buoyant, and intelligent in high 
 degree, were all calculated to confirm their sanguine expectations. 
 In the prime of life, bred to arms, and having gone through several 
 terms of service with character and credit, every thing was expected 
 by the troops from their commander. Fortune, too, had almost 
 invariably smiled upon him ; and his recent success at Saratoga a 
 success which justice insists should be shared pretty evenly with 
 Arnold the traitor Arnold and others equally brave, but far 
 more worthy had done greatly towards inspiring his men with 
 assurances, which, it is not necessary now to say, proved most illu 
 sory. Nor was De Kalb, to whom General Gates intrusted the 
 command of the Maryland division of the army, including that also 
 from Delaware, without his influence in the affections of the conti 
 nentals, lie WHS a brave man, and had all his life been a soldier. 
 A German by birth, he was in the service of (he King of France, 
 and was already a brigadier, when transferred to America in the 
 revolutionary struggle. Congress honoured him with the commis 
 sion of a major-general, and he did honour to the trust he perished 
 in the execution of its duties. 
 
 The command given to Gates was so far a shadowy one. With 
 the Maryland and Delaware regiments, it consisted only of three 
 companies of artillery under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Carrington, which had just joined from Virginia, and a small 
 legionary corps, of about sixty cavalry and as many foot, under 
 Colonel Armand, a foreigner. But the general was not to be dis 
 couraged by this show of weakness, though evident enough to him 
 at the outset, lie joined the army on the 25th July, was received 
 with due ceremony by a continental salute from the little park of 
 artillery, and received the command with due politeness from his 
 predecessor. He made his acknowledgments to the baron with all 
 the courtesy of a finished gentleman, approved and confirmed his 
 standing orders, and, this done, to the surprise of all, gave the 
 troops instructions to hold themselves in readiness to move at a 
 moment s warning. 
 
 This was an order which manifested the activity of their com 
 mander s mind and character ; but it proved no Ht^e annoyance 
 
4:34 THE PARHSAN. 
 
 to the troops themselves, who well knew their own condition. 
 The} 7 were without rum or rations their foragers had failed to 
 secure necessary supplies in suflicient quantity and nothing but 
 that high sense of military subordination which distinguished the 
 favourite line of continentals under De K alb s direction, could have 
 prevented the open utterance of those discontents which they yet 
 could not help but feel. De Kalb ventured to remind dates of 
 the difficulties of their situation. A smile, not more polite than 
 supercilious, accompanied the reply of the too confident adventurer. 
 
 " All this has been cared for, general. 1 have not issued orders 
 without duly considering their bearing, and the unavoidable neces 
 sities they bring with them. Wagons are on the road with all the 
 articles you name in sufficient quantity, and in a day or two these 
 discontents will be all satisfied. Your line is not refractory, I 
 hope ?" 
 
 " Never more docile, I beg your excellency to believe, than now. 
 The troops I command know that subordination, not less than 
 valour, is the duty of the soldier. But human nature has its 
 wants, and no small part of my care is, that I know their suffering 
 not from their complaints, sir, for they say nothing but from 
 my own knowledge of their true condition, and of what their com 
 plaints might very well be." 
 
 u It is well they will soon be relieved ; and in order to contri 
 bute actively to that end, it is decided that we march to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow, sir ! Your excellency is aware that this is imprac 
 ticable unless we move with but one half of our baggage, for want 
 of hordes. Colonel Williams has just reported a large deficiency." 
 
 With evident impatience, restrained somewhat by a sense of 
 polite Less, Gates turned away from the baron to Colonel Othu 
 Williams, who was then approaching, and put the question to him 
 concerning the true condition of the army with regard to horses. 
 The cheek of the old vderan, De Kaib, grew to a yet deeper hue 
 than was its habitual wear, and his lips were compressed with pain 
 ful effort as he heard the inquiry. Williams confirmed the state 
 ment, and assured the general, that not only a portion of the bag 
 gage, but a part of the artillery must be left under the same defi 
 ciency in the event of a present movement. 
 
WANT OF CAVALRY. 435 
 
 " And how many field-pieces are thus unprovided, Colonel 
 Williams ?" 
 
 " Two, sir, at least, and possibly more." 
 
 Gates strode away for a few moments, then returning quickl) 
 as if in that time he had fully discussed the matter in his owu 
 mind, he exclaimed : 
 
 u They must be left ; we shall be able to do without them. We 
 must move to-morrow, gentlemen, without loss of time, taking the 
 route over Buffalo ford towards the advance post of the enemy on 
 Lynch s creek. We shall find him there, I think." 
 
 Gates seemed to think that nothing more was wanting to suc 
 cess than finding his enemy, and his eye declared the confident 
 expectation of youth, unprepared for, and entirely unthinking of, 
 reverse. Flattered by good fortune to the top of his bent, she now 
 seemed desirous of fooling him there ; and his eye, lip, look, an</. 
 habitual action, seemed to say that with him now, it was only to 
 see, to conquer. 
 
 De Kalb turned away sorrowfully in silence ; but Colonel Wil 
 liams, presuming on large personal intimacy with the general, ven 
 tured to expostulate with him upon the precipitate step which he 
 was about to take. He insisted upon the necessity of horse, not 
 only for the baggage and artillery, but for the purpose of mount 
 ing a large additional force of the infantry, to act as cavalry along 
 the route. But Gates, taking him by the arm, smiled playfully to 
 his aide, as he replied : 
 
 " But what do we want with cavalry, Williams ? we had none 
 at Saratoga." 
 
 Perhaps it would be safe to ar^ert that the game won at Sara 
 toga was the true cause of the game lost at Camdcn. The folly 
 of such an answer was apparent to all but the speaker. With a 
 marked deference, careful not to offend, Williams suggested the 
 radical difference between the two regions thus tacitly compared. 
 He did not dwell upon the irregular and broken surface of the 
 ground at Saratoga, which rendered cavalry next to useless, and, 
 indeed, perfectly unnecessary ; but he gave a true picture of the 
 country through which they were now to pass. By nature sterile, 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 
 abounding with sandy plains and swamps, thinly inhabited, i.othiug 
 but cavalry could possibly compass the extent of ground over 
 which it would be necessary that they should go daily in order to 
 secure provisions. He proceeded, and described the settlers in the 
 neighbourhood as chiefly tories another name for a banditti the 
 most reckless and barbarous who would harass his army at every 
 Btep, and seek safe cover in the swamps whenever he should turn 
 upon them. Williams, who knew the country, ably depicted its 
 condition to his superior, and with a degree of earnestness only 
 warranted by the friendship existing between them. It was, never 
 theless, far from agreeable to his hearer, who, somewhat peevishly, 
 at length responded : 
 
 "Colonel Williams, we are to fight the enemy, you will admit ? 
 Lie will not come to us, that is clear. What next ? We must go 
 to him. We must pit the cock on his own dunghill." 
 
 " It will be well, general, if he doesn t pit us there. Though we 
 do seek to light him, there s no need of such an excess of civility 
 as to give him his own choice of ground for it; and permit me to 
 suggest a route by which we shall seek him out quite as effectually, 
 I think, and, with due regard to your already expressed decision, 
 on better terms for ourselves." 
 
 " Proceed !" was all the answer of Gates, who began whistling 
 the popular air of Yankee Doodle, with much sang-froid, even while 
 his aide was speaking. The brow of Williams grew slightly con 
 tracted for an instant ; but, well knowing the habits of the speaker, 
 and regarding much more the harmony of the army and its pros 
 pect of success than his own personal feelings, he calmly enough 
 proceeded in his suggestions. A rude map of the country lay on 
 the table before him, on which he traced out the path which ho 
 now counselled his superior to take. 
 
 "Here, sir, your excellency will see that a route almost north 
 west would cross the Peedee river, at or about the spot where ii 
 becomes the Yadkin : this would lead us to the little town of Salis 
 bury, where the people are firm friends, and where the country ah 
 around is fertile and abundant. This course, sir, has the advantage 
 of any other, not only as it promises us plenty of provisions, but a* 
 
IMPORTANT SUGGESTIONS. 437 
 
 it yields us an asylum for the sick and wounded, in the event of a 
 disaster, either in Mecklenburg or Rowan counties, in both of 
 which our friends are stanch and powerful." 
 
 The suggestion of disaster provoked a scornful smile to the lips 
 of Gates, and he seemed about to speak, but perceiving that Wil 
 liams had not yet concluded, he merely waved his hand to him to 
 proceed. Williams beheld the smile and its peculiar expression, 
 and his manly and ingenuous countenance was again slightly 
 rlushed as he survey ., i it. His tall, graceful figure rose to its full 
 height, as he went on to designate the several advantages offered to 
 the army by the suggested route. In this review were included, 
 among other leading objects, the establishment of a laboratory for 
 the repair of arms at Salisbury or Charlotte a depot for the secu 
 rity of stores conveyed from the northward by the upper route 
 the advantage which such a course gave of turning the left of the 
 enemy s outposts by a circuitous route, and the facility of reaching 
 the most considerable among them (Camden), with friends always 
 in the rear, and with a river (the Wateree) on the right. These, 
 and other suggestions, were offered by Williams, who, at the same 
 time, begged to fortify his own opinions by a reference to other and 
 better informed gentlemen than himself on the subject. Gates, who 
 had heard him through with some impatience, only qualified : n its 
 show by the manifest complacency with which he contemplated his 
 own project, turned quietly around to him at the conclusion, and 
 replied briefly 
 
 " All very well, Williams, and very wise but we must march 
 now. To-morrow, when the troops shall halt at noon, I will l;ty 
 these matters, as you have suggested them, before the general 
 officers." 
 
 Laying due stress upon the word general, he effectually conveyed 
 the idea to the mind of Williams, that, though he .had received the 
 uggestions of a friend and intimate, he was not unwilling to rebuke 
 the presumption of the inferior officer aiming to give counsel. 
 With a melancholy shake of the head, De Kalb turned away, 
 jerking up the hips of his smallclothes, as he did so, with a suffi 
 ciently discontented mov. ment. Williams followed him from the 
 19 
 
438 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 presence of the infatuated generalissimo, and all parties were 
 busy in preparation for a start. 
 
 The next morning, the journey was begun ; the army setting 
 foith, unmurmuring, though with but half its baggage, and with no 
 present prospect of provisions. Gates, however, seemed assured of 
 their proximity, and cheered his officers, and through them, tho 
 men, with his assurance. At noon the army came to a halt, and 
 here they were joined by Colonel Walton, bearing advices froic 
 Marion, and bringing up his own skeleton corps, which was incor 
 porated with Colonel Dixon s regiment of the North Carolina mili 
 tia. The services of Walton, as, indeed, had been anticipated b~ 
 him, were appropriated at once by the general in his own family 
 No conference took place at this halt, as Gates had promised Wil 
 liams. After a brief delay, which the men employed in ransacking 
 their knapsacks for the scraps and remnants which they contained, 
 the march was resumed : the waggons with provisions not yet in 
 sight, and their scouts returning with no intelligence calculated for 
 their encouragement. 
 
 The country through which their journey was to be taken, 
 exceeded in sterility all the representations which had been mad*, 
 of it. But few settlements relieved, with an appearance of human 
 life, the monotonous originality of the wild nature around them ; 
 and these, too, were commonly deserted by their inhabitants on 
 tlie appearance of the army. The settlers, dividing on either 
 s de, had formed themselves into squads to plunder and prey upon 
 .he neighbouring arid more productive districts. They were Ish- 
 inaelites in all their practices, and usually shrank away from any 
 force larger than their own ; conscious that power must only bring 
 them chastisement. 
 
 The distresses of the soldiery, on this sad and solitary march, 
 increased with every day in their progress. Still, none of the pro 
 visions and stores promised them by the general at the outset, came 
 to their relief. In lieu of these, they had the long perspective, full 
 of fertile promise, set before them. There was the Peedee river at 
 hand, the banks of which, they were told, exceedingly fertile, held 
 forth the prospect of abundance ; but hour after hour carne and 
 
FORCES MEET. 439 
 
 passed, without the realization of these prouises. The old crop of 
 corn, along the road, had been long since exhausted, and the new 
 grain was yet in the fields, unripe and unfit for use. But the neces 
 sity was too peremptory, and not to be restrained. The soldiers 
 plucked the immature ears, arid boiling them with their lean beef 
 which herded in the contiguous swamps, they provided themselves 
 with all the food available in that quarter. Green peaches were the 
 substitute for bread ; and fashion, too, became a tributary to want, 
 and the hair powder, so lavishly worn by all of the respectable 
 classes of that period, was employed to thicken the unsalted soups, 
 for the more fastidious appetites of the officers. Such fare was pro 
 ductive of consequences the most annoying and enfeebling. The 
 army was one of shadows, weary and dispirited, long before it carne 
 in sight of an enemy. 
 
 It was on the third day of August that the little army crossed the 
 Peedee, in batteaux, at Mask s ferry, and were met on the southern 
 bank by Lieutenant- Colonel Porterfield, of Virginia, with a lean 
 detachment of troops, which he had kept together with much diffi 
 culty after the fall of Charleston. A few hours after, and while the 
 army was enjoying its usual noon-day halt, the little partisan corps 
 of the Swamp Fox rode into camp. 
 
 His presence created some sensation, for his own reputation had 
 been for some time spreading ; but the miserable and wild appear 
 ance of his little brigade was the object of immense merriment on 
 the part of the continentals. They are represented by the historian 
 as a most mirthful spectacle, all well mounted, but in wretched 
 attire, an odd assemblage of men, and boys, and negroes, with little 
 or no equipment, and arms of the most strange and various assort 
 ment. 
 
 Colonel Marion was at once introduced to the maiquee of the 
 general, but his troops remained exposed to the unmeasured jest and 
 laughter of the continentals. One called them the crow-squad, from 
 their sooty outsides ; this name another denied them, alleging, with 
 a sorry pun, that tliey had long since forgotten how to crow, 
 although they were evidently just from the dunghills. A third, 
 more classical, borrowed a passage from Falstaff, and swore In? 
 Aould at once leave the army, as he wouldn t march i 
 
440 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 with such scarecrows ; but a fourth said that was the very reason 
 that lie should stick to it, as Coventry was the only place for them. 
 
 The fierce low-countrymen did not bear this banter long or with 
 patient temper. As they sauntered about among the several 
 groups which crowded curiously around them, sundry little squab 
 bles, only restrained by the efforts of the officers, took place, and 
 promised some difficulty between the parties. Our friend Porgy 
 himself, though withal remarkably good-natured, was greatly 
 aroused by the taunts and sarcasms uttered continually around 
 him. lie replied to many of those that reached his ears, and few 
 were better able at retort than himself; but his patience at length 
 was overcome entirely, as he heard among those engaged most 
 earnestly in the merriment at his expense, the frequent and bois 
 terous jokes of Colonel Armand, a foreign mercenary, who, in 
 broken English, pressed rather rudely the assault upon our friend 
 Porgy s equipment in particular. Armand himself was lean and 
 attenuated naturally. His recent course of living had not materi 
 ally contributed to his personal bulk. Porgy eyed him with 
 wholesale contempt for a few moments, while the foreigner blun 
 dered out his bad English and worse wit. At length, tapping 
 Armand upon the shoulder with the utmost coolness and familiarity, 
 Porgy drew his belt a thought tighter around his waist, while he 
 addressed the foreigner. 
 
 "Look you, my friend with the body of a sapling, you have 
 the voice of a puncheon, and I like nothing that s unnatural and 
 artificial. I must reconcile these extremes in your case, and there 
 are two modes of doing so. I must either increase your bulk or 
 lessen your voice. Perhaps it would be quite as well to do both ; 
 the extremes meet always most readily : and by reducing your 
 voice, and increasing your bulk at the same time, I shall be able 
 to bring you to a natural and healthy condition." 
 
 "Vat you mean?" demanded Armand, with a look of mixed 
 astonishment and indignation, as he drew away from the familial 
 grasp which Porgy had taken upon his shoulder. 
 
 " I ll tell you j you don t seem to have had a dinner for some 
 time back. Your jaws are thin, your complexion mealy, and your 
 belly wlui! there is of it is gaunt as a greyhound s. Til help u> 
 
CHALLENGE. 44i 
 
 replenish it. Tom, bring out the hoecake and that shoulder-bone, 
 boy. You ll find it in the tir. box, where I left it. Now, mj 
 friend, wait for the negro; he ll be here in short order, and I shall 
 then assist you, as I said before, to increase your body and dimi 
 nish your voice : the contrast is too great between them it s 
 unnatural, unbecoming, and must be remedied." 
 
 Armand, annoyed by the pertinacity, not less than by the man 
 ner of Porgy, who, once aroused, now clung to him tenaciously all 
 the while he spoke, soon ceased to laugh as he had done previously 
 and, not understanding one-half of Porgy s speech, and at a loss 
 how to take him, for the gourmand was eminently good-natured 
 in his aspect, he repeated the question 
 
 " Vat you sail say, my friend ?" 
 
 " Tom s coming with ham and hoecake both good, I assure 
 you, for I have tried them within the hour; you shall trv them 
 also. I mean first to feed you and by that means increase your 
 bulk and then to flog you, and so diminish your voice. You 
 have too little of the one, and quite too much of the other." 
 
 A crowd had now collected about the two, of whom not the 
 least ready and resolute were the n\<m of Marion. As soon as 
 Arniand could be made to understand what was wanted of him, 
 he drew back in unmeasured indignation and dismay. 
 
 "I sail fight wid de gentilmans and de officer, not wid you, sir," 
 xvas his reply, with some show of dignity, to the application of 
 Porgy. A hand was quietly laid upon his shoulder, as he uttered 
 these words, and his eye turned to encounter that of Singleton. 
 
 u I am both, sir, and at your service, Colonel Armand, in this 
 very quarrel ; though, in justice, you owe the right to Mr. I orgy, 
 who just asserted it. You waived your own rank, sir, when you 
 undertook to make merry at the expense of the soldier and the 
 simple ensign, and thus put yourself out of the protection of youi 
 epaulet. But conceding you all that you claim, I claim to be your 
 equal, and beg to repeat, sir, that I am at your service." 
 
 "But, sare, who sail be you vat you sail be name?" 
 
 "I am a leader of the squad that has provoked your k.aghter. 
 I am Major Singleton, of the Brigade of Marion. He wili answer 
 for my rank and honour." 
 
4.42 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " But sare, konneur, 1 sail not laugh at de gentilmans and de 
 officers." 
 
 " The officer and the gentleman protects the honour of his 
 followers. Will you compel me to disgrace you, sir ?" was the stern 
 demand of Singleton, who had felt quite as keenly as Porgy the 
 rMioule of the foreigner. 
 
 It is difficult to say what might have been the fruit of this little 
 quarrel, had not an inkling of the truth reached the main force of 
 the General. Armand s corps, meanwhile, had clustered about 
 their colonel. They consisted chiefly of foreigners, and this fact 
 would have told fearfully against them, had the parties come to 
 blows. Singleton, in like manner, was soon supported by a hand 
 some levy from his own squad, fierce fellows from the Cypress and 
 the San tee swamps. There were the potential Porgy, and Bill 
 Humphries the cool, and Jack Davis the stubborn, and young 
 Lance Frampton, eager with ringer already on the cock of his rifle. 
 Swords were already half drawn, and restless fingers were working 
 at the knife handles in the belts of their owners, and warm work 
 was threatening, while each of the opposing parties seemed already 
 to ha^e singled out his foe. But at the perilous moment the loud 
 voice of command from general officers was heard, the drum rolled 
 to quarters, and Gates, with De Kalb and Marion, appeared among 
 ihe .hostile parties; and they retired from the ground, like so many 
 machines, at the simple will of the maker. The affray was thus 
 prevented, which, a moment before, had seemed inevitable. Such 
 is military subordination. The soldier, in fact, is most a soldier, 
 when most a machine : but this very fact requires that the will 
 which governs him should be that of a born master. Gates, with 
 his officers, again returned to their conference, which, before this 
 interruption, had become highly animated and important. Porgy 
 was quite soured that Armand had gone unwhipt. Somebody 
 mentioned that this personage was, in feet, a Baron. 
 
 " Did you know that he is a foreign Lore], Lieutenant, a Baron 
 de la Robbery or something ; and would you whip a Lord ?" 
 
 "As the Lord liveth," was the seemingly irreverent answer, u l 
 Bhould have whipt him out of his breeches !" 
 
CHAPTER XL1 
 
 * The evening clouds are thick with threat of storm ; 
 The night grows wild ; the waters champ and rave, 
 A* if they clamoured for some destined prey." 
 
 THE reader will scarcely believe, knowing as he does the great 
 achievements of General Marion at the South throughout the revo 
 lution, that his proffer of service on this occasion was met with in 
 difference by General Gates. Yet so we have it, on the authority 
 of history. That gentleman partook largely of the spirit which 
 circulated so freely in his army ; and the uncouth accoutrements, 
 the bare feet, and the tattered garments of the motley assemblage 
 of men and boys, half armed, which the Swamp Fox had brought 
 with him to do the battles of liberty, provoked his risibility along 
 with that of his troops. The personal appearance of Marion, him 
 self, was as little in his favour. Diffident even to shyness, there was 
 little that was prepossessing in his manners. lie was awkward and 
 embarrassed in the presence of strangers : and though singularly 
 cool and collected with the necessity and the danger, he was hardly 
 the man to command the favourable consideration of a superficial 
 judge one of mediocre ability, such as General Gates undoubtedly 
 was. The very contrast between the two men, in physical respects^ 
 \vnn enough for the latter. Built, himself, on a superb scale, the 
 movement, the look, the deportment of Gates, all bespoke the con 
 scious great man. Marion, on the other hand, small in person, lame 
 of a leg, with a downcast eye, and hesitating manners, was a cipher 
 in the estimation of the more imposing personage who looked upon 
 him. And then the coarse clothes the odd mixture of what was 
 once a uniform, with such portions of his dress as necessity had 
 supplied, and which never could become so altogether offended the 
 nice taste of one rather solicitous than otherwise of the symmetries 
 of fashion. Nothing, therefore, but -i well regulated sense of polite 
 ness, formed clasely upon the models of foreign service, prevented 
 
444 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 the generalissimo from laughing outright at the new auxiliaries now 
 proffered to his aid. 
 
 But, though he forbore to offend in this manner, he did* nof 
 scruple to la} 7 before Marion his objections to the proposed use of 
 his followers, on this very ground. The shallow mind could notse* 
 that the very poverty, the miserably clad and armed condition of 
 Marion s men, were the best pledges that could be given for theii 
 fidelity. Why should they fight in nigs for a desperate cause, with 
 ou! pay or promise of it, but that a high sense of honour and of 
 country was the impelling principle? The truth must be spoken : 
 the famous Partisan of Carolina, the very stay of its hope for so 
 long a season he who, more than any other man, had done so much 
 towards keeping alive the fires of liberty and courage there, until 
 they grew into a bright extending, unquenchable flame was very 
 civilly bowed out of the Continental army, and sent back to his 
 swamps upon a service almost nominal. 
 
 " Our force is sufficient, my dear colonel," was the conclusion of 
 the general "quite sufficient; and you can give us little if any aid 
 by direct co-operation. Something you may do, indeed yes by 
 keeping to the swamps, and furnishing us occasional intelligence- 
 picking off the foragers, and breaking up the communications." 
 
 u My men are true, your excellency," was the calm reply ; " they 
 desire to serve their country. It is the general opinion that you 
 vill need all the aid that the militia of the state can afford." 
 
 " The general opinion, my dear colonel, errs in this, as it does in 
 ..he majority of other cases. We shall have a force adequate to our 
 objects quite as soon as a junction can be formed with Major-Ge- 
 ncral Caswell. Could you procure arms, and the necessary equip 
 ments, proper garments, for example, and attach your force to 
 his" 
 
 " I understand your excellency," was the simple answer, as Gates 
 hinted his true objections in the last sentence; but, save the slight 
 compression of his lips, which were usually parted otherwise, nc 
 trace of emotion besides, appeared upon the countenance of tire 
 speaker 
 
 " My meu," he continued, "are some of them, of the very best 
 families in the count ry; homel.^s now, they have been robbed of ail 
 
PRIDE OF MARION. 
 
 by tneir enemies. They are not the men to light less earnestly on 
 that account, nor will their poverty and rags hinder them from 
 striking a good blow, when occasion serves, against the invader to 
 whom they owe their sufferings," 
 
 Gates was sufficiently a tactician to see that the pride of Marion 
 was touched with the unjust estimate which had been made of his 
 men, and he strove to remove the impression by a show of frankness. 
 
 " But, you see, my dear colonel, that though your men may fight 
 like very devils, nothing can, possibly keep the continentals from 
 laughing at them. We can t supply your people ; and so long as 
 they remain as they.are, so long will they be a laughing-stock so long 
 there will be uproar and insubordination. We are quite too delicately 
 situated now to risk anything with the army ; we are too nigh the 
 enemy, and our troops have been too stinted. To deny them to 
 laugh, is to force them to rebel ; we can only remove the cause of 
 laughter, and in this way, defeat the insubordination which undue mer 
 riment, sternly and suddenly checked, would certainly bring about." 
 
 Gates had made the best of his case, and Marion, with few words, 
 yielded to the opinion, from which, however, he mentally withheld 
 all his assent. He contented himself, simply, with stating his own 
 and the desire of his men to serve the country by active operation 
 in the best possible way. Gates replied to this in a manner suffi 
 ciently annoying to his hearer, but which had subsequently its own 
 adequate rebuke. 
 
 " Any increase of force, my dear colonel, would be perfectly un 
 necessary after my junction with the troops I daily look for. Cas- 
 well will bring me all the North Carolina subsidies, and General 
 Stevens, with a strong body of Virginians, will join in a few days. 
 My force then will be little short of seven thousand men, and quite 
 sufficient for all contemplated purposes. We shall therefore need 
 no aid from your followers." 
 
 u I hope not, general ; though should ou, my men are always 
 ready to offer it for their country. Have I your excellency s per 
 mission to retire?" 
 
 " You have, Colonel Marion ; but I trust you will still continue 
 operations on the Feedee and the Santee rivers. One service, if you 
 will permit me, I will require at. your hands; and that is, that you 
 19* 
 
44-i 
 
 x46 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 will employ your men in breaking up all the boats which you can 
 possibly find at the several crossing-places on the Watcree at 
 Nelson s and Vance s ferries in particular. We must not et my 
 Lord Rawdon escape us." 
 
 It was now Marion s turn to smile, and his dark eye kindled 
 with an arch and lustrous expression as he heard of the anticipated 
 victory. He well knew that Rawdon could net and would not en 
 deavour to retreat. Such a movement would at once lose him the 
 country. It would have stimulated the dormant hopes of all the 
 people. It would have crushed the tories, by withdrawing the 
 firmy whose presence had been their prop. It would destroy all 
 the immense labours, at one blow, by which the invader had sought, 
 not only to realize, but to secure his power. 
 
 The weakness of Gates amused the partisan, and the smile upon 
 his lips was irrepressible. But the self -complaisance of the general 
 did not suffer him to behold it ; and, concluding his wishes and his 
 compliments at the same time, he bowed the Swamp Fox out of 
 the marquee, and left him to the attention of the old baron, De 
 Kail). The veteran was gloomy, and did not scruple to pour his 
 melancholy forebodings into the ears of Marion, for whom he had 
 conceived a liking. When they were about to separate, with a lu 
 dicrous smile, he reminded Marion of the employment which Gates 
 had assigned him in the destruction of the boats. 
 
 u You need not hurry to its execution, my friend," said he ; " it 
 is a sad waste of property, and, if my thoughts do not greatly wan 
 der, I fear an unnecessary waste. But God cheer us, rind his bless 
 ing be upon you? 
 
 They parted never to meet ^gain. The partisan led his rejected 
 warriors back in the direction of his swamp dwelling, on the Santee. 
 while the veteran went back with a heavy heart to his duties in 
 the camp. 
 
 In an hour, the onward march of the army was again resumed. 
 The troops went forward with more alacrity, as they had that day 
 feasted with more satisfaction to themselves than on many days 
 before. A small supply of Indian meal had been brought into 
 camp by the foragers, and produced quite a sensation. This gave 
 a mess to all ; ard the impoverished beef, which, hitherto, they had 
 
AMBITION OF CASWKLI,. 44? 
 
 eateu either alone or with unripe fruit, boiled along with it, grew 
 particularly palatable. With all the elasticity which belongs to 
 soldiers, they forgot past privations, and hurried on, under the 
 promise of improving circumstances, which were to meet them at 
 every step of their farther progiess. 
 
 This spirit was the more increased, as the commanding officer, 
 aware of the critical situation of the troops, unfolded himself more 
 freely than. he had hitherto done to Colonel Williams, who acted as 
 deputy adjutant-general. The show of confidence operated favour 
 ably on the troops, who were at a loss to know why General Gates, 
 against all counsel, had taken the present route. lie said it had 
 been forced upon him ; that his object was to unite with Caewell ; 
 that Caswell had evaded every order to join with him ; that Cas- 
 well s vanity desired a separate command, and that he probably 
 contemplated some enterprise by which to distinguish himself. 
 
 "I should not be sorry," said he, " to see his ambition checked 
 by a rap over the knuckles, if it were not that the militia would 
 disperse and leave this handful of brave men (meaning the conti 
 nentals) without even nominal assistance." 
 
 He urged that the route was taken to counteract the risks of 
 Caswell, by forcing him to the junction be seemed so desirous to 
 avoid ; and, at the same time, to secure some of the supplies of 
 provisions and other necessaries, which he asserted, on the allied 
 authority of the executive of North Carolina, were even then in the 
 greatest profusion in Cas well s camp. He, moreover, suggested that 
 a change of direction now would not only dispirit the troops, but 
 intimidate the people of the country, who had generally sent in 
 their adhesion as he passed, promising to join him under their own 
 leaders. These we -e the arguments of Gates ; and whatever may 
 he their value, he should have the benefit of them in his defence. 
 To these were opposed, in vain, the poverty and destitution of the 
 country, and the perfidious character of the people along the route 
 they pursued. The die was cast, however, and the army went for 
 ward to destruction. But we will not anticipate. 
 
 On the fifth of August, in the afternoon, General Gates received 
 a letter from Caswell, notifying him of an attack which he medi 
 tated upon a post of the 1 iitish, on r ynch s creek, about fourteen 
 
448 THE PARTISAN". 
 
 miles from the militia encampment. This increased the anxiety of 
 the general to advance, fearing lest Caswell should involve himself 
 in utter ruin ; and he eagerly pressed forward the regulars. While 
 urging them still upon the ensuing day, a new despatch was received 
 from the general of militia, stating his apprehensions of an attack 
 from the very post which, the day before, he had himself meditated 
 to assault. Such a strange mixture of boldness and timidity 
 alarmed Gates even for his safety ; and he now hurried forward to 
 relieve him from himself, and with more rapidity than ever. On 
 the seventh of August, by dint of forced marching, he attained his 
 object, and the long-delayed junction was safely effected, at the 
 Cross Roads, about fifteen miles east of the enemy s most advanced 
 post on Lynch s creek. 
 
 The army was now refreshed ; every thing was in plenty ; for 
 amid the greatest confusion, and in spite of all his difficulties, Cas- 
 w j !l had contrived to keep a constant supply of wines, and other 
 luxuries on hand, with which the half-famished continentals were 
 pleasantly regaled. After the junction, which occurred about noon 
 in the day, the army marched a few miles towards the advanced 
 station of the British. On the next day, pressing forward to the 
 post, they found the field their own ; the enemy had evacuated it, 
 ftiid had retired back, at his own leisure, to a much stronger posi- 
 tioS^on Little Lynch s creek, and within a day s march of the main 
 post of Camden. There Rawdon commanded in person, with a 
 force already strong, and hourly increasing from a judicious con 
 traction of the minor posts around him, which he effected as soon 
 as apprised of the approach of the continentals. 
 
 Still, the army pressed forward, in obedience to command, igno 
 rant of its course, and totally unconscious of the next step to be 
 taken. The commander, however, began to take his precautions, 
 .is he saw the danger of encountering an enemy encumbered as 
 he now was with unnecessary baggage, and the large numbers of 
 women and children, whom he had found with Caswell s militia. 
 Wagons were detached to convey the heavy baggage, and such 
 Vforr-en as could be driven away, to a place of safety near Char 
 lotte ; but large numbers of them preferred remaining with the 
 Iroops, sharing all their dangers and partaking of their privations 
 
CAUTIOUS MOVEMENTS. 449 
 
 Exhortations and menaces alike failed of effect ; they positively 
 refused to leave the army on any terms. 
 
 Relieve i, however, of much of his encumbrance, Gates proceeded 
 to the post on Little Lynch s creek, to which the enemy had retired. 
 Here he found him strongly posted. He was in cover, on a rising 
 ground, on the south side of the Wateree ; the way leading to it 
 was over a causeway to a wooden bridge which stood on the north 
 sido, resting upon very steep banks. The creek lay in a deep 
 muddy channel, bounded on the north by an extensive swamp, and 
 only passable (except by a circuit of several miles) directly in front 
 of the enemy. 
 
 " To attack him in face, would be taking the bull by the horns 
 indeed," was the conclusive remark of Gates, as he reviewed the 
 position and examined its defences. " We ll go round him !" 
 and, for the first time, the commander prepared to take the least 
 direct, road to the enemy. Defiling by the right, having cautiously 
 thrown out a flanking regiment under Colonel Hall, of Maryland, 
 the army pushed on by a circuitous course towards Rawdon. 
 
 This movement had the effect of breaking up the minor post of 
 the enemy which Gates had been compelled to avoid, and its com 
 manding officer, with some precipitation, fell back, with all his gar 
 rison, upon Camden. The post, at Glermont, Rugely s Mills, was 
 also abandoned at the same time ; and, on the thirteenth of August, 
 it was occupied by the American general with his jaded army. 
 
 The movements of Gates had been closely matched by the 
 enemy, who was vigilant in the extreme. The precautions taken 
 by Rawdon who, up to this moment, had been the general in 
 command opposed to him were judicious arid timely. But the 
 command was now to be delivered into yet abler hands ; for, with 
 the first account of the proximity of the southern army, Corn- 
 wallis, with a portion of the garrison from Charleston, set forth foi 
 Camden. His march communicated, like wildfire, the business of 
 his mission to the people of the country through which he was to 
 pass ; and it was with feelings in nowise enviable, that he saw the 
 exulting looks of the disaffected whenever they met with him on 
 his progress. At Dorchester, where he paused a day, and by his 
 presence controlled sormwhat the restless spirit of those in that 
 
450 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 quarter, who, otherwise, were willing enough to rise in mutiny, he 
 could almost hear the muttered rebellion as it rose involuntarily to 
 the lips of many. Standing lustily in his doorway as the glittering 
 regiments went through the village, old Pryor growled out his hope 
 for their destruction. 
 
 " Ay, go ! ye glitter now, and look d d fine, but Gates will 
 roll your red jackets in the rnud. He ll give you a dressing, my 
 lads, ye shall remember. Ay, shake your flags, and beat your 
 drums, but you ll have another guess sort of shake and tune when 
 you re coming back." 
 
 The stern and lofty earl, erect and tall, inflexible and thoughtful, 
 moved along upon his steed like some massive tower, before the 
 dwelling of the sturdy rebel ; who, uttering no shout, waving no 
 hat, giving no sign but that of scornful hate, and a most bitter 
 contempt, gazed upon the warrior without fear or shrinking. 
 
 " Go, d n you, go ; go where the drum that boats for you shall 
 be muffled ; go where the bugle that rings iir your ears shall not 
 stir you again in your saddles ; go where the rifle shall have a 
 better mark in your bodies than it ever found at Bunker s arid at 
 Lexington." 
 
 And as he muttered thus, his old eye rekindled, and he watched 
 the last retreating forms in the distance, repeating to himself the 
 fond hope, which was then a pregnant sentiment in the bosom of 
 thousands, who had felt long what they could not resent, and now 
 rejoiced in the belief, confidently entertained, that their enemies 
 had gone to a battle-field from whence they never would return. 
 The hour of punishment was at hand so they fondly thought 
 arid Gates s was the avenging arm sent for its infliction. 
 
 On the night of the fifteenth of August, without any conference 
 with his officers, Gates bade his army advance from Clermont on 
 the route to Camden. What was his hope ? What, indeed, we 
 may well ask, was his object? He literally had no intelligence in 
 respect to his enemy ; he had omitted most of those precautions by 
 which, in armios, intelligence was to be procured. The suggestions 
 of his own friends were unheeded, and he deigned no general 
 consultation. Colonels Williams and Walton, both ventured to 
 remind him, in general terms, of the near neighbourhood of the 
 
Urn v c.r\s> 
 
 PY. 451 
 
 foe, doubtless in force; for, on the subject of their numbers, no 
 information had yet been received. On the same day, an inhabit 
 ant from Camden, named Hughson, came to head-quarters, affecting 
 ignorance of the approach of the Americans, and pretending a 
 warm interest in their success. He was a Marylander, and was 
 disposed to be very friendly with his countrymen, the continentals. 
 He freely gave his information to Gates information which was 
 true, so far as it went ; but which was given in just sufficient quantity 
 to promote the precipitation of the American commander and the 
 purposes of the British. Gates readily believed all that was told 
 him ; and though suspicions arose in the minds of some of the 
 officers around him, the credulity of the general himself underwent 
 no lessening from the more prudent counsels of his subordinates. 
 The spy- for such he was was actually suffered to leave the 
 camp and return to Camden, not only with the fulfilment of the 
 purpose for which he went, but possessed of the more valuable 
 information with which he was permitted to return. Besotted self- 
 confidence had actually blinded the American general to the huge 
 and fearful trench which he had been digging for himself, and 
 which now lay immediately before him. 
 
 A few hours only divided him from his enemy ; yet, strange to 
 say, he knew not that it was Gornwallis, himself, who stood opposed 
 to him. That brave commander had hurried with all possible 
 celerity to the scene of action, lie knew how greatly the fortunes 
 of the colony depended upon the present contest. Marion was 
 even then busy along the Santee, and so effectually did he guard 
 the passes by Nelson s and Watson s, that his lordship, though 
 commanding a fine body of troops, veterans all, fresh from Charles 
 ton, and superor far to any force of the partisan, was compelled to 
 take a circuitous and indirect route in reaching Camden. Marion 
 had greatly increased his force with a number of insurgents from 
 Black river. Suinter, too, was in active motion, and watched the 
 Wateree river with the avidity of a hawk. On the success of this 
 battle depended every thing ; for, though to gain it would not 
 necessarily have secured the conquest of Coruwallis in Carolina, 
 not to yam it would most probably have been the loss of all. He 
 knew this, and his desire was for early battle before the troops of 
 
452 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Gates were rested; before the militia could come in to his relief; 
 and before the spirit of revolt, throughout the province, should 
 distract, by various risings and simultaneous enterprises. No 
 general was ever more ready than Cornwallis to carve his way out 
 of difficulties with the strong arm and the sword. Policy, and his 
 passion alike, persuaded him now to the adoption of this stern 
 arbitrament. 
 
 At the very hour that Gates moved from Clermont in the route 
 to Camden, the British general set out from that station to attack 
 him in his encampment Yet Gates had no intelligence of this: 
 he knew not even that his lordship had reached Camden. lie 
 neglected every means of intelligence, and the retributive justice, 
 which, in one moment, withered all the choice laurels of his pre 
 vious fame, and tore the green honours from his brow, though 
 stern and dreadful, must yet be held the just due of him, who, 
 with a leading responsibility of life, freedom, and fortune depending 
 upon him, forfeits, by the feebleness of a rash spirit, all the rich 
 triumphs that are otherwise within his grasp. Vainly has the 
 historian striven after arguments in his excuse. lie is without 
 defence ; and in reviewing all the events of this period, we must 
 convict him of headstrong self-confidence, temerity without cool 
 ness, and effort, idly expended, without a purpose, and almost 
 without an aim. It was the opinion of his officers, and, indeed, of 
 nil others, that the delay of a few days, with his army in a secure 
 position, was all that was necessary towards giving the American 
 an immense superiority over the British commander. Provisions 
 would have been plenty in that time, and the native militia, once 
 satisfied of his presence, would have crowded to his camp. But 
 the fates were impatient for their prey, and he whom God has once 
 appointed for destruction, may well fold his robes about him in 
 preparation for his fall. 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 "And the deep pause that ushers in the storm, 
 More fearful than its presence, thrills us now 
 This silence of the voice that soon shall speak." 
 
 THE American general at last began to exhibit some conscious- 
 ness of the near neighbourhood of foes; and that day, the lotb 
 August, after general orders, he prepared the following in addition 
 Colonel Williams, acting adjutant-general, Colonei Walton, and 
 one other member of his family being present: 
 
 1 . The sick, the extra artillery stores, the heavy baggage, and 
 such quarter-master s stores as are not immediately wanted, to 
 march this evening, under a strong guard, to Waxhaw. To this 
 order the general requests the brigadier-generals to see that those 
 under their command pay the most exact and scrupulous obedience. 
 
 " 2. Lieutenant-Colonel Edmonds, with the remaining 1 guns of 
 ihe park, will take post and march with the Virginia brigade 
 under General Stevens. He will direct, as any deficiency may 
 happen in the artillery affixed to the other brigade, to supply it 
 immediately. His military staff, and a proportion of his officers, 
 with forty of his men, are to attend him and await his orders. 
 
 " 3. The troops will be ready to march precisely at ten o clock, 
 in the following order, viz : 
 
 Colonel Armand s advance cavalry commanded by Colonel 
 Armand ; Colonel Porterfield s light infantry upon the right flank 
 of Colonel Armand, in Indian file, two hundred yards from the 
 road ; Major Armstrong s light infantry in the same order as Co 
 lonel Porterfield s, upon the left flank of the legion . 
 
 " Advance-guard of foot ; composed of the advance-pickets, first 
 brigade of Maryland, second brigade of Maryland, division of North 
 Carolina, division of Virginia ; rear-guard volunteer cavalry upon 
 Hie flank of baggage, equally divided. 
 
454 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 u In this order the troops will proceed on their march this 
 night. 
 
 " 4, In case of an attack by the enemy s cavalry in front, the 
 light infantry upen each flank will instantly move up, and give, 
 and continue, the most galling fire upon the enemy s horse. This 
 will enable Colonel Armand not only to support the shock of the 
 enemy s charge, but finally to rout him. The colonel will therefore 
 consider the order to stand the attack of the enemy s cavalry, be 
 their number what it may, as positive. 
 
 "5. General Stevens will immediately order one captain, two 
 lieutenants, one ensign, three sergeants, one drum, and sixty rank 
 and file, to join Colonel Porterfield s infantry. These are to be 
 taken from the most experienced woodsmen, and men every way 
 fittest for the service. 
 
 " 6. General Caswell will likewise complete Major Armstrong s 
 light infantry to their original number. These must be marched 
 immediately to the advanced post of the army. 
 
 " The troops will observe the profoundest silence upon the march, 
 and any soldier who offers to fire without the command of his 
 officer, must instantly be put to death. 
 
 "When the ground will admit of it, and the near approach of 
 the enemy renders it necessary, the army will, when ordered, march 
 in columns. 
 
 "^The artillery at the head of their respective brigades, and th 
 baggage in the rear. The guard of the heavy baggage will bo 
 composed of the remaining officers and soldiers of the artillery, one 
 captain, two subalterns, four sergeants, one drum, and sixty rank 
 and file, &c. 
 
 " The tents of the whole army are to be struck at tattoo." 
 
 Such were the general orders for the march. Colonel Wiliiaoto 
 ind the adjutant-general, Colonel Walton, and Major Thomas 
 Pinckney, were in conversation at the entrance of the general s 
 marquee, when, with a smiling and good-natured countenance, he 
 brought the paper forth, and called foi he adjutant-general ! 
 attention. 
 
 " Colonel Williams, you will be punctual in the transmission of 
 these orders to the several commands, so that there ta no dulay. 
 
ESTIMATE OF FORCE. 455 
 
 Look also at this estimate, which has been made this morning of 
 the entire force, rank and file, of the army. It would seem to be 
 correct." 
 
 Williams took the paper, and glanced rapidly over the estimate, 
 which startled him by its gross exaggerations. 
 
 " Correct, sir !" he exclaimed, with unfeigned astonishment ; 
 " impossible ! Seven thousand men ! there are not four thousand 
 fit for duty." 
 
 " You will see, and report on this," said the general, coolly, and 
 at once turned awa y ^o the tent, in which, a moment after, 1-e was 
 lost from sight. 
 
 a Pinckney," said Williams, " come and assist me in this esti 
 mate. Colonel Walton will keep in attendance you will not be 
 wanted." 
 
 The gallant young soldier, then a tall, fresh and vigorous youth, 
 noble, and accomplished by European education, as were few 
 native Americans at that period, immediately complied with the 
 request, and the two moved away upon the contemplated mission. 
 Availing himself of his orders, which were to bid all the general 
 officers to council in Rugely s barn, Williams called also upon the 
 officers commanding corps for a field return. This he required to 
 be as exact as possible ; and, as neither himself nor Pinckney was 
 required to attend the deliberations, they devoted themselves to 
 a careful abstract of the true force of the army for the general s 
 better information. This was presented to him as soon as the 
 council had broken up, and just as Gates was coming out of the 
 door, where Williams and his aides awaited him. lie took the 
 paper, and with clouding brows examined its contents. 
 
 " How ! what is this ? what is this figure, Colonel Williams ?" 
 he inquired, dashing his forefinger hurriedly upon the paper. 
 
 " A three, sir," was the reply. 
 
 " A three ? And you mean to say that there are only three 
 thousand and fifty-two men, rank and file, fit for duty ?" 
 
 " I do, your excellency scarce a man more." 
 
 " Impossible ! There were no less than thirteen general officeis 
 in council, and our estimate gave not a man less than 
 thousand, rank and file." 
 
456 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " ifour estimate of the general officers is correct enough, sir," 
 said Williams, firmly, " but mine of the men is not less so. The 
 disparity between officers and men, in our battles," continued the 
 speaker, innocently enough, " has always been rather remarkable." 
 
 A quick motion of Gates s head, a sudden shooting glance of his 
 <eye, intimated, his own perception of the sarcasm, and apprised 
 Williams, for the first time, of the equivocal character of his re 
 mark. His cheeks grew to scarlet, as he perceived its force, arid 
 his confusion would have been evident to his superior, but that the 
 general relieved him by turning away, with thf paper crumpled up 
 in his hands, simply remarking as he left them 
 
 " Three thousand that is certainly below the estimate of the 
 morning ; but they are enough enough for our purpose," 
 
 Williams longed to ask him what that purpose was, but pru 
 dence restrained him. The only farther remark of Gates on the 
 subject was uttered as he was retiring 
 
 " You have delivered the orders, sir? see them obeyed. There 
 was no dissent from them in council." 
 
 True it is that there had been no dissent from them in council ; 
 but they were scarcely submitted for examination. There had 
 been no consultation, and their promulgation, out of council, at 
 once provoked the most unrestrained animadversion. The officers 
 generally insisted tha* all opinion or discussion had been silenced 
 by the very positive terms in which the orders had been ex 
 pressed ; and, indeed, there could have been little doubt, from 
 all the context, that General Gates did not conceive it necessarv 
 that any leference should be made to the opinions of those around 
 him. The council was simply the creature of a certain sense of 
 military propriety, and was yielded by Gates rather to general 
 notions of what was due to courtesy, than as a matter necessary 
 to the great causv and deep interests in which he was engaged. 
 Tha elder officers said little when the orders were conveyed to 
 them. The veteran Baron De Kalb, presuming on his age and 
 services, however, and the usual respect with which Gates had 
 treated him hitherto, sought an interview with him, which was 
 uot ien^ed. lie suggested to him the diminished force of the 
 HI cay, so ioflnitely inferior, as it was found to be, to the estimate 
 
fHE REBUKE. 457 
 
 ,,uich had been ina^e of it in the morning. This he held a 
 sufficient reason for changing the present resolution of advance for 
 -tie less hazardous. There was another and more forcible reason yet. 
 
 Two thirds of our army, your excellency is aware, are militia 
 men who have never yet soen service, and have scarce been exer 
 cised in arms together. 1 
 
 " True, baron, but that is an argument against using them at 
 any period. They must begin some time or other." 
 
 " Yes, your excellency ; but our first experiments with them 
 should be easy ones. By these orders, we are not only to march 
 them, but to require them to form column, and to manoeuvre, by 
 night, in the face of an enemy, and probably under his fire. This 
 s the work of veterans only." 
 
 "The danger seems to increase in magnitude, baron; does it 
 
 
 The old soldier drew himself up stfih dignity his manly person, 
 
 } longer bowed or bent, his fine blae eye flashing, and his cheek 
 widening as he spoke : he replied : ~ 
 
 "I know not what your excellency s remark may mean ; but in 
 regard to the greatness or the littleness of the danger, I, who have 
 been forty years a trusted soldier of t^9 King of France, should 
 care but little to encounter it. Were* the question one affecting 
 my life only, it were easily answered. I -ame to fight the battles 
 of your country, sir, and am prepared, at Ail hours, to die in them." 
 
 The rebuke had its effect upon the cojumandcr, though he did 
 not acknowledge it. His self-esteem was U>o great for that. Nor 
 did he allow the suggestions of the baron to have any weight upon 
 his previous determinations. With a com nonplace compliment, 
 the conference was closed, and De Kalb went back to his command 
 doubtful, pained, and justly offended. In camp, the dissatisfac 
 tion had rather subsided, with the single except 1 MI, among the 
 officers, of Colonel Armand. lie took exception to the positive 
 orders concerning himself, a, implying a doubt <. ? his courage ; at 
 the same time he objected to the placing of hk cavalry in from 
 of a line of battle certainly a very injudicious o;der, particularly 
 as the legion of Armand was most heterogeneous Li its formation, 
 and such a disposition of cavalry had never been in -* W#-~ 
 
4:58 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 complained that Gates had placed him there from resentment, on 
 account of a previous dispute between them touching the use of 
 horses. 
 
 " I do not say," said he, in broken English, " that General Gates 
 intends to sacrifice us ; but I do say, that if such were his inten 
 tions, these are just the steps which he should take for it." 
 
 Still, however, as it was not known that the enemy was posi 
 tively in force before them, all the parties grew more satisfied, after 
 a while, to proceed. The army moved on accordingly at the 
 appointed hour. 
 
 The two armies met at midnight. They first felt each other 
 through the mutual salutation of small-arms, between their several 
 advance-guards. The cavalry of Armand s legion were the first to 
 reel in the unexpected contest. They recoiled, and in their retreat, 
 flying confusedly, threw the whole corps into disorder. This, with 
 a similar recoil, fell back upon the front column of infantry, dis 
 ordered the first Maryland brigade, and occasioned a aibmentary 
 consternation throughout the entire line of advance. But Colonel 
 Forterfield advanced from the wing, agreeably to first orders, threw 
 in a prompt fire upon the British van, and his men gallantly cheering 
 as they advanced, restored the general confidence. 
 
 The British, seemingly no less astounded than the Americans, 
 fell back after the first shock, and both parties seemed to acquiesce 
 in a suspension of all further hostilities for the night. Prisoners 
 were taken on both sides in this rencontre, and the intelligence 
 gained by those brought into the American camp, was productive 
 of a degree of astonishment, in General Gates s mind, which found 
 its way to his countenance. He called a council of war instantly. 
 When the adjutant-general communicated the call to l)e Kalb, the 
 old veteraffs opinion may be gathered from the response which 
 he made to that officer 
 
 " lias the general given you orders to retreat the army, Colonel 
 Williams ?" 
 
 " lie has not," was the answer. 
 
 " I will be with you in a moment, then, but will first burn my 
 papers;" a duty which he performed, a short time after, witfc 
 scrupulous promptitude. 
 
FUTURE OPERATIONS. 459 
 
 Assembled in the rear of the army, General Gates communicated 
 the intelligence obtained from the prisoners just taken ; and then, 
 for the first time, proposed a question, implying some little hesita 
 tion on the subject of future operations. 
 
 " What now is to be done, gentlemen ?" 
 
 For a few moments all were silent, until General Stevens of tiie 
 Virginians, after looking round for some other to speak, advanced 
 in front of the commander, and put his own answer in the form of 
 a new inquiry. 
 
 "Is it not too late, now, gentlemen, to do any thing but fight?" 
 
 Another pause ensued, which, as it seemed to give assent to the 
 last words of Stevens, General Gates himself interrupted 
 
 "Then we must fight: gentlemen, be pleased to resume your 
 posts." 
 
 They all moved to their stations with the. promptness of soldiers, 
 but with the thoughts and feelings of men also, who could not 
 approve of what had been done, and who had nothing consoling 
 in the prospect before them. Gates moved hurriedly for several 
 moments up and down the little tent which had been raised for 
 him within the hour. His manner was subdued, but cool. Once 
 or twice he looked forth from its cover with an air of anxiety, then 
 turning to Williams, and the aides in attendance, he remarked 
 
 " This is a quiet night, gentlemen, bnt it promises to be a tedious 
 one. What is the time, Colonel Walton " 
 
 " A little after one, sir," was the reply. 
 
 " You may leave me for an hour, gentlemen only an hour ; we 
 must prepare for daylight." 
 
 Walton and Major Pinckney, together, strolled away, not re 
 quiring repose. The thought of Colonel Walton was with his 
 child the one the one only who could fill his heart who 
 could inspire painful anxiety at such a moment in his mind. How 
 fervent were his prayers in that hour for her safety, whatever fate, 
 in the coming events of the daylight, might award to him ! 
 
CHAPTER XLII1. 
 
 " Then came the cloud, the arrovry gtorm of war, 
 The fatal stroke, the wild and whizzing shot, 
 Seeking a victim the close strife, the groan, 
 And the shrill cry of writhing agony." 
 
 IF every thing was doubtful and uncertain in the camp of Gates, 
 U 4 state of tilings was very different in that of Cornwallis. That 
 alfe commander knew his ground, his own men, and the confidence 
 ani the weakness alike of his enemy. That weakness, that un 
 happy confidence, were his security and strength. His own force 
 nu.nbered little over two thousand men ; but they were tried 
 soldiers, veterans in the British southern army, and familiar with 
 their officers. The troops of Gates two thirds of them at least 
 had never once seen, service ; and the greater number only now 
 for the first time knew and beheld their commander. They had 
 heard of his renown , however, and this secured their confidence. 
 It had an effect far more dangerous upon his officers; for, if it did 
 not secure their confidence also, it made them scrupulous in their 
 suggestions of counsel to one who, from the outset, seemed to have 
 gone forth with the determination of rivalling the rapidity, as well 
 as the immensity, of Caesar s victories. To come, to see, to conquer, 
 was the aim of Gates ; forgetting, that while Caesar commanded 
 the Roman legion, Horatio Gates was required first to teach tha 
 American militia. 
 
 Cornwallis seems perfectly to have understood his man. They 
 are said to have once seen foreign service together ; if so, the earl 
 bad studied him with no little success. He now availed himself 
 of the rashness of his opponent ; and, though inferior in numbers, 
 went forth to meet him. We have seen their first encounter, where 
 Gates, contrary to the advice of his best officers, commenced a march 
 after nightfall ; requiring of undrilled militia the most novel and 
 difficult evolutions ai the dark. Having fel f his enemy, and per 
 
CORNWALLIS. 461 
 
 eeived, from the weight of Colonel Porterfielc s infantry fire, that 
 the whole force of the Americans was at hand, Cornwallis drew in 
 his army, which had been in marching order when the encounter 
 began ; and, changing his line to suit the new form of events, pro 
 ceeded to make other arrangements for the dawning. 
 
 The firing was still continued, in the advance, though materially 
 diminished and still diminishing, when Cornwallis gave the orders 
 to recall his forces. The order was a timely one. In that moment 
 the advance of Porterfield was pressing heavily upon the British 
 van, and driving it before them. The mutual orders of the two 
 generals, both dreading to risk the controversy on a struggle so 
 unexpectedly begun, closed the atfair for the night. 
 
 Dismounting beneath a clump of trees, Cornwallis called arouna 
 him a council of his officers. The tall, portly form of the earl rose 
 loftily in the midst of all, with a cool, quiet dignity, that indicated 
 command. His face was one of much expression, and spoke a cha 
 racter of great firmness and quick resolve. His features were bold 
 and imposing; his cheeks full and broad, nose prominent, forehead 
 rather broad than high, his lips not thin, but closely fitting. His 
 eye had in it just enough of the kindling of battle to enliven fea 
 tures which otherwise would have appeared more imperious than 
 intelligent. His carriage was manly, and marked by all the ease 
 of the courtier. Standing erect, with his hand lightly resting on 
 the hilt of his sword, and looking earnestly around him on his sev 
 eral officers as they made their appearance a dozen lightwood 
 torches flaming in the hands of the guards around him his pre 
 sence was majestic and noble. Yet there was a something in his 
 features, which, if not sanguinary, at least indicated well that in 
 difference to human life, that atrocious hardihood of deed, which a 
 severe justice would describe as crime, and which marked too many 
 of his doings in the South. His looks did not belie that callosity 
 of sou) which could doom his fellow-men, by dozens, to the gal 
 lows the accusation unproven against them, and their own defence 
 utterly unheard. 
 
 Beside him, conspicuous, though neither tall nor commanding in 
 person, stood one to whom the references of Cornwallis were made 
 with a degree of familiarity not often manifested by the cominan- 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 
 der. Ills person was of the middle size, rather slender than full, 
 but of figure well made, admirably set, and in its movements 
 marked alike by ease and strength. He was muscular and bony 
 though not enough so to command particular attention on this 
 account. The face alone spoke, and it was a face to be remem 
 bered. It was rather pale and thin, but well chiselled ; and the 
 mouth was particularly small and beautiful. Its expression was 
 girlish in the extreme, and would have been held to indicate effe 
 minacy as the characteristic of its owner, but for its even quiet, its 
 immobility, its calm indifference of expression. The nose was good, 
 but neither long nor large : it comported well with the expression 
 of the mouth. But it was the eye that spoke ; and its slightest 
 look was earnestness. Every glance seemed sent forth upon some 
 especial mission every look had its object. Its movements, unlike 
 those of the lips, were rapid and irregular. His hair was light and 
 unpowdered ; worn, singularly enough, at that period, without the 
 usual tie, and entirely free from the vile pomatum which disfigured 
 the fashionable heads of the upper classes. His steel cap and wav 
 ing plume were carried in his hand ; and he stood, silent but ob 
 serving, beside Cornwallis, as Lord Rawdon, followed by the brave 
 Lieutenant-Colonel Webster, and other officers, came up to the con 
 ference. The warrior we have endeavoured briefly to describe, wa.* 
 one whose name, for a time, was well calculated to awaken in the 
 souls of the Southern whigs, an equal feeling of hate arid dread. 
 lie was the notorious Colonel Tarleton, the very wing of the Bri 
 tish invading army : a person, striking and commanding in aspect 
 gentle and dignified in deportment, calm and even in his general 
 temper ; but fierce and forward in war, sanguinary in victory, 
 delighting in blood, and impatient always until he beheld it 
 Mowing. 
 
 Webster, equally if not more brave than Tarleton, and certainly 
 a far better officer, bore a better character for mercy in the south 
 ern warfare. His worth to his own army was equally great, and 
 there is no such odium coupled with his exploits, as shaded and 
 stained the very best of Tarleton s. His celebrity with the one, 
 never obtained for him any unhappy notoriety with the other. 
 
 "The enemy is in force before us, gentlemen," said Cornwallis, 
 
SANGUINE HOPES. 468 
 
 abruptly " so our prisoners tell us. These confirm the reports of 
 the Marylander, Ilughson. The rebels come, as we could wish 
 them, fairly into our clutches." 
 
 "The fact would seem to be fully confirmed, my lord, by the se 
 venty of their fire from the infantry on the left. Such an ad- 
 rance guard would at once speak for the presence of their entire 
 army." 
 
 This was the remark of Webster. There was a pause of a mo 
 ment, in which Cornwallis appeared to consult a memorandum in 
 his hand. He spoke at length to Tarleton. 
 
 ** What horse was the report of Ilughson ?" 
 
 " Armand s only some sixty-live, your excellency." 
 
 "And their late reinforcement of Virginians I* 
 
 "A perfect, but single regiment/ 
 
 " Tis odds, gentlemen, large odds against us, if these reports bo 
 true. The lines of Maryland and Delaware good troops these 
 the Virginia troops, the North Carolinians, and native militia, make 
 up five thousand men at least full five thousand for the rebel 
 army. Ours is not three." 
 
 " But quite enough, my lord," was the prompt but measured 
 language of Tarleton. "The rebel militia are mere carrion, half 
 starved ; and, DeKaJb s continentals alone excepted, will not stand 
 a second fire. W T e shall ride over them." 
 
 "Ay, Tarleton you will ride over them when our bayonets 
 have first given you a clear track," said Webster. 
 
 " Which you will soon do," was the equally cool but ready re 
 sponse of the other. " They have come into our clutches, to em 
 ploy the phrase of your excellency ; it will be our fault if we do 
 not close our claws upon them. Half starved, and perfectly un- 
 drilled, they will offer little obstacle. The novelty of situation, 
 alone, is always terror enough for these militia. It is such a terror 
 as they never get over until the third trial. This is the first, with 
 at least two thirds of this hodge-podge army. We must see that 
 they do not get to a second." 
 
 " There spoke the sabre," said Rawdon, playfully. 
 
 " It should never speak twice, responded Tarleton, without 
 ainile ; " dead rebels m fer bite." 
 
464 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " Mo, but they howl most cursedly before the} 7 die, as you should 
 know, Tarletor, above all others. We hear the echoes oven now 
 from the Waxhaws, where your sabres told upon Buforcl s regi 
 ment," said Rawdon. 
 
 " Ay, that was a sad business, Bannister, though, to be surs, you 
 could not well help it," was the additional remark of Cornxvallis, 
 who yet looked approvingly upon the person whom he thus par 
 tially censured. Tarleton simply smiled ; his thin lips slightly 
 parting, and exhibiting a brief glimpse of the closed teeth, as he 
 replied 
 
 "Better they should howl than hurt: their bark is music; their 
 bite might be something worse. I am content to bear the reproach, 
 so long as our good sovereign reaps the benefit ; aid will always 
 prefer to amputate the vicious member that we cannot so surely 
 heal." 
 
 "Our wish is for the fight, gentlemen," said Cornwallis ; "nix- 
 own opinion insists upon it as the preferable measure. They out 
 number us, it is true; but I feel satisfied xve can outfight them. 
 Whether we can or not, I think, at least, we should try for it. 
 We gain everything by victory ; delay increases their force ; and 
 even without defeat, makes the difficulty of conquest with us so 
 much the greater. The suggestion of Tarleton is one also of im 
 portance. The rebels are half starved men ; their provisions have 
 been unequal to their wants, and unsatisfactory, for some time past 
 Disease, too so we learn from Hughson has thinned them great 
 ly; and in every possible aspect, our condition imperiously calls 
 for fight. This is my opinion." 
 
 "And mine," responded Tarleton sloxvly, letting doxvn his sabre, 
 nrhich rattled quiveringly in the sheath with the stroke. The same 
 opinion was expressed by Raxvdon, Webster, and the rest ; the re 
 solve for fight xvas unanimous. Cornwallis then proceeded to ar 
 range his army in order of battle. They displayed in one lii^e, 
 completely occupying the ground, one flank resting on a swamp, 
 the other on a slight ravine which ran parallel with, and near it. 
 The infantry of the reserve, dividing equally, took post in a second 
 line, opposite the centre of each wing. The cavalry, commanded 
 by Tarleton, held the road, where the left of the right wing mel 
 
PLAN OF BATTLE. 465 
 
 the volunteers of Ireland, a corps which, thus placed, formed th 
 right of the left wing. On the right, Lieutenant-Colonel Webster 
 was placed in command. To Colonel Lord Ilawdon the left was 
 assigned. Two six and two three-pounders, under Lieutenant M Leod, 
 were placed in the front line, and two other pieces with the reserve. 
 
 The arrangement of this force, though at midnight, so perfectly 
 drilled and well experienced had they been, was the movement of 
 machines rather than of men. Every step was taken under the 
 eyes of superior officers every cannon found its assigned place 
 with a niceness, admirably contrasting with the confusion which is 
 supposed to belong to battle. Each soldier, before the dawn, had 
 his supply of rum provided him ; and officers and men, resolute 
 and ready, held their places in order of battle, anxiously awaiting the 
 approaching daylight. 
 
 The American army was formed with similar precision, and at 
 {lie same hour. The second brigade of Maryland, with the regi 
 ment of Delaware, under Gen. Gist, took the right ; f- ie brigade of 
 North Carolina militia, led by Caswell, the centre ; that of Virginia, 
 under Stevens, the left. The first Maryland brigade was formed in 
 r< serve, under Genera! Small wood. Major-General Baron De Kalb, 
 charged with the line of battle, took post on the right, while Gates, 
 superintending the whole, as general-in-chief, placed himself on 
 the road between the line and the reserve. To each brigade a due 
 proportion of artillery was allotted ; but the wing of an army 
 the horse was utteny wanting to that of Gates. The cavalry of 
 Arm and, defeated at the first encounter of the night, is thought, by 
 some of the simple countrymen who witnessed their rapidity, to be 
 (lying to this very day. 
 
 Gates s line of battle has been criticised, with the rest of his pro 
 ceedings, in this unhappy campaign. His arrangements placed the 
 Virginia militia, an untried body, which had never before seen ser 
 vice, on the left, a disposition which necessarily put them in front of 
 the enemy s right, consisting of his veterans. The better course would 
 certainly have been, to have thrown the continentals, our regulars, 
 upon the left; by which arrangement, the best men of both armies 
 must have encountered. This was the plan of Lincoln in previous 
 vents, and certainly that plan most conformable to, and indeed 
 
466 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 called for by, the circumstances of the case. The flank Df the 
 American, like that of the British army, rested upon a morass ; 
 ard, thus disposed, it awaited upon the ground, and in the given 
 order, for the first glimpses of daylight and the enemy. 
 
 With the dawn of clay the British were discovered in front, in 
 column, and on the advance. This was communicated to the 
 adjutant-general, Williams, who soon distinguished the British 
 uniform about two hundred yards before him. Immediately order 
 ing the batteries to be opened upon them, he rode to Genera] 
 Gates, who was in the rear of the second line, and informed him of 
 what had been done, communicating his opinion, at the same time, 
 that the enemy were displaying the 1 - column by the right ; but 
 still nothing was clear enough in th:- proceedings of the opposite 
 army for certainty on either side. Gates heard him attentively, 
 but gave no orders, and seemed disposed to await the progress of 
 events ; upon which the adjutant-general presumed upon a farther 
 suggestion. 
 
 " Does not your excellency think that if the enemy were 
 attacked briskly by Stevens, while in the act of deploying, the 
 effect " 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Gates, hurriedly interrupting him ; "that s right 
 let it be done, sir." 
 
 These were almost the last orders given by the unhappy com 
 mander. Quick as thought, Williams seized the commission, and, 
 readily obedient, General Stevens advanced with his brigade to the 
 charge ; all seemingly in fine spirits. But the instructions came 
 too late the evolution of the enemy was complete ; they were al 
 ready in line, and prepared to receive the attack. 
 
 But this did riot alter the determination either of Stevens or the 
 adjutant. Assigning a force of fifty men to the latter to commence 
 the action by firing from the cover of trees as riflemen, in tho 
 hope to extort the premature fire of the British, Stevens cried out 
 to his brigade, as he saw the enemy s column moving down upon 
 him in front 
 
 " Courage, my men, and charge charge home ! You hav 
 bayonets as well as they." 
 
 His words were drowned and lost in the wild huzzas and the 
 
COURAGE. 467 
 
 fierce onset of the opposing British, who fired ao they came on, 
 with their pieces in rest for the charge of bayonets. The militia 
 was seized with a panic, and, in spite of all the efforts of the 
 gallant Stevens, could not be persuaded either to stand the charge 
 or to return the fire. A few only stood with their leader. The 
 great majority, throwing away their loaded arms, fled in every 
 direction ; and, catching from them the unworthy panic, the 
 North Carolinians a single regiment under Colonel Dixon alone 
 excepted followed the shameful example. 
 
 In vain did Stevens and Caswell endeavour to stem the torrent 
 of retreat. The fugitives were not to be restrained; and sought, 
 in desperate flight, for that safety which flight seldom gives, and 
 which it most certainly denied to them. They broke through the 
 line, leaving the right still firm, and pressing down upon the 
 reserve, disordered them completely while passing through the 
 ranks, which were already partially demoralized. Panic is one of 
 those indescribable things upon which comment is usually wasted. 
 Its contagious operation is sufficiently understood, if the cause be 
 unexplainable. Gates was sufficiently experienced in war to under 
 stand his danger. He beheld it at a glance. His blind vanity 
 had led to the disaster. It no longer deceived him as to its const 
 quences. From the place where he stood he beheld the disaster with 
 emotions, wild, staggering, humbling in the last degree, and which 
 almost left him wholly without resource. He had only the native 
 courage of his heart to fall back upon ; he could only seek now to 
 lead them into the thickest waves of danger. His hair withered 
 to the very roots as he surveyed the rout. Through the crowd, the 
 torrent of confusion, with head uncovered and grey locks flying in 
 the wind, he darted headlong, and his voice hoarsely rose over all 
 the sounds of battle, as he strove, with incoherent cries, to arrest 
 the flood, and bring back to order his panic-borne and broken 
 battalions. 
 
 " Stand ! stay turn ! Whither would you fly why fly, men 
 of Virginia? Am I not here to lead you back to lead you to 
 victory ? Turn, cowards, for shame s sake, for the sake of your 
 country. There is no danger. The battle is yours, if you will but 
 make a single effort.. Back with me. Shame not yourselves, yoiu 
 
168 TI1K PAKTLSAX. 
 
 s ate, your country ! Shame not these grey hairs, my countrymen. 
 entreat I implore I command you, turn, and strike but a 
 single blow deliver but another volley. Behold ! I myself will 
 lead jou to victory !" 
 
 He might as well have spoken to the winds, wild and headlong 
 i:i the autumnal equinox. He might as well have spoken to the 1 
 floods, loosed from the bonds of the deep, and mounting in foam 
 ing mountains above the shores. They heard not they heeded 
 none of his exhortations his cries, his entreaties, his curses. IK: 
 threw himself amidst the fugitives. He smote fiercely among 
 them with bared sword, striking as if among foes only, and all in 
 vain. Never were efforts more honestly, but idly made, to compel 
 the flying militiamen back to the ranks which they had broken, 
 and the standards which they had dishonoured. Then, too late, 
 were the evil effects beheld of that recklessly forward march which 
 had considered none of their necessities, and had allowed its comman 
 der no time to win the confidence of his people. His was an un 
 accustomed voice ; and in this lies half the cause of militia panics 
 generally. The voice of a favourite leader would not have been 
 unheard at such a moment ; and even then the field might have 
 been recovered the victory might have been won. But Gates s 
 was not the voice to effect this object. lie shouted, implored, 
 raged ; and was never heard. In his fury, smiting down a refrac 
 tory soldier who offered much more defiance to his general than he 
 had done to the British bayonets, he vented his indignation in a 
 torrent of oaths. 
 
 " Villains ! cowards ! wretched cowards ! Why will you fly ? 
 Turn for shame ! For your country, for me, turn upon your 
 enemy, and deliver but one fire strike but one blow. Turn 
 about, I say turn, you d d rascals, turn !" 
 
 His exhortations and oaths were equally in vain. The panic 
 had become a madness drunk, deaf, delirious, insensible to all 
 influences but the one governing terror which beheld danger on all 
 sides, without the resolution to encounter it on any. The torrent 
 bore the unfortunate general along with it; the rush of numbers 
 was no longer resistible; and as, despairing at last of bringing 
 them back, he sought to turn about himself, in order, with the re- 
 
GATES S DEFEAT. 469 
 
 solution of despair, to throw himself into the thick of the struggle, 
 where it was carried on still between the continentals and the British, 
 a tall sergeant who was hurrying away with the rest, and who had 
 just coolness enough to endeavour to oppose a courage greater than 
 his own, did not hesitate, with one slash of his sabre, to cut the 
 bridle of Gates s horse, and set the animal free to a flight which lie 
 naturally followed with the fugitives. Free from all control, the 
 fierv steed -of the general, spite of all his efforts, and seeming to 
 share in the common panic, darted along upon the route, pursued 
 by the flying mass, as madly as the rest. Gates had now seen al" 
 of the battle which he was destined to see. His. hair whitened as 
 he flew. The sting of shame was in his soul his sense was be 
 wildered maddened. He would have thrown himself from the 
 horse, but he was prevented by those about him ; and overwhelmed 
 with despair and humiliation, which clung to him ever afterwards 
 through life, to its weary close, the unfortunate general was borne 
 away from the conflict which no generalship now could possibly 
 retrieve. 
 
 Meanwhile, the battle still raged fiercely in certain portions of 
 the field. The British were not suffered to sweep the plain with 
 out paying the price of honourable victory. Flushed with the sue 
 cesses which they had won, they rushed forward on all hands tf 
 lav the final sickle to the harvest ; but their onward course of con 
 quest was arrested for a season by the steady front and unyielding 
 nerve of the continentals under De Kalb. The main battle was 
 yet to be fought. Accustomed to previous encounters, the brave 
 division which was led by the German Baron had too frequently 
 smelt gunpowder to be greatly moved by the panics of militiamen ; 
 and their courage rose in due degree with their isolation. They 
 beheld the rout with little or no emotion, save that of indignation. 
 The panic touched not them. As for the sturdy veteran at their 
 head, it only brought out his best resources, and in showing him 
 the extent of his danger, elevated his soul to a due sense of the 
 resolution which was needed for its encounter. He saw that the 
 field before him was that of his last conflict; that it would be im 
 possible, with his sm;il! division, to make head against the con 
 centrated attack of all t!ic forces of the British ; but he was firm 
 20* 
 
470 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 in his decision to exact from his enemy the fullest price of ecu 
 quest. 
 
 " Stand you* ground, my brave fellows," he cried, as, with uu 
 covered head, he rode calmly along through the smoke and danger 
 " stand your ground, brave men, and do no shame to your 
 officers. You have a name to preserve unsullied, and a country to 
 save from tyranny. Be resolute for both, and we may yet win our 
 best laurels from this day s struggle !" 
 
 They received his speech with cheers. 
 
 " Colonel Dixon," said he, addressing the officer in command of 
 the only regiment of North Carolinians who kept their places in 
 the line " Colonel Dixon, close up and feel the Maryland regi 
 ment." 
 
 It was done handsomely. Surveying the prospect as he rode, in 
 one of those pauses of the storm that indicate the accumulation of 
 the masses for new thunders, and seeing that his flank, which had 
 been exposed by the desertion of the militia, was now partly 
 covered, the noble veteran prepared to take the initiative, and to an 
 ticipate, by his own, the charge of the British. His orders to this 
 effect were delivered with the tone of true valour. His decision 
 was the only course left him for comparative safety, and was that 
 of a sound experience. To have simply received the assault, with 
 the full momentum upon him of the rushing masses of the enemy, 
 would probably have been the annihilation of his division. lie 
 alighted from his horse, resolved to share with his infantry tho 
 full perils of his next movement, and turned the beast loose in the 
 rear, to seek safety where he might. The well trained charger 
 wheeled about with the platoons, and subsequently went into the 
 charge with the rest, as if his bridle had been governed by the will 
 of a rider. 
 
 De Kalb, meanwhile, took his place in the ranks with his men ; 
 then with clear shrill voice, his sword stretched and flaming out 
 along the pathway to be traversed, he gave command for the last 
 terrible movement. 
 
 The loud, clear order to " charge bayonets !" uttered in the im 
 perfect tor.es of the foreigner-- -was heard distinctly along the line. 
 It ruled over all the sounds in the confusion of tho strife. It found 
 
DE K ALB S ARDOUR, 471 
 
 its generous echo in the hearts of all the brave fellows in that 
 devoted phalanx. They seemed to have caught his spirit they 
 certainly shared in his resolution. Without a moment s hesitation, 
 the whole line advanced as a single man. Shouting with wild hur 
 rahs as they pressed forward, the little space which separated them 
 from the enemy s left, commanded by Rawdon, was soon com 
 passed ; and, once more, the opposing torrents were mingled toge 
 ther in the shock of battle. The rival muskets were crossed, their 
 bayonets linked, and for a few seconds the opposing armies reeled 
 to and fro, like so many limb-locked and coherent bodies ; but the 
 rush, and the enthusiasm of the charge of De Kalb, were, for the 
 inomeat, irresistible, and Rawdon fell back beneath it. 
 
 " Where is the commander-in-chief ?" cried De Kalb, in a fierce 
 voice, as he beheld the adjutant-general, Williams, advancing with 
 iis own, the 6th Maryland, having actually driven the enemy out 
 >ff line in front. 
 
 " Gone !" was the single word with which he announced to the old 
 joldier the isolation of his continentals. 
 
 " On, then, on !" was the immediate shout of De Kalb ; " look 
 not to the right, nor to the left, brave men but on ! You are 
 alone : your own steel must work out your safety. Charge ! on ! 
 Press them out of the field ! Ha ! Ha ! Cold steel, my brave 
 fellows. Cold steel !" 
 
 And as the brave division, with serried arms, rolled forward upon 
 the receding foes, the baron murmured " Oh ! for another column, 
 to keep what these fine fellows have won ! Charge ! Cold steel ! 
 
 Cold steel ! Give them no time to breathe !" 
 
 ^j 
 
 A group officers and soldiers British and American was seen 
 struggling in front. An officer was down ; a squad of soldiers were 
 seeking to despatch him, and two others were unequally contending 
 io-ainst them with their swords. The wounded officer was an 
 
 O 
 
 \merican. 
 
 " Again once more, my brave Allows once again- through 
 hem to the hearts of the enemy charge charge !" was the fierce 
 mler of De Kalb, in his imperfect English ; " through them, and 
 i*,op for nothing !" 
 
 ** But the officers are ours they are fl ; -.ies to the general," eried 
 
472 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Brigadier Gist, in the hope to arrest the desperate charge of De 
 Kalb, and save the Americans. 
 
 " And we are men ! * was the response " what are these officers 
 to us ? Onward ! over them, brave men once more to the hearts 
 of the enemy !" 
 
 The group sought to disperse ; the assailing soldiers fled away, 
 leaving the wounded officer, and those who had been fighting in his 
 behalf, alone, before the charging squadrons. 
 
 " Hold !" cried Colonel Walton, for it was he, advancing as he 
 spoke " hold, I pray you, Baron De Kalb ! we are your friends " 
 
 " On then to the enemy !" /yie<l De Kalb, unheeding the exhor 
 tation ; and, filled with his own fury the fury of desperation the 
 advancing line resolutely obeyed him The wounded man, and 
 those who stood beside him, must have been crushed, or gone along 
 with the pressing line ; arid the moment was, therefore, full of peril 
 to the group. Presenting his sword to his advancing countrymen. 
 Colonel Walton cried to the wounded officer, who lay almost sense 
 less at his feet 
 
 " I will share your fate, Pinckney, if I cannot divert it. I stand 
 by you to the last. Hold, Americans ! What madness is this ? 
 we are friends would you trample us down ?" 
 
 " On with us, then !" fiercely cried De Kalb, " on with us, if you 
 be friends ! We know you not otherwise." 
 
 " He is too much wounded," cried Walton, pointing to the insen 
 sible officer. 
 
 "This is no time, sir, to regard the dead or the wounded. The 
 field is covered with both ; shall we lose all for oue man officer 
 or soldier ? On with us, Colonel Walton there is no help else. 
 On!" 
 
 It was the last command of De Kalb, who was already severely 
 wounded. In that moment the fierce onset of the continentals was 
 arrested. A new obstacle, in a murderous fire from the right, 
 restrained their progress. This was from Webster. Having tho 
 roughly defeated the American left, he was now free to turn his 
 strength upon the isolated continentals. This small, resolute, and 
 now compact body, had moved forward irresistibly. The fierce 
 spirit of its commander seemed to have been shared equally with 
 
DEFEAT. 478 
 
 bis men ; and, though eve*y step which they took was with the 
 loss of numbers, they had ceaselessly continued to advance the fire 
 of the British left and centre still telling dreadfully upon them, but 
 without shaking the* : inflexible and reckless charge. 
 
 The sudden movement of Webster upon their flanks first arrested 
 their progress. lie turned the whole force of his infantry, together 
 with the twenty-third regiment, upon the exposed flank of the first, 
 or Small wood s brigade. This had been commanded bravely by 
 Colonel Gunby, and other of its officers, the general himself riot 
 being available for some time before. The shock of Webster s 
 charge upon this body was irresistible ; they reeled and broke be 
 neath it. They were rallied, and once more stood the assault. 
 They stood, however, but to perish ; and it was found impossible to 
 contend longer with the vastly superior and fresh force from the 
 British reserve which was now brought to bear upon them. 
 
 This shock, and the effect of Webster s assault, at this critical 
 moment, saved the life of Walton and that of his wounded friend, 
 Major Pinckney. The fierce command of De Kalb was no longer 
 obeyed by the flank regiment, now compelled to combat with ano 
 ther enemy. They faced Webster ; and Walton found himself on 
 the extreme left, instead of being in front of the body which, a 
 moment before, had been ordered to pass over him. In another 
 instant, the line reeled beyond him ; he saw the enemy pressing on, 
 and he rushed to the front of the retreating division of Americans. 
 Again they were brought to a stand ; again the impelling bayonets 
 of Webster drove them backward ; and while they yet strove 
 bravely, at the will of their officers, to unite more compactly toge 
 ther for the final conflict, the shrill voice of Tarleton was heard 
 upou the left. Then came the rush of his dragoons ; the sweeping 
 sabre darting a terrible light on every hand, and giving the final 
 impetus to that panic which now needed but little to be complete 
 throughout the army. 
 
 " Spare ! oh, spare the Baron De Kalb !" was a cry of anguisL 
 that went up from the centre of the line. It was doubly agonizing, 
 as the accents were uttered evidently by a foreign tongue. Walton 
 looked but an instant in the direction where lay the old veteran, 
 feebly striving still to contend with the numbers who were now 
 
474 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 pressing upon him. The Chevalier Du Buysson, a faithful friend, 
 stood over him, vainly endeavouring to protect him by the inter 
 position of his own body. His piteous cry " Spare the barou ! 
 spare the Baron De Kalb !" had little or no avail. 
 
 Eleven wounds already testified to the reckless courage of the 
 veteran, and the earnestness with which he had done battle to the 
 last for the liberties of a foreign people. The bayonet was again 
 ifted above him to strike, when Colonel Walton pressed forward tc 
 his relief. But, with the movement, he was himself overthrown 
 himself exposed to the bayonet of the enemy. He threw up his 
 sword and parried the first stroke of the weapon, which glanced 
 down and struck deeply in the grass beside him. Another pinned 
 him by his sleeve to the spot; and his career in the next moment 
 would probably have been ended, but for the timely appearance of 
 Colonel Tarleton himself. His order was effectual, and Walton 
 tendered him his sword. 
 
 " You have saved rny life, sir : my name is Colonel Walton." 
 
 The lips of Tarleton wore something of a smiling expression, as, 
 leturning the weapon, he transferred his prisoner to the guardian 
 ship of two of his troopers. The expression of his face, so smiling, 
 yet so sinister in its smile, surprised Walton, but he was soor 
 taught to understand it. 
 
 The battle ceased with the fall of De Kalb. It had been hope 
 less long before. Turning his eyes gloomily from the thick con 
 fusion of the field, Colonel Walton moved away with his conductors, 
 while Tarleton, with his eye kindled with fight, and a lip that 
 seemed quivering with its pleasurable convulsions, led his cavalry 
 in pursuit of the fugitives, marking his progress for twenty-two 
 miles from the field of battle with proofs of that sanguinary appetite 
 for blood, which formed the leading feature of his character, 
 according to history and tradition, in all the fields of Carolma, 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 A rtubboin knave, you may not trust or tarn* 
 Go, bear him to the block ! The biting ax* 
 Shall teach him quiet hence." 
 
 FHE victory was complete in all respects. The army of Gate* 
 was dispersed that general, a melancholy wanderer, hopeless of 
 fortune, and with a proper self-rebuke, dreading the opinion of his 
 country. The loss of the Americans in this battle was heavy. Of 
 the continentals but six hundred escaped ; and as their number 
 was but nine hundred in all, they necessarily lost, in killed, wound 
 ed, and prisoners, one third of their entire force. The whole num 
 ber slain of the American army must have been six hundred men 
 a large proportion, in a small body of three thousand and fifty- 
 two. The loss admitted by the British commander was three 
 hundred killed and wounded an amount certainly unexaggerated, 
 and showing conclusively what must have been the result of the 
 contest had the militia done their duty, had they but stood the 
 first round, had they but returned the fire of the foe. The con 
 tinentals alone bore the brunt of the conflict, and they were 
 victorious until isolated and overborne by numbers. 
 
 The prisoners, among whom is included Colonel Walton, were 
 roped by the command of Tarleton, and formed not the least im 
 posing portion of the triumphal procession of the victor, on his 
 return to Camden. De Kalb died a few days after in the arms of 
 Du Buysson, his aide. His last words were those of eulogy upon 
 the gallant troops whom he had so well trained, and who, justify 
 ing his avowed confidence in them, had stood by him, in the pre 
 vious struggle, to the last. 
 
 " My brave division !" 
 
 These, in broken accents and imperfect English, were his last 
 wwds. While expiring, his eye blazed up for a moment, as if tha 
 
476 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 ardour of the strife were again burning in his soul, and then ite 
 light went out for ever. His name can never be erased from the 
 history, nor his memory forgotten by the people in whose cause he 
 perished. 
 
 A different fate awaited the other prisoners, to many of whom 
 a like death would have been a glad reprieve. The vindictive 
 ilTIis were yet to be satisfied. ^TEtT banquet 
 
 of blood which the late battle had afforded, had quickened and 
 made ravenous the appetite, which, at the same time, it had failed 
 to satisfy. There was much in the circumstances of the period to 
 provoke this appetite in the British commander, though nothing to 
 justify its satiation to the gross extent to which it carried him. He 
 had seen much of his good labours in the province entirely over 
 turned. Deeming the country utterly conquered, such had been 
 the amount of his communications to his king. The work had 
 now to be begun anew. The country, so lately peaceable and sub 
 missive, was now everywhere in arms. The swamps on every side 
 of him began to swarm with enemies ; and his own victory over 
 Gates and the continentals, though unqualified and conclusive, was 
 burdened with tidings of the performances of Sumter on the 
 Wateree, of Marion on Black river, and of many other leaders, not 
 so distinguished as these, but highly promising for the future in 
 the small successes of the beginning. These tidings gave just 
 cause of irritation to the mind, which, having first flattered itself 
 with an idea of its complete success, now discovers that all .ts 
 labours have been taken in vain. He grew vindictive in conse 
 quence, and, persuading himself that a terrible example was neces 
 sary, if not for justice, at least for his cause, he ordered a selection 
 to be made from among the prisoners in his possession, who were 
 doomed to expiate the guilt of patriotism upon the gallows. 
 
 The streets of Camden were filled with lamentations the day 
 upon which this determination was made public. This was three 
 days after the battle, time enough, surely, having intervened for 
 the subduing of his sanguinary temper. Twenty victims were 
 chosen for the sacrifice, and among them was Colonel Walton. 
 They were chosen either for their great popularity, or for their re 
 putation as special raalignants. The former class was selected ID 
 
MILITARY EXECUTION. 477 
 
 order that the example might be an imposing one ; the punishment 
 of particular offences was the ground upon which the others were 
 " to be justified." Yet reasons, if " plenty as blackberries," were 
 not readily furnished, or cared for, on the occasion. Even the trial 
 which preceded their execution was of a most summary and nomi 
 nal character. The stern commander himself presided, with a 
 general officer on either hand. The prisoners were brought before 
 him singly. 
 
 " Why has this man been chosen ?" was the inquiry of Corn 
 wallis to Lord Rawdon. 
 
 " Violation of protection, my lord : this man is one Samuel 
 Andrews, who was quiet and pacific enough full of professions- 
 until the rebel army came to Lynch s creek. He was taken on the 
 field." 
 
 " Take him away, marshal," was the immediate order. " To 
 the tree with him!" The man was removed. "Who are these?" 
 
 "Their names are" Lord Rawdon, in reply, read from a paper 
 which he held in his hand " Richard Tucker, John Miles, Josiah 
 Gayle, Eleazar Smith, Lorimer Jones " 
 
 " No more," cried Cornwallis, interrupting the reader. " Enough 
 of that. They are all brought up under the same charge are 
 they ?" 
 
 " All but one : the man Gibson, there, in the blue stripes, is little 
 better than an outlaw. The charge against him, in particular, is, 
 that he shot Edward Dniper, a soldier in the Queen s Guards, 1 
 across the Wateree river, and was subsequently taken alone, with 
 out connexion with any military body whatsoever." 
 
 " The insolent outlaw ! Advance him, guard bring him for 
 ward." 
 
 The man was singled out from the group. His ^rms we re 
 lashed behind him with cords, but he moved forward as if perfect 
 ly unbound, and no figure could have been more erect. He had 
 on neither coat nor jacket; his shirt was torn, bloody, and open 
 at the breast, displaying beneath the fair bosom of a youth, but the 
 full muscular development of the man. lie approached the table 
 unshrinkingly, striding boldly forward to where Cornwallis sate, 
 aud, with an upward eye, met the stern glance of his judge, in- 
 
478 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 tended to be an overwhelming one, with a corresponding look of 
 defiance. 
 
 " Stand where you are, sir ! we desire you no closer," cried his 
 lordship. " You hear the charge against you ?" 
 
 The man did not stand where he had been ordered, but con 
 tinued to approach until the table only intervened between himself 
 and his lordship. The latter repeated his inquiry. 
 
 " You hear the charge against you ?" 
 
 " I do it is the truth. I shot Edward Draper, a corporal IE 
 Ihe Queen s Guards, across the Wateree." 
 
 " With what purpose ?" 
 
 "To kill him." 
 
 " Ay, we suppose that but what did you propose to gain 
 by it ?" 
 
 "Justice." 
 
 " Justice ! what had he done ?" 
 
 " 13eaten my mother." 
 
 "Why did you not apply for justice at the first station, instead 
 of taking it into your own hands ?" 
 
 " I did ; Lord Kawdon, there, will tell you why I took it into 
 my own hands." 
 
 " Well." 
 
 " He denied it to me." 
 
 " It is false, my lord," exclaimed Lord Rawdon ; " Draper wa& 
 severely reprimanded." 
 
 " My mother was beaten, and the man who beat her was 
 reprimanded ! I did not think that enough of justice, and I shot 
 aim." 
 
 The evident discrepancy between the original wrong and its 
 punishment by Rawdon, could not but appear evident to all parties ; 
 and Cornwallis himself was almost disposed to look favourably 
 unon the offender. But example a terrible example was sup 
 posed to be necessary to keep the Drapers of the army from being 
 shot on all occasions; and, with this belief, he was determined to 
 shield no victim from his fate, who exhibited any thing like a 
 strong and decisive character. Still, as the offence was rather of 
 a private than of a public nature, the commander proposed to the 
 
DOOM. 479 
 
 prisoner the usual British alternative of safety at that period, and 
 under like circumstances. 
 
 " If I pardon you your crime, Gibson, will you at once take arras 
 for his majesty ?" 
 
 " Never !" was the quick and firm response ; " I ll see him d d 
 first." 
 
 " Take him forth, marshal, with the rest. See that they suffe- 
 instantly. Away with him !" 
 
 The stern voice of Cornwallis rang like a trumpe. tfi/oiigli the 
 assembly ; and, as the sounds died away, another voice, yet more 
 thrilling, sent forth a scream a woman s voice- -a single scream, 
 and so shrill, so piercing, so woe-begone and sad, that it struck 
 through the assembly as something ominous and unearthly. A 
 woman rushed from behind the group, and threw herself before the 
 merciless commander. It was Gibson s mother. 
 
 "My son my only son- he is all T have, my lord! Oh! spare 
 him spare him to his widowed mother ! I have none on 
 earth but him !" was all she said, her eyes bent upon Corn 
 wallis, while her finger pointed to the tall and manly youth beside 
 her. 
 
 "Take him away! It is too late, my good woman you should 
 have taught him better. Take him away !" was the stern and 
 only answer. 
 
 The prisoners were hurried forth ; the woman, doomed so soon 
 to be childless, clinging to her son, and shrieking all the while. 
 There was yet another victim. Rawdon whispered the commander, 
 and from an adjoining apartment, Colonel Walton was brought 
 before his judge. Cornwallis rose at his approach with a show of 
 respectful courtesy, .then again quietly resumed his seat. 
 
 " Colonel Walton, I am truly sorry to see you thus truly 
 sorry," was the considerate speech of his excellency, as the prisone 
 approached. Walton bowed slightly in return, as he replied 
 
 " I am grateful for your lordship s consideration, but cannot 
 withhold my surprise tV-it you should regret your own successes! 
 The fortune of war lias made you the victor, and has given me into 
 vour power. The prisoner of war must not complain when he en- 
 uountcrs the risks which should have been before his eyes from the 
 
4:80 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 beginning, no more than the victor should regret the victory which 
 he sought as the fruit of war." 
 
 " The prisoner of war ! I am afraid, Colow^ 1 Walton, we cannot 
 consider you in that character." 
 
 "Your lordship will explain." 
 
 " Colonel Walton, a subject of the Km fe of Great Britain, found 
 in arms against his officers, is a rebel to his authority, and incurs 
 the doom of one." 
 
 "No subject of the King of Great Britain, sir! I deny the 
 charge. I am not his subject, and no rebel, therefore, to his 
 authority. But this is not for me to argue now. To what, may I 
 ask your lordship, does all this tend ?" 
 
 " The consequences are inevitable, Colonel Walton the traitor 
 must bear the doom he must die the death of the traitor." 
 
 "I am ready to die for my country at any hour, and by any 
 form of death. The prisoner, sir, is in your hands. I will simply 
 protest against your decision, and leave it to the ripening time and 
 to the arms of my countrymen to avenge my wrongs." 
 
 "I would save your life, Colonel Walton gladly save it, would 
 you but allow me." said Cornwallis earnestly. 
 
 " My dissent or assent, my lord, on such a subject, and undei 
 present circumstances, is surely unnecessary. The mockery of such 
 n reference is scarcely agreeable to me, and, certainly, not becoming 
 on the part of the conqueror. The power is in your hands, my 
 lord, to work your pleasure." 
 
 " We will speak plainly, Colonel Walton, and you will readily 
 understand us. As you say, mine is the power to command your 
 instant death : and whether I do so in error or in right, it matters 
 not; it will avail you nothing. I would save you, as your life, 
 properly exercised for the royal cause for the cause of your king, 
 sir will serve us much more materially than your death. Your 
 influence is what we want your co-operation with us, and not 
 your blood. Twice, sir, has a commission an honourable and 
 high commission in his majesty s service, been tendered to you 
 from me. Twice has it been rejected with scorn ; and you are now 
 taken in arms against his maicstv s troops, having violated your 
 ftolemn pledge to the contrary, whicn your protection insisted upon." 
 
OFFER OF SAFETY. 481 
 
 " Wrong, sir!" exclaimed Walton, interrupting him- "\\rong, 
 sir ! The contract was violated and rendered null by the procla 
 mation of Sir Henry Clinton not by me." 
 
 " This is your opinion, sir ; and I need not say how incorrnctly 
 entertained. But, as I have before said, whether justly or unjustly 
 you fall a victim, will avail you nothing. The hanged man heeds 
 nothing of the argument which proves that he was hung by mis 
 take. I have the power of life and death over you in my own 
 hands; and, believe me, Colonel Walton, in opening a door of 
 safety for you, I am offering you the last, the only alternative. You 
 shall die or live, as you answer !" 
 
 " I am ready, my lord. You somewhat mistake my character, 
 if you think that I shall fall back from the truth, because of the 
 consequences which it may happen to bring with it. Ha ! What 
 is that ?" 
 
 He was interrupted by a sudden blast of the bugle, a confused 
 hum of voices, and then a shriek. Another, and another, wild and 
 piercing, rose from the court in front. At that instant, a soldier 
 entering the apartment threw open the doors, and gave an oppor 
 tunity for those within to behold the awful tragedy that had been 
 going on the while. A single tree in front of the place bore twenty 
 human bodies ; the limbs were yet quivering in the air with their 
 agonizing convulsions, and the executioner was not yet done. 
 
 " Close the door, sergeant," said Cormvallis calmly. Then, con 
 tinuing his exhortation to Walton, he made use of the awful 
 circumstance which they had just witnessed, the more earnestly to 
 impress his desires upon the mind of the hearer, and produce in 
 him a different determination. 
 
 " An awful doom, but necessary. It is one / Colonel Walton, 
 from "which I would gladly save you. Why will you reject the 
 blessings of life ? Why will you resist the mercies which still seek 
 to prevent the purposes of justice ?" 
 
 "Justice !" vvas the scornful exclamation of the prisoner, and ali 
 that he deigned to reply. 
 
 "Ay, sir, justice! The cause of the rightful monarch of this 
 country is the cause of justice; and its penalties are incurred by 
 disloyalty before all other offences. But argument is needless here." 
 
482 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " It is it is needless," said Walton, emphatically. 
 
 "And, therefore," Cornwallis proceeded "therefore, sir, I con 
 fine myself to the brief suggestion which I now make you, by 
 the adoption of which you will escape your present difficulties. 
 Though you have twice rejected his majesty s terms of favour, ho 
 TS reluctant to destroy." 
 
 " That tree attests the reluctance. It bears its own illustration, 
 my lord, which your assertion, nevertheless, does not need. I hear 
 you, sir." 
 
 Somewhat disconcerted, Cornwallis, with a show of rising im 
 patience, hurried to a conclusion. 
 
 " Once more, sir, he offers you safety ; once more he tenders you 
 an honourable appointment in his armies. Here, sir, is his com 
 mission take it. Go below to the Ashley and make up your own 
 regiment; choose your own officers, and do for him what you have 
 hitherto fruitlessly sought to do for his enemies." 
 
 " Never, sir, never !" was the conclusive reply. 
 
 " Yet, a while, bethink you. You know the doom else death 
 the gallows." 
 
 " I know it ; I have thought : you have my answer." 
 
 " Then, you die die like a dog, sir, in the scorn of all around you." 
 
 " Be it so. I hope, and fear not, to die like a man. My country 
 will avenge me. I am ready !" 
 
 u Your country 1" said Cornwallis, scornfully. Then turning to 
 Rawdon, he 2jave his order. 
 
 " My Lord Rawdon, you will instantly detach an especial guard 
 for the prisoner, in addition to that whish has been designated to 
 conduct the prisoners of war taken in the late action to the Charles 
 ton provost. lie shall go with them to Dorchester." 
 
 " For what ? with what object ? why to Dorchester, my lord ?*" 
 was the anxious inquiry of Walton. 
 
 "You shall die there, sir, as an example to the rebels of thai, 
 quarter. You shall suffer where you are most known where your 
 loss would bo most felt." 
 
 " Let me die here, my lord ! I pray you for this mercy. The 
 mere place of execution is of small importance to your object Not 
 there not there almost in sight of my child." 
 
DEATH. 483 
 
 "There, and there only, Colonel Walton. Your doom is sealed ; 
 and, refusing our mercy, you must abide our penalty. Make out 
 your orders, my Lord Hawdon, to the officer of the station, Major 
 Proctor ; I will sign them. Say to him that the rebel must be 
 executed at the village entrance, within three days after the guard 
 shall arrive. Take him away !" 
 
 Such was the British jurisdiction ; such was the su*mnary 
 administration ot justice under Lord Cornwallis. These items are 
 mostly historical ; and fiction here bas.nojt presumed to add & single 
 tittle to the evidence which ,truth has given us of these events. 
 

 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 What ad despair is this, thai braves the itorm, 
 Woald battle with the whelming tides that hevr*. 
 And pant to close around, and strive o ciiag, 
 And keep the victim down V" 
 
 IT was a fine, but warm summer afternoon, in August. The 
 Santee river ran smooth and shining like a polished mirror in the 
 unclouded sunlight, and all nature appeared to revel in the same 
 luxurious repose. Our old acquaintance, Porgy, stretched at length 
 along the banks of the river, lay half concealed in the shelter of 
 the brush around him. The spot which gave him a resting-place 
 and shelter, shot out, at this point, from the dead level strip of 
 shore, boldly into the stream ; which, seemingly vexed at the inter 
 ruption, beat with a pettish murmur upon its upward side, as if 
 vainly struggling to break through it in its downward progress 
 The jutting piece of land, thus obtrusively trenching upon the 
 water, was of no great extent, but, being well covered by the trees 
 and luxuriant foliage, it formed an excellent hiding-place for one 
 desirous of watching the river on either hand, without danger of 
 exposure. Sweeping around the point, both above and below, the 
 spectator, thus stationed, might see for a few miles, on both sides, 
 the entire surface of the stream, commanding, in this scope of sight, 
 one or two of the usual crossing-places at low stages of the water. 
 The river was probably a mile wide at this point, not including the 
 swamp, which, in some places, extended to a width three or five 
 times that of the main body of the stream. From this dead level 
 of swamp, it was only now and then that the banks of the river 
 rose into anything like height or boldness. The point now 
 occupied by Porgy was one of those places most prominent of 
 elevation. On the upper or northern side of the river, directly 
 opposite, there was another bold ascent to a bank, from which the 
 
EVENING 1 KOSPECT. j 
 
 ooats usually started when putting across the stream. . This bank 
 was easily beheld by the spectator opposite. The trees were but 
 few upon it; and its baldness, the natural result of the frequent 
 use made of it, contrasted, not unpleasantly, with the otherwise 
 unvarying wall of woods that formed the boundary of the main 
 current. The trees crowded thickly down into the river until 
 their bending branches met its embraces ; and their tops, some 
 times, when the freshet was great, rested like so many infant 
 shrubs, depending, without root or base, upon its swollen bosom. 
 
 The afternoon sun streaming from the west along the river s 
 surface, its beams mingling in an even linn to the east with its 
 current, still farther contributed to the softness of the picture. A 
 wawu flush, tempered by the golden haze that hangs like a thin 
 veil over the evening midsummer prospect in the south, subdued 
 pleasantly the otherwise blinding effulgence of the day. The slight 
 breathings of the wind, only equal to the lifting of the lightest leaf, 
 whispered to all things the bud, the flower, and the insect of 
 that dreamy indulgence and repose which our well kept epicure, 
 who felt always and appreciated such an influence had stretched 
 himself off to enjoy lying at length under an overhanging tree, 
 lazily watching the scene around him, and with a drooping eye, 
 that seemed to say how irksome was the task which he yet found 
 himself bound to execute. 
 
 lie was on special duty even then. The men of Marion were 
 all around him in the swamp on the southern side of the river. 
 The partisan chief was full of anxiety, and his scouts and guards 
 were doubled and spread about on every hand, lie looked hourly 
 for intelligence from Gates and the continentals. Not that he 
 hoped for much, if anything, of the army, or of good in the news 
 which he anticipated. He had not been persuaded in the brief 
 interview which had been vouchsafed him by the American general, 
 and in what he had seen of his command to look for or to expect 
 much from the then approaching conflict. Marion was the very 
 opposite of Gates in nearly all respects. Modest, yet firm, his 
 reliance upon himself arose not from any vague confidence in 
 fortune or in circumstances, but in the timely adaptation of corres 
 ponding means to end*, and in the indefatigable industry and ie*J 
 21 
 
4.86 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 with which he plied all the energies, whether of himself or of his 
 men, to the successful attainment of his object. Gates, he had 
 soon discovered, was afflicted with his own infallibility a disease 
 that not only forbids precaution, but rejects advice and resists 
 improvement. IIow should he receive advice who is already 
 perfect? Such a malady is the worst under which generals or 
 philosophers can labour ; and Marion needed no second glance to 
 perceive the misfortune of Gates in this respect. His confidence in 
 that commander was lessened duly as he beheld this failing ; and 
 he returned from the camp, if not full of forebodings, at least 
 warmly anxious on the score of approaching events. 
 
 He had partly fulfilled the duties which Gates had assigned 
 him ; he had traversed the Santee and Peedee, breaking up the 
 &oats, dispersing the little bands of tories as they lengued together 
 and came in his way, and contributed largely to the overthrow of 
 that consciousness of security, on the part of the British, which 
 they had hitherto enjoyed, but of which they were deprived, in 
 greater or less degree, from the moment that Marion rose in arms, 
 and led what was called the Black river insurrection. He had 
 now, in pursuit of the same objects, brought his brigade again to 
 the Santee, occupying those positions along that river by which he 
 would be sooner likely to receive intelligence, assist his friends, or 
 harass his enemies. 
 
 Lieutenant Porgy, on the present occasion, held the post of a 
 sentinel. This duty, at such a juncture, was special and compli 
 mentary, and Marion employed his best officers upon it. A good 
 watcher was Porgy, though the labour was irksome to him. Could 
 he have talked all the while, or sung, with no ears but his own to 
 appreciate his melodies, he would have been perfectly content ; 
 out silence and secresy were principles in the partisan warfare, and 
 tenaciously insisted upon by the commander. Poigy looked east 
 and west, north and south, without relief. The banks lay beautiful 
 before him, in a deep quiet, on both sides of the river. Near him 
 ran a dozen little creeks, shooting into the swamp dark and 
 bowery defiles, whose mouths, imperceptibly mingling with the 
 river, formed so many places of secure entry and egress for the 
 canoes of the warriors. Stretched along the grass, he might b 
 
GOOD COUNSEL. 487 
 
 seen to survey one of these little bayous, with an increasing heed- 
 fulness which indicated some cause of disturbance. Then might 
 you see him carefully rise from his luxurious posture, and take up 
 his rifle, and look to the priming, and put himself in the attitude 
 to take aim and fire ; when, presently, a shrill whistle reached his 
 ears ; and quietly returning the signal, he crawled along the bank 
 towards its edge, and looked down to the little creek, as it wound 
 in, behind him, from the river. The signal which he had beard 
 proceeded from that quarter ; and from the recess, a few moments 
 after, a little " dug-out" shot forth, propelled by the single paddle 
 of Lance Frampton. Concealing the boat behind a clump of 
 brush that hung over the mouth of the creek, the boy jumped out, 
 and scrambling up the sides of the bluff, was soon after alongside 
 of the pursy sentinel. 
 
 " Harkee, young man," said Porgy, as the youth approached 
 him, " you will pay dearly for good counsel, unless you heed care 
 fully what I now give you. Do you know that you had nearly 
 felt my bullet just now, as I caught the sound of your paddle, 
 before you condescended to give the signal ? A moment more of 
 delay on your part would .have given us both no little pain, for 
 truly I should have sorrowed to have shot you ; and you, I think, 
 would have been greatly annoyed by it." 
 
 "That I should, Mr. Porgy ; and I ought to have whistled, but 
 \ did not think." 
 
 " You must learn to think, boy. That is the first lesson you 
 should learn. Not to think, is to be vulgar. The first habit which 
 a gentleman learns, is to think to deliberate. He is never to be 
 taken by surprise. The habit of thinking is to be lost, or acquired, 
 at the pleasure of the individual ; and not to think, is, not only to 
 be no gentleman, but to be a criminal. You will suffer from the 
 want of such a habit. It is the vulgar want always, and, permit 
 ine to add, the worst." 
 
 " I try, sir, to think, for I know the good of it ; but it takes time 
 to learn everything, sir." 
 
 "It does; but not so much time as people usually suppose. The 
 knowledge of one thing brings with it the knowledge of another ; 
 as in morals, one error is the parent of a dozen one crime, t.}i*> 
 
THE PARTISAN. 
 
 predecessor of a thousand. Learn what you can, and the rest wil: 
 come to you; as in fowling, you inveigle one duck, and the rest 
 of the flock follows. Talking of ducks, now, boy, puts me in mind 
 of dinner. Have the scouts brought in any provisions ?" 
 
 " No, sir not yet ; and no sign of any." 
 
 Porgy loo&L^, with a woe-begone expression, towards the sun, 
 now on the decline, and sighed audibly. 
 
 " A monstrous long day, Lance a monstrous long day. Here, 
 boy, draw this belt, and take in another button-hole nay, take in 
 two ; it will admit of it." 
 
 The boy did as he was directed Porgy stretching himself along 
 the grass for the purpose of facilitating the operation the boy 
 actually bestriding him ; the slender form of the latter oddly 
 opposed to the mountainous mass of matter that lay swelling and 
 shrinking beneath him. While engaged in this friendly office, the 
 boy started, and in a half-whisper, pointing to the opposite shore, 
 exclaimed 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Porgy, look ! the deer ! What a beautiful shot ! I 
 could kill him here, I m sure, off-hand. I could lay the bullet 
 betwixt his eyes, without damaging the .sight !" 
 
 " You ll damage mine, if you show me such sights very often !" 
 murmured Porgy, as he let the rifle drop heavily to the ground. 
 lie had started at FramptorTs words, followed the guidance of his 
 fingers, and seizing the rifle, had taken aim without a word ; but 
 immediately after he remembered his special duties, and was 
 compelled to forego his prey. Well might he be mortified. Before 
 him, on the opposite bank, his whole figure standing out beauti 
 fully in the sunlight, in perfect relief, was a fine buck of the 
 largest size. The young horns were jutting out like great spikes, 
 giyipg promise of the glorious antlers which he would wear by 
 Christmas. Now he tossed his head in air, now seemed to snuff 
 the breeze; at length he bent his nose to the stream, prepared to 
 drink> and anon suspiciously lifted his head to listen in all these 
 changes of attitude, the spirit and grace of the beautiful creature 
 furnishing a fine study for the painter not less than the gourmand. 
 
 "Master Lance Frampton," continued Porgy, u you wil) certainly 
 be the death of me You show me a deer, yet deny me a dinner 
 
THE FUGITIVE. 489 
 
 Why, boy, the beast is nearly half a mile i ;vay, and you talk of 
 shooting him through the head ! I could sconer pitch you on his 
 back." 
 
 The boy laughed. 
 
 " Don t laugh, boy ; it is too serious a matter, quite. It is too 
 provoking. D n the beauty ! look at him he seems to see us, 
 and to know our mortification mine, at least. Now could I be 
 tempted to send him a shot, if it were only to scare him out of his 
 breath. He looks most abominably impudent." 
 
 " lie looks scared, sir," said the boy, as, starting to one side of 
 the bank, and towards the thickening swamp on the right of it, the 
 animal seemed to show alarm, and a desire for flight. 
 
 "Yes: something has frightened him, that s clear; and what 
 troubles him, may be equally troublesome to us. Lie flat, boy 
 draw that brush a little more in front of you, and take off youi 
 cap. You can see through the leaves well enough." 
 
 At this moment, a whistle behind them announced a friend, and 
 Humphries joined the two a little after. 
 
 " What do you see, Lieutenant ?" 
 
 The gourmand pointed to the deer, which now, in evident alarm, 
 bounded forward a few paces into the stream, then, swimming a 
 few rods up the river, sought a cover in the swamp thicket to the 
 right. His alarm was unequivocally clear to the partisans, and 
 Humphries, following the example of the two, squatted down 
 beside them ; taking care so to cover his person behind the brush, 
 as, while seeing everything, himself to remain unseen. He had 
 .scarcely done so, when the cause of the deer s alarm was made 
 evident in the approach to the very spot upon which the animal 
 had been standing, of a man, in the common dress of the wood 
 man. His appearance was miserably woe-begone and unhappy. 
 His garments, tattered and dirty, consisted of the coarse stuffs worn 
 by the poorer orders of the country. He had no arms no appa 
 rent weapons at least, of any kind; and his movements, sluggish 
 and without elasticity, seemed those of one greatly fatigued. He 
 threw himself, a moment after his arrival, at. length along the bank, 
 with that air of* listless self-abandonment which indicates exhaus 
 tion. 
 
490 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " Poor devil ! he seems wearied and worn, Humphries." 
 
 " He is one of our men. Ten to one he brings us news from 
 camp." 
 
 " Bad news, then : he looks like anything but the messenger of 
 good. But stay what is he about ?" 
 
 The stranger, while they spoke, had arisen ; and, leaving the 
 edge of the bank, went back to the wood, from which, a few mo 
 ments after, he emerged, bearing in his hands a couple of common 
 fence rails. These he bore with difficulty to the edge of the water, 
 arid, though no burden to a man in ordinary strength, their weight, 
 in his fatigue, seemed to demand more than ordinary effort. 
 
 u Why, what s he going to do now ?" said Porgy. 
 
 The fugitive threw off his jacket and shoes, and taking a ragged 
 handkerchief from his pocket, inclosed them within its folds, then 
 placing them over the two rails, which he laid side by side for 
 the purpose, he lashed them strongly together. This done, he ad 
 vanced to the stream, taking the bundle in his hands. For a few 
 moments he paused, looked up and down the river, and seemed to 
 hesitate with a due sense of caution ; then, as if ashamed of his 
 fears, he rushed to the water, and throwing the rails before him, 
 boldly plunged after them into its bosom. 
 
 " The ridiculous booby, he will certainly drown ; he can never 
 resist the current in his present state !" said Porgy, half rising 
 from his place. Humphries pulled him down and bade him be 
 quiet. 
 
 " But we must not let the poor devil drown, Bill." 
 
 " We must do our duty we must not expose ourselves if we 
 can help it, Porgy. His life is nothing to our own ; and we don t 
 know who comes behind him." 
 
 " That s true : d n the fellow let him drown ! who cares ?" 
 
 Meanwhile, swimming feebly, striking with one hand while the 
 other derived a feeble support from the rails, the sL anger moved 
 forward. But it was soon evident that his strength was that of a 
 child, in opposition to the current. He strove desperately to keep 
 a direct course over the water, but every movement carried him 
 out of his line, and the sweeping stream resisted, and rendered 
 futile, the feeble dash of his hand, with which, striking with ev 
 
T1IK JlESCl E. 491 
 
 hausted muscles, but no little will, he laboured, as earnestly a* 
 vainly, to make his way across. As he advanced further within 
 the current, he found himself still less able to contend with it ; and 
 the partisans, from their place of watch, could now see that his 
 almost powerless hand was just raised above the water, dropping 
 into it feebly, at long and increasing intervals, without impulsion, 
 and taking no purchase from the stream. lie certainly ceased to 
 advance, and his movement now was only with the current. 
 
 " We must help him, Humphries, my clear fellow, or he will 
 drown and be d d," said Porgy. 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir do let us help him !" exclaimed Lance, who had 
 watched the scene with an anxiety that kept him starting anxiously, 
 with every movement of the swimmer. 
 
 " If it must be done, Porgy," said Humphries, in reply, " there s 
 only one of us that can do it. The dug-out won t carry more, and 
 I m the best hand at the paddles. So, keep cool and quiet don f. 
 cry out, for we don t know but the tories may be after the fellow, 
 or maybe the British ; and if they guess at Marion s men being in 
 the swamp, it ll break up all our schemes. Lie close, and if the 
 chap can keep above water till I get to him, I ll save him." 
 
 With the words, descending quickly from the bluff, Humphries 
 took the skiff; and the little canoe, under his powerful arms, soon 
 shot from the concealing bush where Lance had left it. It was 
 not long before the swimmer saw him, and he shouted joyfully, but 
 very faintly, at the sight. The tones were so feeble that the boat 
 man threw all his skill and strength into his paddle, sparing no 
 effort to reach him, as he felt assured that the man could not long 
 continue the struggle with the heavy setting current of the river. 
 
 " Keep up, keep up," Humphries cried out to him in encourage 
 ment ; "keep up for a little while only a few minutes more, my 
 poor fellow, and I ll fish you up like an oyster." 
 
 Words, but so faint as to be undistinguishable, reached Hum 
 phries from the swimmer in reply. The sounds only were audible, 
 but none of the syllables. The canoe, light as a feather, was sent 
 more rapidly than at first towards the speaker, as Humphries felt 
 more and more the necessity of speed. It whirled on nearer and 
 nearer, and Lance started up, and clapped his hands in delight, a 
 
492 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 he beheld the swimmer throwing aside his frail support, and grasp 
 ing firmly the gunwale of the little bark that had so opportunely 
 come to his assistance. Supported, without effort on his own pact, 
 by holding upon its little sides, the man was brought safely to 
 shore ; Humphries, with all the dexterity of the Indian, having 
 trimmed and propelled his frail canoe, even though thus encum 
 bered, with little fatigue and apparently as little effort. The ex 
 hausted swimmer was carried into camp, and soon recovered sum - 
 ciently to unfold his intelligence to the commander of the partisans 
 in oeiwon. 
 
CHAPTER XLVL 
 
 * Now let us follow in the quick pursuit.** 
 
 COLONEL MARION examined the fugitive himself. He was oce 
 of the little squad of Colonel Walton, and had su.-ta ned the battle 
 in the regiment of Colonel Dixon, to whose North Carolina regi- 
 meil t the only one that had stood the fight he had been attached 
 by Gates. He had seen the first and last of the battle, and had 
 been fortunate enough to roach one of the swamps which lay on 
 the flank of both armies, where he found shelter until the victor had 
 departed. He gave the whole gloomy story of the defeat in broad 
 colours to the partisans ; and though he could say nothing as to 
 the fate of Gates himself, and the several officers touching whose 
 safety the inquiries of Marion and of Singleton were made in parti 
 cular, he yet knew enough to assure them of the utter dispersion 
 of the army, and the slaughter, according to his account, of at least 
 one half of it. His farther intelligence was important, and sug 
 gested opportunities which were yet available to our partisans. 
 He had seen, and with difficulty had escaped from the British 
 guard, which had been despatched by Cornwallis, having custody 
 of the continental prisoners, destined for the provost, or common 
 prison in Charleston. That guard, he informed the partisan, had 
 pursued an upper road, and would, according to all probability, 
 cross the Santee at Nelson s, a few miles higher up the river. 
 
 Burdened with baggage and prisoners, they might not yet have 
 reached the river ; and, with this hope, giving his signals with the 
 rapidity of lightning, Marion collected his squad, reso 1 ute to try all 
 odds, "however inferior in number, with the detachment in question 
 The rescue of one hundred and fifty continentals for that was tL 
 least number of captives would be an important acquisition to 
 Lite cause ; and a successful stroke so soon after such a defeat a 
 21* 
 
494 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 that of Gates, might have the beneficial effect of restoring confi 
 dence, and giving renewed hope to the paralysed Carolinians. 
 
 Himself undespairing, Marion adopted his plan with due deter 
 mination. Dividing his force into three parties, he gave one to 
 Colonel Hugh Ilorry, another to Singleton, and the third he led in 
 person. The signal sounded, the men rose from their hiding- 
 places, and gathered around their different leaders ; and within an 
 hour after the receipt of the intelligence just given, and while the 
 sun yet shone rich, and like a sovereign, in the west, the partisans 
 were all mounted upon their fleet steeds, and dashing up to the 
 spot where they hoped, and prepared to receive their enemies. 
 Silence resumed her savage empire in the swamp, and the grey 
 squirrel now leaped fearlessly over the island retreat, which, an 
 hour before, he had trembled but to approach. 
 
 As the partisan drew nigh the designated point, he obtained in 
 telligence that the guard with the prisoners had not yet crossed (he 
 river, but had marched to the Great Savannah, a little above it. 
 He was particularly informed as to their number, and that of their 
 prisoners, though nothing was yet known to the partisans of the pe 
 culiar condition of some among them the doom to which they were 
 destined, or of those who had already been sacrificed to the vindictive 
 spirit of the British commander. All this they were yet to learn. 
 
 Moving now with greater rapidity, Marion soon crossed the river 
 with all his force ; and, as the enemy could not be very far off, he 
 proceeded more captiously. He sent out his scouts, and as they 
 severally came in with intelligence, he prepared his farther plans. 
 Night came on, and he was advised that the British would most 
 probably lie by, on the main road, at the public-house which was 
 kept on the edge of the Great Savannah. The opinion seemed pro 
 bable, as travelling by night in the southern swamps was no part 
 of the British custom ; and to cross the river after dark would have 
 been a risk of some magnitude. This, however, was Marion s fa 
 vourite mode of warfare ; and calling in his parties, he gave direc 
 tions to Colonel Ilorry to make a circuit round the savannah, and, 
 lurking on its lower edge, gain the pass of Horse creek, and keep 
 close in cover until he should receive a communication how to pro- 
 deed from him. 
 
THE SURPRISE. 495 
 
 The reckless and ready officer in question rnmediately went off 
 in obedience to his commander. To Major Singleton a similar sta 
 tion was intrusted on the other side of the road, where the woods 
 were open, and where he was compelled, as the slieltmn^jcoyerjxas 
 thin and imperfect, to bury his party more deeply in its recesses 
 than would otherwise have been considered necessary. A third, ana 
 the largest division of his force, which Marion reserved to his own 
 command, occupied both sides of the road above the designated 
 house ; while a detachment of selected scouts traversed the whole 
 line of road, bearing intelligence to the commander as promptly as 
 it was required. 
 
 Unsuspectingly, the British guard marched on ; and duly in 
 formed at every step in their progress, Marion suffered them safely 
 to reach the house at which they were determined to stop for the 
 night, A scout of the partisan looked in at the window, disguised 
 and unobserved. He carefully watched the progress of the supper, 
 saw the disposition of the soldiers and the prisoners, and left, in 
 safety, his place of observation. 
 
 A little before daylight in the morning, while it was yet quite 
 dark, an officer of Marion communicated to Ilorry the instructions 
 of the commander. Promptly moving forward as directed, Horry 
 led his men to the house, and had almost reached it without inter 
 ruption, but, as he threw wide a little paling gate that opened 
 from the garden, through which he came to the court-yard of the 
 dwelling, he was- challenged by a sentinel. Ilorry not answering, 
 but -advancing at the moment with alacrity, the sentinel fired his 
 piece unsuccessfully, and was immediately cut down by him. 
 
 The alarm was given, however ; and though the surprise was 
 effective, it was incomplete. A pile of arms before the door was 
 seized upon ; but the great body of the enemy, partly armed, made 
 their escape through the front entrance, and immediately pushed 
 down the road. 
 
 It was then that Singleton charged upon them. He was prompl 
 ly met. The guard rallied with coolness and in good order, and the 
 small force of Singleton was compelled to give back before them. 
 But Ilorry, who had lingered to release the continentals, now camo 
 up, and the contest was resumed with vigour. The British, slowlj 
 
496 THft PARTISAN. 
 
 moving down the road, held their way unbroken, and fought bravely 
 at brief pauses in their movement. They were still in force quite 
 too great for the parties opposed to them, and the advantages 
 gained by the latter were those chiefly of surprise. 
 
 While they fought, the guard divided ; a portion of them car 
 ried Colonel Walton, with such other prisoners as had been subjects 
 of special judgment and particular care, to the cover of the savan 
 nah, while the rest, now unen cumbered, continued the fight valiantly 
 enough. But, by this time, the troops of Marion, all fresh men. 
 rushed in, and falling upon the enemy s rear, they soon finished the 
 contest. The fight lasted, however, for an hour at least, and the 
 loss of the British was severe. The partisans not only rescued all 
 the continentals, one hundred and fifty in number all of the Ma 
 ryland line but they took besides twenty-two regulars of the 63d 
 regiment, including their captain, and sundry other prisoners. But 
 the small guard, carrying with it Colonel Walton, and the other 
 South Carolina prisoners, had gone clear ; and, hurrying under good 
 guidance to the San tee, while yet the fight was going on, they seized 
 upon some of the boats of Marion, and were safe upon the other 
 side of the river, and speeding upon their- way, before the conflict 
 was half over. 
 
 What was the horror of Singleton, when, at daylight, the released 
 prisoners gave intelligence of the destiny of Colonel Walton, and 
 the perfect escape of the guard having him in custody! lie im 
 mediately rushed to his commander with the melancholy narra 
 tive. 
 
 "It is unhappy dreadfully unhappy, Major Singleton," said the 
 commander " but what are we to do ? It is now scarcely possible 
 that we should overtake them ; they have the start too greatly to 
 eave us any hope of a successful pursuit, and, beyond that, I see 
 nothing that can be done. If they do indeed execute our citizens, 
 we shall only be compelled to retaliate." 
 
 " That, of course, we must do, Colonel Marion," was the rejoin 
 der ; " and I am willing, sir, that my name should be the first on 
 .the list which pledges our officers to the practice, and incurs the 
 risk which such pledge involves. But, surely, we must do some 
 thing to save, not less than to revenge our countrymen. I beliere, 
 
PROPOSED RESCUE, 497 
 
 Colonel Marion nay, 1 am sure, I can overtake the detachment 
 Give me, sir, but twenty men the men I brought with me froic 
 the Cypress. They will volunteer in the service, they will risk theii 
 lives freely in hhalf of Colonel Walton." 
 
 Marion regarded the earnest speaker with a melancholy glance. 
 He shook his head mournfully as he replied 
 
 v They are too far on the start some hours the lead upon you. 
 It is impossible, Major Singleton, that you should overtake them." 
 
 " Our horses are superior " 
 
 " But not fresh no, no ! It is a bad business ; and I fear we 
 cannot mend it." 
 
 " You will not suffer a brave man, a good citizen, to perish. 
 Pardon me, sir pardon me, if in my earnestness and anxiety I seem 
 to overstep the bounds of propriety and privilege. Pardon me, sir , 
 but hear me. Permit me to make the effort let me save him if 1 
 can. Think, sir, he is a man of great influence in his parish ; one 
 highly valuable to our cause ; he is brave and virtuous a good 
 citizen a father !" 
 
 " All all these I grant ; but, look at the prospect, Major Single 
 ton the great risk to all the little hope. After this defeat of the 
 continentals, the region to which you propose to go, will be one of 
 certain doom to you. We shall now, ourselves, have to hurry far 
 ther from the Santee ; and I have already prepared orders to march 
 our little brigade back to Lynch s creek, though 1 leave you and the 
 force you propose to take with you, v to certain destruction." 
 
 " Not certain, not even probable, Colonel Marion ; for, believe 
 rne, I will do nothing rash." 
 
 Marion smiled. 
 
 " Your blood even now is boiling, Major Singleton ; the veins 
 rise upon your forehead your cheek burns your lips quiver. You 
 are in a feverish impatience which will hurry you into fight with 
 the first opportunity." 
 
 " Oh no, sir no ! I am feverish I am thirsting, I grant you, to 
 strike the enemy at all hazards ; but I know the risk. I have esti 
 mated the danger. The section to which I go has been exhausted 
 of troops to supply the army of Cornwall is at Camden. A small 
 force, scarcely superior to the little one I brought with me, is all 
 
498 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 the garrison at Dorchester. The army of Cornwallis will press the 
 pursuit of Gates into North Carolina ; the results of so great a vic 
 tory will not be neglected by the British commander. This move 
 ment will leave the country free for some time ; and they have not 
 men enough below to find me, or rout me out of the Cypress." 
 
 But Marion thought differently as to the probable course of Corn- 
 wallis. lie knew the weakness, not only of the British army, but 
 of the footing upon which their cause stood in the country. He 
 knew that Cornwallis had quite enough to do in South, without 
 exposing his army in North, Carolina ; and he shook his head in 
 reply to the arguments of Singleton, as he suggested his own doubts 
 of their validity. 
 
 " But I know you, Major Singleton," he continued ; " and your 
 claims to serve and save your relative, if you can, should be con 
 sidered. What force will you require for this ?" 
 
 " Twenty men, sir ; twenty will do." 
 
 "Take thirty, sir, if you can get as many to volunteer from the 
 force brought with you. I give you no instructions. I will not fet 
 ter your cpurage or good sense with any commands of mine. But 
 I counsel you, sir, not to forget, that neither your own, nor the lives 
 of your men, are at this, period your or their property. You be 
 long to your country, Major Singleton ; and it is only as one of her 
 sons and defenders, that I am now willing to make the effort to save 
 Colonel Walton. Proceed now with what speed you may ; and 
 if safe and successful, you will seek me out, with the old signals, 
 6<5mewhere near Black Mingo. Go, sir ; and God speed and pros 
 per you." 
 
 The acknowledgments of Singleton were hearty, though made 
 in haste. He hurried to the men of the low country, and in few 
 words made known the circumstances. Humphries, Porgy, Davis, 
 the two Framptons indeed, all of the original party from the Cy 
 press volunteered instantly. He could have had a dozen more for 
 the enterprise. Black Tom was permitted, after some difficulty, to 
 attend the party, the obstinate negro swearing he would not be 
 left: and with this addition to his limited number, Singleton wai 
 soon in saddle, and pushing fast in pursuit of the enenr y. 
 
CHAPTER XL f II. 
 
 Then bring me to him. He shall heir frora ma. 
 How much I fear how much 1 dare to hope." 
 
 I HE chase was unsuccessful. The pursuers reached the Cypiess 
 i:thout having- overtaken the enemy. The fugitive guard, vvitu 
 their captives, reached Dorchester in safety. So did our Partisans, 
 a little after them. Once there, having discretionary power, Sin 
 gleton proceeded earnestly to do what he could towards the rescue 
 of his uncle. The good sense, the skill and partisan qualities of 
 Humphries, all carne into excellent exercise, and were found im 
 mensely important at this crisis. With him, Singleton conferred 
 closely, and immediately after his arrival. The result of the con 
 ference was the departure, that night, of Humphries alone, for the 
 village of Dorchester. 
 
 Meanwhile, the individuals of the party in the Cypress resumed 
 their old places and habits. Porgy was quite at home, and not tho 
 less pleased that the eel-lovino- Oakenburg had forborne to volunteer. 
 He soon set the peculiar talents of black Torn in requisition ; and 
 a little foraging furnished the scouts with a sufficient supply for the 
 evening feast. Of this we need scarcely say that Singleton ate but 
 little. He was eminently wretched ; and as he wandered gloomily 
 along the edge of the island, he was not unpleasantly aroused at 
 hearing the wild laugh, and at meeting the wolfish visage, of the 
 maniac Frampton immediately beside him. 
 
 " You are come," said the wretched man " you are come to 
 see him. You shall see him ; he is there," pointing with his finger. 
 " I have put him to watch her grave, and he watches well ; he 
 never leaves it. The owl and lie they watch together, and one 
 hoots while the other sleeps. Come you shall see." 
 
 Singleton could only conjecture the meaning of his speech ; the 
 cattered rays of reason illuminating the vain obscurity of his 
 
500 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 language, e\en as the taint flickering of the twilight lighted up im 
 perfectly the crowding blackness and the strange cluster of objects 
 around them in the swamp. The firelight fell on the cheek of the 
 madman, and showed Singleton its squaliu and miserable, not less 
 than maniacal, expression. He had evidently suffered from hunger 
 as well as woe. 
 
 " Come with me, rather," said the partisan, losing for a moment 
 the feeling of his own wretchedness in that of the unfortunate be 
 ing before him. The man followed quietly enough, and Singleton 
 led him to where the rest were busily engaged at supper. Porgy, 
 in an instant, made room for him on the log on which he himself 
 was sitting: at the same time he broke the hoecake before him, 
 and gave orders to Tom, who was standing conveniently by, to 
 produce the remnants of certain chickens, in the procuring of 
 which one of the neighbouring plantations had suddenly suffered 
 assessment. But the wild man did not for a moment notice the 
 invitation, lie seized Singleton by the arm, and with a gentle 
 pressure, carried him through the circle to the spot where his 
 younger son was sitting. The elder rose at his approach ; but him 
 he did not regard for a moment. But when he looked upon the 
 younger, and beheld the sword at his side, he burst into one of 
 those dreadful laughs which seemed to indicate, as they invariably 
 accompanied, every occasional symptom of his mental conscious 
 ness. The boy stood up before him, and the hand of the maniac 
 rested upon his head. liis lingers, for a few seconds, played with 
 the fine long hair of the boy ; but, as if satisfied, in a little while, 
 he dashed away from the spot, and hurried back to the supping- 
 place of the rest. 
 
 " Poor fellow lie doesn t seem to have eaten for a month," 
 said Porgy, as the maniac voraciously devoured the meat set before 
 him. " No wonder he s mad I should be mad myself, I doubt 
 not, were I to go without eating even a day. I felt something like 
 it on the Santee, one day, when required to deliberate and not 
 dine. An empty stomach justifies insanity." 
 
 The maniac ate on, heedless of remark or observation ; but some- 
 limes he would pause, and indicate, by a slight chuckle, that some 
 faint gleams of perception had come into his brain. To the SUP 
 
THE LANDLORD. 501 
 
 prise of all, lie did not depart as soon as he had eaten, as had been 
 h1f usual custom heretofore; but, throwing himself under ar r)<? 
 tree, he seemed disposed to follow the example of several of the 
 rest, who had resigned themselves to sleep. 
 
 Humphries, meanwhile, had reached Dorchester in safety. The 
 night was favoiiringly dark, and he trod the street in which his 
 father dwelt, in perfect safety. He penetrated, with cautious steps, 
 and with the utmost circumspection, into the inclosure, and suc 
 cessfully, and unseen by any, made his way to the stables. Here 
 he remained quiet for a while, until the hour had fairly arrived at 
 which the tavern was usually closed for the night. lie then ven 
 tured out of his hiding-place, and went towards the dwelling. But the 
 " Royal George" was still open, and still full of guests. A couple 
 of British soldiers were drinking at the bar ; and there were some 
 four or five of the villagers. The old landlord had been listening to 
 some narrative which had greatly awakened his attention. It could 
 be seen that he was in that awkward situation, when a man finds 
 it difficult to laugh, and when it is yet expected that he should do 
 so. The efforts of old Humphries in this way were very unhappy. 
 His laughter died away in a hoarse chuckle ; a gurgling, gulping 
 sound filled his throat ; and the poor fellow turned away to conceai 
 tears. 
 
 " And when will he be hung ?" asked one of the villagers. 
 
 " Friday Friday next," replied one of the soldiers, gruffly ; 
 " and that s giving him a d d sight too much time for any prayer 
 that he can make. I m for having it soon over. Just the same 
 with other people as with myself. No long-winded speeches, 
 say I." 
 
 " Only three days !" continued the villager. " Well, it s a great 
 pity, for he used to be a mighty good man, and quite a gentleman. 
 And then there s his daughter, Miss Katharine poor girl, i wonder 
 if she knows it ?" 
 
 " I reckon she does," said another of the villagers, " for I seed 
 the family coach drive in not an hour after the guard brought him ; 
 and, though I didn t see who was in it, yet I s pose it couldn t bo 
 nobody but her." 
 
 44 Yes, she s come," said the soldier who had just spoken, " anc 
 
602 TLE PARTISAN. 
 
 shea been to tlie major, begging him, I suppose, for mercy. Bui 
 it s all in my eye and Betty Martin the major can t help her 
 much." 
 
 " Yet they did say that Major Proctor had a liking for the 
 young lady. Maybe he might do much on her behalf for the 
 father." 
 
 " He can t, even if he would," said the soldier ; " the order 
 comes from Lord Cornwallis himself, and it s as p inted as a bagnet, 
 and jist as positive as old Jamaica. The colonel has done all he 
 could. He s let the girl go to her father, arid she was with him 
 when I left the garrison. She s going to put herself under guard 
 the same as her father, to be with him all the time." 
 
 " Poor, poor girl," muttered old Humphries, hastilv turning 
 away. " Bless me, where s Bella ? Here, Bella, my dear !" 
 
 Taking a parting draught, the soldiers first, and then the 
 villagers withdrew. The old man proceeded to fasten the doors ; 
 and when this was securely done, the younger Humphries, who 
 had been waiting and watching, concealed in an inner apartment, 
 made his appearance before his father. It was a meeting of rejoic 
 ing as well as regret ; for the old man was proud of his son, and 
 loved him not less than his daughter. There were long stories 
 told between them which do not concern this narrative. But all 
 relating to Colonel Walton, his daughter, and the danger before 
 him, was drunk in by the son with a greedy interest. He ascer 
 tained the place of the colonel s imprisonment ; and found, to 
 his great regret, that it was within the walls of the fort itself. 
 It was there, and there only, that Katharine could see him. It 
 was there that she watched and wept with her father now ; and 
 the soul of the proud-spirited girl, mortified in many respects, 
 was humbled to the dust as she contemplated the degrading 
 doom which he was destined to undergo. Death on the battle 
 field would have been honourable death, in her estimation ; and 
 though, even now, he was to perish in the cause of his country, 
 that cause, sacred and lofty as it was, could not lessen her horror 
 of that disgrace which such a mode of death brought with it. The 
 infamous hangman, the defiling rope ! The aristocratic education, 
 the proud, unbending spirit of the noble girl, revolted whenever 
 
HUMILIATION. 503 
 
 she thought upon it. She shuddered to survey the picture which 
 her imagination continued to describe before her. She shuddered 
 and lay convulsed at the feet of her father. 
 
 She was permitted to remain with him throughout the day, but 
 was compelled to leave him at a certain hour every night. This 
 was an indulgence of Major Proctor, who sympathized with hei 
 sufferings with all the feelings of a man, and the courtesy of the 
 honourable gentleman. lie deplored and disapproved of the 
 judgment of Cornwallis; but, according to that strict military 
 etiquette, upon which no officer insisted more rigidly than Proctor, 
 he forbore any utterance of opinion in respect to his superior s 
 proceedings, and only, while he resolved to obey them rigidly, pre 
 pared to temper his severity with all the softening indulgence 
 which was left discretionary with him. Katharine felt, and looked 
 her gratitude her consciousness of his delicacy and forbearance. 
 Still, it pained her pride to be dependent, even to a degree so 
 sma-11, upon her country s enemy. She felt this humiliation also, 
 but, with a proper good sense, yielding to circumstances, she showed 
 no sign of such a feeling. 
 
 Humphries gathered these particulars from his father and sister. 
 lie learned that even at that moment Katharine was at the garri 
 son ; that, as the gates were closed at ten o clock, she would then 
 be compelled to leave it ; and readily conjecturing that she had 
 made arrangements for remaining at Dorchester during the night, he 
 now felt desirous of finding out her place of residence. There was, 
 however, but one ready mode of making this discovery, and as the 
 night was dark, and the object worthy the risk, with a bold deter 
 mination, he made his arrangements to lurk around the gate of the 
 fortress, until she should make her appearance, lie could then 
 follow her at a safe distance, and thus find out her abode. 
 
 No sooner determined than acted upon. lie sallied forth, and, 
 by a circuitous route, reached the point of observation, llere he 
 waited not long before the old family coach made its appearance ; 
 and, in half an hour after, two ladies, escorted by as many officers, 
 appeared from the entrance. The ladies were assisted into the car 
 riage, the officers returned, the gates were again closed, and the 
 vehicle wheeling about to pursue its way, when Humphries, wto 
 
504: TJ1K PARTISAN. 
 
 had sheltered himself behind a tree close in the neighbourhood, 
 now boldly leaped forward, and mounting behind the coach, was 
 carried along with it. 
 
 They alighted, as he had anticipated, at the lonely dwelling of old 
 Pryor. The sturdy landlord himself came forth, and pushing aside 
 &e negro, assisted the ladies from the carriage. They entered the 
 house, and, watching his opportunity, Humphries followed them. 
 The moment that 1 ryor was disengaged, the partisan sought him, 
 and, in private, unfolded himself to the pleasantly astonished land 
 lord. A few moments more gave him an interview with Katharine 
 and her aunt. The guise, garb, and expression of the latter, were 
 stiff and old-maidish, as usual. Not so with the former. Her eye 
 was wild, her hair disordered, her cheeks flushed, and her step 
 quick and convulsive, while her lips frequently quivered with the 
 thrilling thoughts that were present and working in her mind. 
 She hurried forward to meet Humphries upon his entrance ; seized 
 his hand with unstudied and earnest warmth, and hailed him as a 
 friend as one sent from Singleton. 
 
 " I cannot talk to you yet," said she, brokenly, " I must wait for 
 breath ; but I am glad oh, very glad to see you." 
 
 "Sit down, Kate, my love," said the old lady ; "you fatigue, you 
 afflict yourself, my dear." 
 
 She sank obediently into the chair; but again immediately 
 started up, and approached the partisan. 
 
 " I cannot sit I am in no want of rest, and have no time for it. 
 Oh, Mr. Humphries ! tell me speak to me say what is the hope 
 you bring me ?" 
 
 " Major Singleton" 
 
 She interrupted him. 
 
 "Ay Robert I look to him to save me to save my father 
 Where is Robert now ?" 
 
 " In the Cypress, Miss Katharine I come from him now !" 
 
 " Thank God I lie has not deserted me he will not desert me !" 
 
 " Never, Miss Katharine, I ll answer for it ; the major is never 
 the man to desert you, or anybody never." 
 
 "I know it I know it, Mr. Humphries. You do his noble 
 heart only justice when you say so. He will not desert me h 
 
FILIAL LOVE. 505 
 
 will not desert ray father. But I must go to him I must see him, 
 this very night. He must tell me what he can do what he will 
 try to do for me in this horrible necessity. He must show me 
 that he will save my father." 
 
 And as she spoke, she hastily retied the strings of her bonnet ; 
 and her whole manner was that of one full of resolution. 
 
 " Why, what would you do, my child 2" asked her aunt. 
 
 " Go to Robert Singleton." 
 
 " My child, don t think of it remember, you re a lady 
 
 " A -woman a daughter !" -she replied, almost fiercely. " 1 have 
 no fears I should have no scruples. If there be danger or re 
 proach, I will risk it all for my father. You fear not, Mr. Hum 
 phries, to conduct me to your leader ?" 
 
 " It s an ugly road, Miss Katharine, for a lady mud and water, 
 bog and bush, and mighty crooked." 
 
 " Is that all ! shall such things keep me back from my duty, 
 when all depends on it? Oh, no ! These are trifles your diffi 
 culties I fear not." Then, turning to her aunt, who had now risen 
 and seixed her arm persuasively " Oh ! scruples, aunt, scruples. 
 Do you think [ see and feel these things, when I see death and 
 dishonour both sitting on our hearth ! 1 must go !" 
 
 "The major will be mighty glad to see you, Miss Katharine, I m 
 Certain; and no harm can come of your going. I can guide you 
 to the spot, dark or daylight, just the same ; and I m close and 
 cautious enough about danger. But you ll have to ride horseback." 
 
 " I can do it I can do it," she cried eagerly ; " that will be no 
 difficulty." 
 
 " Then we must get you a saddle from Pryor that s easy enough 
 too ; for I know he s got one, and he ll be quick to let you have it." 
 
 " See to it see to it at once, Mr. Humphries, I pray you. Let 
 there be no delay." 
 
 Humphries hurried off. The aunt strove to change her resolve, 
 but the fearless girl was inflexible. 
 
 " Robert Singleton knows me, aunt thank God ! I know him. 
 ff I did not, I might listen to you now. Knowing him, I freely 
 \5onfide my name, my life, my honour to his keeping. I have no 
 fears none. But since he has come since I have heard Lis 
 
506 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 name, and seen his messenger I have hopes many hopes gooi 
 hopes sweet hopes. He will save my father he will try with all 
 his soul, and with all his strength ; and God must God will 
 prosper him ! 
 
 Such was the strain with which she rejected her aunt s entreaties, 
 and persisted in her determination. When Humphries reappeared 
 with Pry or, announcing his determination to depart, the old lady, 
 rinding she could not change the resolution of her niece, was for 
 going along with Ler in the coach ; but Humphries resisted the 
 suggestion as impracticable. 
 
 " We can t run the old coach into the bush, if an ei.emy pops 
 into the road, ma am ; and it s a chance we may have to do that 
 before we get to the Cypress, even at this time of night. The 
 fewer, the easier to hide; the smaller the bundle, the less the 
 hole to cover it. It won t be an easy journey, ma am, no how, 
 I tell you." 
 
 The old lady was soon discouraged, and consented, though with 
 great reluctance, to the arrangement which separated her from 
 Katharine. The latter was soon ready, and carefully muffled up ; 
 she was conducted by Humphries to the edge of the wood where 
 his own horse had been concealed, and to which spot Pry or had 
 promptly carried that intended for the maiden. 
 
 They rode with spirit, and soon reached the swamp. Humphries 
 carefully chose a path, which, if more direct, and more exposed to 
 detection, was, at least, far more easily travelled than that which 
 he usually pursued. lie conducted her into safe concealment along 
 the little rising ridge of sand which Davis had previously chosen 
 for his proposed fight with Hastings. Here he persuaded her to 
 remain, until he should go to the camp and conduct Singleton to 
 her. She did not hesitate to do so ; the arrangement was more 
 agreeable to her in many respects, as it spared her the toilsome 
 journey through the worst portions of the swamp, at the same 
 time that it promised her that privacy in her interview with Single 
 ton, which, as we shall see, was absolutely necessary to its pro 
 gress. 
 
 In leaving her, Humphries saw no impropriety. He knew not 
 of any danger in the swamp to her ; and she was c uite too much 
 
THE INTRUDER. 507 
 
 absorbed in the thought of her father s danger, to thii:k for a single 
 instant on the subject of her own position. Ine spot, to*,, *pon which 
 she stood had nothing- terrific in its aspect. The trees were few, 
 and not gl*/my like those of the swamp. The stars shone dowii 
 freely over the bank, and the light was sweet, though faint, as it 
 fell glisten. ug over the white sands upon which she stood, and was 
 freely reflected from the glazed green of the leaves that hung 
 circling about her. Alighting from her horse, her trusty companion 
 fastened him to a hanging bough, and promising to return quickly, 
 rode onward to the camp. 
 
 lie had not been long gone, when she heard the rustling of the 
 bushes behind her. She turned towards l*e spot, and beheld a 
 gigantic figure emerging from the copse. The intruder was the 
 maiiiac Frampton. His fierce habits, wild aspect, dismal shriek, 
 and soiled and tattered garments, were enough to startle, not a 
 timid maiden only, but a bold-spirited man. Katharine might 
 have been alarmed even more than she was, had he appeared to 
 her as he usually appeared to others. But a singular change 
 seemed to have come over him. His step was irresolute his 
 manner shrinking his countenance full of awe. lie continued, 
 however, to approach ; and, though really apprehensive, the maiden 
 firmly held her ground, looked steadily upon him, and neither 
 screamed nor spoke. But, as he continued to advance, though 
 slowly and respectfully, she gave back before him. lie then ad 
 dressed her in a strain which confounded and astonished her. 
 
 "Fly me not, sweet spirit leave me not in darkness hear me 
 scorn not my prayer I kneel to you I pi-ay you for pardon 
 have I not loved have I not revenged you ? You know it you 
 feel it you have seen it fly me not I will do more I swear 
 it on my knees. Look." 
 
 The maniac was prostrate before her his face prone in the dust 
 his hands clasped above his head his tones, when he spoke, 
 subdued, and full of humility. She was more terrified at what 
 she saw, as it was now evident that she was alone with a mad 
 man. 
 
 In this wav crouching towards IKT, ne continued to rave, address 
 as an angel- -as one departed and reminding her, us h> 
 
P08 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 wife, of the happiness which they had known together the iov 
 they had borne each other, and which he prayed her still to cherist 
 for him in heaven. Approaching footsteps startled him just as lie 
 had partly risen to his knees, and while he was still imploring her 
 after this fashion. The noise brought to him a momentary con 
 sciousness. He seemed, at once, to realize his mistake; and, with 
 his fearful laugh, bounding away, he was sheltered in the neigh 
 bouring bush before Singleton and his comrade had yet reached the 
 spot where the latter had left the maiden. 
 
 Humphries kept aloof, while Singleton met his cousin. The 
 scene was short between them, but how full of all that was sadly 
 sweet all that was exciting to both ! She rushed towards him 
 as soon as his person was distinguished. 
 
 " Oh, Robert ! I have come to you a beggar a woe-bcgone beg 
 gar. I have no hope but from you no confidence but in you. 
 To you to you only I bend my thought I turn my eye I 
 look for life my life, my father s life all. Save him save 
 me!" 
 
 "For this, Katharine, have I come. If I can save your father, 
 even though at the hazard of my own life, I shall do so. You 
 have my pledge for this." 
 
 " Thanks, thanks, dear Robert! my heart thanks you. But what 
 is your hope, your plan? Tell "me all, that T may calculate on 
 your chances, that I may note their progress, that I may pray ! 
 that I may assist, if assist I can, in a work which calls for men 
 for manhood only." 
 
 The question troubled Singleton. What could he tell her ? He 
 himself knew little as yet of the true condition of things in Dor 
 chester. No time had yet been allowed him to devise a scheme 
 or take a step in its execution. He told her this, and she* heard him 
 with impatience. 
 
 " But something, dear Robert, must be done, and quickly. Do 
 not be cold, I -pray you do not deliberate toe long, or nothing 
 will be done. Hear me, Robert hear me but a while. You came 
 to me a suitor you said you loved me, and I believed you, 
 Robert." 
 
 He took her hand. She continued 
 
THE BETROTHAL. 509 
 
 " I believed you, and I was pleased to belkve. My pride and 
 iny heart both reioiced in my conquest : but this I said not th>- 
 [ showed not to you. I did not reject, though I did not receive 
 your prayer. Now, hear me my hand is in yours it is yours I 
 give it to )ou in love, in pledge, in true affection it is yours, and 
 / am } v>i*rs for ever. Only save my father say to me that you 
 will save him ; and here, in this solemn place these dark trees, 
 and the spectre-like stars, only looking wanly down upon us, and 
 bearing witness I avow myself your wife yours, at any moment 
 after, that you shall name, to bind me such for ever." 
 
 He carried her hand to his lips he kept it there for a moment 
 then releasing it, replied 
 
 " Arid does Katharine Walton think to buy me to the perform 
 ance of a sacred duty ? Am I not come to save your father ? to 
 save or perish with him ? This was my resolve when I sued for 
 leave to pursue the guard which brought him to the village. Even 
 your love will fail to add anything of strength or spirit to my de 
 termination. It is an oath in heaven, Katharine, and my lite for 
 his, whether you love or hate, whether you receive or reject my 
 prayer." 
 
 " Noble, unselfish ! true friend, brave cousin ! You will do all 
 forme; you are determined to make me and mine your debtor. 
 You will not be bought by the hand which I have placed in yours 
 which you have sought for years as you would leave me free 
 still to any choice upon which my heart has been set. You are 
 too proud, too noble to take advantage of my necessities. But I 
 will not be outdone thus. I will now become the suitor in turn ; 
 and, Robert, if the poor charms and the humble virtues of Katha 
 rine Walton be not all gone, in the eyes of her cousin, she offers 
 them all all, without pledge of service, without hope of recom 
 pense, without anything in return, but the noble heart and the 
 true hand which he once proffered to her." 
 
 Singleton caught the high-minded and beautiful woman in his 
 arms: the first sacred embrace, the first, mutual kiss of requited 
 love, hallowed and terminated the scene between them. 
 
 lie rode forth with her on the way to Dorchester, taking a cir- 
 litous route in his progress, and leaving her to the conduct of 
 22 
 
5 it) THE PARTISAN. 
 
 Humphries as they came in sight of the village. On their way, 
 
 lie gave her a certain message which she was to hear to her father 
 containing advice and instructions for his government. He also 
 suggested more to satisfy her impatience than with any cer 
 tainty of their adoption various plans of rescue. Having a per 
 fect reliance on the skill and courage of her lover, not less than 
 upon his affections, she became more soothed and satisfied by what 
 she had heard. Her hopes grew active and warm, and her san 
 guine thought already beheld the freedom of her doomed sire, ob 
 tained by the powerful arm of her ad venture is lover. Let us not 
 nowever, anticipate events. 
 
CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 " God speed the good endeavour ! for it stand* 
 An earnest of success ; thus virtue strives 
 Still hopeful, when most hopeless." 
 
 THE n;xt night found Singleton himself in the village, tie 
 could not be persuaded by Humphries to keep away. The house 
 of old Pryor, who was ready for any uproar, received him ; and 
 there, concealed even from Aunt Barbara, he contemplated the 
 prospect before him, and devised more fully his plans for the rescue 
 of his uncle. His fair cousin was in the same dwelling, and he en 
 gaged her company at such brief moments as he could steal from 
 his labours, and she from the presence of her aunt. Humphries 
 was in the village also, having his hiding-place in his father s stable- 
 loft. Obeying his instructions, Davis came to him there late the 
 same night, and once more found himself in the presence of the 
 fair coquette, Bella. The Goose-Oeeker turned upon her an un 
 friendly shoulder, artel, humbled as she had been by circum 
 stances, of which Davis knew nothing, his conduct distressed her 
 to A degree which she could not conceal. She turned away tc 
 conceal her tears, and the heart of the trooper smote hin,. Win-;. 
 she retired, Humphries bluntly asked Davis why he was so rough 
 to his sister. The subject was a delicate one ; but the person ad 
 dressed was a plain-spoken fellow, who did not scruple at any time 
 to speak what he thought. Accordingly, he went over briefly the 
 whole course of difficulty between them, and particularly insisted 
 upon the preference shown to Hastings. 
 
 " But he s a dead man ; there s no fear of him now." 
 
 "I never was afeard of him, Bill ; but then I didn t love him; 
 and the girl that did can t love me, for there s nothing alike be 
 tween us." 
 
 "Oh, pshaw, man ! but she didn t 1 >ve him. you see," said the 
 
512 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 other. " I know all about it. A girl s a girl, and there s no help 
 ing it she will be foolish sometimes. There s none of them that 
 don t like a dozen chaps hanging at their skirts that s the fun of 
 the thing with them ; and Bella is just like all the rest. But the 
 girl is good stuff after all, you see ; for though I did think when 
 Hastings was dancing about her that she had a liking for the fel 
 low, I soon found out that she liked somebody else all the time." 
 
 " You don t say so ! Who ?" demanded the other, violently 
 and hurriedly, as if taking the alarm anew at the prospect of a 
 rivalry, which, whatever might be his cause of anger with the 
 girl, he had no desire to hear of. 
 
 " A man," replied Humphries coolly. 
 
 " Oh, speak out, Bill. I m sure I don t care. I shouldn t quar 
 rel with him for it." 
 
 " l^o, I reckon not when you know him. His name s Davis." 
 
 " What Davis ?" 
 
 " John." 
 
 " Who what why, you don t mean me ?" 
 
 "You re mighty dull, John Davis, for a man that s seen so much 
 of the world. That s you, for certain gospel-true, now, as I tell 
 you. Bella Humphries, my sister that is, has really a greater 
 liking for you, in your way, as a man, and a good swamp-sucker, 
 than for any other man body that I know of? T 
 
 " But Bill, old fellow, you re joking now ; it s all fun and fool 
 ishness. How do you know, now ? what makes you think so?" 
 and chuckling and sidling close to his companion, Davis wound 
 his arm affectionately round the neck of Humphries as !. listened 
 to this narrative, and put his doubting inquiries in reply. 
 
 " How do I know ? I ll tell you." 
 
 Humphries then proceeded to give a brief account of the dia 
 logue between Bella and Mother Blonay, prior to the assault of 
 Hastings upon the former. We need not describe tli3 joy of Da 
 vis on the recital. That very night an interview between the co 
 quette and her lover put all things right between them. 
 
 "But you were cross, Bella, 3011 know; and then you took such 
 pains to please that fellow." 
 
 " Yes, I was foolish, John ; but you know you had no patience* 
 
THE PLAN OF RESCUE. 513 
 
 and if I only looked at any other body than yourself, you were all 
 in a blaze, and spoke so angry that you frightened me more than 
 once. But you won t be angry with me again, and I promise I ll 
 love you always, and you only." 
 
 Davis made similar promises, and both, perhaps, kept them 
 With this, however, we have nothing now to do. Enough that 
 the Goose-Creeker and his sweetheart were put in requisition for 
 the contemplated rescue. Other persons in the village, known 
 whigs, were also entrusted with pails of the general performance ; 
 and, in the brief space of time intervening between the am r al of 
 Singleton in Dorchester, and the day of execution, a bold scheme 
 had been prepared for the rescue of the destined victim. The par 
 tisan discovered that the whole force of Major Proctor at the gar 
 rison scarcely exceeded the command of a captain; sixty regulars 
 was the estimated number given him by Humphries. The greater 
 part of these would, in all probability, form the escort of the solemn 
 procession; and these were too numerous, too well armed, and too 
 well drilled for Singleton s little force of thirty men, unless he could 
 form a scheme of surprise, by which to distract their attention and 
 defeat their unanimity. The plan was suggested by old Pryor, 
 and its boldness won the confidence of our hero. 
 
 " Ilere s the road, Major Singleton, you see here s the red clay 
 hill, and here s the blasted tree that s borne better fruit than was 
 ever born on it. Here comes the red-coats, d n em, I say. Now, 
 look here here s the bush, thick enough on both sides to cover a 
 troop quietly. You fix your men here, and here, and here; and 
 the guard comes ; and here s the captain he s in the centre. 
 What do you want then ? Something to make a noise and a con 
 fusion, is it? Well, you must begin with the crowd; them that s 
 got nothing particular to do, and that goes only to look on : 
 there ll be enough of them. Begin with them, I say ; only get 
 them frightened, and when once the fright begins, it goes like 
 wildfire in dry grass it goes everywhere. First the people, tnen 
 the soldiers, all get it; and them that don t scamper will be sure 
 to be very stupid. When that s done, all s done. Then you 
 tumble among em, now on one side, now on the other, cutting up 
 and cutting down, shouting and screaming all the while, till you va 
 
f>14 THE PARTISAN 
 
 done as much as you think will answer. That s what you want, 
 is it I" 
 
 " Yes, let us once create the panic without breaking our own 
 little force for the purpose, and we will then take advantage of it, 
 The odds then will not be so great, and the prospect of success no 
 longer doubtful." 
 
 Such was the reply of Singleton, whose previous suggestions 
 Pryor had only adopted and reiterated in his long and prosy 
 speech. The old man, hitching up his waistband with a most pro 
 voking gravity, approached the chair where the partisan sat, arid 
 whispered a single sentence in his ear. 
 
 " Can you do it will you do it ?" was the quick inquiry of Sin 
 gleton. 
 
 "lean I will." 
 
 " Then set about your preparations directly, and I shall prepare 
 for the rest." 
 
 There was no time for delay, and that night, after the return of 
 Katharine from her customary visit to her father, Singleton souo-ht 
 her in private. She was hopeful, but doubtful. The manner and 
 the words of her lover strengthened and assured her. 
 
 "Katharine, 1 have strong hopes very strong hopes, though we 
 depend greatly on circumstances. We have many agents at work, 
 and you, too, must contribute. You must go to * The Oaks to 
 night, and provide horses, as many as possible, and of the fleetest. 
 We shall probably want them all. Have them sent, by daylight, 
 to the little wood, just above the " 
 
 He paused, and his cheek grew pale. She understood the occa 
 sion of his pause. But her spirit was strong, greatly nerved for 
 the necessity ; and, at the moment, masculine in the highest de 
 gree. 
 
 " The place of execution the gallows you would say. Go on, 
 go on, Robert. Let me hear let me do." 
 
 " Yes ; there in the little wood above I shall station trusty 
 
 men to receive and dispose of them. This you must do and do 
 
 quickly; and this is all all that you will be required to perform. 
 
 To me, and others, you must leave the rest. Go, now, Kate, arid" 
 
 -he passed his arm about her, and Ms voice gre tremulous "I 
 
THE CuiS^FERENCE. 515 
 
 shall not again see you, Kate my own my love until it is all 
 over. If I fail" 
 
 " You must not fail," she cried, hurriedly, starting from his em 
 brace, and looking alm>t sternly into his countenance. "You 
 must not fail, Robert; rather than that- hear me my father must 
 not die in shame the gallows must not pollute him the rope 
 must not dishonour his neck. There is an alternative a dreadful 
 alternative, Robert but still an alternative." She put her hand 
 upon the pistols at his side, as she concluded the sentence, wildly, 
 but in a voice subdued to a whisper, " If he must die, there is 
 another mode another. Only do not hesitate, Robert ; if you 
 cannot save him from death, you may from dishonour. Fear not 
 to spare him the shame which is worse than death to his spirit, 
 and quite as dreadful to mine." 
 
 She threw her arms around his neck, and sobbed audibly for 
 an instant. 
 
 " And if I fall, Kate" 
 
 " In life or death, Robert, I am only yours." She had with 
 drawn her face from his bosom as she spoke. Her glistening eyes, 
 with a holy earnestness, were fixed upon his own, and truth wa? 
 in all their language. How holy, how sweet, how ennobling, how 
 endearing, was the one kiss the last embrace they took that 
 night! That night, preceding a day of so much of such an 
 awful interest to them both. A hurried word of mutual encou 
 ragement a parting prayer, sent up in unison to Heaven from 
 their mutual lips and united spirits and they separated the 
 one to pray for that success for which the other was appointed to 
 fight. 
 
 From this conference, the partisan proceeded to another with 
 his coadjutors, Humphries and Davis. The whole plan was then 
 matured, and Bella was made a party to the labour by her brother. 
 His instructions to her were simple enough. 
 
 " Bella, you re not afraid to go to the church, just before day 
 light r 
 
 " Afraid, brother William ! No, I m not afraid ; but what am I 
 to do there ?" 
 
 * Listen. Go there by daydawn, and go up to the steeple,* 
 
516 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 " But how aiu 1 to get in ?" 
 
 " Through the window ; the door will be locked fast enough, and 
 no getting the key out of old Johnson s hands. Get in at the win 
 dow, which you can do easy enough, and keep quiet until you see 
 the soldiers marching off with the colonel." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " Watch them you can see everything easy enough from the 
 tower. Look to the red hill, and when you see them arrived at 
 the foot of it, set the bells a-going as hard as you can, as if you 
 were ringing for dear life; and ring away until you cant ring any 
 more, you may then stop. That s all you ve got to do. Will 
 you do it ?" 
 
 " But what s it for what s the good of it ?" 
 
 " No matter I can t tell you now ; but it must be done by 
 somebody, and you re the best one to do it. Will you promise me? 
 now come, be a good girl, iJella, and I ll tell John Davis all 
 about you." 
 
 The girl promised, and the conspirators then proceeded to other 
 preparations, which were deemed essential to the complete success 
 of their enterprise. They had all returned to the .warn!) long 
 before the daylight opened upon them. 
 
 , 
 
CHAPTEE XLIX. 
 
 ** Tis the last trial, and the strife must come, 
 Soon to our peril. But the heart is firm 
 The rigid muscle set the steel prepared, 
 And the thought hopeful of our full success. 
 The gods befriend and aid us, as we serve, 
 And battle for the right ! " 
 
 THE day dawned beautifully and brightly. The sun rose without 
 a cloud darkening his upward progress, and the richly variegated 
 woods gladdened in his beams. The air was balmy, and the wind 
 silent. The quiet, slumberous day of the intense summer, unbroken 
 by warning or discordant sounds, and alive only in the cheering 
 scream of the bird, and the drowsy hum of the insect, seemed but 
 indifferently to accord with the bitter and the gloomy purposes 
 of man. It was the day of purposed execution. How little did 
 the spirit of the unconscious and thoughless nature harmonize with 
 that, having an immortal hope and destiny, yet so bent upon earthly 
 strife, so busy with its foolish passions! Alas! that man should 
 lake so few lessons from the sweet ministers of God the bird and 
 the (lower sent for his pleasure and his profit, and which, minister 
 ing innocently, by song and sweet, to his happiness, should yet so 
 commonly fail to teach him innocence. 
 
 A sad scene was going on in the cell of the destined victim. 
 His daughter kneeled beside him at daylight in his prison. She 
 had cheered his solitude with the sunshine of her own sweet and 
 gentle thoughts she had whispered hope in his ears when he 
 himself refused to hope. She had forgotten her own griefs while 
 ministering to his and this is the reward which virtue always 
 brings to duty. How happy was she thus to minister! how point 
 less was the shaft of fate to him, while thus he listened to, and felt 
 her tribute ministry! In that hour, if he did not hope, he at least 
 felt free from all the humiliating emotions of despair. What if the 
 22* 
 
518 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 doom came what if he suffered the cruel indignity and the painful 
 death had he not heard did he not feel, deep in his soul, the pre 
 vailing force of those prayers which the lips of his innocent child sent 
 up for him momently to Heaven? 
 
 " Yet, do not flatter yourself too much, my daughter," he said to 
 her, in reply to one of her uttered anticipations of relief from Single 
 ton. "You must not persuade me, at least. I must be prepared; 
 and though I shall certainly contribute all in my power to cooperate 
 with Robert in any effort which he shall make, I must not the less 
 prepare to encounter the last trial as unavoidable. Robert will do 
 what he can, I feel satisfied. But what of that? His force is small, 
 inferior to that which guards me, and desperation only may avail in 
 in what he attempts." 
 
 "And he will be desperate, father; he will not strike feebly, or 
 heartlessly, or hopelessly. Oh no! I know he will not. He is 
 resolved with all his resolve, and you know his spirit. He does not 
 say he will not tell me what he intends; but his eyes are so earnest, 
 and he looks! Could you but have seen him, father, when he prom 
 ised me to save you, your hope would be like mine; you would not, 
 you could not, doubt that he would do it." 
 
 " I do not doubt, my child, that he will try " 
 
 And if Robert tries, father 
 
 He interrupted her sanguine speech and the implied tribute to her 
 lover, folding his arms about her neck, as she knelt beside him, and 
 placing his lips upon her forehead. 
 
 You are a devoted girl, and Robert may well love you, my child. 
 Tell me, Katharine it will do me good to know that his affections 
 are yours, and that you have not been unmindful of his worth." 
 
 How could T how ? Have we not known him long enough, my 
 father?" 
 
 "God bless you, Kate God bless you! This, if I perish, would 
 still be a redeeming pleasure, as I should then know him to be 
 well rewarded, and be sure that I leave you with a protector. Your 
 loves, my child, are hallow r ed with my blessings, with the prayers for 
 your good of one who, in a few hours, may be in the presence of 
 God himself." 
 
FEARLESSNESS. 
 
 She clung to him like a despairing infant. 
 
 "Speak not thus, my father let me hope do not make me 
 doubt that you will be saved that the bitter cup will pass by 
 us." 
 
 "Hope hope on, my child it is your duty. Hope is one of 
 life s best allies the first to come, the last to desert us. But I need 
 not tell you to hope. You cannot help it. Hope and virtue are 
 twins, and inseparable; the one never flies until the other deserts the 
 heart. There is no despair for the good." 
 
 "I believe it I trust and. you, too, hope, my father, if this be 
 true. I feel it in my soul, even as if, at this moment, I beheld it 
 with my eyes. A good spirit at my heart God s spirit is there to 
 assure me of my hope." 
 
 Thus cheered and cheering, the two, interrupted only occasion 
 ally by the entrance of the colonel s sister, conversed together from 
 daylight until the approaching noon. But, as the hour drew nigh 
 assigned for the execution when the danger began to assume, as it 
 were, a bodily form and pressure; the thoughts came thick to the 
 mind; the doubts grew strong and oppressive about the heart; the 
 fears seized upon the flickering fancies; and imagination, painting 
 in vivid colours the dreadful circumstances of the approaching time, 
 to the mind s eye of the maiden, greatly served to overthrow all the 
 stability of hc;r resolve all the fine soothing of her hope. She 
 moaned aloud as she clung now to the neck of her father. In that 
 moment, the nature of the man grew active, and the contrast 
 between the two would claim the art of the painter to embody to 
 the eye; and the strong imagination, only, could depict it to the 
 mind of one not beholding it. He, who had wept with her before, 
 was now erect and strong. If it was not hope that strengthened, it 
 was the courage and high resolve of fine moral character, strong in 
 conscious integrity strong in resolve that lifted up spirit and form 
 alike, defyingly, in the face of death. It is a noble picture, that 
 of a brave man looking out upon danger, and fearlessly preparing 
 for its approach. It is a painfully sweet picture, that of the 
 frail woman, storm-beaten, storm-broken, like a flower stricken to 
 the earth, and, in its weakness, compelled to rest upon its bosom; 
 but still smiling, still cheering, still giving forth love and worship, 
 
520 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 even as the flower gives forth perfume, and ready to share the fate 
 which it dreads, but which it has not the strength to avert. 
 
 Such was the picture in the dungeon of Colonel Walton. The 
 masculine spirit was already composed for the final trial the last 
 struggle of life with its uncompromising enemy. The man was pre 
 pared to meet death with unshrinking resolution; the gentleman, 
 with grace and dignity: and when, entering his dungeon, Major 
 Proctor came to his prisoner his own eyes suffused, and his deport 
 ment that of one, himself a victim a victim certainly to humiliation 
 and grief to announce the arrival of the hour, he met the unshaken 
 glance and carriage of one who seemed rather a conqueror than a 
 condemned. 
 
 "Leave us, but a few moments, and let my servant, Caesar, be 
 summoned, if you please. He, only, will attend me." 
 
 Proctor bowed, and departed. "Father oh! my father it is 
 not the hour it is not time yet do not go not yet! Robert may 
 not be ready not quite ready. He has to come from the Cypress 
 he has a great deal to do, and will want all the time he can get." 
 
 She clung to him, as if to keep him back. Her eyes were start 
 ing from their sockets, bloodshot and wandering. Her words came 
 chokingly forth her frame was convulsed and shivering; her whole 
 manner that of one in whose mind reason and opposing apprehen 
 sions were earnestly at strife for the ascendency. He lifted her 
 from the floor as if she had been a child his own nerves 
 untrembling all the while. He lifted her to his lips, and calmly 
 kissed her cheek. The act itself told more than words. He had 
 treated her as a child, and she understood the gentle form of that 
 rebuke. She tried to compose herself, and her words, though equally 
 broken and incoherent, were far more subdued in their utterance. 
 How tender how holy was that brief communion ! 
 
 "Katharine, be firm, my child be firm for my sake. Be firm 
 to pray to pray for my rescue; nor for that alone you must be 
 firm to act." 
 
 She grasped his hand, and looked inquiringly. 
 
 "Robert," he continued, as she listened "Robert, with that 
 good sense which distinguishes his proceedings always, has told 
 you nothing plainly of his present plan. He knew that you could 
 
THE PARTING. 521 
 
 not well comprehend military particulars, and that you would 
 better be satisfied with his own general assurance, than if he had 
 undertaken to show you those arguments which you must yet fail 
 to appreciate. To teach only a part of his design, would be to leave 
 the inquiring mind doubtful of the rest. I can conjecture the design 
 which he has in view, in part at least and the horses which you 
 were required to send him, he has doubtless prepared in readiness for 
 me along the road, in the event of his rescuing me. It is for you to 
 contribute something to the same object. He could not venture 
 across the bridge, and he therefore made no arrangements in that 
 quarter, should it suit me to shape my flight to that side of the river 
 a desperate man, most desparately bent, I may be disposed to push 
 through my enemies, even where they are thickest. In that event, 
 there should be horses there also. You must see to this, for your 
 aunt has none of the necessary energy. Your firmness must do this, 
 even now. Take the carriage there, and there remain with it. It 
 may be all to me, and the trust is now with you." 
 
 The object of Walton was not expressed to his daughter. He had 
 no real idea that he should need any such assistance ; but he well 
 knew that, by the employment of her mind at the most perilous 
 moment, in a labour of seeming necessity, he should divest it in 
 reality of its own griefs. Throw reponsibility upon the young 
 mind, if you would seek to strengthen it. This was his design ; and 
 its effect was instant. The belief that on her resolution and action, 
 now, so much was to depend, alone restored and strengthed her. 
 Yet she could not so soon recover, and, taking her last embrace almost 
 in a convulsion, she was hurried away by her aunt from the mourn 
 ful dungeon, a few moments before the officer appeared to conduct 
 the prisoner to the place of doom. Major Proctor himself forbore to 
 attend the execution. He assigned the task to an inferipr officer, his 
 duty not requiring his personal presence. A strong guard was 
 detached from the garrison, and the sad procession emerged at mid 
 day from the gates. 
 
 Major Singleton had well devised his plans, and prepared, as fully 
 as in his power, for the due execution of his purposes. He had 
 brought his troop before daylight to the spot assigned them. To 
 
522 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 those who know the ground, his arrangement will be readily compre 
 hended. To those who do not, a few words may be necessary, and 
 will certainly suffice for explanation. The road at the point of exe 
 cution was on the easy ascent of a small clay hill. The woods were 
 thick on either hand. On the eastern side of the wood, a few yards 
 below the gallows, a small track a common wagon or neighborhood 
 road wound into the forest, making a turn within a few paces from 
 the main path, which effectually concealed it at that distance from the 
 sight. In this sheltering place, one-half of Singleton s troop, well 
 mounted and ready for the charge, lay concealed. On the opposite 
 side of the main road, closely hidden in the wood, some thirty paces 
 above, another portion of his force, similarly posted and prepared, 
 stood in waiting for the signal. Three chosen riflemen were assigned 
 trees at different points of the wood on either hand, commanding the 
 scene of execution. They were closely embowered in the foliage ; 
 and the trees intervening, effectually secured them from sight, even 
 though the report of their pieces indicated the direction in which they 
 harboured. Their horses were hitched to swinging boughs in the 
 wood behind them, ready for their flight the moment their task 
 should be finished. Singleton himself led the party destined to make 
 the first charge. To Humphries the other body was assigned. No 
 instructions were omitted, necessary to bring about concerted action ; 
 and the minutest directions aye, even to the rifleman who was 
 required to lead the fire were insisted upon by the young but 
 thoughtful partisan. Such being the preparation, there was no danger 
 of the plan failing from hurry or want of coolness. 
 
 The little coquette, whom the restoration to the good regards of John 
 Davis had made the most obliging little creature that the village had 
 for sometime known, did not forget the part which had been assigned 
 her in the duties of the day. Clambering over the graves, with some 
 little feminine trepidation, she made her way into the church, and 
 from thence into the steeple, while the stars were yet shining palely 
 in the heavens. She had her dread of ghosts, for she had heard a 
 thousand stories of their nocturnal habits ; but then, she recollected 
 John Davis, who had given her a parting admonition to do ably the 
 task assigned her. John Davis stood to her at that moment in the 
 
525 
 
 WAITING PATIENTLY. 5% 
 
 place of a principle ; and, like many thousand others of both sexe-s, 
 she always understood her duties best when they came through cer 
 tain lips, and were insisted upon by a certain preacher. Man-wor 
 ship, in those times, as at present, was not uncommonly mistaken for 
 the most profound worship or God. 
 
 Here she watched patiently and long. Day came, and from the x 
 tower looking forth, she beheld his rising light with a feeling of re 
 lief, if not joy. The first faint blush that drove away the stars from 
 the east, almost won her worship on this occasion; not only because 
 it relieved her gloomy watcli, but because of its own beauty. How 
 natural is the worship of the sun ! How idle to wonder at the pagan 
 who sees in it the embodied god of his idolatory ! He speaks for a 
 God in all his aspects, and is worthy of homage, not only as he so 
 greatly ministers to man, but as he is worthy of the Creator. 
 
 Patiently, hour after hour, until the approaching noon, did the girl 
 continue close concealed in the steeple, awaiting the moment which 
 should call for the execution of her duties. And it came at last. 
 The painful and mournful notes of the military music reached her 
 ear, and the gloomy procession emerged from the gate of the garrison 
 beneath her eye. First came a small guard, then the prisoner, attend 
 ed by a clergyman, and then the main body of the guard inarching on 
 either hand. As the fearful notes resounded through the village, its 
 inhabitants came forth in groups, joining the melancholy march, and 
 contributing by their numbers to its imposing solemnity. The 
 prisoner was much beloved in the village and its neighbourhood, even 
 by those who had taken sides with the invader; and the knowledge of 
 this fact alone made the hope more strong and active in the bosom of 
 Singleton, that his plan must be successful. He felt assured, that, in 
 the event of a commotion, none of the natives would interfere to pre 
 vent the rescue of Walton or assist in his recovery. 
 
 The heart of Bella Humphries thrilled fearfully as she watched the 
 procession. The imposing martial array, the georgeous uniform of 
 the British, their fine regular movement, close and well arrayed order, 
 and gleaming bayonets, struck terror to her heart, while they aroused 
 all the enthusiastic admiration of her mind. Her task was to watch 
 
524 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 until the cavalcade should reach a certain point, which, from her ele 
 vated position, she could easily behold over the trees. She was then 
 to sound the tocsin, and thus furnish the expected signal to all the 
 conspirators. Firmly, though tremblingly, she looked forth upon the 
 array, which she could readily distinguish in all its parts. There was 
 the prisoner, seated in the degrading cart ; there was the priest beside 
 him ; there the different bodies of soldiers ; and there, hanging upon 
 the skirts, or crowding upon the sides of the melancholy procession, 
 came the villagers and country people. She could even distinguish 
 ^onavy and his hag-like mother, trudging along, at a hurried pace, 
 in front of the procession. The old woman hung on the arm of her 
 son, who seemed but partially disposed to carry such a burden. The 
 savage had not lost a single tenure marking his old identity. He 
 was the same lounging, shuffling, callous wretch that we have before 
 known him ; and his slow, indifferent movement for here he had no 
 mischief to perform was the subject of rebuke with his own mother. 
 
 " Come now, Ned, my boy move a bit faster, will you? The 
 people are coming close behind, and we shall see nothing if they get 
 before us." 
 
 " Why, what s to see mother ? Adrat it, there s nothing so much 
 in a fellow hanging. I ve seen more than one, and so have you." 
 
 " That s true, Ned ; but still I like it, and I don t care how many 
 of these great folks they hang up among the trees. I hate cm all, 
 Neddy, boy; for all of them hate you. They keep you down, my 
 son they trample upon you they laugh at you, and their best word 
 to you is a curse. God curse em for it ; I hate em all. 
 
 "Adrat it, but you can t hang em ; and so what s the use to talk 
 about it ? " 
 
 " If I could ! " she muttered bitterly between her closed teeth. The 
 son replied with a laugh, concluding the sentence 
 
 " The trees would be full of such fruit." 
 
 "Aye, that they would ; and I ve tried for the power I ve asked 
 for the power over them but it hasn t come to me. I ve got out of my 
 bed at midnight, when the night was blackest, and I ve called upon 
 the bad spirits to come to me, and help me to iny revenge on them 
 
THE OLD HAG S DESIRE. 525 
 
 
 
 that have scorned you, and spit upon you, and called you by scornful 
 names ; but I had no learning, and so the evil ones came not to my 
 aid, though I ve looked for em, and longed for em, and wanted em 
 badly." 
 
 She spoke in a language of disappointment ; her looks and manner 
 both corresponding with the chagrin which her w r ords expressed 
 Yet she complained unjustly. The spirits of evil had been serving 
 her to the utmost extent of their power ; but with the vulgar mind 
 always, the power must have a body and a sign to the external senses, 
 before its presence will be recognized or understood. 
 
 The ill-favored son chuckled at the disappointment she expressed, 
 and, with a taste differing from her own, congratulated her upon 
 their indulgent absence. 
 
 "Adrat it, mother, but they would have been ugly company if 
 they had come ; and I m mighty glad they didn t listen to you. They 
 would ha made the cabin too hot to hold us." 
 
 " Fear not ; for they say that the person who calls them can keep 
 them down, and make em only do what s wanted. I wasn t afraid ; 
 they wouldn t have seen me tremble if they had come, even at mid 
 night, when I called them. But there goes another that ought to 
 be strapped up too. He s another great man, too, and has scarlet 
 cushions in his pew at church, while I must sit on the bare bench in 
 the aisle, as if in God s house some are to be poor and some rich. 
 
 " Adrat it, mother, hush, or they ll hear you. Come this side, out 
 of the way of the crowd here, to the left." 
 
 " Don t carry me where I can t see. I want to see everything, and 
 you must get me a place on the hill." 
 
 " Why, that will be close by the tree." 
 
 That s what I want. I want to see his mouth when the cart 
 moves off." 
 
 " D n my heart, if I stand there with you ; I ll go higher up ; 
 
 and so must you. You ll only be in the way, mother, to go there." 
 
 "But there I will stand, for my eyes are bad, and I can t see farther 
 off. You can leave me, if you don t like it. I can stay by myself." 
 
 "Adrat it, so I will. I can see very well at a hundred yards; 
 thats nigh enough for me ; and I don t like to go too nigh when 
 people s in the notion of hanging. It ain t safe." 
 
526 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 
 
 He hurried the beldam to the hill assigned for the place of execu 
 tion. A few paces only separated her from the fatal tree ; and she 
 saw all the desired points distinctly. The procession moved on ; the 
 crowd gathered; the tree was before the doomed victim; and the 
 officer in command riding up, ordered a halt before it, and proceeded 
 to make his arrangements, when the bell sounded; a single stroke 
 and then a pause as if the hand grew palsied immediately after. 
 That stroke, however, so single, so sudden, drew every eye, aroused 
 all attention ; and coming immediately upon the solemn feelings 
 induced by the approaching scene in the minds of all the spectators, 
 it had the effect of startling, for an instant, all who heard it. 
 
 But when it was repeated when the painful clamour grew quick 
 and violent, and the rapidly clashing metal thundered forth a reck 
 less, unregulated peal, varying, yet continuous the surprise was com 
 plete. In that moment a new terror came, close following upon the 
 first. The signal had been heard and obeyed by the other conspira 
 tors, and wild cries of men, women and children, coming from 
 Dorchester, aroused in painful astonishment those forming the pro 
 cession, soldiers as well as people. The cause of the alarm, in 
 another instant, seemed explained to the wondering multitude as 
 they looked towards the village. A sudden rush of flamc-^a wide, 
 high column rose from its centre, and ascended into the calm 
 ^ atmosphere like a pyramid. Another and another body of flame, in 
 different directions, and the now distinguished cry from the village, 
 announced it to be on fire. The crowd each individual only think 
 ing of his family and household goods broke on every side through 
 the guard clustering around the prisoner ; heedless of the resistance 
 which they offered, and all unconscious of the present danger. In 
 that moment, while the alarm was at the highest, and as the officer 
 struggled to keep his ranks unbroken, the rifle of one of the marks 
 men in the tree-top singled him out as a victim, and he fell beneath 
 the unerring aim which the rifleman had taken. 
 
 It was then that the bugle of Singleton sounded a clear, quick and 
 lively note. That of Humphries, on the opposite quarter, responded 
 and the charge of the partisan followed close upon it. The officer 
 next in command to him who had fallen, however surprised, cooly 
 enough prepared to do his duty. He closed his men around the pris- 
 
SURPRISE. 527 
 
 oner with the first appearance of danger, and when the rushing horses 
 were heard trooping from the woods, he boldly faced in the direction 
 of the expected enemy. 
 
 All this was the work of an instant. The brands had been well 
 prepared under the direction of old Pryor; and, with the feeling, of a 
 true patriot, his own dwelling had been chosen by him the very first 
 for destruction. He had piled the resinous and rich lightwood in 
 every apartment. lie had filled it with combustibles, and had so pre 
 pared it, that the blaze must be sudden, and the conflagration com 
 plete. Three other houses were chosen and prepared in like manner; 
 and, once ignited, their possessors rushed away to the place of execu 
 tion, crying their alarm aloud, and adding to the wild confusion, 
 
 Their cries resounded violently, with a new and more emphatic 
 burst, as, coming out of the village, they appeared upon the road, just 
 as the bugle of Singleton had sounded for his charge. The brave 
 partisan had bent all his energies to his purpose, and he now gave all 
 his spirit, and all his strength, to its manful completion. His first 
 plunge from the coppice placed him in front of a presented bayonet. 
 Quick as thought, he wheeled his steed to the right, avoiding the 
 lunge which carried the soldier forward. While the fore feet of the 
 animal were yet in air, he, as suddenly, wheeled him back again, and 
 his hoofs were beaten down, with all his weight, upon the body of 
 the soldier, who lay crushed and writhing under his legs. 
 
 This movement had broken the bristling line, in the centre of 
 which the strong-limbed partisan now found himself. He did not 
 stop to calculate. In action, alone, lay his hope of safety or success. 
 He was penetrating the square in which his uncle was a prisoner. The 
 fatal cart was before him, and this w^as enough to give new vigor to 
 his effort. Right and left, his heavy sabre descended a sweeping 
 death, defying the opposing steel, and biting fatally at every stroke. 
 He was well supported by his men, and, though not one-half the 
 number of his enemies, he had already gained a decided advantage, 
 and made some progress toward his object, when the charge of 
 Humphries followed up his success. The lieutenant hurried over the 
 ground, cheering and shouting. An old woman, feebly tottering to 
 the roadside, stumbled along the path, but he did not pause in his 
 progress. Indeed, he could not. The troop followed him horseman 
 
528 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 after horseman went over the prostrate body, grinding it to the earth, 
 until there was as little human in its appearance, as there was in the 
 heart of its owner. She gave but one cry a dreadful scream. It 
 chilled the heart of the brave trooper, as the hoofs of his steed went 
 down upon her breast. He knew the voice he heard the words and, 
 hag as she w r as, foul and malignant, the appeal to her son, in the last 
 accents of her lips, w r as touching in the extreme. It was his name 
 that she cried in her death struggle and Blonay heard the cry. He 
 emerged from the bush where he had been sheltered; but, when the 
 contest was clear before him, he again sank back. He was cool 
 enough to see that nothing could save the beldam he was calculating 
 enough to risk nothing in an effort so hopeless. Stealing along the 
 wood, however, he unslung his rifle, freed his knife from the sheath, 
 and prepared to take any possible advantage which the progress of 
 circumstances might afford him. 
 
 The fight grew fearful around the cart in which the prisoner sat. 
 The clergyman leaped into the crowd, dreading that conspicuousness 
 in the affray which the situation gave him. Colonel Walton, alone, 
 remained within it. He had arisen, but his hands w r ere tied; and, 
 though his feet were free, he yet felt that his position was much more 
 secure, as long as the sabre only was employed, than it would be, 
 without weapons, and having no use of his hands, in the melee, and 
 under the feet of the horses. But he shouted encouragingly to Single 
 ton, who, indeed, needed now no other encouragement than his own 
 fierce frenzy. The fury that impelled him looked like madness. He 
 seemed double-armed and invulnerable. More than once had a strong 
 combatant opposed him, and hopelessly. He had ploughed his way 
 through the living wall, with a steel and strength equally irresistible. 
 
 "Courage, uncle courage! Can you do nothing for yourself?" 
 And striking as he spoke, down went another soldier. 
 
 "I am tied," was the reply, as quickly. In the next moment, 
 Raping from his horse into the centre of the vehicle, Lance Frampton 
 jplied his knife to the cords. 
 
 "Hurrah 1" was the cheering cry of the partisans, as the prisoner 
 clapped his hands in the air, showing their enlargement. A soldier 
 seized the horse which drew the cart, by the bridle, and turning 
 his head among the crowd, sought to lead him off. But the sabre 
 
WALTON RESCUED. 529 
 
 of Singleton seemingly aimed at the soldier, who dodged it by 
 sinking down while yet holding upon the bridle was adroitly 
 intended for the horse. It went resistlessly through his neck, and 
 falling among the crowd about him, the animal struggled in the 
 Agonies of death, still farther adding to the confusion. 
 
 Walton at this moment sprang from the cart, and the partisans 
 gathered around him. The guard, considerably diminished, now 
 collected for a charge ; but the pistols of the partisans, which they 
 could now safely venture to employ, were brought to bear upon 
 them. They recoiled, and in the moment, Colonel Walton gained 
 the cover of the wood ; another found him mounted ; and, rushing 
 forth, with a wild shout, he gave the enemy an idea of the presence 
 of some fresher enemy. This was all that was wanting to the com 
 pletion of the confusion. They gave back at first they merely 
 yielded then they broke ; and, as the partisans beheld their advan 
 tage, and pressed on to avail themselves of it, the dismembered guard 
 fled down the road in the direction of the village. 
 
 "Back back !" cried Singleton to his men, as they were preparing 
 to pursue. " Enough lias been done for our purpose let us hazard 
 nothing in pursuit." 
 
 Then turning to Colonel Walton, in a few brief words, he con 
 gratulated him on his rescue, but urged his immediate flight. 
 
 "Humphries," cried he to that officer, "conduct Colonel Walton 
 to the Cypress instantly. I follow you with the men. Nay, linger 
 not for me ; there is more to be done if we delay. I will collect the 
 troop." 
 
 They would have paused, Colonel Walton in particular who 
 seemed determined to share all the risks to which Singleton w r as sub 
 jected ; but the latter at once put on the authority with which he 
 was invested, and sternly commanded immediate and implicit obedi 
 ence to his orders. There was no farther delay. Walton was soon 
 out of sight, while Singleton, collecting his scattered troops, fol 
 lowed hard upon his footsteps. They fled in season just as Major 
 Proctor, who had now become familiar with the cause of alarm, 
 and sallied forth with all the remaining garrison, emerged from the 
 village. 
 
 The Briton found only the remnant of the defeated guard ; and it 
 
\ 
 
 530 THE PARTISAN. 
 
 was not his policy to pursue, with so small a force as that under his 
 orders, an enemy, of whose strength he knew nothing, and who was 
 flushed with decent victory. 
 
 Thus terminated the battle of JDorchester. The victory was with 
 the partisans, but they paid dearly for it. Five of their men were 
 slain outright, and an equal number wounded. The battle so Jong as 
 it lasted, had been sanguinary in the extreme ; nor did it terminate 
 altogether with the actual conflict. The flames which had ushered 
 in the conflict continued to rage long after it was over ; and one-half 
 of the beautiful town, by close of day, lay in ashes. 
 
 How sweet was the meeting of the father with his child, the day 
 of peril now safely over, in the deep recess of the Cypress Swamps! 
 There, on the first tidings of the advantage gained by her friends, she 
 had repaired in the hope to meet him. Nor had she sought him 
 there in vain. He himself bore her the first tidings of his safety ; 
 and, convulsive with joy, and almost speechless, she hung upon his 
 neck, feeble and fainting, with not strength ^enough to speak her 
 emotions. But when she looked round and saw not her lover, the 
 thought of his danger the doubt of his safety awakened all her 
 anxieties anew, and brought forth all her strength. 
 
 Tell me that he is safe Robert. " 
 
 " He is, and will soon be here." 
 
 They had not long to wait. He came, guiding her to the spot 
 where her first pledge to him had been given where the first kiss 
 of true love had been exchanged between them. The pledge, under 
 better auspices, was gratefully renewed. 
 
 " And you are now mine mine for ever, my own Katharine." 
 
 " Yours yours only, and for ever." 
 
 The eye of a father looked on, and sanctioned the fond embrace 
 which rewarded the partisan for his peril, and the maiden for her 
 firm and filial devotion. 
 
 "But this is not a time for dalliance, my Katharine. It is enough 
 that I am secure of your affections enough that you are mine we 
 must part now. Your father is not yet safe not till we get him into 
 the camp of Marion. Be satisfied that the immediate danger is with 
 drawn ; we must try and keep him from a renewal of it ; and can 
 
ADIEU. 531 
 
 only do so by throwing the Peedee between him and his enemies. 
 We must part now." 
 
 "So soon!" 
 
 Too soon. But we may not linger here with safety. We are still 
 in danger. This blow will bring Tarleton upon us; who rides like a 
 madman. Come, I will lead you to your carriage, and 
 
 He bore her. away through the copse, and no eye beheld their 
 parting ; but it was sweet, and it was holy. Her last kiss hung upon 
 his lips with an enduring sweetness, for the long season which inter 
 vened between that period and the hour of their final union. He 
 returned in a few moments to the Swamp, and there found the 
 maniac Frampton standing upon the edge of the swamp, in curious 
 observation of the men. He would have carried him along with the 
 party, and spoke to him to that effect ; but the other appeared not to 
 heed him : and the only glance of consciousness which he seemed to 
 exhibit was when his fiery eye rested upon the features of his youth 
 ful son. Singleton approached, and while persuading him to remove 
 with his party from the Swamp, laid his hand upon the shoulder of 
 the insane wretch. The effect was electrical. He bounded away 
 with his demoniac laugh, and plunging through the creek, fled in the 
 direction of his wife s burial-place. The partisan saw that nothing 
 could possibly be done with him, and bidding his youthful charge, 
 Lance Frampton, beside him, he put his ban.%in motion, and hurried 
 forward, once more to unite with Marion in the long and perilous 
 warfare of the Swamps kept up as it was, until, step by step, beaten 
 to the Atlantic shores, the invader fled to his ships and left the 
 country. But these events are for other legends. Our present task 
 is ended. 
 
 THE END. 
 

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