The life of Gen. Francis Marion, a celebrated partisan officer in the revolutionary war, against the British and Tories in South Carolina and Georgia

'

Page 57.

Serjeant Jasper, rescuing the American prisoner*.

TBS lira

OF

GEN. FRANCIS MARION,

A CELEBRATED

partisan Officer

IN THE

UEVOLVTIOWJVUY WAR,

AGAINST THE

BRITISH AND TORIES
IN SOUTH VAKOLINJl rfND GEORJL1

BY BRIO. GEN. P. HORRY, OF MARJCfl's BRIGADE
AND M. L. WEKMS.

M

•On VERICOW'S CHIEF, wh)' lavish all our lays ;

* Come, honest Muse, and sin^ great MARION 8 praise.F

BTERROTYP£D BY L. JOHKSO2I.

PHILADELPHIA:

PUBLISHED BY JOSEPH ALLEN.
AND SOLD BY GRIGG & ELLIOT,

No. 9 North Fourth Street!

1837,

Eastern District of Pennsylvania^ to wtl :

BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the twenty-fifth day
of September, in the forty-ninth year of the Independence of the
United States of America, A. D. 1824, H. C. Carey & I. Lea, of

the said district, have deposited in this office the title of a book, the
right whereof they claim as proprietors, in the words following
u> wit:

* The Life of Gen. Francis Marion, a celebrated partisan officer in
u the Revolutionary War, against the British and Tories in South
** Carolina and Georgia. By Brigadier General P. Horry, of
" Marion's Brigade, and M. L. Weems.

" On Vernon's Chief, why lavish all our lays ?
u Come, honest Muse, and sing great Marion's praise."
In Conformity to the^Act of the' CMgrecs jof. the United States,
entitled, w An Act for the .Encouragement of Learning, by securing
the Copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprie
tors of such Copiesj'during' the ttmes fierein mentioned.'** — And also
to tfce Act, entitled;- " An* Act ^rf^plemeiitary to an Act, entitled,
**• An Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing the Copies
of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of
such Copies during the times therein mentioned, and extending
the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching
historical and other prints."

D. CALDWELL,
Clerk of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania

N. B. The above Copy-Right has been purchased by Joseph
Allen, and u regularly transferred to him.

THE LIFE

or

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

CHAPTER I.

Short sketch of an extraordinary French couple^ viz.
the grandfather and mother of our hero — their
early and happy loves — cruel persecution of the
priests — -Jinal expulsion from their native country —
providential settlement in South Carolina — their
prosperous and exemplary lives — singular will of
old Marion — and birth of his grandson, Francis.

Immortal may their memory be
Who fought and bleu for liberty.

ONE thousand seven hundred and thirty-two was
a glorious year for America. It gave birth to two of
the noblest thunderbolts of her wars, George Wash
ington and Francis Marion. The latter was born in
St. John's parish, South Carolina. His father also
was a Carolinian, but his grandfather was a Hugue
not or French Protestant, who lived near Rochelle,
in the blind and bigoted days of Louis XIV.

The priests, who are the persecutors in all countries
except America, could not bear that he should wor
ship God in his own way, or dream of going to heaven
but in their leading strings, and therefore soon gave

3 THE LIFE OF

him to understand, that he must either " recant 01
trot ;" that is, quit his heresy or his country.

Too brave to play the hypocrite, and too wise tc
hope for happiness with a " wounded spirit," h<
quickly made up his mind, and, like faithful Abra
ham, forsook his country, to wander an exile in lands
unknown. The an gel "who guides the footsteps or the
virtuous, directed his course to South Carolina; and
as a reward for his piety, placed him in a land where
mighty • <leeds and hoiiours were ripening for nis
grandson. Nor did he wander alone. A cherub,
in the. An;ni of a 'lovely wife, followed his fortunes,
and gave him to know, from happy experience, thru
tvh«re love is, there is no exile.

Previous to his expulsion, the priests had, for
some time, suspected young Marion of what they
called " heresy" But, learning that he. was enamour
ed of the beautiful and accomplished Mademoiselle
Louisa D' Aubrey, and like to win her affections,
they withheld for a while, their sacred thunders
hoping, that through fear of them, and love of her
he might yet return to the bosom of the Catholic
Church, to which she belonged.

Young Marion's suit to his fair mistress, was for
tunate to the full extent of an ardent lover's wishes.
The charming girl repaid his passion with such libe
ral interest, that, in a short time after the commence
ment of their delicious friendship, she received him
for her husband, in spite of all that wealthier wooers
could promise, or frowning friends could threaten.

The neighbouring clergy now marked the conduct
of Marion with a keener eye ; and discovering in
him no symptoms that pointed to recantation, they
furiously pressed the bishop to enforce against hira
the edict of banishment.

At this time, Marion with his lovely Louisa, were
living on a small farm in the vicinity of Rochelle.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 9

As he walked one afternoon in the main street of
that city, he was very rudely accosted by a couple of
officers of the holy inquisition, whose looks and dress
were as dark and diabolical as their employment.

"Vous etes nommes Marion?" said they; that is
* your name is Marion ?"

44 Yes, gentlemen, that is my name."

Upon this, they rudely thrust a letter into his hand,
und turned away, but with such looks as tigers throw
at a tender lambkin, whose well-guarded fold forbids
their access. On opening the letter he found as
follows :

"Your damnable heresy, weJl deserves, even in
this life, that purgation by fire which awfully awaits
it in the next. But, in considerationxof your youth
and worthy connexions, our mercy has condescended
to commute your punishment to perpetual exile. —
You will therefore, instantly prepare to quit your
country for ever. For, if after ten days from the
date hereof, you should be found in any part of the
cingdom, your miserable body shall be consumed
oy fire, and your impious ashes scattered on the
winds of heaven.

"FERE ROCHELLE."*

Had this dreadful letter been presented to Marion
even while a bachelor, it would have filled him with

* I forewarn all my friends from thinking me capable of charging
this vile persecuting spirit on the u Old W—t of /Zovie" exclusively.
No, thank God, I have not so learned human nature. And they who
are yet to learn, may, by reading the " Catholic Layman," soon get
tatisfied, that the priests are as apt to abuse power as the people, and
Jhat, when "clad with a little brief authority* protestants as well a*
•apists, have committed those cruelties which make milder devils
blush. [By way of a note on a note, I would observe, that the " Co-
\holie Layman," is a very sensible and spirited pamphlet ; the prp-
iuction, it i» said, of Mathew Carey, Esq. of Philadelphia, whc
Aough a Roman Catholic, has printed more protcstant Bibles and
Testaments than half the preachers and printers in America put to-
fetaer.]

10 THE LIFE OF

horror? for the heart naturally cleaves to the spot
where it awoke into being, and quits, with tearful
eyes, the scenes among which were spent the first and
happiest days of life. But ties stronger than those
of nature bound Marion to his country. His coun
try was the country of his Louisa. How could he
live without her? And how could he hope that she
would ever consent to leave her parents and friends
to wander and die with him in hopeless exile?

But though greatly dejected, yet he did not de
spair. He still trusted in that parent-power who
smiles even under frowns, and often pours his rich
est showers from the blackest clouds. Cheered with
this hope, he put the letter into his pocket, and set
out to seek his Louisa.

.With arms fondly interlocked, she had accompa
nied him that morning to the gate on the back of the
garden, through which he generally passed when he
went to Rochelle. Soon as hib horse was led up, and
he about to mount, she snatched the bridle, and
laughing, vowed he should not go until he had pro
mised her one thing.

"Well, charmer, what's that?"
uWhy that you will return very soon."
"Well, indeed I will; so now let me go."
4.40h no! I am afraid that when you get out of
sight you will play truant You must give me secu
rity."

"Well, Louisa, what security shall I give you?"
' "Why you must give me that thing, whatever it
be, that you hold most dear in all the world."

"Well done! and now, Louisa, I give you your
self, the dearest thing God ever gave me in all this
world."

At this her fine face was reddened all over with
blushing joy, while her love-sparkling eyes, beaming
on his, awakened that transport which those who
have felt it would not exchange for worlds. Then,

feEN. FRANCIS MARION. ii

if

after the fond, lengthened kiss, and tender sigh of
happy lovers parting, he rode off.

Soon as he was out of her sight, she turned to go tti
the house. As she passed along the garden, the sud
den fancy struck her to adorn the summer house witH
evergreens and flowers of the liveliest tints, and
there, amidst a wilderness of sweets, to receive her
returning lover. Animated with this fond sugges
tion of conjugal affection, (woman's true life,) whicH
at every quickened pulse diffused an answering rap-*
hire through the virtuous breast, she commenced hef
pleasing task ; and with her task she mingled the
music of her voice, clear and strong as the morning
lark, and sweet as from a heart full of innocence and
love. The pleasant sounds reached the ear of Ma
rion, as he drew near the garden. Then, entering the
gate without noise, he walked up, unperceived, close
to her as she sat all alone in the arbour, binding hef
fragrant flowers and singing the happy hours away
She was singing her favourite hymn, by Madairl

w That love 1 sing, that wondrous lov&,

w Which wak'd my sleeping clay ;
u That spread the sky in azure bright,

" And pourtt the golden day," &c. &c;

To see youth and beauty, though in a stranger,*
thus pointing to heaven, is delightful to a pious heart,
Then what rapture to an enlightened soul to see a
beloved wife thus communing with God, and becom-
ing every day more and more angelic !

Soon as her song was finished, he called out,'
4 Louisa!"

Startled at the sudden call, she turned around to
the well-known voice, presenting a face on which
love and sweet surprise had spread those rosy
charms, which in a moment banished all his sorrows.
* My dearest Gabriel," she exclaimed, dropping her

£>

.« THE LIFE OF

flowers, and running and throwing herself into his
arms, "here, take back your security! take back
your security ! and also my thanks for being such a
man of honour. But what brought you back, love,
so much earlier than you expected ?"

Here the memory of that fatal letter went like a
dagger to his heart, bleaching his manly cheeks.

He would have evaded the question ; but in vain,
for Louisa, startled at the sudden paleness of his
looks, insisted the more earnestly to know the cause.

He delayed a moment, but conscious that the se
cret must soon come out, he took the letter from his
pocket, and with a reluctant hand put it into hers.

Scarcely had she run through it, which she did
with the most devouring haste, when she let it drop
from her hands, and faintly articulating, '* Ah, cruel
priest !" she fell upon his bosom, which she bathed
with her tears.

After some moments of distress too big for utter
ance, Marion, deeply sighing, at length broke silence.

44 Ah, Louisa ! and must we part so soon !"

At this, starting up with eyes suffused with tears,
but beaming immortal love, she hastily replied —
"Part!"

" Yes f" continued he, " part ! for ever part !"

44 Nof Marion, no ! never ! never !"

44 Ah ! can you, Louisa, leave father and mother^
and follow a poor banished husband like me ?"

« Yes — yes-^-father, mother, and all the world will
I leave to follow thee, Marion !"

44 O blessed priest, I thank you! Good bishop Ro-
chelle, holy father in God, I thank you— your perse
cution has enriched me above princes. It has dis-*
covered to me a mine of love in Louisa's soul, tbat
I never dreamed of before."

w My dearest Gabriel, did you ever doubt my
love V

44 Pardon me, my lo^e, I never doubted y

.GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 13

^h no ! I knew you loved me. The circumstances un
der which you married me gave me delicious proof
of that. To have preferred me to so many wealthier
wooers — to have taken me as a husband to the para
dise of your arms, when so many others would have
sent me as a heretic to the purgatory of the inquisi
tion, was evidence of love never to be forgotten ; but
that in addition to all this you should now be so
ready to leave father and mother, country and kin, to
follow me, a poor wanderer in the earth, without

even a place where to lay my head "

" Yes, yes," replied she, eagerly interrupting him,
•* that's the very reason I would leave all to follow
you. For, oh my love ! how could I enjoy father or
mother, country or kin, and you a wanderer in the
earth, without a place whereon to lay your head ! That
single thought would cover my days with darkness,
and drive me to distraction. But give me your com
pany, my Gabriel, and then welcome that foreign land
with all its shady forests ! Welcome the thatched
cottage and the little garden filled with the fruits of
our own fondly mingled toils ! Me thinks, my love, I
already see that distant sun rising with gladsome
beams on our dew-spangled flowers. I hear the wild
wood-birds pouring their sprightly carols on the
sweet-scented morning. My heart leaps with joy to
their songs. Then, O my husband ! if we must go,
let us go without a sigh. God can order it for oui
good. And, on my account, you shall cast no lin
gering look behind. I am ready to follow you
wherever you go. Your God shall be my God.
Where you live I will live, and where you die, there
will I die, and will be buried by your side. Nothing
my beloved, but death, shall ever part me from you."
" Angelic Louisa !" cried Marion, snatching her
to his bosom in transports — " Wondrous woman !
what do I not owe to God, ever blessed, for such a
comforter! I came just now from Rochelle with the

|4 THE LIFE OF

load of a mountain on my heart. You have taken of
that mountain, and substituted a joy most lightsome
and heavenly. Like a ministering angel, you have
confirmed me in duty ; you have ended my struggles
-—and by so cheerfully offering to forsake all and fol
low me, you have displayed a love, dear Louisa,
which will, I trust, render you, next to my God, the
eternal complacency and delight of my soul."

In the midst of this tender scene, a servant came
running to inform Louisa that her mother, Madame
J}' Aubrey, had just arrived, and was coming to her
in the garden. This startled our lovers into a pain
ful expectation of another trial. For as Louisa was
$n only daughter, and her parents doatingly fond of
l)er, it was not to be imagined that they would give
her up without a hard struggle. Seeing the old lady
poming down the walk towards them, they endea
voured to adjust their looks, and to meet her with the
wonted smile. But in vain. The tumult in their bo
soms was still too visible in their looks to escape her
idiscernment. She eagerly asked the cause. Their
changing countenances served but to increase her
fears and the vehemence of her curiosity. The bi
shop's letter was put into her hands. Its effects ori
the good old lady were truly distressing. Not hav
ing, like her daughter, the vigour of youth, nor the
fervours of love to support her, she was almost over
come.

Soon as her spirits were a little recovered, she in
sisted that her daughter and son-in-law should in
standy step into her coach and go home with her
# Your father, my dear," said she to Louisa, " your
father, Monsieur D'Aubrey, will, I am certain, du
something for us."

But in this she was wofully mistaken, for M on*
gieur D' Aubrey was one of that blind sort who pl^ e
all their religion in forms and notions He could
fin lie and look very fond upon a man, though not

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 15

over moral, provided that man went to his church-
praised his preacher and opinions, and abused every
body else ; but would look very sour on the best man
on earth who differed from him in those things. In
short, he was destitute of love, the sole life of reli
gion. And though on account of his wife's importu
Dities and his daughter's repose, he had consented to
her marriage with Marion, yet he never liked the
young heretic, and therefore he read the order of his
banishment without any burse of grief, and made no
effort to revoke the decrees of the church against
him, but abandoned him to his fate.

Such insensibility to her husband's interest dis
tressed poor Louisa exceedingly. However, it had
this good effect : It contributed greatly to lessen her
regret at parting with her parents.

" O had they but loved me as you do, my Marion/'
said she, u could they have been so indifferent when
my all was at stake ? No, indeed," continued she,
" they could not," and burst into tears.

" Dearest Louisa !" replied he, tenderly embracing
her, a would not I leave father and mother and all
for you ?"

" Well," returned she, with eyes of love, out
shining all diamonds, " and am I not going to leave
all for you ? Yet a few days and I shall have no fa
ther, no mother, no country ; cut off from all the
world but you, Marion ! alas ! what will become of
me if you should prove cruel to me ?"

" Cruel ! cruel to you, Louisa ! O my God, can
that ever be ?"

" Ah Marion ! but some excellent women have left
father and mother, and followed their husbands ; and
yet after all have been cruelly neglected by them !"

a Yes, Louisa; and God forgive them for that hor
rid crime ! But to me such a deed were utterly im
possible. I live for happiness, Louisa, I live for hap
piness, my angel. And I find so much happiness in
B2

Ilk THE LIFE OF

loving, that I would as soon cease to live as cease to
Jove. Some indeed, sordid celebates for example,
§eem to exist without love ; but it is only a seeming
existence, most joyless and imperfect. And they bear
the dulness of apathy the better, because they have
never known the transports of affection. But with
me, my charmer, the case is happily different ; for at
the moment I first saw those angel eyes, they infused
% sweetness into my heart unknown before. And
^hpse delicious sparks, fanned by your loves and
graces, have now risen to such a flame of bliss, that
fnethinks, were it to go out, my life would go o
With it. Then, my first and last, and only sweetheart,
f pray you, do not fear that I shall ever cease to love
j^pu : for indeed that can never be while you con
tinue even half as lovely as you are at present."

" Well then, Marion," replied she, fondly pressing
Jus ruddy cheeks to her heaving bosom, " if it de-
p.ejids on me, on my constant affection and studious
$ess to please, you shall never love me less ; but
more and mare every day of your life."

The next morning, accompanied by Madame
P'Aubrey, Marion and Louisa returned home in or
der to make the best preparations, which the short
ness of the time would allow, to quit their country
for ever.

In choosing his place of exile, it has been said that
Marion's thoughts were at first turned towards tht
West Indies. But it would appear that Heaven had
rl( et^d foi him a different direction. For scarceh
had he reached his home, much agitated about the
means of getting off in time, before a letter was
brought him, from an intimate friend in Rochelle, in
forming him that a large ship, chartered for the Ca-
£ulinas, by several wealthy Huguenot families, was
then lying at anchor under the Isle de Rhee. Grate
fully regarding this as a beckoning from heaven,
sthey at once commenced their work, and prosecuted

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 17

ft with such spirit, that on the evening of the ninth
day they embraced their weeping friends and went
on board the ship.

It is said that many of the most respectable fami
lies of Carolina — the Gourdines, Hugers, Trapiers,
PostelLi, Horrys, &c. came over in the same ship.

The next day, the clouds began to bank the eastern
sky, and the winds to whistle from the hills. Pleased
With the darkly rippling waters, the ready ship got
home hex anchors and loosed her sails. Then wheel
ing befoio the freshening gale, she bid adieu to her
native shores, and on wings of wide-spread canvas,
commenced her forming course for the western world.

But though mutual love and confidence in heaven
were strong in the bosoms of young Marion and his
Louisa, yet could they not suppress the workings of
nature, which would indulge her sorrows when look
ing back on the lessening shores ; they beheld dwin
dled to a point and trembling in the misty sky, that
glorious land, at once their own cradle and the se
pulchre of their fathers.

Some natural tears they shed, but wiped them
soon, for the earth was all before them where to
choose their place of rest; and Providence their
guide.

But Marion and Louisa did not leave their coun
try empty handed. Her Parents, 'tis supposed, gave
Louisa money, but what sum, after this long lapse oi
time, is uncertain. Nor does tradition say for how
much Marion sold his little farm. But i t is well known
that on their arrival in Carolina, they went up into the
country, and bought a plantation on Goose creek, near
Charleston, where their dust now sleeps, after a long
life endeared by mutual love, and surrounded by
every oomfort that industry and prudence can be
stow.

We have said that Marion left his country for the
sake of his religion ,• which appears to have been of

18 THE LIFE OF

that cheerful sort for which a wise man would make
any sacrifice. It was the religion of the gospel, that
blessed philosophy which asks not a face of gloom, but
a heart of joy. And thereunto enjoin a supreme love
of God, and a close walk with him in a pure and be
nevolent life. From this, the genuine spring of all the
sweetest charities and joys of life, Marion derived
that cheerfulness which appears never to have failed
him. Even in his last will, where most men fancy
they ought to be gloomy as the grave whither they
are going, his cheerfulness continued to shine with
undiminished lustre. It was like the setting of a
cloudless sun : which, after pouring its fattening
beams on the fields of a livelong summer's day, goes
down in smiles to rise a brighter beauty on another
day. This will is certainly an amiable curiosity, and
as it may be of service to the reader, by showing him
how free and easy a good life makes a man with
death, I will record it : at least the principal features
of it, as I got them from the family.

After having, in the good old way, bequeathed
" his soul to God who gave it," and " his body to the
earth out of which it was taken," he proceeds in the
manner following :

In the first place, as to debts, thank God, I owe
none. And therefore shall give my executors but
little trouble on that score.

Secondly — As to the poor, I have always treated
them as my brethren. My dear family will, I know,
follow my example.

Thirdly — As to the wealth with which God has
been pleased to bless me and my dear Louisa and
children, lovingly we have laboured together for it — •
lovingly we have enjoyed it — and now, with a glad
and grateful heart do I leave it among them.

He then proceeds to the distribution. Liberally to
his children : but far more so to his wife — and at
the end of each bequest assigns his reasons, viz.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 19

I give my ever beloved Louisa all my ready money

that she may never be alarmed at a sudden call.
i give her all my fat calves and lambs, my pigs and

poultry — that she may always keep a good tabje.
[ give her my new carriage and horses — that she

may visit her friends in comfort.
[ give her my family bible— that she may live above

the ill tempers and sorrows of life.
I give my son Peter a hornbook — for I am afraid he

will always be a dunce.

But Peter was so stung with this little squib, that
ae instantly quit his raccoon hunting by nights, and
betook himself to reading, and soon became a very
.ensible and charming young man.

His eldest son, who, after his father, was named
Gabriel, married a Miss Charlotte Corde, by whom
he had six children — Esther, Gabriel, Isaac, Bpnja-
min, Job, and our hero Francis, the least as well as
the last of the family. As to his sister Esther, J
have never heard what became of her j but for his
four brothers, I am happy to state, that though not
formidable as soldiers, they were very amiable as
citizens. They bought farms— -proved their oxen— r-
mar led wives — multiplied good children, and thas,
very unlike our niggardly bachelors, contributed a
liberal and laudable part to the population, strength,
and glory of their country. God, I pray heartily,
take kind notice of all such ; and grant, that having
thus done his will in this world, they may partake of
his glory in the next.

THE LIFE OF

CHAPTER II.

first appearance — an humble cultivator of
the earth — the great Cherokee war of 1761 comet*
on — volunteers his services to his country — is ap
pointed a first lieutenant in the provincial line —
commands a forlorn hope — narrowly escapes -with
his life — the Anglo-American and the Indian forces
engaged — bloody battle — the Indians defeated —
their country laid waste — peace made — Marion
retires.

AMONG the Mohawks of Sparta, it was a constant
practice on the birth of a male infant, to set a military
granny to examine him, as a butcher would a veal for
the market, and if he were found any ways puny, he
was presently thrown into a horse pond with as little
ceremony as a blind puppy. Had such been the ordet
of the day in 1732, Carolina would never have
boasted a Marion ; for I have it from good authority
that this great soldier, at his birth, was not larger
than a New England lobster, and might easily
enough have been put into a quart pot. This puny
appearance continued with him till the age of t\* elve,
when it was removed by the following extraordinary
providence.

On a trip to the West Indies, which his friends put
him upon for his health's sake, the little schooner in
which he was embarked was suddenly attacked by
some monstrous fish, probably a thorn-back whale,
who gave it such a terrible stroke with his tail as
started a plank. The frightened crew flew to their
pumps, but in vain ; for the briny flood rushed with
such fury into their vessel, that they were glad to quit
her, and tumble as fast as they could into their little
jolly boat. The. event showed that this was as but
a leap " out of the frying pan into the fire /" for their
schooner went down so suddenly as not to give

GLN. FRANCIS MARION. 2*

tnne to take a mouthful of food with them, not even
so much as a brown biscuit or a pint of water. After
three wretched days of feverish hunger and thirst,
they agreed to kill a little cabin dog who had swam
to them from the schooner just before she sunk. On
his raw flesh they feasted without restraint ; but the
blood they preserved with more economy, to coo
their parched lips. In a few days, however, their owi
blood, for lack of cooling food, became so fiery hot
as to scald their brain to frenzy. About the tenth
day the captain and mate leaped overboard, raving
mad ; and the day following the two remaining sea-
then expired in the bottom of the boat, piteously
crying to the last for water / -water ! God of his
mercy forgive me, who have so often drank of that
sweet beverage without grateful acknowledgments !
Scarcely was this melancholy scene concluded be
fore a vessel hove in sight, standing directly for the
boat, as if purposely sent to save the child that was
tossing in it on the gloomy waves.

Little Marion was so weak that he could not stir
hand or foot to climb up the side of the vessel. The
captain, however, soon had him on board ; and by
means of chocolate and turtle broth, sparingly given
him at first, recruited him so fast, that, by the time
he reached his native shores, he was in much better
health than ever. So that on his return to his friends,
it was found, as is often the case, that what was at first
looked on as a great misfortune, had proved a very
noble blessing. His constitution seemed renewed, his
frame commenced a second and rapid growth ; while
his cheeks, quitting their pale suet-coloured cast, as-
eumed a bright and healthy olive. According to the
6est accounts that I have been able to procure, Ma
rion never thought of another trip to sea, but conti
nued in his native parish, in that most independent
and happy of all callings, a cultivator of the earth,
till his twenty-seventh year.

24 THE LIFE OF ;

A report then prevailing that the Cherokee Indians
vitere murdering the frontier settlers, Marion turned
out ^ith his rifle, as a volunteer under governor Lyf-
tleton. The affair, however, proved to be a mere fla'sh
in the pan : for the Cherokees finding that things
*Vere not exactly in the train they wished, sent on a
deputation with their wampum belts and peace-talks
id bufy the hatchet and brighten the old chain of
friendship with the whites ; and the good-natured
governor, thinking them sincere, concluded a treaty
with them. The troops of course were dismissed,
and Marion returned to his plantation.

Scarcely, however, had two years elapsed, before
the perfidious Cherokees broke out again in a fresh
place, killing and driving the defenceless inhabitants
at a most barbarous rate. Marion instantly flew again
to the governor with the tender of his services to fight
for his afflicted countrymen. His excellency was so
pleased with this second instance of Marion's patriot
ism, that he gave him a first lieutenancy in the pro
vincial line under the brave captain William Moul-
trie* The reported force and fury of the Indiana
struck such a terror through the colony, that colonel
Grant (of the British) with twelve hundred regulars.
wis ordered out on a forced march to succour the
bleeding frontiers.

On their way they were joined at Ninety-six, Ma)
14, 11T61, by twelve hundred provincials, all men o?
stirest aim with the deadly rifle.

To draw off the enemy from their murderous ex-
Ciirsions, Col. Grant wisely determined to push the
war at once into their own country ; which was no
sooner discovered by them, than they instantly col
lected their whole force to oppose him. The only
passage into their country was through a dark defile
or gap in the mountain, which it was resolved should
be forced as rapidly as possible. A forlorn of thim
brave fellows were ordered to explore £he dangerous-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 23

pass : and Marion, though but a young lieutenant,
had the honour to be appointed their leader. At the
"iead of his command he advanced with rapidity,,
while the army moved on to support him. But
scarcely had they entered the gloomy defile, when,
from behind the rocks and trees, a sheet of fire sud
denly blazed forth, which killed twenty-one of hi
men ! With the remainder, he faced about and push
e.d back with all speed ; whereupon great numbers
of tall savages, frightfully painted, rushed from their
lurking places, and with hideous yells and uplifted
tomahawks, pursued and gained upon them so fast,
that nothing but the nearness of the advanced guard
saved them from destruction. The Anglo- Ameri
can army then prepared themselves for a serious and
bloody conflict.

An enemy in such force, so well posted, and de*
lending the only pass in their country, would, they
well knew, fight desperately. And well aware, also,
what slaughter would follow upon their own defeat,
hey determined to yield the victory only with their
lives. A long summer's day was before them, for the
sun had just risen above the hills, a bright spectator
uf the coming fight. Then, in high spirits, with jus
tice on their side, and an approving conscience, they
sheel fully left the event to Heaven. The British were
formed in snv-ill corps, the more promptly to supper*
ihe riflemen, who led the van, and now with wide
extended wings began to move. In a little time they
came in sight of the enemy, who appeared flying
backwards and forwards, as if not well satisfied with
their ground. The provincial marksmen then rapidly
advancing, flew each to his tree, and the action began.
From wing to wing, quite across the defile, the woods
aopeared as if all on fire ; while the incessant crash
of small arms tortured the ear like claps of sharpest
thunder. The muskets of the British, like their native
bull-dogs, kept up a dreadful roar, but scarcely did

24 THE LIFE OF

more than bark the trees, or cut off the branches aboV£
the heads of the Indians. While, with far less noise,
the fatal rifles continued to lessen the numbers of the
enemy. The action was kept up with great spirit fot
nearly two hours, during which the superiority of the
American riflemen was very remarkably displayed.
For in that time they lost only fifty-one — whereas of
the Indians there fell one hundred and three, which
so disheartened them that they fled and gave up their
country to the conquerors, who prepared immedi-*
ately to enter it.

Colonel Grant had hoped to surprise their towns,
but concluding that their swift-footed runners had
given the alarm^ he moved on in slow marches
through the wilderness towards the settlements,
thinking that by the destruction of their towns and
corn-fields he should drive them into a disposition
for peace.

Marion often spoke of this part of the war, as of a
transaction which he remembered with sorrow. "We
arrived, said he, in a letter to a friend, "at the Indian
towns in the month of July. As the lands were rich
and the season had been favourable, the corn was
tending under the double weight of lusty roasting
ears and pods of clustering beans. The furrows
seemed to rejoice under their precious loads — ^the
fields stood thick with bread. We encamped the first
night in the woods, near the fields, where the whole
army feasted on the young corn, which, with fat ve
nison, made a most delicious treat.

" The next morning we proceeded by order of colo
nel Grant, to burn down the Indian cabins. Some of
our men seemed to enjoy this cruel work, laughing
very heartily at the curling flames, as they mounted
loud crackling over the tops of the huts. But to me
it appeared a shocking sight. Poor creatures ! thought
I, we surely need not grudge you such miserable
habitations. But when we came, according to orders,

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 25

to cut down the fields of corn, I could scarcely refrain
from tears, For who could see the stalks that stood so
stately with broad green leaves and gaily tasseled
shocks, filled with sweet milky fluid and flour, the
staff of life ; who, I say, without grief, could see
these sacred plants sinking under our swords with
all their precious load, to wither and rot untasted in
their mourning fields ?

" I saw every where around the footsteps of the
little Indian children, where they had lately played
ander the shade of their rustling corn. No doubt they
had often looked up with joy to the swelling shocks,
and gladdened when they thought of their abundant
cakes for the coming winter. #?When we are gone,
thought I, they will return, and peeping through the
weeds with tearful eyes, will mark the ghastly ruin
poured over their homes and happy fields, where thej
had so often played

" ' Who did this ?' they will ask their mothers.

"' The white people did itf the mothers reply
4 the Christians did it /'

" Thus for cursed Mammon's sake, the followers
of Christ have sown the hellish tares of hatred in the
bosoms even of pagan children."

The reader will, however, with pleasure remembe:
that these were the dark deeds chiefly of a kingly
government. A gloomy monarch, three thousand
miles distant, and rolling in all the pcmps and plea-
sines of three millions of dollars per annum, could
hardly be supposed to know what was passing in the
American wilds ; but Washington had known. With
bleeding heart he had often beheld the red and white
men mingling in bloody fight. The horuors of the
cruel strife dwelt upon his troubled thoughts ; and
soon as God gave him power, (AS PRESIDENT OF IN
DEPENDENT AMERICA,) he immediately adopted that
better system which he had learnt from the gospel.
His successors, Adams, Jefferson, and Madison^,

26 THE LIFE OF

have piously pursued his plan. In place of the toma
hawk, the plough-share is sent to the poor Indians —
goods are furnished them at first cost — letters and
morals are taught among their tribes — and the soul
of humanity is rejoiced to see the red and white men
meet together like brothers.

By this god-like policy, the United States have
not only saved an immensity of blood and treasury
but are rapidly adding to the population and strength
of the country.

Now to return to Marion's letter. — u After burn
ing twenty towns, and destroying thousands of corn
fields,^ the army returned to Koewce, where trie
Little Carpenter, a Cherokee chief, met colonel Gram
and concluded a peace." The troops were then d' a-
banded: and Marion returned to his plantation >D
St. John's parish, where, with a few well-fed slav^s^
he continued to till his parental acres, occasional?
amusing himself with his gun and fishing rod, ji
which he was always very fond.

* To this day the Indians cannot bear the name of colonel Grant .
and whenever they see a drove of horses destroying a corn-field, tliey
call out « Grant ! Grant !"

HEN. FRANCIS MARION. 27

CHAPTER III.

War between England and America — Marion ap
pointed a captain in the Second South Carolina
regiment — goes with the author on the recruiting
service — curious anecdote of lieut. Charnock and
captain Johnson — some melancholy and memorable
relations.

MARION continued to tread the peaceful and
pleasant walks of life, as above, till the beginning of
May, 1775, when, by a vessel direct from Boston,
news was brought of the gallant battle of Lexington.
Instantly the whole town and country were in a flame
for war, and the legislature being purposely convened,
hastened to meet the wishes of the people, who were
clamorous for raising two regiments for the service.

On balloting for officers, Marion's ticket came out
for a captaincy in the second regiment, under com
mand of the brave William Moultrie. In a little time
my name was called out as a captain also, in the same
regiment with Marion. This to me, was matter of
great joy, as I had long courted the friendship of
Marion. For though he was neither handsome, nor
witty, nor wealthy, yet he was universally beloved.
The fairness of his character — his fondness for his
relations — his humanity to his slaves — and his
bravery in the Indian war, had made him the darling
of the country. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at^
that I should have taken such a liking to Marion, but
why he should have conceived such a partiality for
me, that's the question. But it is no business of
mine to solve it. However, very certain it is, that
on the first moment of our acquaintance, there was
something in his eyes and looks towards me which
led me to think there must be truth in the old say
ing of " people's falling in love at first sight," And
when it is considered* that strong attachments gene-
C2

£8 THE LIFE OF

rally spring from congenialities, I must confess, that
the warm and constant friendship of Marion has ever
appeared to me exceedingly flattering.

But to return to my narrative. — Our commissions
as captains, were soon made out and signed by the
council of safety, the 21st of June, 1775. As we were
a couple of flaming patriots, we could not bear to be
idle a single moment — marching^ fighting, killing,
and taking prisoners, was all that we could think OT
talk of. But as all this fine sport could not be car
ried on without men, nor men to be had without re
cruiting; recruiting, of course, appeared to be the
first act and pi ologue of our play.

" But what shall we do for money, captain Ma
rion ?" said I.

" Why,'* replied he, " we must get it from the as
sembly."

The assembly was accordingly applied to, but ala;* !
M could not help us to a single dollar !"

I wonder whether posterity will ever muster faith
to believe that the gray heads of South Carolina
without a penny in pocket, ventured to war with
Great Britain, the nation of the longest purse in Eu
rope ? Surely it was of him who pitied young David
with his maiden sling and pebbles against the giant
Goliah.

But though the poverty of the legislature was
enough to have thrown a damp on spirits of ordinary
heat, yet to a flaming zeal like ours, it only served as
water on a fiery furnace, to make it blaze the fiercer.

" Why truly, Horry !" said Marion, "this looks
unpromising, but we must not mind it my hero. I'll
tell you what — if the assembly can't help us, we
must e'en help ourselves ! So come let us try what
we can do on cur own credit."

" With all my heart," I replied.

So away went we to borrow money of our friends
in Charleston j I mean hard money. And hard

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 29

money it was indeed. The gold and silver all ap^
peared as if it had caught the instinct of water-
witches, diving at the first flash of the war, to the
bottom of misers' trunks and strong boxes. For two
whole days, and with every effort we could make,
we collected but the pitiful sum of one hundred dol
lars ! However, fully resolved that nothing should
stop us, we got our regimentals the next morning
from the tailor's, and having crammed our saddle
bags with some clean shirts, a stout luncheon of
bread and cheese, and a bottle of brandy, we mount
ed, and with hearts light as young lovers on a court
ing scheme, we dashed off to recruit our companies.
Our course was towards Georgetown, Black River,
tnd Great Pedee. Fortune seemed to smile on our
enterprise ; for by the time we reached Pedee, we
ad enlisted thirty-seven men, proper tall fellows, to
whom we gave furloughs of two days to settle their
affairs, and meet us at the house of a Mr. Bass, ta
vern-keeper, with whom we lodged. I should have
told the reader, that we had with us, a very spirited
young fellow by the name of Charnock, who was my
lieutenant.

On the second day, a captain Johnson of the militia,
came to Bass's, and took lieutenant Charnock aside,
and after prattling a great deal to him about the
" cursed hardship," as he was pleased to call it, " of
kidnapping poor clodhoppers at this rate," he very
cavalierly offered him a guinea for himself, and a half
joe a-piece for Marion and me to let the recruits go.

Never did a poor silly puppy more completely take
the wrong sow by the ear, than did Mr. captain John-
ion, in thus tampering with lieutenant Charnock. For
Charnock, though remarkably good natured and po
lite among men of honour, could not bear the least
approach of any thing that looked like rascality. Im
mediately, therefore, on hearing this infamous pro
position, he brought Johnson into the dining room

50 THE LIFE OF

where Marion and myself were sitting, and, in his
presence, told us the whole affair.

Oh that my young countrymen could all have been
there, that they might have seen what a pale, trem
bling, pitiful figure a detected rascal makes ! I am
sure they could never have lost that blessed mo
ment's impression in favour of truth and honour.

After much swallowing, Johnson, however, at last,
got the better of his conscience, and came on with a
stout denial of the fact. Whereupon Charnock,
snatching a pah of pistols, ordered him to take one
and fight him on the spot. This being refused, the
furious lieutenant instantly fell upon him with a cane.
Sensible that Johnson had very richly deserved this
ignominious chastisement, we gave him up to Char-
nock, who thrashed him very soundly, until, falling
on his knees, he roared out for quarter. Charnock
then ordered him to be gone, but with the severest
threats in case the recruits were not forthcoming a!
the appointed time.

On the morrow they came, and " let the cat out of
the bag." It appeared then, that that most worthless
fellow, Johnson, had told the poor simple recruits
such dreadful stories about the war, that in their
fright they had offered him all their cows and calves
to get them off!

, Our success in the recruiting business far exceed
ed our expectations, for in a very short time we made
up our full complement of sixty men each. I have
often lamented it as a most serious misfortune that
we did not enlist for the war. I am certain we could
as easily have enlisted for the war as for six months.
We should then have had a host of veterans, masters
of their dreadful art, inured to hardships, scornful
of danger, and completely able to purge our country
of her cruel invaders.

Asa place of greater security from the enemy's
vessels, Dorchester had been pitched on as a deposite

GKN. FRANCIS MARION. 31

for ammunition and military stores, and put under a
guard of militia. But fearing that the tories might
rise upon this slender force and take away our pow
der, an article, at that time, of incalculable value, the
council of safety advised to acid a company of regu--
lars, under some brave and vigilant officer. Marion
.iad the honour to be nominated to the command,
and, on the 19th of November, 1775, marched to the
post, where he continued, undisturbed by the tories,
until Christmas, when he was ordered down to
Charleston to put fort Johnson in a state of defence.

About this time an affair happened In Charleston,
which filled with horror all who witnessed it. Cap
tain Fuller, of the second regiment, a gentleman in
other respects very amiable and exemplary, gave
himself up to hard drinking, and to such an excess as
brought on an inflammation in the brain. In this fran
tic state, with wild rolling eyes, and a face shockingly
Bloated and red, he would behave for all the world
as if he were leading his men into action. " Come
on, my brave fellows," he would cry, " now be cool and
steady — reserve your fire till I say the word — no\v
give it to them, my heroes — hurra, they run, they
run. I thank you, my lads, for your gallantry in
your country's cause."

All this time the sweat would roll in torrents
down his cheeks. Then, quite exhausted, he would
fall on his knees, and with clasped hands, and eyes
lifted to heaven, would pronounce the Lord's Prayer
and the creed in the most moving manner. For
several days the soldiers gathered around him while
thus employed : and often with tears in their eyes,
would observe the total ruin which intemperance had
brought upon this once elegant young gentleman.-
His friends in the country, hearing of his deplora
ble condition, came and took him home, where death
soon put an end to all his miseries.

In a short tim<° after this, our regiment was de»

32 THE LIFE OF

priveJ of another very genteel young officer, i' 4
tenant Perrineau ; who also fell an early sacrifice t >
that most shameful and detestable practice of morn-
nig slings and mid-day draughts of strong grog.

After these two tragedies, the reader will not, I
hope, be displeased with the following far.e, which
was acted in fort Johnson, while Marion was repair
ing it, in January, 1776. The principal actors in it,
were captain Marion, and a young lieutenant, whose
name, delicacy, yet a while, bids me suppress. This
officer, though in his person as handsome as Absalom,
or the blooming Adonis, was as destitute of soul as
a monkey. He appeared to have no idea above that
of dress and diversion: ancik provided he could but
compass his own little pitiful ends, which were al
ways of the sensual sort, he cared not how shame
fully he prevaricated and lied , hut would wink, and
grin, and chuckle, as if he had done some great
thing. He had served under a score of captains,
who had all spoken of him as a slippery, worth
less fellow, whom they knew not what to do with,
But though most heartily despised, the fool had the ^
vanity to think himself amazingly clever ; and ac
tually boasted to me one day, that he would soon let
me see how far he was over my famous captain Ma
rion's speed. Presently he hears thai there is to bt,
next week, a great cock-fight at Dorchester. Instant
ly his childish spirits are all on a fever to see the
cock-fight. " Oh heavens ! he would not miss the
cock-fight for the world !" Hut how to obtain leave of
absence from the fort at this busy time, was the rub ;
however, for such means as he was capable of using,
an invention like his could not lung be at a loss. In
short, he went to Marion, with a doleful face, and in
piteous accents, stated that his father, an excellent
old man as ever son was blessed with, was at his last
gasp, and only wanted to see him before he died.

The generous Marion, not suspecting that so

GKN. FR All CIS MARION. 33

goodly an outside could cover such falsehood, did
not wait to hear the coming petition, but instantly
granted his wish, unheard — " To be sure, lieutenant,
go, by all means, go and wait upon your father; but
return as soon as possible, for you see how much we
have t) do."

The lieutenant affected to be quite overcome with
Marion's generosity, and swore he would be back in
two days, or at farthest in three. As he stepped
along by me, he thrust his tongue into his cheek, and
looked prodigiously arch, as if he had achieved a
grand exploit.

As soon as he was gone, I told Marion I suspect
ed it was all a trick. And so it turned out ; for in
stead of hurrying off, as he had pretended, to see his
dying father, he slipt over to Charleston, where, for
fear of being seen by any of our officers, he skulked
about in the lower lanes and alleys until it was time
to go up to the cock-fight at Dorchester.

At length after a fortnights absence, he came ove'r
to the fort, and entering the marquee, where Marion
was sitting with his officers, he began to bow and
acrape. As if not perceiving him, Marion turned-
his head another way. The lieutenant then, exceed-
ingly embarrassed, came out with his apology, — " I
am sorry, sir, to have outstayed my time so long j
but — but I could not help it — but now I am returned
to do my duty."

Marion turned very quickly upon him, and with
a most mortifying neglect, said, " Aye, lieutenant,
is that you ? well, never mind it — there is no harm
done — I never missed you."

The poor lieutenant was so completely cut up, that
he could not say a word, but sneaked off, hanging
down his head, and looked much more like a detect
ed swindler than a gentleman soldier.

The officers, who were all prodigiously pleased
with his confusion, presently went out and began to

*4 THE LIFE OF

rally him — " Ah, ha, lieutenant, and so the oaptaii
has given you a set down."

"A set down," replied he very angrily, "a sei
down, do you call it ! I had rather a thousand time*
he had knocked me down — an ugly, cross, knock
kneed, hook-nosed son of a b-t-h !"

The officers almost split their sides with laughing.
The story soon took wind ; and the poor lieutenant
did not hear the last of it for many a day. I have
often heard him say that nothing ever so completely
confounded him, as did that dry, cutting speech cj
Marion.

" I was never at a loss before," said he, u to ma
nage all other officers that were ever set over me
As for our colonel, (meaning Moultrie) he is a fine
honest, good-natured old buck. But I can wind hiir.
round my finger like a pack-thread. But as for the
stern, keen-eyed Marion, I dread him."

The truth is, Marion wished his officers to be gen
tlemen. And whenever he saw one of them acting
below that character, he would generously attempt
his reformation. And few men, perhaps, ever kne*
better how to manage truants from duty.

To a coarse, conceited chap, like our lieutenant
Marion gave no quarter, but checked him at once
but still in a way that was quite gentlemanly, and
calculated to overawe. He kept him at arms' length —
took no freedoms with him — nor allowed any — and
when visited on business, he would receive and trea1
him with a formality sufficient to let him see that aL.
was not right.

The effect of such management evinced the cor*
rectness of Marion's judgment. The young lieute
nant became remarkably polite, and also attentive tt
duty. In short, no subaltern behaved better. And
this very happy change in his manners* was soon
succeeded by as pleasing a change in the sentiment*
of all around him. The officers of the regiment greM-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 33

fond of him — Marion spoke of him with pleasure, a3
an excellent soldier — and he of Marion, as his best
friend.

This is sufficient to show the truth of the remark
made by Aristotle — " that there is no art so difficult
and godlike as that of managing men to their owrt
happiness and glory."

CHAPTER IV.

the clouds of danger darker and darker — two addi™
tional regiments raised — Marion promoted to a ma~
jority—fort Moultrie built — A British feet and ar
my invade Carolina — grand preparations to receive
them — admirable patriotism of the Charleston ladies
— heavy attack on fort Moultrie — glorious defence
of the garrison*

THE cloud of war growing still darker and darkef
every day, the council of safety determined to raise
a regiment of artillery, and another of infantry. In
consequence of this, several of the officers of the
former regiments were promoted. Among these was
my friend Marion, who from the rank of captain, was
raised to a majority. His field of duties became, of
course, much more wide and difficult, but he seemed
to come forward to the discharge of them with the
familiarity and alertness of one who, as general
Moultrie used to say, was born a soldier. In fact, he
appeared never so happy, never so completely in his
element, as when he had his officers and men out on
parade at close training. And for cleanliness of per
son, neatness of dress, and gentlemanly manners,
with celerity and exactness in performing their evo
lutions, they soon became the admiration and praise
both of citizens and soldiers. And indeed I am not
D

36 THE LIFE OF

afraid to say that Marion was the architect of the
second regiment, and laid the foundation of that ex
cellent discipline and confidence in themselves, which
gained them such reputation whenever they were
brought to face their enemies.

In March, 1776, I was sent over with my com
pany, to Sullivan's island, to prevent the landing of
the British from the men of war, the Cherokee and
Tamar, then lying in Rebellion road. I had not been
long on that station, before col. Moultrie came over
with his whole regiment to erect a fort on the island.

The truth is, the governor had of late become con
foundedly afraid of a visit from the British. The
great wealth in Charleston must, he thought, by this
time, have set their honest fingers to itching- — and
he also suspected that they could hardly be ignorant
what a number of poor deluded gentlemen, called
tories, we had among us.

The arrival of colonel Moultrie, with .the second
regiment, afforded me infinite satisfaction. It brought
me once more to act in concert with Marion. 'Tis
true, he had got one grade above me in the line of
preferment ; but, thank God, I never minded that. 1
loved Marion, and " love" as every body knows

looks the smiling evidence of his love towards me ,
and I felt the strongest wish to perpetuate his par
tiality. Friendship was gay within my heart, and
thenceforth all nature without put on her lovelies*
aspects. The island of sand no longer seemed a
dreary waste, Brighter rolled the blue waves of
ocean beneath the golden beam ; and sweeter mur
mured the billows on their sandy beach. My heart
rejoiced with the playful fishes, as they leaped high
wantoning in the air, or, with sudden flounce, return
ed again, wild darting through their lucid element.
Our work went on in joy. The palmetto trees were
brought to us by the blacks, in large rzfts, of which

-GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 37

we constructed, for our fort, an immense pen, two
hundred feet long, and sixteen feet wide, filled with
sand to stop the shot. For our platforms, we had
two-inch oak planks, nailed down with iron spikes.
With glad hearts we then got up our carriages and
mounted our guns, of which twelve were 18 pound
ers — twelve 24's, and twelve French 367s, equal to
English 42's.

A general joy was spread over the faces of our regi
ment, as we looked along our battery of thunder crs.

But our glorying, under God, was chiefly in our
two and forty pounders. And indeed their appear
ance was terrible, where they lay with wide Cerbe-
rean mouths, hideously gaping over the roaring
waves, and threatening destruction to the foes of
liberty.

They were soon called to a trial of their metal. —
For on the 31st of May, while we were all busily
driving on with our fort, suddenly a cry was heard,
" a feet! a fleet, ho!" Looking out to sea, we all at
once beheld, as it were, a wilderness of ships, hang
ing, like snow-white clouds from the north-east sky.
It was the sirs Parker and Clinton, hastening on with
nine ships of war and thirty transports, bearing three
thousand land forces, to attack Charleston.

Such an armament was an awful novelty, that pro
duced on us all a momentary flutter ; but, thank God,
no serious fear. On the contrary, it was very vis.U
ble in every glowing cheek and sparkling eye, as we
looked, laughing, on one another, that we considered
the approaching conflict as a grand trial of courage,
which we rather desired than dreaded. And to their
equal praise, our gallant countrymen in Charleston,
fts we learned daily, by the boats, were all in fine
spirits, and constantly making their best preparations
to receive the enemy. And still my pen trembles ip
my hand ; even after this long lapse of time, it .trem
bles with wonder and delight, to tell of that immor-

$& THE LIFE OF

fcal fire, which in those perilous days, glowed in the
bosoms of the Charleston FAIR. Instead of gloomy
sadness and tears, for the dark cloud that threatened
their city, they wore the most enlivening looks— ^
constantly talked the boldest language of patriotism
— animated their husbands, brothers, and lovers to
fight bravely — and, for themselves, they vowed the)
would u never live the slaves of Britain" Some peo
ple in our days, may not believe me, when I add of
these noble ladies, that they actually begged leave of
their commandant, to let them "fight by the sides of
their relatives and friends" This, though a glorious
request, was absolutely refused them. For who
could bear to see the sweet face of beauty rough*,
ened over with the hard frowns of war ; or, the war
riors musket, on those tender bosoms, formed of
heaven only to pillow up the cheeks of happy hus*
bands, and of smiling babes ?

But though the spirits of the ladies were willing,
the^r nerves were weak ; for when the firitish ships
of war hove in sight, opposite to the town, they all
went down to the shore to view them. And then
strong fear, lik" the cold wind of autumn, struck their
tender frames with trembling, and bleached their
rosy cheeks. Some, indeed, of the younger sort, af
fected to laugh arid boast; but the generality re
turned silent and pensive, as from a funeral, hanging
their lovely heads, like rows of sickly jonquils, when
the sun has forsaken the gardens, and faded nature
mourns his departed beams. Sisters were often seen
to turn pale and sigh, when they looked on their
youthful brothers, while tender mothers, looking
down on their infant cherubs at the breast, let drop
their pearly sorrows, and exclaimed, u happy the
rvombs that bear not, ana t lie paps that give no suck."

In consequence of a most extraordinary continuation
of calms, baffling winds, and neap tides, the enemy's
ships never got within pur bar till the 27th of June ;

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 39

and on the following morn, the memorable 28th, they
weighed anchor on the young flood, and before a fine
breeze, with top gallant sails, royals, and sky scrapers
all drawing, came bearing up for the fort like floating
mountains.

The anxious reader must not suppose that we were
standing all this while, with finger in mouth, idly
gaping like children on a raree show. No, by the
Living ! but, fast as they neared us, we still kept our
thunders close bearing upon them, like infernal point
ers at a dead set ; and as soon as they were come
within point blank shot, we clapped our matches and
gave them a tornado of round and double-headed
bullets, which made many a poor Englishman's head
ache. Nor were they long in our debt, but letting
go their anchors and clewing up their sails, which
they did in a trice, they opened all their batteries, and
broke loose upon us with a roar as if heaven and
earth had been corning together.

Such a sudden burst of flame and thunder, could
not but make us feel very queer at first, especially as
we were young hands, and had never been engaged
in such an awful scene before. But a few rounds
presently brought us all to rights again, and then,
with heads bound up, arid stripped to the buff, we
plied our bull-dogs like heroes.

The British outnumbered us in men and guns, at
least three to one, but then our guns, some of them
at least, were much the heaviest, carrying balls < >';
two and forty pounds weight ! and when the mon
sters, crammed to the throat with chained shot and
infernal fire, let out, it was with such hideous peals
as made both earth and ocean tremble. At one time
it appeared as though, by a strange kind of accident,
all their broad-sides had struck us at once, which
made the fort tremble again. But our palmettoes
stood the fire to a miracle, closed up without sign of
splinter, on their shot, which was stopped by the
D2

*G THE LIFE OF

termediatc sand ; while, on the other hand, every
bullet that we fired, went through and through their
ships, smashing alike sailors, timber-heads, and iron
anchors, in their furious course. And thus was the
order of our battle — there, a line of seven tall ships ;
and here, one little, solitary fort— -there, British dis
cipline ; and here, American enthusiasm — there,
brave men fighting for a tyrant ; and here, heroes
contending for liberty. I am old now, and have for
gotten many things, but never shall I forget the
heart-burnings of that day, when I heard the blast of
those rude cannon, that bade me be a slave ; and still
my aged bosom swells with the big joy when I hear,
which I often do in fancy's ear, the answer of our
faithful bull-dogs, as with deafening roar, lurid flame
and smoke, they hurled back their iron curses on the
wicked claim. But alas ! for lack of ammunition, our
opening victory was soon nipped like a luckless
flower, in the bud : for the contest had hardly lasted
an hour, before our powder was so expended that we
were obliged, in a great measure, to silence our guns,
which was matter of infinite mortification to us, both
because of the grief it gave our friends, and the high
triumph it afforded our enemies. "Powder! Powder!
millions for powder I" was our constant cry. Oh !
had we but had plenty of that noisy kill-seed, as the
Scotchmen call it, not one of those tall ships would
ever have revisited Neptune's green dominion. They
must inevitably have struck, or laid their vast hulk*
along-side the fort, as hurdles for the snail-loving
sheep's heads. Indeed, small as our stock of arnmu*
aition was, we made several of their ships look like*
seives, and smell like slaughter pens. The commo
dore's ship, the Bristol, had fifty men killed, and up-
waru5 of one hundred wounded !

The laurels of the second regiment can never fade
- — the destructive effect of their fire gave glorious
proof, thai; they loaded and levelled their pieces lik?

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 41

men who wished every shot to tell. They all fought
like veterans ; but the behaviour of some was gal*
lant beyond compare ; and the humble names of Jas
per and M'Donald shall be remembered, when those
of proud kings shall be forgotten.

A ball from the enemy's ships carried away our
flag-staff. Scarcely had the stars of liberty touched
the sand, before Jasper flew and snatched them up
and kissed them with great enthusiasm. Then
having fixed them to the point of his spontoon, he
leaped up on the breast-work amidst the storm and
fury of the battle, and restored them to their daring
station — waving his hat at the same time and huzza,
ing, "God save liberty and my country for ever!"

As to sergeant M'Donald, while fighting like a
hero, at his gun, a cannon ball came in at the port
hole, and mangled him miserably. As he was borne
off, he lifted his dying eyes, and said to his comrades,
& Huzza, my brave fellorvs, I die, but dorft let the cause
of liberty die with me"

The effect of our last gun, and which happened to
be fired by Marion, is too remarkable to be lost. It
was his lot that day to command the left wing of the
fort, where many of our heaviest cannon were plant
ed. As from lack of powder, we were obliged to
fire very slow, Marion would often level the guns
himself. And now comes my story. — Just after sun
set the enemy's ships ceased firing, and slipping their
cables, began to move off. Pleased with the event,
an officer on the quarter deck of the Bristol man of
war, called out to his comrade, " Well, d — n my eyes.
Frank, the play is over ! so let's go below and hob nob
to a glass of wine, for I am devilish dry .'"

44 With all my heart, Jack;" replied the other; so
down they whipped into the cabin, where the wine
and glasses had been standing all day on the table.
At that moment, one of our two and forty pounders
being just loaded, Marion called to colonel jioujtrie,

42 THE LIFE OF

and asked him if it would not be well enough to givu
them the last blow. " Tes" replied Moultrie, "give
them the parting kick"

Marion clapped the match, and away, in thunder
and lightning went the ball, which, entering the cabin
windows, shattered the two young friends : thence
raging through the bulk-heads and steerage, it shiver
ed three sailors on the main deck, and, after all,
bursting through the forecastle into the sea, sunk
with sullen joy to the bottom.

We got this story from five British seamen, who
ran off with the Bristol's long boat, and came and
joined us that very night.

The next day, that noble whig, Mr. William Logan,
sent us a couple of fat beeves and a hogshead of rum,
•* to refresh us" as he was pleased to say, " after our
hard daifs work" And on the second day after the
action, the governor and council, with numbers of the
great ladies and gentlemen of Charleston, came over
to the fort to visit us. We all puc on our " best bibs
and tuckers" and paraded at the water's edge to re
ceive them, which we did with a spanking feu dejoi^
and were not a little gratified with their attentions
and handsome compliments paid us, for what they
politely termed " our gallant defence of our country"
And indeed to see the looks of our poor soldiers,
when those great ladies, all glittering in silks and
jewels, and powdered and perfumed so nice, would
come up to them, in faces like angels, sparkling and
smiling so sweet, as if they would kiss them ; I say,
to see the looks of our poor fellows, their Gwkw&rd
bows and broad grins, and other droll capers they cut
no human being could have refrained from laughing

Presently that excellent lady, Mrs. Colonel Elliot
(of the artillery,) came forward and presented us with
a most superb pair of colours, embroidered with gold
and silver by her own lily-white hands.

They were delivered, if I mistake not, to the brave

GEN. FRANCIS MARION 43

sergeant Jasper, who smiled when he took them, and
vowed he "would never give them up but with his

life."

Poor fellow ! he too soon made good his promise,
near the fatal walls of Savannah,

But it was not the ladies alone that were attentive
to us, for that great man, governor Rutledge, in pre*
sence of the regiment, took the sword from his side,
and with his own noble hand presented it to sergeant
Jasper. He also offered him a commission on the
spot ; but this, Jasper absolutely refused. " I am
greatly obliged to you, governor," said he, u but I
had rather not have a commission. As I am, I pass
very well with such company as a poor sergeant has
any right to keep. If I were to get a commission, I
should be forced to keep higher company : and then,
as I don't know how to read, I should only be throw*
ing myself in a way to be laughed at !" Parents,
who can waste on grog and tobacco, that precioufc
money you ought to educate your children with*
think of this !

44 THE LIFE OF

CHAPTER V.

Governor Rutledge harangues the troops — shows Bn
tain's injustice to have been the cause of the Amt:n
can war — independence declared — great joy on thai
account.

ON the 20th of September, 1776, all the troops h
Charleston were ordered to rendezvous without the
gates of the city, to hear, as we were told, " Some
great news." Soon as we were paraded, governor
Rutledge ascended a stage, and in the forcible man
ner of a Demosthenes, informed, that Congress had
dissolved all relation with England, by an open De
claration of Independence.

" You are, no doubt, gentlemen," said he, " sur
prised, and perhaps shocked at this intelligence. But
however painful this measure may be to our feelings,
it is absolutely necessary to our safety.

" Under the sacred name of 4 mother country,'
England has long been working our ruin. I need not
tell you that our fathers were Britons, who for liber
ty's sake, came and settled in this country, then a-
howling wilderness. For a long time they ate their
bread, not only embittered with sweat, but often stain
ed with blood — their own and the blood of their chil
dren, fighting the savages for a dwelling place. Al
length they prevailed and found a rest. But still theii
hearts were towards the place of their nativity ; and
often with tears, did they think and talk of the white-
clifted island where their fathers dwelt. Dying, they
bequeathed to us the same tender sentiments, which
we cherished with a pious care. The name of Eng
land was a pleasant sound in our ears — the sight of
their ships was Always wont to fill our hearts with joy
We hasted to greet the beloved strangers ; and hur-
lying them to our habitations, spread for them our

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 45

>rast, and rejoiced as men do in the society of their
dearest friends.

" Oh ! had our mother country but treated u;s with
equal affection — as a tender parent, had she but
smiled on our valour — encouraged our industry—
and thus exalted the horn of our glory, our union
and brotherly love would have been eternal ; and the
impious name of independence had never been heard !
But, alas ! instead of treating us in this endearing
spirit, she cruelly limited our commerce — compelled
as to buy and sell to her alone, and at her own
prices — and not content with the enormous profits of
such a shameful traffic, she has come, at length, to
claim a right to tax us at pleasure.

u But, my countrymen, will you suffer thus rudely
to be wrested from you, that goodly inheritance of
LIBERTY, which was bequeathed to you by your gal
lant fathers ? Will you thus tamely suffer to be frus
trated all the glorious designs of God towards you
and your children ? For look but around on this great
land, which he has given you, and yon bright heavens,
which he has spread over your favoured heads, and
say whether he ever intended those mighty scenes to
be the prison-house of slaves ?— the trembling slaves
of a small island beyond the sea ? — hewers of wood
and drawers of water, planters of rice and pickers oi
cotton, for a foreign tyrant and his minions ? No, my
friends, God never intended you for such dishonour — r
and can you be so wicked as to bring it on your
selves ? I trust you will not. Nay, the voices of
your brave countrymen in Congress, have said you
will not, and anticipating your heroic sentiments, have
already declared you a " FREE AND INDEPENDENT
PEOPLE !"

" And now my gallant friends, are you willing to
confirm their glorious deed ? Are you willing this
day, in the sight of heaven, to swear allegiance to the
sovereignty of your country, and to place her in the

4,6 THE LIFE OP

highest rank of nations, by proclaiming her INDE
PENDENT?"

In a moment the air resounded with " Tes !
independence ! independence for ever ! God save the
independent states of America /'"

The oath of allegiance was then tendered to the
troops. The officers with great alacrity took itjirst:
which highly pleased the common soldiers, who rea
dily followed their patriotic example. Soon as the
solemn rite was performed, the governor ordered a
feu dejole. Instantly at the welcome word, " handle
irms" the eager warriors struck their fire-locks*
loud ringing through all their ranks ; and presenting
their pieces, rent the air with fierce platoons ; while
the deep throated cannon like surly bull-dogs, rolled
their louder thunders along the field ; then madly
bounding back on their rattling wheels, they told tti
fancy's ear> " Freedom's sons are -wey and dr-~n tht
villains that *M,uld malic us slaves /"

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 4t

CHAPTER VI.

Times growing squally — the author sets out a vagrant
hunting — gets into hot water — narrowly escapes
-with his life — catches a host of vagabonds , but
learns from experience, that, though a rascal may do
to stop a bullet, 'tis only the man of honour that can
make a good soldier.

" THE devil," said George Whitefield, " is fond
ofjishing in muddy waters" — hence it is, I suppose,
that that grand demagogue has always been so fond
of war — that sunshine and basking time of rogues,
which calls them out, thick as May-day sun calls out
the rattle-snakes from their stony crannies.

In times of peace, the waters are clear, so that if
the smallest Jack (villain) but makes his appearance,
eagle -zyz& justice, with her iron talons, is down upofi
him in a moment. But let war but stir up the mud
of confusion, and straightway the eyes of justice are
blinded — thieves turn out in shoals : and devils, like
hungry fishing-hawks, are seen by the eye of faith ,
hovering over the wretched fry, screaming for their
prey. ^

This was exactly the case in South Carolina. The
fyar had hardly raged there above a twelvemonth and
a day, before the state of society seemed turned up
side down. The sacred plough was every where
seen rusting in the weedy furrows — Grog shops and
Nanny houses were springing up as thick as hops—
at the house of God you saw nobody — but if there
was a devil's houss (a dram shop) hard by, you
might be sure to see that crowded with poor Laza-
rites, with red noses and black eyes, and the fences
all strung along with starved tackies, in grape-vide
bridles and sheep-skin saddles. In short, the whole
country was fast overrunning with vagabond* , like
E

48 THE LIFE OF

ravening locusts, seeking where they might light,
and whom they should devour.

" Good heavens !" said Marion to me one day, and
with great alarm in his looks, " what's to he done
with these wretches, these vagrants ? I am actually
afraid we shall be ruined by them presently. For
you know, sir, that a vagrant is but the chrysalis or
fly state of the gambler, the horse-thief, the money-
coiner, and indeed of every other worthless creature
that disturbs and endangers society."

u Why colonel," replied I, " there's a conceit in
my head, which, if it could but be brought to bear,
would, I think, soon settle the hash with these ras
cals."

" Aye," replied he, " well, pray give it to us, for I
should be very fond to hear it."

u Why sir," said I, " give me but a lieutenant, ser
geant, and corpora], with a dozen privates, all of my
own choosing, do you see, and if I don't soon give
you a good account of those villains, you may, with
all my heart, give me a good suit of tar and fea
thers."

My demand was instantly complied with. Then
taking with me such men as I knew I could depend
on, among whom was the brave lieutenant Jossilin, I
set out from the Long Bluff, towards Sandhills, The
reader will please to take notice, that in our hurry we
had not forgot to take with us a constable with a pro
per warrant.

We had gone but a few miles, before we fell in
with a squad of as choice game as heart could have
wished, three proper tall young vagabonds / profound
ly engaged at all fours, in a log tippling shop, with
cards as black as their own dirty hands, and a tickler
of brandy before them! and so intent were the
thieves on fleecing each other, that they took no
manner of notice, of us, but continued their scoun
drel work, eagerly stretched over the table, thwack-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION 43

ing down their cards with filthy knuckles, and at
every stroke bawling out, " there's a good trick /"

" Thatf? as good as he"

" And there's the best of the three — huzza, d — n
t\e ! at him again my HEARTIES."

"Lieutenant Jossilin" said I, " grab them fellows."

You never saw poor devils in such a fright. But
soon as they had recovered the use of their tongues,
they swore like troopers that they were the u most
honestest gentlemen in all Carolina"

u Aye ! well, I am very glad to hear that, gentle
men, said I, for I love honest men prodigiously, and
hope the magistrate will confirm the handsome re
port you have made of yourselves."

So off we set all together for the magistrate. About
dinner time I ordered a halt at the house of one
Johnson, a militia captain, who appeared quite over
whelmed with joy to see me.

"Heaven bless us!" said he, " and now who could
have believed all this ? And have I, at last, to my
heart's desire, the great honour of seeing under my
humble roof the noble major Harry ?"

I told him I was much obliged to him, for his po
liteness — but> for the present, was rather too hungry
to relish compliments. " Like sweetmeats, captain,"
said I, " a little of them may do pretty well after u
good dinner."

u Oh, my dear major !" quoth he, " and how sorry
I am now that I have nothing fit for dinner for you,
my noble son of thunder — a saddle of fat venison,
major ; or a brace of young ducks ; or, a green goost
with currant jelly, and a bottle of old Madeira to
wash it down, do you see, major ! something nice for
you, do you see, major !"

"Nice," said I, "captain Johnson: We soldiers
of liberty don't stand upon the nice — the substantial
is all that we care for — a rasher of fat bacon from the

50 THE LIFE OF

coals, with a good stout lump of an ash cake, is nice
enough for us."

44 Oh, my dear sir !" replied he, " now don't, don't,
be angry with me ; for I was only sorry that I have
nothing half so good for you as I could wish, but
such as it is, thank God, we have plenty; and you
shall have a bite in a trice." So off* he went, as he
pretended, to hurry dinner.

Now can any honest man believe that this same
man, captain Johnson, who had been, as Paddy says,
44 sticking- the blarney into me at that rate" could have
been such a scoundrel as to turn about the very next
minute, and try all in his power to trick me out of
my vagrants. It is, however, too true to be doubt
ed ; for having purposely delayed dinner till it was
late, he then insisted that I must not deny him the
u very great honour of my company that night" Soon
as my consent was obtained, he despatched a parcel
of riders, to order in, with their guns, as many of his
gang as he thought would do. In the course of the
night, snug as master Johnson thought himself, I got
a hint of his capers, and told my men to see that
their guns were in prime order.

While breakfast was getting ready, (for Johnson
swore I should not leave him " on an empty stomach"')
lieutenant Jossilin came and.told me he did not in>
derstand the meaning of so many ill-looking fellows
coming about the house with their guns in their
hands.

I replied that we should see presently.

Breakfast then making its appearance, we sat down,
and while we were eating, (our men all on parade at
the door) Johnson's men kept dropping in one after
another, till there were, I dare say, as many as thirty
of them in the room, all armed.

When breakfast was over, I turned to the consta
ble, and desired him to look to his charge, meaning
the three vagrants, for that we would start us soon as

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 51

our men were all refreshed. Upon this captain John
son said he believed he should not let the prisoners go,

" Not let them go, sir," said I, " what do you mean
by that, sir ?"

" I mean, sir," replied he, " that the law is an op
pressive one."

I asked him, still keeping myself perfectly cool, if
he was not an American soldier ?

"Tes, sit" he answered, "/ am an American sol
dier ; and as good a on*, perhaps, as yourself, or any
other man."

" Well, sir, and is this the way you show your sol
diership, by insulting the law ?"

" I am not bound," continued he, " to obey a bad
law."

" But, sir, who gave you a right to judge the law ?"

" I don't mind that," quoth he, " but d — n mey sir,
'f I'll let the prisoners go."

" Very well, captain Johnson," said I, " we shall
soon try that ; and if you and your people here,
choose to go to the devil for resisting the lav/, on
your own heads be the bloody consequences."

With this I gave the floor a thundering stamp, and
in a moment, as by magic, in bursted my brave ser
geant and men, with fixed bayonets, ready for slaugh
ter, while Jossilin and myself, whipping out our
swords, rushed on as to the charge.

A troop of red foxes dashing into a poultry yard,
never produced such squalling and flying as now took
place among these poor guilty wretches — " Lord have
mercy upon us" they cried — down fell their guns —
smack went the doors and windorus — arid out of both,
heels over head they tumbled, as expecting every mo
ment the points of our bayonets* The house was
quickly cleared of every soul except Johnson and his
lieutenant, one Lunda, who both trembled like aspen
leaves, expecting a severe drubbing.

" Captain Johnson," said T " don't tremble : you
E2

*2 THE LIFE OF

have nothing to fear from me. A man who can act
as you have done, is not an object of anger, but con
tempt. Go ! and learn the spirit that becomes a gen
tleman and an American soldier."

I should have observed, that as we advanced to
charge Johnson's poltroons, one of the party, a reso
lute fellow, presented his gun to my breast and drew
the trigger. Happily, in the very instant of its firing,
lieutenant Jossilin knocked it up with his sword; and
the ball grazing my shoulder, bursted through the
side of the house.

As we rode off, some of Johnson's fugitives had the
audacity to bawl out, though from a very prudent dis
tance, threatening us that they would yet rescue the
prisoners before we got to the bluff. But they wisely
took care not to make good their word, for they were
only a pack of poor ignorant tories, who did nothing
on principle, and were therefore ready to quit their
purpose the moment they saw danger in the way.

Our success at vagrant hunting was marvellous. I
hardly think we could, in the same time, have caught
as many raccoons in any swamp on Pedee. On count
ing noses, we found, that in our three weeks' course,
we had seized and sent off to Charleston, upwards
of fifty. With the last haul, I returned myself to the
city, where I received the thanks of general Howe,
for "the handsome addition" as he was pleased to
term it, " -which I had made to the regiment"

But on trial, it was found that such vermin were
not worthy of thanks, nor were any addition to the
regiment, except as disgust to the men and vexation
to the officers. Destitute of honour, they performed
their duty, not like soldiers, but slaves ; and, on every
opportunity, would run off into the woods like wild
beasts.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 53

CHAPTER VII.

The brave sergeant Jasper again on the carpet — in dis
guise visits a British post at Ebenezer — in company
of sergeant Newton, makes a second trip thither —
affecting view of an American lady and her child,
-with other whig prisoners at Ebenezer — desperate
resolve of Jasper and Newton, to rescue them — thei?
bloody conflict and glorious triumph.

IN the spring of 1779, Marion and myself were
sent with our commands, to Purysburgh, to re- en
force general Lincoln, who was there on his way to
attack the British in Savannah, which a few months
before had fallen into their hands. As the count
D'Estang, who was expected to co-operate in this af
fair, had not yet arrived, general Lincoln thought it
advisable to entrench and wait for him.

While we were lying at Purysburgh, a couple of
young men of our regiment achieved an act of gene
rosity and courage, which, in former days, would
have laid the ground-work of a heroic romance. One
of the actors in this extraordinary play was the brave
sergeant Jasper, whose name will for ever be dear to
the friends of American liberty.

Jasper had a brother who had joined the British,
and held the rank of sergeant in their garrison at
Ebenezer. Never man was truer to his country than
Jasper, yet was his heart so warm that he loved his
brother, though a tory, and actually went over to see
him. His brother was exceedingly alarmed at sight
of him, lest he should be seized and hung up at once
as a spy, for his name was well known to many of the
British officers. But Jasper begged him not to give
himself much trouble on that head, for, said he, " I am
no longer an American soldier."

" Well, thank God for that, William," replied his
brother, giving him a hearty shake by the hand —

54 THE LIFE OF

u and now, only say the -word, mij boy, and here h a
commission for you, with regime dials and gold to booti
to fight for his majesty"

Jasper shook his head and observed, that though
there was but little encouragement to fight for his
country, yet he could not find in his heart to fight
against hei. And there the conversation ended.

After staying with his brother some two or three
days, inspecting and hearing all that he could, he took
his leave, and by a round about, returned to camp, and
told general Lincoln all that he had seen.

Having wasted several wTeeks longer of tiresome
idleness, and no news of the French fleet, Jasper took
it into his head to make another trip to Ebenezer.

On this occasion he did not, as before, go alone,
but took with him his particular friend, sergeant
Newton, son of an old Baptist preacher, and a young
fellow, for strength and courage, just about a good
match for Jasper himself.

He was received as usual, with great cordiality by
his brother, to whom he introduced his friend New
ton, and spent several days in the British fort, with
out giving the least alarm. On the morning of the
third day his brother had some bad nervs to tell him.

" Aye! what is it ?" he asked, " what is it ?"

* Why," replied his brother, " here are some ten or
a dozen American prisoners, brought in this morning,
as deserters from Savannah, whither they are to be
sent immediately. And from what I can learn, it
will be apt to go hard with them, for it seems they
have all taken the king's bounty."

" Lefs see Jem" said Jasper, " let's see V;w."

So his brother took him and Newton to see them.
And indeed it was a mournful sight to behold them,
where they sat, poor fellows ! all hand-cuffed, on tht
ground. But all pity of them was forgot, soon as
the eye was turned to a far more doleful sight hard
fyy, which was a young woman, wife of one of the

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 55

prisoners, with her child, a sweet little boy of about
five years old. The name of this lady was Jones.
Her humble garb showed her to be poor, but her deep
distress, and sympathy with her unfortunate hus
band, showed that she was rich in that pure conjugal
love, that is more precious than all gold.

She generally sat on the ground opposite to her
husband, with her little boy leaning on her lap, and
her coal black hair spreading in long neglected tresses
on her neck and bosom. And thus in silence she sat,
a statue of grief, sometimes with her eyes hard fixed
upon the earth, like one lost in thought, sighing and
groaning the while as if her heart would burst — then
starting, as from a reverie, she would dart her eager
eyes, red with weeping, on her husband's face, and
there would gaze, with looks so piercing sad, as
though she saw him struggling in the halter, herself
a widow, and her son an orphan. Straight her frame
would begin to shake with the rising agony, and her
face to change and swell ; then with eyes swimming
in tears, she would look around upon us all, for pity
and for help, with cries sufficient to melt the heart
of a demon. While the child seeing his father's hands
fast bound, and his mother weeping, added to the
distressing scene, by his artless cries and tears.

The brave are always tender-hearted. It was so
with Jasper and Newton, two of the most undaunted
spirits that ever lived. They walked out in the neigh
bouring wood. The tear was in the eye of both.
Jasper first broke silence. u Newton," said he, " my
days have been but few ; but I believe their course is
nearly done."

"Why so, Jasper?"

44 Why, I feel," said he, " that I must rescue these
poor prisoners, or die with them ; otherwise that wo
man and her child will haunt me to my grave."

44 Well, that is exactly what I feel too," replied
Newton — t4 and here is my hand and heart to stand

56 THE LIFE OF

by you, my brave friend, to the last drop. Thank
God, a man can die but once, and there is not so
much in this life that a man need be afraid to leave
it, especially when he is in the way of his duty."

The two friends then embraced with great cor
diality, while each read in the other's countenance,
that immortal fire which beams from the eyes of the
brave, when resolved to die or conquer in some glo
rious cause.

Immediately after breakfast, the prisoners were
sent on for Savannah, under a guard of a sergeant and
corporal with eight men. They had not been gone
long, before Jasper, accompanied by his friend New
ton, took leave of his brother, and set out on some
errand to the upper country. They had scarcely,
however,, got out of sight of Ebenezer, before they
struck into the piny woods, and pushed hard after
the prisoners and their guard, whom they closely
dogged for several miles, anxiously watching an op
portunity to make a blow. But alas ! all hopes of
that sort seemed utterly extravagant ; for what could
give two men a chance to contend against ten, espe
cially when there was found no weapon in the hands
of the two, while the ten, each man was armed with
his loaded musket and bayonet. But unable to give
up their countrymen, our heroes still followed on.

About two miles from Savannah there is a famous
spring, generally called the Spa, well known to tra
vellers, who often turn in hither to quench their thirst,
4 Perhaps," said Jasper, " the guard may stop there."
Then hastening on by a near cut through the woods,
they gained the Spa, as their last hope, and there con
cealed themselves among the "bushes that grew abun
dantly around the spring.

Presently the mournful procession came in sight
headed by the sergeant, who, on coming opposite to
the spring, ordered a halt. Hope sprung afresh in our
heroes' bosoms, strong throbbing too, no doubt, with

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 57

great alarms, for " it was a fearful odds" The cor
poral with his guard of four men, conducted the pri
soners to the spring, while the sergeant with the
other four, having grounded their arms near the road,
brought up the rear. The prisoners, wearied with
their long walk, were permitted to rest themselves on
the earth. Poor Mrs. Jones, as usual, took her seat
opposite to her husband, and her little boy, overcome
with fatigue, fell asleep in her lap. Two of the cor
poral's men were ordered to keep guard, and the other
two to give the prisoners drink out of their canteens
These last approached the spring where our heroes lay
concealed, and resting their muskets against a pine
tree, dipped up water : and having drank themselves,
turned away, with replenished canteens, to give the
prisoners also. " Now / Newton^ is our time /" said
Jasper. Then bursting, like two lions, from their
concealment, they snatched up the two muskets that
Were rested against the pine, and in an instant shot
down the two soldiers that kept guard. And now the
question was, who should first get the two loaded
muskets that had just fallen from the hands of the
slain.. For by this time the sergeant and corporal, a
couple of brave Englishmen, recovering from their
momentary panic, had sprung and seized upon the
muskets ; but before they could use them, the strong
swift-banded Americans, with clubbed guns, levelled
each at the head of his brave antagonist, the final blow.
The tender bones of the skull gave way beneath the
furious strokes, and with wide scattered blood and
brains down they sunk, pale and quivering to the earth,
without a groan. Then snatching up the guns which
had thus, a second time, fallen from the hands of the
slain, they flew between the surviving enemy, and or
dered them to surrender, which they instantly did.

Having called the prisoners to them, they quickly
with the point of their bayonets, broke off their hand
cuffs, and gave each of them a musket.

*g THE LIFE OF

At the commencement of the fray, poor Mrs. j

half frightened to death, had fallen to the ground in a
swoon, with her little son piteously screaming over
her. But when she came to herself, and saw her hus
band and friends around her, all freed from their fet
ters and well armed, she looked and behaved like one
frantic with joy. She sprung to her husband's bosom
and with her arms around his neck, subbed out, "Oh
bless God! bless God ! my husband is safe; my husbana
is not hung yet i" then snatching up her child, and
straining him to her soul, as if she would have pressed
him to death, she cried out — u 0 praise! praise! praise
God for ever ! my son has a father yet .'" Then wildlV
darting round her eyes in quest of her deliverers, she
exclaimed, " Where ! where a re those blessed angefcf
tat God sent to save my husband ?"

Directing her eyes to Jasper and Newton, \vh
they stood like two youthful Sampsons, in the full
flowing of their locks, she ran and fell on her knees
before them, and seizing their hands, kissed and
pressed them to her bosom, crying out vehemently,
" Dear angels ! dear angels ? God bless you ! God
Almighty bless you for ever !"

Then instantly, for fear of being overtaken by the
enemy, our heroes snatched the arms and regimentals
of the slain, and with their friends and captive foes,
recrossed the Savannah, and in safety rejoined out
army at Purysburgh, to the inexpressible astonish*
inent and joy of us all.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION 59

CHAPTER VIII

Tfie count D'Estang, -with the French feet, arrives to
attack Savannah — our army marches and joins him
— -fatal ejfects of D*Es tangos politeness — biographi
cal dash of young colonel Laurens — curious dialogue
betwixt him and the French general — unsuccessful
attack on Savannah — the brave Jasper mortally
wounded — is visited by the author in his last mo
ments — interesting conversation — dies like a Chris
tian soldier.

COULD the wishes of our army have availed,
those gallant soldiers, (Jasper and Newton) would
long have lived to enjoy their past, and to win fresh
laurels. But alas ! the former of them, the heroic
Jasper, was soon led, like a ycung lion, to an evil net.
The mournful story of his death, with heavy heart
I now relate.

Scarcely had he returned from Georgia, laden, as
aforesaid, with glory, when an express came inta
camp, and informed that the count D'Estang was
arrived off Tybee. Instantly we struck our tents and
inarched for the siege of Savannah, On arriving near
that fatal place, we found that the French troops, with
their cannon and mortars, had just come up. Oh !
had we but advanced at once to the attach, as became
skilf il soldiers, we should have carried every thing
before us. The frighted garrison would have hauled
down their colours without firing a shot. This I am
warranted to say by the declaration of numbers of
their officers, who afterwards felf into our hands.
But in place of an immediate coup de main, the
courtly D'Estang sent a flag, very politely inviting
the town to do him the extreme honour of receiving
their surrender.

The British commander was not much behuid-
F

60 THE LIFE OF

hand with the count in the article of politeness, tot
he also returned a flag with his compliments, and
requested to be permitted four and twenty hours to
think of the matter.

If the asking such a favour was extraordinary, what
must the granting of it have been ? But the accom
plished D'Estang was fully equal ta such douceurs,
for he actually allowed the enemy four and tiventtj
hours to think of surrendering !

But instead of thinking, like simpletons, they fell
io entrenching, Yikz brave soldiers. And being joined
that very day by colonel Maitland from Beaufort,
with a regiment of Highlanders, and assisted by
swarms of negroes, decoyed from their masters Un
der promise of freedom, they pushed on their works
with great rapidity. According to the report of our
troops who were encamped nearest to them, nothing
was heard all that nigh*:, but the huzzas of the sol
diers, the lashes of cow-hides, and the cries of ne
groes.

I never beheld Marion in so great a passion. I waft
actually afraid he would have broke out on general
Lincoln. " My God /" he exclaimed, " who ever heard
of any thing like this before !—Jirst allow an enemy
to entrench, and then fight him ! / See the destruction
brought upon the British at Bunkers Hill ! and yet out
troops there were only militia ! raw, half-armed clod"
hoppers I and not a mortar, nor carronade, nor even G
swivel — -but only their ducking guns !

" What then are we to expect from regulars' — com-
pletely armed with a choice train of artillery, and
covered by a breast-work ! For my own part, when
I look upon my brave fellows around me, it wrings
me to the heart, to think how near most of them are
to their bloody graves."

In fact, Marion was so outrageous, as indeed were
all of us, that we at length begged colonel Lauren*
to speak to the count D'Estang.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 61

And here I must beg the reader's pardon a mo*
ment, while I inform him that this colonel Laurens
(son of President Laurens) was a very extraordinary
young Carolinian

On a trip to London, he fell in love with, and mar
ried a celebrated belle of that city. It would seem
that he was very much taken with his English rela
tions, and they v/ith him, for after his marriage, they
would not suffer him to revisit his parents, who
doated on him, being their only son, but detained
him with them in London, as gay as a young man
well could be, in the gayest city in the world, moving
every day in the highest circles of society, and every
night encircled in the fond arms of a beauteous
wife.

But soon as the war against America broke out,
his gaiety all forsook him. The idea of a ruffian sol
diery overrunning his native land, preyed incessantly
on his spirits, and threw him into those brown stu
dies which cost his lady full many a tear. Unable
to bear his disquietude, he fled at length from his
wife and infant family, to fight for his country. He
presented himself before the great Washington, who
was so struck with the fire that beamed from his
eyes, that he made him handsome offers of rank in
the army. . But his favourite service was to lead
forlorn hopes, and the daring bands that are destined
to carry the enemy's works by storm. Washington
often gave him letters to this effecjt to his generals.
And this was his object at Savannah, where a regi
ment of choice infantry was immediately put under
his command. But instead of being permitted his
favourite pleasure of seeing his ardent wurriois
mounting the enemy's works, and rushing down
streams of fire, followed by the bayonet, he was
doomed to tret and pine in the humble office of
interpreter between count D'Estang and gener?1
Lincoln,

63 THE LIFE OF

u But, Monsieur le count," said Laurens to D'Ea
tang, u the American officers say they are afraid you
have given the English too long time to think."

Ajt this, as Laurens told us afterwards, the count
put on a most comic stare, and breaking into a hearty
laugh, replied, " De Engleesh tink ! ha, ha, ha ! By
gar dat one ver good parole ! De Engleesh tink, heh,
M'^isieur le colonel ! By gar, de Engleesh never tink
but for detr be/lie. Give de Jack Engleeshman plenty
beef — plenty pudding — plenty porter, by gar he nevei
tink any more, he lay down, he go a sleep like vun
hog."

"But, Monsieur le count," continued Laurens,
* the English are doing worse for us than thinking,
They are working away like horses, and will soon
get their defences too high for us to scale/'

" Eh, heh, Monsieur le colonel ! you tink-a so t
Well den, by gar you no need for tink-a so — by gar
my French-a-mans run over de fence just like vun
t/ef horse run over de cornfield fence — mind now I
tell-a you dat, Monsieur le colonel."

" Well, but Monsieur le count, the British some
times fight like the d— 1."

" Sacre Dieu !" replied the nettled count, starting
and gaping as though he would have swallowed a
young alligator — " de Briteesh fight like de diable !
Jaun foutre de Briteesh ! when they been known for
fight like de diable? Ess, ess, dat true enough; dey
fight de Americans like de diable — but by gar dey
no fight de French-a-mans so — no no, by gar dey no
make one moutful for my French-a-mans — Morbleu !
my French-a-mans eat dem up like vun leetle gre-
nouille/1

" Green Owl!" exclaimed one of general Lincoln's
aids — " Oh my God ! who ever heard of a green owl
before 2"

Here Laurens, smiling at the officer's mistake, re-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 63

plied, " not green -owl, sir, but grenouille ; grenouille,
sir, is the French for frog."

44 Aye, sure enough, sure enough,/r0§%" continued
the count, * frog ; grenouille is frog. By gar, Mon
sieur le colonel, you be vun dam good interpret, I
set dat well enough. Well den, now, Monsieur le
colonel, you hea.-a me speak—my French-a-mans
eat dem Jack Engleesh all same like vun leetle frog."

4 Oh to be sure ! — no doubt of all that, Monsieur
Se count — but, before we eat them up, they may kil!
a great many of our soldiers."

"Dey kill-a de soldier!" replied the passionate
count — " well what den if dey do kill-a de soldier !
Jaun foutre de soldier ! what dey good for but for be
kill ? dat deir trade. You give-a vun poor dog sol
dier, two, three, four penny a day, he go fight — he
get kill. Well den, what dat ? By gar he only get
what he hire for."

"But pardon me, Monsieur le count, we can't
spare them."

44 Vat ! no spare de soldier ! de grand Monarque
no spare de soldier ? O mon Dieu ! Vy, Monsieur le
colonel — for why you talk-a so ? Well den, hear-a
me speak now, Monsieur le colonel — you see de star
in de sky ; de leaf on de tree ; de sand on de shore
—you no see all dat, heh ? Well den, by gar, Mori
sieur le colonel, de grand Monarque got soldier more
an-a all dat*— ess, sacra Dieu ! more an-a all dat, by
gar."

44 Well but, Monsieur le count, is it not cruel to
kill the poor fellows notwithstanding ?"

44 Pooh /" replied the count, throwing back his
head, and puffing out his cheeks as when a segar
sucker explodes a cataract of smoke from the crater
of his throat ; 4C cruel ! vat cruel for kill-a de sol
dier ! by gar, Monsieur le colonel, you make-a de
king of France laugh he hear-a you talk after dax
fashong. Let-a me tell you, Monsieur le colonel, de
F2

64 1HE LIFE OF

king of France no like general Washington — by gar,
general Washington talk wi' de soldier — he shake
hand wi' de soldier — he give de soldier dram — By
gar, de grand Monarque no do so — no, sacra Dieu !
he no look at de soldier. When de king of France
ride out in de coach rcyale wid de supeerb horses,
and harness shining so bright all vim like gold, if he
run over one soldier, you tink he going stop for dat ?
No, sacra foutre ! he ride on so, all one like if nothing
at all been happen. Jaun foutre de soldier ! let him
prenez garde for himself ; by gar de grand Monarque
no mind dat. De grand Monarque only tink of de
soldier commes des chiens^ like de poor dam dog for
fight for him."

Thus ended the dialogue between colonel Laurens
and the count D'Estang.

The next day, the memorable twenty-four hours
being expired, a flag was sent into town to know the
determination of the British officer, who very polite
ly replied, that having consulted his pillow, he had
made up his mind to defend the place. A regular
siege was then commenced, and continued for three
weeks : at the end of which an attack was made, and
with the success which Marion had all along pre
dicted. After a full hour's exposure to the destruc
tive rage of grape shot and musketry, we were
obliged to make a precipitate retreat ; leaving the
ground covered with the mingled carcasses of 400
Americans and 800 Frenchmen. Marion's corps
fighting with their usual confidence, suffered great
loss ; himself did not receive a scratch. Colonel
Laurens raged like a wounded lion. Soon as the
retreat was ordered he paused, and looking round on
his fallen men, cried out, " Poor fellows, I envy you !"
then hurling his sword in wrath against the ground,
he retired. Presently, after we had reached our en
campment, he came to my marquee, and like one
greatly disordered, said, " Horry, my life is a bur-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 65

den to me ; I would to God I was lying on yonder
field at rest with my poor men !"

u No ! no ! none of that, colonel," said I, " none of
that; I trust we shall live to pay them yet for all
this."

And so it turned out. And though for humanity's
sake, I ought not to boast of it, yet we did live to pay
them for it, and often too ; and in the same bloody
coin which they gave us that day. And although in
that fiery season of my days, and when my dear
country was in danger, it was but natural for me to
rejoice in the downfall of my enemies, yet I was often
witness to scenes, which to this day 1 can never think
of but with sorrow — as when, for example, after-
dashing upon an enemy by surprise, and cutting one
half of them to pieces and chasing the rest, we re
turned to collect the horses and arms of the slain
Who, I say, without grief could behold those sad
sights which then offered themselves, of human be
ings lying mangled over the crimson ground — some
stone dead, some still alive and struggling, with
brains oozing from their cloven skulls — and others
sitting up, or leaning on their elbowe, but pale with
loss of blood, running in streams from their mortal
wounds , and they themselves looking down, the
while, sadly thinking of home and of distant wives
and children, whom they shall never see again.

Such thoughts, if often cherished, would much
abate the rancour of malice in the hearts of those
whose sad destiny it is to kill one another ; especially
if it were known how short sometimes are the tri
umphs of the victor. It was remarkably so in the pre
sent case : for colonel Maitland, of the Highlanders,
who had contributed a large part to this very unex
pected victory, was so elated by it, that he took to
nard drinking, and killed himself in a single week,
and the sickly season coming on, the greater part

66 THE LIFE OF

of the garrison perished of the yellow or bilious
fever ! !

Thus friends and foes the same sad fortune shar'd,
And siokness swallowed whom the sword had spard.

Many gallant men were the victims of count D'Es-
tang's folly in this affair; among the number was that
impetuous Polander, the count Polaski. I V'

But none fell more universally lamented, than the
heroic Jasper. Eveiy reader must wish to hear the
last of this brave and generous soldier. And they
shall have it faithfully, for I happened to be close by
him when he received his death's wound ; and I was
with him when he breathed his last.

Early in the action, the elegant colours presented
by Mrs. Elliot, had been planted on the enemy's
works ; and the fury of the battle raged near the spot
where thev waved. During the whole of the bloody
fray, Jasper had remained unhurt. But on hearing
the retreat sounded, he rushed up to bear off his
colours, and in that desperate act, was mortally
wounded. As he passed by me, with the colours in
his hands, I observed he had a bad limp in his walk.

" You are not much hurt, I hope, Jasper," said I.

" Yes, major," he replied, " I believe I have got my
furlough."

" Pshaw," quoth I, ri furlough indeed, for what ??l

tf Why to go home," he answered, " to go to Hea
ven, I hope."

" Pooh !" said I, and having, as the reader must
suppose, a good deal to attend to, I turned off and
left him. However, his words made such an impres
sion on rne, that soon as duty permitted, I went to
see him, and found too true what he had predicted ;
the ball had opened a blood vessel in the lungs which
po art could stop, and he was bleeding to slow but
certain death.

As I entered the tent, he lifted his eyes to me? b\\\

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 67

their fire was almost quenched ; and stretching his
feeble hand, he said, with perfect tranquillity, " Well,
major, I told you I had got my furlough."

u I hope not," I replied.

" O yes !" said he, " I am going — and very fast
too ; but, thank God, I am not afraid to go."

I told him I knew he was too brave to fear death,
and too honest to be alarmed about its consequences.

u Why, as to that matter, sir," said he, " I won't
brag: but I have my hopes, notwithstanding I may
be wrong, for I know I am but a poor ignorant body,
but somehow or other, I have always built my hopes
of what God may do for me hereafter, on what he
has done for me here !"

I told him I thought he was very correct in that.

" Do you, indeed ?" said he. " Well, I am mighty
glad of that — and now major, here's the way I always
comfort myself: Fifty years ago, (I say to myself,)
I was nothing, and had no thought that there was any
such grand and beautiful world as this. But still
there was such a world notwithstanding; and here
God has brought me into it. Now, can't he, in fifty
years more, or indeed in fifty minutes more, bring
me into another world, as much above this as this is
above that state of nothing, wherein I was fifty years
ago?"

I told him that this was, to my mind, a very happy
way of reasoning; and such, no doubt, as suited the
greatness and goodness of God.

"I think so, major," said he "and I trust I shall
find it so ; for though I've been a man of blood, yet,
thank God, I've always lived with an eye to that
great hope. My mother, major, was a good woman ;
when I was but a child, and sat on her lap, she used
to talk to me of God, and tell how it was he who built
this great world, with all its riches and good things :
and not for himself, but for me ! and also, that if I
would but do his will in that only acceptable way, a

£8 THE LIFE OF

good Itfe^ he would do still greater and bejtte) ihing*
for me hereafter.

•l Well, major, from the mouth of a dear mother^
like her, these things went so deep into my heart,
that they could never he taken away from me. 1
have hardly ever gone to bed, or got up again, with
out saying my prayers. I have honoured my father
and mother ; and, thank God, been strictly honest.
And since you have known me, major, I believe you
can bear witness, that though a strong man, I nevej
was quarrelsome"

I told him, nothing afforded me more satisfaction,
than to remember that, since he was now going to
die, he had always led so good a life.

He answered, with tears in his eyes, that he had a
good hope he was going where he should not do what
he had been obliged to do in this world. " IVe killed
men in my time, major, but not in malice, but in whit
I thought a just war in defence of my countiy. And
as I bore no malice against those I killed, neither do
I bear any against those who have killed me. And I
heartily trust in God for Christ's sake, that we shall
yet, one day, meet together, where we sfyall forgive
and love one another like brothers. J o\yn, indeed,
major, that had it so pleased God, I should have been
glad to stay a little longer with you to fight for my
country. But however, I humbly hope that my death
is of God ; which makes it welcome to me, and so J
bow me to his blessed will. And now, my good friend,
as I feel I have but a little time to live, I beg you
will do a few things for me when I am dead and
gone."

I could not speak: but gathering my answer freni
my tears, and the close press I gave his hand, he thus
went on, but it was in a low voice and laborious.

" You see that sword ? — It is the one which go
vernor Rutledge presented to me for my services at
Fort Moultrie — give that sword to my father, an<J

GKN. FRANCIS MARION. 69*

(ell him I never dishonoured it. If he should weep
for me, tell him his son died in hope of a better life;
If you should see that great gentlewoman, Mrs.
Elliot, tell her I lost my life in saving the colours she
gave to our regiment. Arid if ever you should come
across poor Jones and his wife, and little boy, tell
them Jasper is gone ; but that the remembrance of
the hard battle wht.cn he once fought for their sakes
brought a secret joy to his heart just as it was abou
to stop its motion for eveiV*

He spoke these last words in a livelier tone than
usual, but it was like the last kindling of the taper in
its oil-less socket — for instantly the paleness of death
overspread his face, and after a feeble effort to vomit,
with convulsions, the natural effect of great loss of
blood, he sunk back and expired.

From this victim of D'Estang1s madness, I went
With a heavy heart on parade, to take a review of the
sad remains of the battle. The call of the roll com
pleted the depression of my spirits. To every fourth
or fifth name the re was' no answer— the gloomy si
lence which ensued, told us where they were. About
twelve o'clock we sent in a flag to the garrison for
permission to bury our dead. Curiosity led me to
accompany the party destined to this mournful duty.
I had prepared myself for a sorrowful sight ; but
ah ! what words can express what I then saw and
suffered f

A scattered few lay here and there on th«e utmost
verge oi the field, killed by cannon shot, and so man
gled, that in some instances, it was hard to tell who
they were. As we advanced, they lay thicker and
thicker. Some, net quite dead, were constantly cry
ing, " Water ! water !— Oh • for God's sake, a little
water j"^- Others lay quite dead, but still their life
less visages retained the dark frowns of war. There,
on the side of the enemy's breast-work, lay the brave
trsign Boushe, covering, vvth his dead body, the

ro THE LIFE OP

very spot where he had fixed the American standard.
His face was pale and cold as the earth he pressed,
but still it spoke the fierce determined air of one
•whose last sentiment towards those degenerate Bri
tons was, " There, d — n you ! look at the stripes of
liberty."

Close by ensign Boushe, lay that elegant young
man, Alexander Hume, Esq. with his sword still
grasped in his stiffened fingers. My heart bled within
me, when I looked on young Hume, where he lay in
all the pale beauties of death. He was to have been
married the week following, to a charming woman ;
but such was his zeal to serve his country, that he
came a volunteer to our camp, and met his death the
next morning after he joined us. Gifted with a pretty
taste for painting, he had tried his skill, and very
successfully too, in sketching the likeness of his love
ly mistress. For on' opening his bosom, was found,
suspended by a blue riband, (the happy lover's co
lour) a fine likeness of the beautiful Miss : the

back of the portrait was stained with his blood ; but
unconscious of her lover's fate, she still wore the en
chanting smile with which yielding beauty views
the you*h she loves.

We then proceeded to bury our dead ; which was
done by digging large pits, sufficient to contain about
a hundred corpses. Then taking off their clothes,
with heavy hearts, we threw them into the pits, with
very little regard to order, and covered them over
with earth.

" Poor brothers, farewell ! the storm of your last
battle has long ago ceased on the field, and no trace
now remains on earth that you ever lived. The
worms have devoured your flesh ; and the mounds
raised over your dust, are sunk back to the common
level with the plain. But ah ! could your mournful
story be read, the youth of America would listen to
the last words of Washington, and l study the art of

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. fl

war,' that their countrymen might no more be rnur*
dered by military quacks.

As a hint to American office r*, I think it my duty
to state the following fact : — ^Our fatal attack on Sa-»
vannah was made very early in the morning. A few
hours previous thereto, a council of war was held*
and while it Was deliberating, a deserter and spy had
the address to bear a musket, as sentinel at the doo*
<tf the marquee ! ! On hearing where the attack was
to be made, he ran off in the dark, and gave such in
telligence to the enemy, as enabled them very com
pletely to defeat us. The fellow was afterwards
taken at the battle of Hobkirk Hill, near Camden^
and hung.

Scarcely had we finished burying the dead, before
the count D'Estang hurried on board his ships with
his troops and artillery, while we, passing on in si-*
lence by the way of Zubley's ferry, returned to Caro
lina, and pitched our tents at Sheldon, the country
seat of general Bull.

The theatre of war being, from this period, anrl
for some time at least, removed to the northern
states^ the governor and council were pleased to re
duce the regiments, and dismiss the supernumerary
officers. To some of my brethren in arms, this was
matter of serious alarm. But for myself, possessing^
thank God, a liberal fortune in the country, and feel
ing no attraction to the camp, except when drawn
thither by public danger, I was quite happy to hear
of this new arrangement, and waited on his excel
lency to return iriy commission.

Perhaps srme may say it was pride in me, and
that I did not like the idea of being unfrocked. Why,
as to that matter, it is not for me to boast cf my
standing att>ong my superiors in those days. But
this I TYiuFt needs say, that it is joy enough, and
glory enough too, for me to know, that I was always
the favourite of the great Marion ; and that he sel-
G

/HE LIFE OF

lorn ever asked the lightning of any other sword
than mine, to lead his squadron to the charge. How*
ever, the moment I heard, as above, that it was in
agitation to reduce the regiments, I waited on the
governor, and begged that, as there was nothing
doing, he would allow me to return to my planta
tion. To my plantation I did return, and there con
tinued till spring, 1780, when Charleston was taken
by the British ; at which time, and for some weeks
before, I was grievously afflicted with the rheuma
tism. Thus by a providence, which, I confess, I did
not at that time altogether liker I was kindly saved
from being kidnapped by the enemy, and also intro
duced into a field of some little service, I hope, to my
country, and of no great dishonour to myself. How*
ever, be this as it may, the reader shall soon see, and
then let him judge for himself.

CHAPTER I3u

Providential escape of Marion out of Charlesto^—th*
British fleet and army invest and take that place —
Tarleton and the British officers begin to let out —
young Scotch Macdonald comes upon the turf— extra
ordinary anecdote of htm — plays a very curious trick
on a rich old tori/.

HOW happy it is for man, that the author of hw
being loves him so much better than he loves him
Self; and has established so close a connexion between
tiis duty and his advantage. This delightful truth
was remarkably exemplified in an event that befel
Marion about this time, March, 1780. Dining with
a squad of choice whigs, in Charleston, in the house
of Mr. Alexande V'Queeiij FVadd stret \ he was so

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 7J

frequently pressed to bumpers of old wine, that he
found himself in a fair way to get drunk. 'Twas in
vain he attempted to beat a retreat. The company
swore, that that -would never do for general Marion,
Finding, at last, that there was no other way of £*•
caping a debauch, but by leaping out of one of the
windows of the dining-room, which was on the se
cond story, he bravely undertook it. It cost him,
however, a broken ankle. When the story got about
in Charleston, most people said he was a great fool
for his pains ; but the event soon proved that Ma
rion was in the right, and that there is no policy like
sticking to a man's duty. For, behold ! presently
Charleston was invested by a large British army, and
the American general (Lincoln) finding Marion was
utterly unfit for duty, advised him to push off in a
litter to his seat in St. John's parish. Thus providen
tially was Marion preserved to his country when
Charleston fell, as it soon did, with all our troops.

The spirits of the British were so raised by the
capture of our metropolis with all the southern army,
that they presently began to scour the neighbouring
country. And never victors, perhaps, had a country
more completely in their power. Their troops were
of the choicest kind ; excellently equipped, and com
manded by active, ambitious young fellows, who
looked on themselves as on the high road to fortune
among the conquered rebels. They all carried with
them pocket maps of South Carolina, on which they
were constantly poring like young spendthrifts on
their fathers' last testaments. They would also ask a
world of questions, such as, " where lay the richest
lands ? — and the finest situations ?• — and who were
the warmest old fellows, and had the finest girls ?"
and when answered to their humour, they would
break out into hearty laughs ; and flourish their
swords, and rvhocp and hole it away like young fox-
hunters, just striking on a fresh trail.

74 THE LIFE OF

Some of them had Dr. Madan's famous book call
ed " Thylipthora, or a Defence of Polygamy," with
which they were prodigiously taken, and talked very
freely of reducing the system to practice. Cornwal-
lis, it seems, was to be a bashaw of three tails — Raw-
don and Tarleton, of two each — and as a natural ap
pendage of such high rank, they were to have their
seraglios and harams filled with the greatest beauties
o^ the country.

u Huzza^ my brave fellows !"•— -they would say to
each other; " one more campaign and the hash will be
settled with the d — d rebels, and then stand by the
girls !— stand by the Miss Pinckneys ! and Elliots !
and Rutledges ! and all your bright-eyed, soft bosom
ed, lovely dames, look sharp ! Egad ! your charms
shall reward our valour ! like the grand Turk, we'll
have regiments of our own raising ! Charleston shall
be our Constantinople ! and our Circassia, this sweet
Carolina famed for beauties ! Prepare the baths, the
perfumes, and spices ! bring forth the violins and the
rose buds ! and tap the old Madeira, that our soula
may all be joy !"

'Twas in this way they would rant ; and then,
brightened up to the pitch, they would look and grin
on each other as sweetly as young foxes, who, prowl
ing round a farm yard, had suddenly heard the cack
ling of the rooster pullets. The reader shall presenv-
ly see the violent and bloody course of these ruffians,
who did such dishonour to the glorious island they
came from. But before I begin my tragedy, I beg
leave, by way of prologue, to entertain-him a momen*
with a very curious farce that was acted on a wealthy
old tory , near Monk's Corner, while colonel Tarleton
with the British advance, lay there.

The hero of the play was a remarkably stout, red-
haired young Scotsman, named Macdonald, son of the
Macdonaid of famous defeat at Morris Creek Bridge
North Carolina. Soon after the defeat of his

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 75

he came and joined our troops. Led by curiosity, 1
could not help, one day, asking him the reason : to
which he made, in substance, the following reply.

" Immediately on the misfortune of my father and
his friends at the Great Bridge, I fell to thinking what
could be the cause ; and then it struck me that it must
have been owing to their own monstrous ingratitude.
" Here now," said I to myself, " is a parcel of people,
meaning my poor father and his friends, who fled from
the murderous swords of the English after the mas*
sacre at Culloden. Well, they came to America, with
hardly any thing but their poverty and mournful looks
But among this friendly people that was enough. — «
Every eye that saw us, had pity ; and every hand was
reached out to assist. They received us in their
houses as though we had been their own unfortunate
brothers. They kindled high their hospitable fires for
us, and spread their feasts, and bid us eat and drink
and banish our sorrows, for that we were in a land of
friends. And so indeed we found it; for, whenever
we told of the woful battle of Culloden, and how the
English gave no quarter to our unfortunate country
men, but butchered all they could overtake, these
generous people often gave us their tears, and said,
"Of 'that we had been there to aid with our rifles, then
should many of those monsters have bit the ground?*
They received us into the bosoms of their peaceful
forests, and gave us their lands and their beauteous
daughters in marriage, and we became rich. And yet,
after all, soon as the English came to America, to
murder this innocent people, merely for refusing to
be their slaves, then my father and friends, forgetting
all that the Americans had done for them, went and
joined the British, to assist them to cut the throats of
their best friends !

u Now" said I to myself, " if ever there was a time
for God to stand up to punish ingratitude, this wcrs
the time." And God did stand up : for he enabled the
G2

r6 THE LIFE OF

Americans to defeat my father and his friends mos
completely. But, instead of murdering the prison
ers, as the English had done at Culloden, they treat
ed us with their usual generosity. And now these are,
w the people I love and will fight for as long as I live."
And so he did fight for us, and as undauntedly too as
George Washington ever did.

This was young Scotch Macdonald. Now the cu
rious trick which he played, is as follows.

Soon as he heard that colonel Tarleton was en*
camped at Monk's Corner, he went the next morning
to a wealthy old tory of that neighbourhood, and
passing himself for a sergeant of colonel Tarleton'i
corps, presented that officer's compliments, adding
that colonel Tarleton was just come to drive the re
bels out of the country, and knowing him to be a
good friend of the king, begged he would send him
one of his best horses for a charger, and that he
should be no loser by it.

" Send him one of my finest horses !" cried the old
traitor, with eyes sparkling with joy; " Yes, Mr. Ser
geant, that I will, by gad ! and would send him one of
my finest daughters too, had he but said the word.
A good friend of the king, did he call me, Mr. Ser
geant? yes, God save his sacred majesty, a good
friend I am indeed, and a true. And, faith ! I am
glad too, Mr. Sergeant, that colonel knows it. Send
him a charger to drive the rebels, heh ? Yes, egad will
I send him one, and as proper a one too, as ever a
soldier straddled. Dick! Dick! I say you Dick!"

" Here, massa, here ! here Dick !"

u Oh, you plaguy dog ! so I must always split my
throat with bawling, before I can get you to answer
heh ?»

u High) massa ! sure Dick ahvays answer when h
hear mas$a hallo /"

" You do, you villain, do you ? — Well then, rur f
jump ! fly, you rascal, fly to tnc stable, and bring me

Page 77.

McDonald's trick on the old Tory.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 77

out Selim, my young Selim ! do you hear ? you vil
lain, do you hear ?"

44 Tes, massa^ be sure /"

Then turning to Macdonald, he went on : " Well,
Mr. Sergeant, you have made me confounded glad
this morning, you may depend. And now suppose
you take a glass of peach ; of good old peach, Mr
Sergeant ? do you think it would do you any harm ?v

44 Why, they say it is good of a rainy morning,
sir," replied Macdonald.

" O yes, famous of a rainy morning, Mr. Sergeant !
11 mighty antifogmatic. It prevents you the ague,
Mr. Sergeant ; it clears a man's throat of the cob-
Webs, sir."

44 God bless your honour !" said Macdonald, as he
turned off a bumper of the high-beaded cordial.

But scarcely had he smacked his lips, before Dick
paraded Selim ; a preud, full-blooded, stately steed
that stepped as though he disdained the earth he
walked upon.

Here the old fellow brightening up, broke out
again : " Aye ! there, Mr. Sergeant, there is a horse
for you ! is'rit he, my boy ?"

44 Faith, a noble animal, sir," replied Macdonald.

44 Yes, egad ! a noble animal indeed ! — a charger
for a king, Mr. Sergeant ! — Well, my compliments to
colonel Tarleton : tell him I've sent him a horse, my
youg Selim, my grand Turk, do you hear, my son
of thunder ? And say to the colonel that I don't
grudge him neither, for egad ! he's too noble for me,
Mr. Sergeant. I've no work that's fit for him, sir;
no ! damme, sir, if there's any work in all this coun
try that's good enough for him, but just that which
he is now going on ; the driving the d— d rebels out
of the land."

And in order to send Selim off in high style, he
ordered Dick to bring down his elegant new saddle
and holsters, with his silver-mounted pistols. Then

T8 I HE LIFE OF

giving Macdonald a hot breakfast, and lending him
his great coat, as it was raining, he let him go, with
a promise that he would come next morning and see
how colonel Tarleton liked young Selim.

Accordingly next morning he waited on colonel
Tarleton, and told his name, with the smiling coun
tenance of one who expected to be eaten up with
fondness. But alas! to his infinite mortification,
Tarleton heard his name without the least change of
feature.

After recovering a little from his embarrassment,
he asked colonel Tarleton how he liked his charger.

" Charger, sir!" replied Tarleton.

" Yes, sir, the elegant horse I sent you yesterday."

" The elegant horse you sent me, sir !"

" Yes, sir, and by your sergeant, sir, as he called
himself."

" An elegant horse ! and by my sergeant ! Why
really, sir, I-I-I don't understand all this !"

The looks and voice of colonel Tarleton too sadly
convinced the old traitor that he had been bit ; and
that young Selim was gone ! then trembling and pale,
cried out, " Why, my dear good sir, did you not send
a sergeant yesterday with your compliments to me,
and a request that I would send you my very best
horse for a charger, which I did ?"

" No, sir, never !" replied Tarleton : " I never sent
a sergeant on any such errand. Nor till this moment
did I ever know that there existed on earth such a
being as you."

To have been outwitted in this manner by a rebel
sergeant — to have lost his peach brandy — his hot
breakfast — his great coat — his new saddle — his silver
mounted pistols — and, worse than all, his darling
horse, his young, full-blooded, bounding Selim — all
these keen reflections, like so many forked lightnings,
falling at once on the train and tinder of his passions
blew them up to such a diabolical rage that the old sin-

G£N. FRANCIS MARION. F9

aer had like to have been suffocated on the spot. He
turned black in the face ; he shook throughout ; and
as soon as. he could recover breath and power of
speech, he broke out into a torrent of curses, enough
to raise the hair on any Christian man's head.

Nor was colonel Tarleton much behind him, when
he came to learn what a noble horse had slipped
through his hands. And a noble horse he was in
deed ! Full sixteen hands high ; the eye of a hawk;
the spirit of the king eagle ; a chest like a lion j swifter
than a roebuck, and strong as a buffalo.

I asked Macdonald, how he could reconcile it to
himself to take the old polti oon's horse in that way ?

" Why, sir," replied he, " as to that matter, people
will think differently; but for my part I hold that all
2s fair in "war : and, besides, sir, if I had not taken
him, colonel Tarleton, no uoubt, would have got
him. And then, with such a swift strong charger as
this, he might do us as much harm as I hope to do to
them."

And he did do them harm with a vengeance ; for
he had no more sense of fear than a hungry tiger,
And, as to his strength, it was such, that with one of
Potter's blades he would make no more to drive
through cap and skull of a British dragoon, than a
boy would, with a case-knife, to chip off the head of
a carrot. And then, he always kept Selim up so lust
ily to the top of his metal. He was so fond of him,
that I verily believe he would at any time have sold
the shirt off his back to get corn lor him. And truly
Selim was not much his debtor; ior, at the first flash
and glimpse of a red coat, he wouj i paw and champ
his iron bit with rage ; and the mo'nent he heard the
word "go" off he was among them like a thunder
bolt.

And to see how Macdonald would charge, you
would swear the fear of death was never before his
eyes. Whether it was oiu or ten against him, it made

«0 THE LIFE OF

no odds to this gallant Scotsman. He never stopped
to count noses, but would dash in upon the thickest
of them, and fall to hewing and cutting down like a
very fury incarnate.

Poor Macdonald ! the arm of his strength is now
in dust; and his large red cheeks have, long ago,
been food for worms : but never shall I forget when
first I saw him fight. 'Twas in the days when the
British held Georgetown; and Marion had said to
me, " Go and reconnoitre." I took only Macdonald
with me. Before day we reached our place of con
cealment, a thick clump of pines near the road, and
in full view of the enemy's lines. Soon as the bonny
gray-eyed morning began to peep, we heard the town
all alive, as it were, with drums and fifes ; and about
sunrise, beheld five dragoons turn out, and with
prancing steeds dash up the road towards us. I turned
my eye on Macdonald, and saw his face all kindled up
with the joy of battle. It was like that terrible joy
which flashes from the eyes of an ambushed lion,whci
he beholds the coming forth of the buffaloes toward*
his gloomy cave. " Zounds, Macdonald," said I
" here's an odds against us, five to two." " By my soul
now captain," he replied, u and let 'em come on
Three are welcome to the sword of Macdonald."

Soon as they were come fairly opposite to us, we
gave them a blast from our bugles, and with drawn
sabres broke in upon them like a tornado.

Their panic was complete ; two we stopped, over-
thrown and weltering in the road. The remaining
three wheeled about, and taking to their heels, went
off as if old Nick had been bringing up the rear. Then
you might have heard the roar, and seen the dust,
which dragoons can raise, when, with whip and spur
and wildly rolling eyes, they bend forward from the
pursuit of death. My charger being but a heavy
brute, was soon distanced. But they could not dis
tance the swift-footed Selim. Rapid as the deadly

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 81

blast of the desert, he pursued their dusty course, still
gathering upon them at every jump. And before they
tould reach the town, though so near, he brought his
furious rider alongside of two of them, whom he cut
down. One hundred yards further, and the third also
would have been slain; for Macdonald, with his
crimson claymore, was within a few steps of him,
when the guns of the fort compelled him to retire.
However, though quickly pursued by the enemy, he
had the address to bring off an elegant horse of one
of the dragoons whom he had killed.

CHAPTER X.

The abomination and desolation set up in South Car 9
lina—-tht author, -with sorrowful heart, quits hie
native land, and Jlies to the north in quest of rvar-
like friends — -fortunate rencontre with his gallant
friend colonel Marion — curious adventures.

AFTER the capture of Charleston, with all our
troops, the British, as aforesaid, began to spreaa them
selves over the country. Then was exhibited a spec
tacle, which for sadness arid alarm , ought never to be
forgotten by the people of America. I mean how easy
a thing it is for a small body of soldiers to overrun a
populous and powerful country. The British did not,
after Sir H?nry Clinton's return to New York, exceed
three thousand men; and South Carolina alone, at the
lowest computation, must have contained fifty thou
sand! and yet this host of poor honest men were made
to tremble before that handful of ruffians, as a flock of
sheep before the wolf, or a houseful of little children
before a dark frowning pedagogue. The reason is
immensely plain. The British were all embodied and
firm as a rock of granite ; the Carolinians were scat-
II

82 THE LIFE OF

tered over the country loose as a rope of sand : the
British all well armed and disciplined, moved in
dreadful harmony, giving their fire like a volcano :
the Carolinians, with no other than birding pieces,
and strangers to the art of war, were comparatively
feeble as a forest of glow-worms : the British, though
but units in number, were so artfully arranged that
they told for myriads ; while, for lack of unity, the
Carolinians, though numerous as myriads, passed
only for ciphers. In short, the British were a handful
01 hawks ; the poor Carolinians a swarm of rice-birds,
and rather than be plucked to the pin feather, or pick
ed to the bone, they and their little ones, they were
fain to flatter those furious falcons, and oft times to
chirp and sing when they were much in the humour
to hate and curse.

Oh ! blind indeed, and doubly blind is that people,
and well worthy of iron yokes, who, enjoying all the
sweets of liberty, in a land of milk and honey, can
expose to foreign Philistines, that blessed Canaan, un
guarded by military science. Surely those who thus
throw " their pearl before swine," richly deserve that
the beast should turn again and trample them^ and
their \reasures too, into the mire. Yes, and had it not
been for a better watch than our own, at this day, like
the wretched Irish, we should have been trampled
into the inire of slavery ; groaning under heavy bur
dens to enrich our task-masters ; and doomed on
every fruitless attempt at freedom, to fatten the
buzzards with our gibbeted carcasses.

For lack of this habitual military preparation on
our part, in a few days after the fall of Charleston,
Col. Tarleton, with only one hundred and fifty horse,
galloped up to Georgetown, through the most popu
lous part of the state, with as much hauteur as an
overseer and his boys would gallop through a negro
plantation ! To me this was the signal for clearing' out.
Accordingly •> though still in much pain from the rheu

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 89

mattsm, I mounted my horse, and with sword and
pistol by my side, set out for the northward, in quest
of friendly powers to aid our fallen cause. In passing
through Georgetown, I saw a distant group of peo
ple, to whom I rode up, and with great civility, as I
thought, asked the news. To which a young fellow
very scornfully replied, that " Colonel Tarleton was
coming, and that the country, thank God, would soon
be cleared of the continental colonels."

I was within an ace of drawing a pistol and shoot
ing the young slave dead upon the spot. But God was
pleased to give me patience to bear up under that hea
vy cross ; for which I have since very heartily thank
ed him a thousand times and more. And indeed, on
thinking over the matter, it has often struck me, that
the man who could speak in that way to one who had
on, as he saw, the American uniform, must be a sa
vage, and therefore not an object of anger, but of pity.
But though my anger was soon over, nothing could
cure the melancholy into which this affair threw me.
To see my native country thus prostrate under fo
reign usurpers, the generality quite disheartened, and
the few, who dared to take her part, thus publicly in
sulted, was a shock I was not prepared for, and which,
therefore, sunk my spirits to the lowest ebb of despon
dence. Such was the frame of mind wherein I left
my native state, and set out, sick and alone, for the
northward, with scarce a hope of ever seeing bettei
days. About the middle of the second day, as I beat
my solitary road, slowly winding through the silent,
gloomy woods of North Carolina, I discovered, just
oefore me, a stranger and his servant. Instantly my
heart sprang afresh for the pleasures of society, and
quickening my pace, I soon overtook the gentleman:
when lo ! who should it be but the man first of all i»
my wishes, though the last in my expectations ; who
I say, should it be but Marion ! Our mutual surprise
was great. " Good heavens !" we both exclaimed in

84 THE LIFE OF

the same moment, " Is that colonel Marion ?" u IB
that Horry ?" After the first transports of that joy,
which those who have been long absent from dear
friends, can better conceive than I describe, we be
gan to inquire into each other's destinations, which
was found to be the same ; both flying to the north
for troops to fight the British. We had not rode far
when Marion, after looking up to the sun, who was
now past his half-way house, came suddenly to a halt,
and said, " Well, come Horry, I feel both peckish
and weary, and here is a fine shade, so let us go down
and rest, and refresh ourselves awhile."

Whereupon I dismounted ; and with the help of his
servant, for his ankle was yet very crazy, got him down
too. Then, sitting side by side, on the trunk of a
fallen pine, we talked over the mournful state Df our
country ; and came at last, as we had always c3 ^ne, to
this solemn conclusion, that we would stand i>y her
like true children, and either conquer or die \v th her.

After this, a piece of dried beef was paraded, from
Marion's saddle-bags, with a loaf of Indian bread and
a bottle of brandy. The wealthy reader may smile at
this bill of fare ; but to me it was a feast indeed. For
joy, like a cordial, had so raised my spirits, and rc-
invigorated my system, that I fed like a thresher.

I shall ftever forget an expression which Marion
let fall (Junng OBJ repast, and which, as things have
turned out, dearly shows what an intimate acquaint
ance he had with human nature. I happened to say
that I was afraid " our happy days were all gone."

a Pshaw, Horry," he replied, " don't give way to
such idle fears. Our happy days are not all gone. On
the contrary, the victory is still sure. The enemy, il
is true, have all the trumps in their hands, and if
they had but spirit to play a generous game, would
certainly ruin us. But they have no idea of that
game; but -will treat the people cruelly. And t) *«
ruin them, and save Ameriu:a."

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 85

ttl pray God,"-sairl I, "it may be so."

tt Well", don't be afraid," replied he, u you witl as-
turedly see it"

Hiiving despatched our simple dinner, we mounted
again and pursued our journey, but with feelings so
different from what I had before this meeting, ab oiade
me more sensible than ever what a divine thing friend
ship is. And well indeed it was for us that our hearts
\Vere so rich in friendship^ for our pockets were as
bare of gold and silver as if there were no such metals
on earth. And but for carrying a knife, or a horse-
fleam, or a gun-flint, we had no more use for a pocket
than a Highlander has for a knee-buckle. As to hard
money, we had not seen a dollar for years ; and of old
continental, bad as it was, we had received but little,
and that little was gone away like a flash ; as the rea
der may well suppose, when he comes to learn, that
a bottle of rum would sweep fifty dollars.

And so here were two continental .colonels of us,
just started on a journey of several hundred miles,
without a cent in pocket ! But though poor in gold,
we were rich in faith. Burning patriots ourselves, we
had counted on it as a certainty, that every body we
met, out of reach of the British, were as fiery as we,
and that the first sight of our uniforms would com
mand smiling countenances, and hot suppers, and
downy beds, and mint slings ; and in short, every thing
that our hearts could wish. But. alas and alack the
mistake ! For instead of being smiled on every where
along the road as the champions-of liberty, we were
often grinned at as if we had been horse thieves. In
place of being hailed with benedictions, we were fre
quently in danger from the brick bats ; and in lieu of
hot dinners and suppers, we were actually on the point
of starving, both we and our horses ! For in conse
quence of candidly telling the publicans that " we had
nothing to pay " they as candidly declared, "they had
nothing to give;" and that "those that had no monc<j
H2

16 THE LIFE OF

had no business to travel" At length we came tt the
resolution to say nothing about our poverty, but, after
getting such things as we wanted, to give our due bills.
In this we felt ourselves perfectly warranted ; for we
had, both of us, thank God, very sufficient estates;
and besides, turning out, as we did, to fight for our
country, we thought we had, even by sacred precept,
a very fair claim on that country for a little food.

I remember, one evening, after dark, we reached a
tavern, the owner of which at first seemed very fond
of accommodating us. But as soon as a lighted wood
torch had given him a glimpse of our regimentals,
the rogue began to hem and ha, to tell us ol'&migfity
fine tavern about five miles further on.

We begged him to recollect that it was night, and
also very rainy, and as dark as pitch.

" Oh /" quoth he, " the road is mighty plain ; you
can't miss your way?"*

" But consider, sir, we are strangers."

" Oh ! I never liked strangers in all my life"

" But, sir, we are your countrymen, American offi
cers, going to the north for men to fight your battles.'*

" Oh ! I wants nobody to fight my battles ; king
George is good enough for me."

" But, sir, we have travelled all day long without
a mouthful for ourselves or horses."

To this also the brute was preparing some fit an
swer, when his wife, who appeared to be a very gen
teel woman, with a couple of charming girls, her
daughters, ran out and declared that " take us in lie
could, and should, that he should ; and that he might as
well consent at first, for they would not be said nay."

Even against all this, he stood out for some time;
till at length his wife reminded him, that though the
British were carrying every thing before them in
South Carolina, yet that Washington was still in the
field, and the issue of the war unknown ; and that at
rate it was srood tn h<w*> « friend <it c.ourt.

Page 86.

The Author and Marion

Innkeeper.

tiie

. GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 8.

On this he came to a pause ;. and at length reluc
tantly drawled out, u Well—- 1 suppose — you must —
come — in."

I have related this story, partly to show what a sa
vage man would be without that softening, polishing
friend, a good wife.

Observing that we were wet and cold, this amiable
woman and her daughters soon had kindled up for us a
fine sparkling fire, to which their own sweetly smiling
looks gave tenfold cheerfulness and comfort. And
while the husband went poking about the house, si
lent and surly as an ill-natured slave, the ladies dis
played towards us the most endearing attentions. The
mother brought out from her closet a bottle of nice
family cordial, to warm and cheer us ; while the girls
presented basins of water and towels, that we might
wash and refresh ourselves after our fatigue. And
all these seasonable hospitalities they did, not with
that ungracious silence and reserve, which so often
depress the traveller's spirits, but with the charming
alacrity of daughters or sisters, so sweetening every
thing with smiles and sprightly chat as almost made
us feel ourselves at home.

As with deep struck thought, I compared our pre«
sent happy condition with that a few minutes before,
benighted, wet and ivcary, I could not help exclaim
rng, u O my God ! what pity it is that among so many
labours which poor mortals take under the sun, they
do not labour more for that which alone deserves their
cai*e. I mean that lovc^ which at once diffuses and
enjoys all the happiness both of earth and heaven."

At supper, the poor creature of a husband strove
very hard to draw Marion into a dispute, about what
he was pleased to call our u REBELLION." I expect
ed to have heard him lashed very severely for such
brutality; for few men ever excelled Marion in the
r&tort abrupt. But every time the subject was intro
duced, he contrived very handsomely to waive it»bv

88 THE LIFE OF

some pretty turn to the ladies, which happily relieved
their terrors, and gave a fresh spring to general and
sprightly conversation.

As our excellent hostess and her fair daughters
were about to retire, we bade them good night, and
also adieu, telling them that we meant to ride very
early in the morning. To this they stoutly objected;
urging that, from our fatigue and fasting, we Ought to
pass a day or two with them, and refresh ourselves.
But if we could not do this, we must at any rate stay
and give them the pleasure of our company at break
fast.

When we retired to our chamber, I asked Marion
why he had not given that brute, our landlord, a
proper set down.

u I am surprised at you, Horry,"he replied ; "when
you see that your fellow man is wretched, can't you
give him quarter ? You must have observed, ever
since we darkened his door, that with spleen and tory-
ism, this poor gentleman is in the condition of him in
the parable, who was possessed of seven devils. Since
we have not the power to cast them out, let us not
torment him before his tune. Besides, this excellent
woman his wife; these charming girls his daughters.
They love him, no doubt, and therefore, to us, at
least, he ought to be sacred, because surrounded by
their affections."

The next morning while breakfast was preparing,
the churl renewed his hostilities, by telling us, with
a malignant pleasure in his face, that he and his
neighbours were making ready to go to South Caro
lina for negroes.

" For negroes !" replied Marion; "pray sir, what
do you mean by that."

u Why, sir," returned he, " South Carolina is now
all one as conquered by the British, and why may we
not go and pick up what negroes we can ? They
d help me in my corn-field yonder."

ii GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 89

Marion asked him whether, if he were to find his
negroes, he would think it right to take them ?

u To be sure I would," answered he. " You great
men who choose to fight against your king, are all
now running away. And why may I not go and catch
your negroes as well as any body else ?"

u My God !" replied Marion, with a deep sigh,
w what will this world come to ?" and turned the con
versation.

Soon as breakfast was over, we took leave of this
most unequally yoked couple and their lovely daugh
ters, and continued our journey. We had not got far
from the house when Marion's servant rode up, and,
with a very smirking face, told his master that he be
lie ved the gentlewoman where we stayed last night,
must be a monstrous fine lady ! Marion asked him
why he thought so. " Why, sir," replied he, " she
not only made me almost burst myself with eating
and drinking, and all of the very best, but she has
gone and filled my portmanteau too, filled it up chock
full, sir! A fine ham of bacon, sir, and ? pair of
roasted fowls, with two bottles of brandy, and a mat
ter of a peck of biscuit."

" God bless the de,'\r lady !" we both exclaimed at
the same moment. And I trust God did bless her.
For indeed to us shn was a kind angel, who not only
refreshed our bodies, but still more, feasted our souls.

And though e:»ght and twenty long years have
rolled away since that time, I can still see that angel
smile which brightened on her face towards us, and
the memory of which springs a joy in my heart be
yond what the memory of his money bags ever gave
to the miser.

On the evening of the same day that we left this
charming family, (I mean the fairer part of it) we
reached the house of colonel Thatcher, one of the no
blest whigs in North Carolina. His eyes seemed aa
though they would never tire in gazing on our regi

90 THE LIFE OF

mentals. We soon gave him the history of our tra
vels through his native state, and of the very uncivil
manner in which his countrymen had treated us. He
smiled, and bid us be thankful, for that it was en
tirely of God's mercy that we had come off* so well.
" Those people," continued he, " are mere Hotten
tots; a set of unenlightened miserable tories, who
know nothing of the grounds of the war; nothing of
the rights and blessings we are contending for ; nor
of the corruptions and cruelties of the British minis
try ; and are therefore just as ready to fall into their
destructive jaws, as young cat-birds are to run into
the mouth cf a rattle-snake.''

CHAPTER XL

Glorious news — a brave army of continentals coming
up — Marion and the author hasten to meet them ai
Roanoke — -fortunately get introduced to the baron dt
Kalb — polite reception by that amiable officer — curi
ous and interesting conversation.

AFTER spending two days of very welcome re
pose with the elegant colonel Thatcher, we took leave
and set out for Hillsborough, where we met general
Huger and colonel W. White, of the horse, who toJd
us the glorious news, that " Washington had sent on
a gallant detachment of continentals, who were now
in full march to aid South Carolina."

Our hearts leaped for joy at the news. So great
was our impatience to see what' our hearts had so long
and so fondly dwelt on, an army of friends, that we
could not wait until they came up, but hurried off in
stantly to meet them at Roanoke, where it was said
they were crossing. On reaching the river, we found
that they had all got over, and had just formed their
line of march. O ! how lovely is the sight of friends
n the day of our danger ! We have had many mill-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION 51

tary corps, but none had ever interested us like
in shining regimentals and glittering arms, they
moved before the eye of the glowing fancy like a host
of heroes.

Thrice happy for man, that a veil, dark as the gravc^
is thrown over future events ! For how could we,
who had seen one nne army butchered at Savannah,
and another captured at Charleston, have borne up
under the dreadful prospect of having this gallant
armament also destroyed in a few days !

Soon as our first paroxysm of joy had a little sul>
sided, we moved toward head quarters, where we
had the good fortune to fall in with our old friend Col.
Semp, who appeared overjoyed to see us, and imme
diately offered to introduce us to the general. His ex
cellency Horatio Gates was the commander in chief
but as he had not yet arrived, the command rested on
that brave old German general, the baron de Kalb.

It was to this officer that colonel Semp introduced
us, and, as was usual with him, in very flattering
terms ; styling us u continental colonels, and two of
the wealthiest and most distinguished patriots of
South Carolina !"

I shall never forget what I felt when introduced
to this gentleman. He appeared to be rather elderly.
But though the snow of winter was on his locks, h;s
cheeks were still reddened over with the bloom of
spring. His person was large and manly, above the
common size, with great nerve and activity ; whik
his fine blue eyes expressed the mild radiance of in
telligence and goodness.

He received us very politely, saying he was giau to
see us, " especially as we were the first Carolinians that
he had seen ; which had not a little surprised him."

Observing, I suppose, that we laboured under ra
ther too much of our national weakness, 1 mean mo
desty, he kindly redoubled his attentions to us,, and
soon succeeded in curing us of our reserve.

TH£ LI*E OF

u I thought," said he, " that British tyranny woulct
have sent great numbers of the South Carolinians td
join our arms. But, so far from it, they are all, as
we have been told, running to take British protec
tions. Surely they are not tired already of fighting
for liberty."

We told him the reason was very plain to us, who
were inhabitants of that country, and knew very well
the state of things there.

" Aye," replied he, " well, what can the reason
be?"

" Why, sir," answered Marion, " the people of
Carolina form but two classes, the rich and the poor.
The poor are generally very poor, because, not being
necessary to the rich, who have slaves to do all theif
work, they get no employment from them. Being
thus unsupported by the rich, they continue poor and
low spirited. They seldom get money ; and indeed,
what little they do get, is laid out in brandy to raise
their spirits, and not on books and newspapers to get
information. Hence they know nothing of the com
parative blessings of their own country, nor of the
great dangers which threaten it, and therefore care
nothing about it. As to the other class, the rich,
they aie generally very nch> and consequently afraid
to stir, unless a fair chance offer, lest the British
hould burn their houses and furniture, and carry oiF
heir negroes and stock. But permit me to assure
on, sir, that though thus kept under by fear, the)
will mortally hate the British, and will, I am confi
dent, the moment they see an army of friends at their
door, fly to their standard, like a generous pack to
he sound of the horn that calls them to the chase of

hated wolf."

The baron de Kalb smiled, and said he hoped it
would be found so.

u No doubt of it at all sir," replied Marion.

The baron then invited us to dine with him, but

i GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 9$

added, smiling, that he hoped we had good military
stomachs that could relish and digest plain fare,
which was all he could promise us, and perhaps
hardly enough of that.

On sitting down to table, we found that his predic
tion about the bill of fare, was most unwelcomely
true. Our dinner was just half a side of a miserably
poor hog, as miserably cooked ; and in such small
quantity, that before we were done there was nothing
of it left but a rasher, for good manners'* sake. And
as to bread, there was not even a hoe-cake ! It is true
that, by way of substitute, \ve had a trencher or two
of sweet potatoes paraded. Our drink was admirably
suited to the dinner ; apple brandy with river water.

God forbid that I should be unmindful of his fa
vours ! For well do I know that the least of them is
much better than the best of us deserve. On the con
trary, I mention it rather as a compliment to his
heavenly bounty, which is wont to spread our tables
with so many dainties, as to cause even roast pigs
and sweet potatoes to pass for a sorry meal.

Soon as dinner was over, all of us who could pa
rade a segar or a pipe, began to comfort our olfacto
ries with a puff, not forgetting our brandy the while;
so that by the time we had got well entrenched in
clouds of fragrant kite-foot, we were in admirable cue
for a dish of chat. De Kalb led the way ; and, as
nearly as I can recollect, in the following words.

" Colonel Marion," said he, pressing the tobacco
in his pipe at the same time, u can you answer me one
question ?"

u Most gladly, general, and a thousand if I can !"

" Thank you, colonel, but one will do."

" Be pleased then, sir, to say on."

" Well, colonel, can you tell me how old I am ?"

" That's a tough question, general."

" Tough, colonel ! pray how do you make that out ?"

"Why, sir, there is a strange January and May sort

94 THE LIFE OF

of contrast between your locks and your looks that
quite confuses me. By your locks you seem to be in
the winter, by your looks in the summer of your days."

u Well but, colonel, striking the balance between
the two, whereabouts do you take me to be ?"

" Why, sir, in the spring and prime of life ; abou
forty."

" Good heavens, forty /"

" Yes, sir, that's the mark ; there or thereabouts.1

"What! no more?"

" No, sir, not a day more ; not an hour.*'

" Upon honour?"

" Yes, sir, upon honour ; upon a soldier's honour.''

" Ha !— ha !— ha !— Well, colonel, I would not for
a thousand guineas that your riflemen shot as wide
off the mark as you guess. The British would not
dread them as they do. Forty years old, indeed ! why
what will you say, colonel, when I tell you that I
have been two and forty years a soldier."

Here we all exclaimed, " Impossible, general ! im
possible."

" I ask your pardon, gentlemen," replied he, " it
is not at all impossible, but very certain. Very cer
tain that I have been two and forty years a soldier in
the service of the king of France :"

" O wonderful ! two and forty years ! Well then,
at that rate, and pray how old, general, may you take
yourself to be ?"

" Why, gentlemen," replied he, " man and boy, I
am now about sixty-three."

" Good heaven ! sixty-three ! and yet such bloom,
such flesh and blood !"

" If you are so surprised, gentlemen, at my look*
at sixty-three, what would you have thought had you
seen my father at eighty-seven."

" Your' father, general ! he cannot be alive yet
gure."

"Alive! yes, thank God, and alive like to be, 1

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 95

hope, f jr many a good year to come yet. Now, gen
tlemen, let me tell you a little story of my father. The
very Christmas before I sailed for America, I went
to see him. It was three hundred miles, at least, from
Paris. On arriving at the house I found my dear old
mother at her wheel, in her eighty-third year, mind
gentlemen ! ! spinning very gaily, while one of her
great grandaughters carded the wool and sung a
nymn for her. Soon as the first transport of meeting
was over, I eagerly asked for my father. c Do not
be uneasy, my son,' said she, 'your father is only
gone to the woods with his three little great grand
children, to cut some fuel for the fire, and they will
all be here pcesently, I'll be bound !' And so it
proved ; for in a very short time I heard them coming
along. My father was the foremost, with his axe under
his arm, and a stout billet on his shoulder ; and the
children, each with his little load, staggering along,
and prattling to my father with all their might. Be
assured, gentlemen, that this was a most delicious
moment to me. Thus after a long absence, to meet a
beloved father, not only alive, but in health and dear
domestic happiness above the lot of kings : also to see
the two extremes of human life, youth and age, thus
sweetly meeting and mingling in that cordial love,
which turns the cottage into a paradise."

In telling this little story of his aged father and his
voung relatives, the general's fine countenance caught
an animation which perfectly charmed us all.

The eyes of Marion sparkled with pleasure. " Ge
neral," said he, " the picture which you have given
us of your father, and his little great grandchildren,
though short, is extremely interesting and delightful.
It confirms me in an opinion which I have long en
tertained, which is, that there is more happiness in
low life than in high life ; in a cottage than in a castle,
Pray give us, general, your opinion of that matter."

* Why," replied De Kalb, " this opinion of yours,
II

36 THE LIFE OF

colonel, is not a novel one by any means. It was the
opinion of Rousseau, Fenelon, and of many other great
men, and elegant writers. But notwithstanding such
high authority, I must still beg leave to be a dissenter.
I have seen so many people happy and also unhappy,
both in cottages and castles, that I cannot but con
clude, that happiness does not belong, peculiarly, to
either condition, but depends on something very dif
ferent from, and infinitely superior to both."

We eagerly asked what he alluded to.

" Why, gentlemen," replied he, " since you have
been so polite as to ask my opinion, I will as frankly
give it, though I am afraid it will seem very odd, es
pecially coming from a soldier. However, be that as
it may, my opinion you have asked, and my opinion
you shall have ; which is, that religion is the only
thing to make a man happy in cottages or courts."

The young officers began to stare.

Gathering from their looks, that some of the com
pany did not relish this kind of philosophy, he quick
ly thus resumed his speech.

" Pardon ! gentlemen, I beg pardon ! I must not be
misunderstood. By religion, I don't mean priest
craft. I don't mean that superstitious grimace ; that
rolling up of white eyes, and spreading of sanctified
palms; with <- disfigured faces and long prayers] and
all the rest of that holy Irumpery, which, so far from
making people cheerful, tends but to throw them into
the dumps. But I mean, by religion, that divine ef
fort of the soul, which rises and embraces the great
author of its being withjilial ardour, and walks and
converses with him, as a dutiful child with his revered
father. Now gentlemen, I would ask, all prejudice
apart, what is there can so exalt the mind and gladden
the heart, ay this high friendship with heaven, and
those immortal hopes that spring from religion ?"

Here one of the company, half blushing, as palpa
bly convicted by the truth of the general's argument

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 9T

smartly called out--" Well but, general, don't you
think we can do pretty well here in camp, without
religion ?"

" What !'' replied DC Kalb,u would you give it all
up to the priests ?"

" Yes, to be sure I would," said the young officer,
** for I am for every man's following his own trade,
general. They are priests, and we are soldiers. So
let them do all the praying, and we will do all the
fighting!*

" Why, as to the fighting part," rejoined De Kalb,
4 1 have no objection to doing all that for the priests,
especially as their profession does not allow them to
fight for themselves. But as to giving them up all
the devotion, I confess I am not so liberal. No ! no !
gentlemen, charity begins at home : and I am not
for parting with pleasure so easily."

" PLEASURE !" replied the young officer with* a
stieer.

u Yes, sir, pleasure" returned De Kalb. "Accord
ing to my creed, sir, piety and pleasure are synony
mous terms ; and I should just as soon think of living
physically, without bread, as of living pleasantly,
without religion. For what is religion, as I said be
fore, but HABITUAL FRIENDSHIP WITH GOD ? And

what can the heart conceive so delightful ? Or what
can so gratify it in all its best and strongest desires ?
For example, gentlemen, we are all fond of honour.
I, for my part, am fond of the friendship of the king
of France. You glory in the friendship of the great
Washington. Then what must be the glory of him
who is in friendship with God ? Again, gentlemen,
we are all born to love, to admire, to adore. If a
man have no love, he is gloomy. If he love a worth
less object, he is mortified. But if he love a truly
worthy object, his face shines, his eyes sparkle, his
voice becomes sweet, and his whole air expressive of
cheerfulness. And as this happy feeling must, in the

98 THE LIFE OF

nature of things, keep pace with the excellence of the
object that is beloved, then what must be the cheerful
ness of him who loves the greatest, best, and loveliest
of all beings, whose eternal perfections and goodness
can for ever make him happier than heart can ask or
think ?

" In a word, gentlemen, though I am a soldier, and
soldiers you know are seldom enthusiasts in this way,
yet I verily believe, as I said before, that a man of
enlightened and fervent piety must be infinitely hap
pier in a cottage, than an irreligious emperor in hia
palace."

In the height of this extraordinary conversation,
an officer stepped in and announced the arrival of
general Gates.

And here, as I have in this chapter given the reader
what the jockies call a pretty long heat, I beg leave tq
order a halt and allow him a little time to breathe.

CHAPTER XII.

€>en. Gates — bon mot of British general Lee — how an
army ought not to march — De Kalb prophecies—*
chickens counted before they are hatched, alias, Ma
rion and the author sent by Gen. Gates to prevent
the escape of Cormvallis, before he had run — the
British and American armies meet — Gates and his
militia-men leave De Kalb in the lurch — his gallant
behaviour^ and glorious death.

"V\ HEN a poor fellow is going down hill, it is !
too common, they say, for every body to give him a
kick.

"Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
" For heaven hath made them so."

But, if I know myself aright, I can truly say, that
jvojhing of this vile spirit suggests a syllable of whaf

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 99

I now write of the unfortunate general Gates. On
the contrary, I feel an ardent wish to speak hand
somely of him ; and in one view of him I can so speak.
As a gentleman, few camps or courts ever produced
his superior. But though a perfect Chesterfield at
court, in camp he was certainly but a Paris. 'Tis
true, at Saratoga he got his temples stuck round with
laurels as thick as a May-day queen with gaudy flow
ers. And though the greater part of this was certain
ly the gallant workmanship of Arnold and Morgan,
yet did it so hoist general Gates in the opinion of the
nation, that many of his dear friends, with a prudent
regard, no doubt, to their own dearer selves, had the
courage to bring him forward on the military turf
and run him for the generalissimoship against the
great Washington. But though they were not able 10
prosper him in this mad attempt, yet they so far sue -
ceeded as to get him the command of the army of
Cai olina, where his short and calamitous career soon
caused every good patriot to thank God for continu
ing to his servant Washington the command of the
American armies.

On his way from the northern states, general
Gates passed through Fredericksburg, where he fell
in with general Charles Lee, who, in his frank man
ner, asked him where he was going.

" Why, to take Cormvallis."

" I am afraid," quoth Lee, " you will find him a
tough piece of English beef."

" Tough, sir," replied Gates ; cc tough ! then begaa
I'll tender him. I'll make piloo of him, sir, in three
hours after I set eyes upon him."

"Aye! will you indeed?" returned Lee. "Well
then send for me, and I will go and help yon to eat
him."

Gates smiled; and bidding him adieia, rode off.
Lee bawled after him," Take care, Gates ! take care!

JIOO THE LIFE OF

or your northern laurels will degenerate into south
ern willows."

The truth is, though general Lee was extremely
splenetic, other than which, such a miserable old ba
chelor arid infidel could hardly be, yet he certainly had
a knack of telling people's fortunes. By virtue of this
faculty, he presently discovered that general Gates
was no Fabius ; but on the contrary, too much inclin
ed to the fatal rashness of his unfortunate colleague.

And so it turned out. For, from the moment he
joined the army, he appeared to act like one who
thought of nothing but to have it proclaimed of him
in all the newspapers on the continent, that in so many
days, hours, minutes, and seconds, he flew from Phi«
ladelphia to South Carolina, saw, fought, and con
quered Cornwallis ; and flew back again with the tro
phies of a second British army vanquished. Instead
of moving on as old De Kalb had done, with a pru
dent regard to the health and refreshment of the
troops, he, Jehu like, drove them on without regard
to either. He would not take the lower road, as De
Kalb earnestly advised, through a rich and plentiful
country. Oh no ; that was too round about ; would
too long have delayed his promised glory.

Like an eagle shaking his bold pinions in the clouds
of his pride, he must dash down at once upon his prey ;
and so, for a near cut, take us through a fine barren,
sufficient to have starved a forlorn hope of caterpillars.
I shall make no attempt to describe the sufferings of
the army. For, admitting that I should not lack words,
aiy reader would, I am sure, lack faith. Indeed, at
this season, when the old crop was gone, and the new
not quite come in, what had we to expect, especially
in such a miserable country, where many a family £oes
without dinner, unless the father can knock down a
squirrel in the woods, or his pale sickly boy pick up a
terrapin in the swamps ? We did, indeed, sometimes
fall in with a little corn ; but chen, the poor, skinny,

(3l£N. FRANCIS MARION. 101

gufi-burnt women, with long uncombed trusses, ancf
shrivelled breasts hanging do wnr would ru \ stream
ing to us, with tears in tbci^ eyes, deckrirrg ihat if we
took away their corn, they and their children must
perish. Such times I never saw, and I pray Gcu 1
may never see nor hear of again ; for, to this day, the
bare thought of it depresses my spirits. But perhap
I ought to think of it, and often too, that I may be th
more thankful to him who never, but in that one in
stance, permitted me to suffer, except in thinking of it

There was one case in particular which I shall
never forget. Almost spent with fatigue and fasting,
we halted one evening near the house of a man, whose
plantation bespoke him a tolerably good liver. He met
us with a countenance strongly marked with tenor,
and begged for God's sake we would not ruin him, for
that he had a large family of children to maintain..
We told him that we were soldiers fighting for the
country, and that it would never do for us to starve.
Understanding from this that we meant to forage upon
him that night, he heaved a deep sigh, and turning
about, went off without saying another word. I must
confess I could not help feeling very sensibly for him,
especially when we saw his little white-headed chil
dren, in melancholy groups, peeping at us around the
corners of the house.

His young corn, which seemed to cover about fifty
acres, was just in the prime, roasting ear state, and
he had also a couple of beautiful orchards of peach
and apple trees, loaded with young fruit. Scarcely
were our tents pitched, before the whole army, foot
and horse, turned in to destroy. The trees were all
threshed in a trice : after which the soldiers fell, like
a herd of wild boars, upon the roasting ears, and the
horses upon the blades and stalks, so that by morn*
ing light there was no sign or symptom left that corn
had ever grown there since the creation of the world.
What became of the poor man ai) \ his children God

02 THE LIFE OF

only knows, forbysanrise we were all under march-
ing orders again, bending for the south. I said ALL
but I only meant all that were ABLE. For numbers
were knocked up every night by agues, fluxes, void
other maladies, brought on by excessive fatigue and
lack of food.

I once before observed how highly the baron de
Kalb had been pleased to think of Marion and myself
travelling so far to meet him. His liking for us grew
so fast, that we had not been with him moie than two
days, before he appointed us his supernumerary aids
We were, of course, much in his company, and en
trusted, I believe, with every thought of his bosom
that related to the good of the army. He made no
scruple to tell us how utterly unmilitary those pro
ceedings were ; and frequently foretold the ruin that
would ensue.

" Here," said he, 'c we are hurrying to attack an
enemy, who, if they but knew our condition, would
long for nothing so much as our arrival. We, two-
thirds at least, raw militia ; they, all regulars. We,
fatigued ; they, fresh. We, feeble and faint through
long fasting; they, from high keeping, as strong and
fierce as game cocks or butchers' bull dogs. It does
not signify, gentlemen; it is all over with us; our
army is lost as sure as ever it comes into contact
with the British. I have hinted these things more
than once to general Gates, but he is an officer who
will take no counsel but his own."

The truth is, general Gates was one of that crazy-
brained quality, to whom it is a misfortune to be
jFbrtunate. The least dram of success would intoxi
cate and make himjbol hardy. He could never bring
himself to believe, as he used to say, that " lord
Cornwallis would dare to look him in the face."

So confident, indeed, was he of victory, that on the
morning before the fatal action, he ordered Marion
<md myself to hasten on to Santee river, and destroy

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. i(J»

every scow, boat, or canoe, that could assist an En|f
lishmen in his flight to Charleston !

Immediately on receiving orders, we waited df$
the good old De Kalb to take leave ; and also to as
sure him of our deep regret at parting with him.

"It is with equal regret, my dear sirs," said he
" that I part with you, because I feel a presentiment
that we part to meet no more."

We told him we hoped better things.

u Oh no !" replied he, " it is impossible. War is £
kind of game, and has \+.sjixed rules, whereby, whesl
we are well acquainted with them, we can pretty COIN
rectly tell how the trial will go. To*morro\v it seeing
the die is to be cast, and in my judgment, without
the least chance on our side. The militia will, I sup-
pose, as usual, play the back-game, that is, get out of
the scrape as fast as their legs can carry them. Buf
that, you know, won't do for me. I am an old soldier
£nd cannot run : and I believe I have with me som§
brave fellows that will stand by me to the last. Sc*
that, when you hear of our battle, you will probably
hear truit your old friend De Kalb is at rest."

I do Pot know that I was ever more affected in rinf
life. I looked at Marion and saw that his eyes wer^
watery. De Kalb saw it too5 and taking us by thtf
hand, with a firm tone, and animated look, said, " Nd*
rto ! gentlemen ; no emotions for me but those of con
gratulation. I am happy. To die is the irreversible'
decree of him who made us. Then what joy to he*
able to meet his decree without dismay ! This, thank
God, is my case. The happiness of man is my wish
that happiness I deem inconsistent with -slavery.-**
And to avert sf. great an evil from an innocent pea
pie, I will gladly meet the British to-morrow, at any
odds whatever."

As he spoke this, I saw a something in bis eyes
flitch at once demonstrated the divinity of
the immortality of the soul
K

104 THE LIFE OF

With sorrowful hearts we then left him, and witu
feelings which I shall never forget, while memory
maintains her place in this my aged brain.

a Oh my God !" said Marion, as we rode off, " what
a difference does education make between man and
man! Enlightened by her sacred ray, see here is the
native of a distant country, come to fight for oui
liberty and happiness, while many of our own people,
for lack of education , are actually aiding the British
to heap chains and curses upon themselves and chil
dren."

It was on the morning of August the 15th, 1780,
that we left the army in a good position near Ruge-
tey's mills, twelve miles from Camden, where the
enemy lay. About ten o'clock that night orders were
given to march to surprise the enemy, who had at
die same time commenced their march, to surprise
the Americans. To their mutual astonishment, the
advance of the two armies met about two o'clock, and
began to fire on each other. The firing, however, was
soon discontinued by both parties, who appeared very
willing to leave the matter to be decided by daylight.
A council of war was called : in which De Kalb ad
vised I hat the army should fall back to Rugeley's mills>
and there, in a good position, wait to be attacked. —
But Gates not only rejected this excellent counsel,
but threw out suspicions that it originated from fear.
Upon vhis, the brave old De Kalb called to his ser
vant to take his horse, and leaping on the ground
placed himself at the head of his command, on foot
To this indecent expression of general Gates,^he also
retorted with considerable warmth, " Well, sir, a fe\v
hours perhaps will let us see who are the brave."

It should be recorded for the benefit of our officers,
many of whose laurels have been blasted by the fumes
of brandy, that general Gates was rather too fond of
his nocturnal glass.

w I woivder where we shall dine to-morrow 1" said

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 105

Wie of his officers, as, in the dark, they sat on their
*leepy horses, waiting for the day.

"Dine, sir!" replied the confident Gates, "why,
at Camden, sir, to be sure. Begad ! I would not give
a pinch of snuiF, sir, to be insured a beef-steak to-mor
row in Camden, and lord Cornwallis at my table."

Presently day appeared ; and, as the dawning light
increased, the frighted militia began to discover the
woods reddening over like crimson with the long ex
tended lines of the British army, which soon, with
rattling drums and thundering cannon, came rushing
on to the charge. The militia, scarcely waiting to
give them a distant fire, broke and fled in the utmost
precipitation. Whereupon Gates clapped spurs to
liis horse, and pushed hard after them, as he said, " to
bring the rascals back." • But he took care never to
bring himself back, nor indeed to stop until he had
fairly reached Charlotte, eighty miles from the field
of battle. I remember it was common to talk in those
days, that he killed three horses in his flight.

Gates and the militia, composing two-thirds of the
army, having thus shamefully taken themselves off,
the brave old De Kalb, and his handful of continen
tals, were left alone to try the fortune of the day. And
never did men display a more determined valour!
For though outnumbered more than two to one, they
sustained the shock of the enemy's whole force, for
upwards of an hour. With equal fury the ranks-sweep
ing cannon and muskets were employed by both sides,
until the contending legions were nearly mixed. Then
quitting this slower mode of slaughter, with rage-
blackened faces and fiery eyeballs, they plunge for
ward on each other, to the swifter vengeance of the
bayonet. Far and wide the woods resound with the
clang of steel, while the red reeking weapons, like
stings of infernal serpents, are seen piercing the bo»
dies of the combatants. Some, on receiving the fatal
stab, let drop their useless arms, and with dying fin

f06 THE LIFE OF

gers clasped the hostile steel that's cold in their be *•
^Is. Others, faintly crying out, u O God I am slain !"
sank pale, quivering to the ground, while the vital
current gushed in hissing streams from their bursted
bosoms. Officers, as well as men, now mingle in the
uproar lii g strife, and snatching the weapons of the
slain, swell the horrid carnage. Glorying in his con
tinentals, the brave De Kalb towers before them, likp
4 pillar of fire. His burning face is like, a red star,
guiding their destructive course ; his voice, as the
horn that kindle-s the young pack in the chase of blood.
A British grenadier, of giant size, rushes on him with
g fixed bayonet. De Kalb parries the furious blow,
#nd plunges his sword in the Briton's breast ; then,
seizing his falling arms, he deals death around him
on the crowding foe/ Loud rise the shouts of the
Americans ; but louder still the shouts of the more
numerous enemy, The battle burns anew along all
she fierce conflicting line. There, the distant Corn-
wallis pushes on his fresh regiments, like red clouds,
bursting in thunder on the Americans ; and here, con?
densing his diminished legions, the brave De Kalb
still maintains the unequal contest. But, alas ! what
can valour do "against equal valour, aided by such fear
ful odcls ? The sons of freedom bleed on e^ery side.
With grief their gallant leader marks the fall of his
heroes ; soon himself to fall. For, as with a face alj
inflamed in the fight, he bends forward animating hi*
men, he receives eleven wounds ! Fainting with loss
of blood, he falls to the ground. Several brave men,
Britons and Americans, were killed over him, as they
furiously strove to destroy or to defend. In the midst
of the clashing bayonets, his only surviving aid., Mev>-
sier du Buyson, ran to him, and stretching his arms
over the fallen herp, called out, " Save the baron de
Kalb! Save the baron de Kalb !" The British officers
interposed, and prevented his immediate destruction.
It has been said that lord Comwallis was so strvl*

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 107

With the bravery of De Kalb, that he generously su
perintended while his wounds were dressed, by his
own surgeons. It has also been said, that he appoint
ed him to be bui led with the honours of war. British
officers have been often known to do such noble
deeds, but that lord Cornwallis was capable of acting
so honourably, is doubtful.

De Kalb died as he had lived, the unconquered
friend of liberty. For, being kindly condoled with
by a British officer for his misfortune, he replied, " I
thank you, sir, for your generous sympathy ; but I die
the death I always prayed for; the death of a soldier
fighting for the rights of man."

His last moments were spent in dictating a letter
to a friend concerning his continentals, of whom he
said, he " had no words that could sufficiently express
his love, and his admiration of their valour." He sur •
vived the action but a few hours, and was buried in
the plains of Camden, near which his last battle was
fought.

When the great Washington, many years after
wards, came on a visit to Camden, he eagerly in
quired for the grave of De Kalb. It was shown to
him. After looking on it a while, with a countenance
marked with thought, he breathed a deep sigh, and
exclaimed — " So, there lies the brave De Kalb ; the
generous stranger, who came from a distant land, to
fight our battles, and to water, with his blood, the
tree of our liberty. Would to God he had lived to
share with us its fruits !"

Congress ordered him a monument. But the friend
of St. Tammany still sleeps " without his fame." I
have seen the place of his rest. It was the lowest
spot of the plain. No sculptured warrior mourned
at his Jow-laid head; no cypress decked his heel. But
the tall corn stood in darkening ranks around him,
and seemed to shake their green leaves with joy over
his narrow dwelling.
K2

THE LIFE OF

But the roar of his battle is not yet quite passed
away, nor his ghastly wounds forgotten. The citizens
pf Camclen have lately enclosed his- grave, and placecl
pn it a handsome marble, with an epitaph gratefully
descriptive of his VIRTUES and si RVICES, that the
people of future days may, like "W ashington, heave
the sigh when they read of " the generous strange?
who came from a distant land to fight their battlest
aind to water, with his blood, the tree of their liber-

"

Fair Camden's plains his glorious dust inhume,
Where annual Ceres shades her hero's toinb.

CHAPTER XIII.

Marion and the author very busy in destroying the
vice^makers* boats on Santee — -first got the news of
the defeat of our army, and death of the brave De
Kalb — Marion Addresses his followers — -their gqi

lant reply,

MARION and myself, as yet ignorant of the fat£
Ctf the army, were on the waters of the Santee, very
pusily executing our boat-burning orders. Not con*
$ent with destroying the common scows and flats of
the ferries, we went on to sweep the river of every
skiff and canoe that we could lay hands on ; nay, had
the harmless wonkopkins been able to ferry an Eng
lishman over the river, we should certainly have de
flared war and hurled our firebrands among them,

The reader may be sure we gained no good will by
pur zeal in this affair j for H was a serious thing to the
planters : and their wratf waxed exceedingly hot
Against us. Among that fleet of boats and flats that
perished by our firebrands or hatchets, there were two
|hat belonged to my excellent old uncle, colonel E.
The o?d g-entkmsui c^uld hardly believe hi?

GEN. FRANCIS MARION 109

negroes, when they told him that we were destroying
his boats. However, to be satisfied of the matter, he
mounted his horse, and galloped down to the river to
$ee. We had completely done for his scow, and were
just giving the finishing blows to his boat as he hove
in sight ; whereupon, clapping whip and spur to his
horse, he came on as hard as he could drive. Soon as
he was within hailing distance of an ordinary speak
ing trumpet, he began to bawl — " Hold ! hold ! for
God's sake hold !"

Then dashing up, with cheeks red as fire coalsr and
liis mouth all in a lather, he roared out, " Why, what?
what ? what are you about here ?"

a We are only trying to kidnap the British, uncle,"
*aid I.

"Kidnap the d— 1," he replied.

Then looking around, and seeing how completely
we had shivered his fine new boat and scow, he ripped
out again — " Well ! here is a pretty spot of work ! a
pretty spot of work ! A branding new scow and boat,
that cost me, only last spring, three hundred dollars !
every farthing of it ! and here now all cut to smash !
ruined ! not worth a chew of tobacco ! why ! did mor
tal flesh ever see the like of this ' Breaking up ou?
boats! why, how are we to harvest our ricer'

" Uncle," said I, u you had better think less of har
vesting your rice, and more of catching the musk
rats," meaning the British.

Here, darting at me an eye of inexpressible asto
nishment and rage, he exclaimed — " Why, certainly
the d — 1 is in the young man ! catch the British :
>v hy, have you not heard that the British are carrying
every thing before them ; have broke up our army ;
cut the regulars to pieces ; scattered the militia ; and
chased general Gates to Jericho, and to the d — 1 for
what I care ?"

" God forbid !" said Marion.

**Nay, that is past praying for," replied my uncle)

110 THE LIFE OF

f< and if you had any interest in heaven, you ought
to have made it sooner. It is too late now."

" Great God !" returned Marion ; " and so our ar
my is lost!"

" Yes," continued my uncle ; " lost, as sure as a
gun: and that is not all; for De Kalb is killed; Sump-
ter surprised and cut to pieces ; and Charleston illu
minated every night for joy."

We could neither of us 'itter a word.

Presently my uncle, casting a searching eye around
on our men, about thirty in number, asked where our
troops were.

I told him those were all the troops we had.

I thought the good old gentleman would have gone
into fits. He rolled up his eyes to heaven ; smacked
his hands together, and bringing them by a sudden
jerk to his breast, with a shrill whistle exclaimed,
" Mad ! — mad ! — the young fellow is as mad as a
March hare — Well, I'll tell you what, nephew of mine,
you may go about on the river, chopping the planters1
boats at this rate, but I would not be in your coat, my
lad, for your jacket, though it was stiff with gold."

I asked him what he meant by that ?

u Why, I mean," replied he, " that if you are not,
all of you, knocked on the head in three hours, it will
be a wonder."

" Aye ! what makes you think so, uncle T? said I.

He answered : u You know my old waiting man,
Tom, don't you ?"

" To be sure I do^" said I ; " I have known Tom
ever since I was a boy, and should be confounded sor
ry to hear Tom prophesy any harm of me ; for I have
always taken him to be a very true man of his word.*

" Yes, I'll warrant him," said my uncle ; " foi
though Tom is a negro, and as black as old Nick, yev
I would as soon take Tom's word as that of any whitr,
man in Carolina. Well, Tom, you know, has a wife

at Mr. 's, as rank a tory as we have hereabouts.

On coming home this morning, he shopk his nead and

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Ill

said he was mighty 'fraid you and Col. Marion were
in a bad box; for, that he got it from one of the black
waiters in the house, who overheard the talk, that
there are three companies of tories now moulding
fche'tr bullets, and making ready to cut you off."

I looked at Marion arid saw battle in his face.

My uncle was about to invite us to the house ; but
Marion interrupted him by saying, " This is no time
to think of visiting;" and turning to his trumpeter,
ordered him to wind his horn, which was instantly
done. Then placing himself at our head, he dashed
off at a charging lope ; with equal speed we followed
and soon lost sight of my uncle Horry.

On reaching the woods, Marion ordered the troop
to halt and form ; when, with his usual modesty, he
thus addressed us :

44 Well, gentlemen, you see our situation ! widely
different from what it once was. Yes, once we were
a happy people ! Liberty shone upon our land, bright
as the sun that gilds yon fields ; while we and OUT
fathers rejoiced in its lovely beams, gay as the birds
that enliven our forests. But, alas ! those golden days
are gone, and the cloud of war now hangs dark and
lowering over our heads. Our once peaceful land is
now filled with uproar and death. Foreign ruffians
braving us up to our very firesides and altars, leave
us no alternative but slavery or death. Two gallant
arrnies have beep marched to our assistance ; but, for
lack of competent commanders, both have been lost.
That under general Lincoln, after having been duped
and butchered at Savannah, was at last completely
trapped at Charleston, And that under general Gates,
after having been imprudently overmarched, is now
cut np at Camden. Thus are all our hopes from the
north entirely at an end ; and poor Carolina is left to
shift for herself. A sad shift indeed, when not one
in a thousand of her own children will rise to take her
part ; but, on the contrary, are madly taking part with
tfie enemy against her. And now, my countrymen, I

112 THE LIFE OF

want to know your minds. As to my own, that ha»
long been made up. I consider my life as but a mo
ment. But I also consider, that to fill that moment
with duty, is my all. To guard my innocent country
against the evils of slavery, seems now my greatest
duty ; and, therefore, I am determined, that while 1
live, she sh^l] never be enslaved. She may come tc
that wretched state for what I know, but my eye?
shall never behold it. Never shall she clank hei
chains in my ears, and pointing to the ignominious
badge, exclaim, " IT WAS YOUR COWARDICE THAI

BROUGHT ME TO THIS."

In answer to this we unanimously assured him, that
those sentiments and resolutions were exactly our
own : and that we were steadfastly determined to die
with him, or conquer for our country.

" Well then, my brave friends," said he, u draiv
your swords ! Now for a circle, emblematical of our
eternal union ! and pointing your blades to heaven,
the bright throne of Him who made us free, swear
you will never be slaves of Britain."

Which was all most devoutly done.

Soon as this patriotic rite was performed, we all dis
mounted ; and taking our seats on the trunks of two
fallen pines that lay conveniently parallel, we made
our simple dinner of cold roots ; and for our beverage
drank of the lucid stream that softly murmured by.

The reader will please to keep in mind, that our
troops consisted of but thirty mounted militia; chief-
y gentlemen volunteers, armed with muskets and
swords, but almost without powder and ball. How
Marion came to be at the head of this littly party, it
may be amusing to the reader to hear,

Some short time before this date, 1779 — 80, when
the war began to rage in South Carolina, a British
oaptain by the name of Ardeisoff came up to George
town in an armed vessel, and filled the country with
printed proclamations from lord Cornwallis, calling
on the GOOD PEOPLE of South Carolina to submit and

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. II

take royal protections ! ! Numbers of the ignorant and

Eusillanimous sort closed with the offer. But the no-
ler ones of the district, ( William sburgh) having no
notion of selling their liberties for a pig in a poke^
called a caucus of their own, from whom they select
ed captain John James, and sent him down to master
captain Ardeisoff, to know what he would be at. This
captain James, by birth an Irishman, had rendered
himself so popular in the district, that he was made a
militia captain under the royal government. But in
r75, soon as he found that the ministry were deter
mined to tax the Americans, without allowing them
the common British right of representation, he brave
ly threw up his commission, declaring that he would
never serve a TYRANT. Such was the gentleman
chosen by the aforesaid liberty caucus, to go on the
embassy before mentioned. In the garb of a plain
planter, James presented himself before the haughty
captain ArdeisoiF, and politely asked " on what terms
himself and friends must submit ?"

" What terms, sir !" replied the angry Briton,
w what terms ! why, no other terms, you may be sure,
than unconditional submission."

u Well but, sir," answered James, very calmlyf
tt are we not to be allowed to stay at home in peace
and quiet ?"

" In peace and quiet, indeed !" replied Ardeisoflf,
with a sarcastic grin ; " a pretty story, truly ! Stay
at home in peace and quiet, heh ? No, no, sir, you
have all rebelled against your king; and if treated as
you deserve, would now be dancing like dogs at the
arms cf the gallows. But his majesty is merciful, sir ;
and now that he has graciously pardoned you, he ex
pects you will immediately take up arms and turn
out in support of his cause."

" You are very candid, sir," said James ; " and now
I hope you will not be displeased ivith me for being
equally plain. Permit me, then, sir, to tell you that

114 THE LIFE 6P

such terms will never go down with the gentlemefi
whom I have the honour to represent."

" The gentlemen you have the honour to represent^
you d — n — d rebel !"

Vesuvius ! ^Etna ! and Strumbolo ! what are your
fires and flames, compared with these that raged in
the bosom of James, when he heard himself called a
d — n — cl rebel !

Instantly springing up, with eyes of lightning, he
snatched up his chair, and. regardless of consequences^
laid the audacious Arcleisoff sprawling on the floor 5
then flying to his horse, he mounted and made his
escape. Learning from him, at. his return, what they
had to understand by British protections, his gallant
constituents came at once to the resolution to arm and
fight till death, rather than hold life on such ignomini
ous terms. Immediately the whole forr.e of the district,
about two hundred, able to bear arms, were mustered
and placed under captains William M'Coltery, John
M'Cawley, Henry Mowizon, and our brave captain
James, who was appointed major and captain general
of the whole. Feeling that distrust in themselves
Which is common with raw troops, and learning that
the northern army was just entering South Carolina,
they despatched a messenger to general Gates, to re
quest that he would send them an officer who had seen
service. Governor Rutledge, who happened at that
time to be in camp, advised general Gates by all means
to send Marion. Marion was accordingly sent ; but
with orders, as we have seen, to destroy i on his route,
all the boats on the Santee river, lest lord Cornwallis
should make his escape. At the time of leaving ge
neral Gates, Marion had but ten men with him ; but
on reaching Santee, we were joined by major John
James, with about twenty gallant gentlemen volim*
teers, making his whole force about thirty.

A slender force to be sure, to oppose to the tremen
dous powers which Marion had to encounter ! But,
*the Lord is king, the victory is his!" and when he

Page 114

Captain Ji mes, knocking down Caplrin Ardeisvff
zoith a Chair.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Jl*

pleases to give it to an oppressed people, he can make
the few and feeble overcome the many and mighty
As the brave major James may perhaps be men-
tioned no more in this history, I must gratify the
reader by informing him, that the noble major lost
nothing by his attachment to duty and the rights of
man. He lived to see Cornwallis, Tarleton, and Raw-
don, laid as low as the insolent Ardrisoff; and after
enjoying many years of sweet repose, under the plea-
Bant shade of peace and plenty, he sunk gently to
rest. But though now fallen asleep, he still lives in
his country's gratitude, and in the virtues of his son,
who fills one of the highest places in the judiciary of
his native state.

CHAPTER XIV,

Carolina apparently lost — Marion almost alone, keeps
the field — begins to figure — surprises a strong Brt~
tisk party at Nelson's old field — scourges the tories
at Black Mingo — again smites them hip and thigh
on Pedee.

THE history of the American revolution is a his
tory of miracles, all bearing, like sunbeams, on this
heavenly fat: "America shall be free !"

Some of our chimney-corner philosophers can
hardly believe, when they read of Sampson making
such a smash among the Philistines with the jaw
bone of an ass. Then how will they believe what I
am going to tell them of Marion ? How will they be
lieve that, at a time when the British had completely
overrun South Carolina; their head quarters at
Charleston; a victorious army at Camden ; strong
garrisons at Georgetown and Jackson borough, with
swarms of thievish and bloody minded tories, filling
up all between ; and the spirits of the poor whigs SQ
completely cowed, that they were fairly knocked UB

116 THE LIFE OF

der to the civil and military yolce of the Rrit.tsl .
who, I ask again, will believe, that in this desperate
state of things, one little, swarthy, Frencli-phizzed
Carolinian, with only thirty of his ragged country-
Hfi£n, issuing out of the swamps, should have dared
to turn his horse's head towards this all conquering
foe ?

Well, Marion was that man. He it was, who, with
his feehle force, dared to dash .up at once to Nelson's
ferry, on the great war path between the British ar
mies at Charleston and Camden,

" Now, my gallant friends,'' said he, at sight of the
road, and with a face burning for battle, " now look
sharp! here are the British wagon tracks, with the
sand still falling in ! and here are the steps of their
troops passing and repassing. We shall not long be
idle here !"

And so it turned out. For scarcely had we reached
our hiding place in the swamp, before in came our
scouts at half speed, stating that a British guard, with
$ world of American prisoners, were on their march
for Charleston.

" How many prisoners do you suppose there were 1 '
said Marion.

"Near two hundred," replied the scouts.

•" And what do you imagine was the number of the
British guard?"

h Why, sir, we counted about ninety."

* Ninety!" said Marion with a smile; "ninety! Well,
that will do. And now, gentlemen, if you will only
•tand by me, I've a good hope that we thirty will have
those ninety by to-morrow's sunrise."

yVe told him to lead on, for that we were resolved to
die by his side.

Soon as the dusky night came on, we went down to
the ferry, and passing for a parti/ of good hyyalists
we easily got set over. The enemy, with their prison-
rrs, having just effected the passage of Ihe river as
the sun went down, halted at the first tavern grnc

GEN. FRANCIS MARION 1JA

ally called " the Blue House," where the officers or
dered supper. In front of the building, was a large
arbour, wherein the topers were wont to sit, and spend
the jocund night away in songs and gleeful draughts
of apple brandy grog. In this arbour, flushed with
their late success, sat the British guard ; and tickler
after tickler swilling, roared it away to the tune of
" Britannia strike home :" till overcome with fatigue,
and the opiate juice, down they sunk, deliciously
beastified, to the ground.

Just as the cock had winded his last horn for day
we approached the house in perfect concealment, be
hind a string of fence, within a few yards of it. But
in spite of all our address, we could not effect a com
plete surprisal of them. Their sentinels took the
alarm, and firing their pieces, fled into the yard. Swift
as lightning we entered with them, and seizing their
muskets, which were all stacked near the gate, we
made prisoners of the whole party, without having
been obliged to kill more than three of them.

Had Washington and his whole army been upon
the survivors, they could hardly have roared out
»ouder for quarter. After securing their arms, Ma
rion called for their captain ; but he was not to be
found, high nor low, .among the living or dead.
However, after a hot search, he was found up the
chimney ! He begged very hard that we would not
let his men know where he had concealed himself
Nothing could equal the mortification of the British,
when they came to see what a handful of militia-men
had taken them, and recovered all their prisoners.

Marion was at first in Mgh hopes, that the Ameri
can regulars, whom he had so gallantly rescued, would,
to a man, have joined his arms, and fought hard to
avenge their late defeat. But equally to his surprise
and their own disgrace, not one of them could be pre
vailed on to shoulder a musket ! " Where is the use,"
•aid they, " of fighting now, when all is lost ?"

Thia was the general impression. And indeed^

118 THE LIFE OF

except these unconquerable spirits, Marion and
Sumpter, with a few others of the same heroic stamp,
who kept the field, Carolina was no better than a
British province.

In our late attack on the enemy, we had but four
rounds of powder and ball ; and not a single sword
that deserved the name. But Marion soon remedied
that defect. He bought up all the old saw blades
from the mills, and gave them to the smiths, who
presently manufactured for us a parcel of substantial
broadswords, sufficient, as I have often seen, to kill
a man at a single blow.

From our prisoners in the late action, we got com
pletely armed ; a couple of English muskets, with
bayonets and cartouch-hoxes, to each of us, with
which we retreated into Britton's Neck.

We had not been there above twenty-four hours
before the news was brought us by a trusty friend^
that the tories, on Pedee, were mustering, in force,
under a captain Barfield. This, as we learnt after
wards, was one of the companies that my uncle's old
coachman had been so troubled about. We were
quickly on horseback ; and after a brisk ride of forty
miles, came upon their encampment, at three o'clock
in the morning. Their surprise was so complete, that
they did not fire a single shot ! Of forty-nine men,
who composed their company, we killed and took
about thirty. The arms, ammunition, and horses, of
the whole party, fell into our hands, with which we
returned to Britton's Neck, without the loss of a
man.

The rumour of these two exploits soon reached the
British and their friends the tories, who presently
despatched three stout companies to attack us. Two
of the parties were British ; one of them commanded
by major Weymies, of house-burning memory. The
third party were altogether tories. We fled before
them towards North Carolina. Supposing they had
entirely scouted ust they gave over the chase, and r

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

treated for their respective stations ; the British to
Georgetown, and the tories to Black Mingo. Learn
ing this, from the swift mounted scouts whom he al
ways kept close hanging upon their march, Marion
ordered us to face about, and dog them to their en
campment, which we attacked witli great fury. Our
fire commenced on them at but a short distance, and
with great effect ; but outnumbering us, at least two
to one, they stood their ground and fought despe
rately. But losing their commander, and being hard
pressed, they at length gave way, and fied in the ut
most precipitation, leaving upwards of two-thirds of
their number, killed and wounded, on the ground. —
The surprise and destruction of the tories would
have been complete, had it not been for the alarm
given by our horses' feet in passing Black Mingo
bridge, near which they were encamped. Marion
never afterwards suffered us to cross a bridge in the
night, until we had first spread our blankets on it, to
prevent noise.

This third exploit of Marion rendered his name
very dear to the poor ruhigs, but utterly abominable
to the enemy, particularly the tories, who were so
terrified at this last handling, that, on their retreat,
they would not halt a moment at Georgetown,
though twenty miles from the field of battle ; but
continued their flight, not thinking themselves safe,
until they had got San tee river between him and
diem.

These three spirited charges, having cost us a great
deal of rapid marching and fatigue, Marion said he
would give us " a little rest" So he led us down into
Waccamaw, where he knew we had some excellent
friends ; among whom were the Hugers and Trapiers,
and Alstons ; fine fellows ! rich as Jews, and hearty
as we could wish : indeed the wealthy captain, now
colonel William Alston, was one of Marion's aids.

These great people all received us as though we
had been their brothers, threw open the gates or theif

t20 THE LIFE OF

elegant yards for our cavalry, hurried us up then
princely steps; and, notwithstanding cur dirt and
rags, ushered us into their grand saloons and dining
rooms, where the famous mahogany sideboards were
quickly covered with pitchers of old amber coloured
brandy, and sugar dishes of double refined, with honey,
for drams and juleps. Our horses were up to the
eyes in corn and sweet-scented fodder ; while, as to
ourselves, nothing that air, land, or water could fur
nish, was good enough for us. Fish, flesh, and fowl,
gill of the fattest and Ji nest, and sweetly graced with
the smiles of the great ladies, were spread before us,
as though we had been kings : while Congress and
Washington went round in sparkling bumpers, from
old demijohns that had not left the garret for many a
year. ^

This Avas feasting indeed ! It was a feasting of the
sou. as well as of the sense. To have drawn the
sword for liberty and dear country's sake, was, of
Itself, no mean reward to honest republicans ; but,
beside that, to be so honoured and caressed, by th
great ones of the land, was like throwing the zone of
Venus over the waist of Minerva, or like crowning
profit with pleasure, and duty with delight.

In consequence of the three fortunate blows which
he had lately struck, Marion, as before observed, was
getting the enviable honour to be looked up to as the
rallying point of the poor whigs ; insomuch, that al
though afraid as mice to stir themselves, yet, if they
found out that the tories and British were any where
forming encampments about the country, they would
mount their boys and push them off to Marion to let
him know. Here I must give the reader an instance
on the spot.

We had just got ourselves well braced up again, by
rest and high feeding, among the noble whigs of
Waccamaw, when a likely young fellow at half speed
drove up one morning to the house, and asked for
general Marion,

GEN FRANCIS MARION. 12*

Marion went to the door.

44 Well, my son, what: do you want with me ?"

44 Why, sir general,'' replied the youth, "daddy
sent me down to let you know, as how there is to be
a mighty gathering of the tories, in our parts, to-mor
row night."

u Aye indeed ! and pray whereabouts, my son, may
your parts be ?**

44 Heigh, sir general ! don't you know, where oui
parts is ? I thought every body knowed where daddy
lives."

"No, my son, I don't ; but, I've a notion he lives
somewhere on Pedee ; perhaps a good way up."

44 Yes, by jing, does he live a good way up ! a mat
ter of seventy miles ; clean away up there, up on Little
Pedee."

4C Very well, my son, I thank your daddy, and you
too, for letting me know it. -And, I belie\Te, I must
try to meet the tories there."

44 O la, sir general, try to meet 'em indeed! yes, to
be sure ! dear me, sirs, hearts alive, that you must, sir
general ! for daddy says, as how, he is quite sartin, if
you'll be there to-morrow night, you may make a pro
per smash among the tories ; for they'll be there thick
and threefold. They have heard, so they say, of your
doings, and are going to hold this great meeting, on
purpose to come all the way down tare after you"

44 After me ?"

44 Yes, indeed are they, sir general ! and you had
better keep a sharp look out, I tell you now ; for they
have just been down to the British, there at George
town, and brought up a matter of two wagon loads of
guns ; great big English muskets ! I can turn my
thumb in them easy enough! And, besides them
plaguy guns, they have got a tarnal nation sight of
pistols ! and bagonets ! and swords ! and saddles !
and bridles ! and the dear knows what else besides !
so they are in a mighty good fix, you may depend,
air general."

123 THE LIFE OF

tt Well, perhaps you and I may have some of theii
fine things to-morrow night. What say you to it, my
son I"

" By jing, I should like it proper well ! But, to be
sure, now, sir general, you look like a mighty small
man to fight them great big tories there, on Pedee.
But daddy says as how the heart is all : and he says,
too, that though you are but a little man, you have a
monstrous great heart."

Marion smiled, and went out among his men, to
whom he related the boy's errand ; and desired them
to question him, so that there might be no trick in the
matter. But every scruple of that sort was quickly
removed ; for several of our party were well acquaint
ed with the lad's father, and knew him to be an exr
cellent whig.

Having put our firearms in prime order for an at
tack, we mounted ; and giving our friends three
cheers, dashed off, just as the broad-faced moon
arose ; and by daybreak next morning, had gained a
very convenient swamp, within ten miles of the grand
tory rendezvous. To avoid giving alarm, we struck
into the swamp, and there, man and horse, lay snug
all day. About eleven o'clock, Marion sent out a
couple of nimble-footed young men, to conceal them*
selves near the main road, and take good heed to
what was going on. In the evening they returned
and brought word, that the road had been constantly
alive with horsemen, tories they supposed, armed
with new guns, and all moving on very gaily towards
the place the lad had told us of. Soon as it was
dark, we mounted, and took the track at a sweeping
gallop, which, <by early supper time, brought us in
sight of their fires. Then leaving our horses under
& small guard, we advanced quite near them, in the
dark, without being discovered ; for so little thought
had they of Marion, that they had not placed a single
sentinel ; but were, all hands, gathered about th@
fire: some cooking, some fiddling and dancing, an**

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 123

some playing cards, as we could hear them every
now and then bawling out, " Huzza, at him again
damme ! aye, that's the dandy ! Mu trick, begad!"

Poor wretches, little did they think how near the
fates were grinning around them.

Observing that they had three large fires, Marion
divided our little party of sixty men into three com
panies, each opposite to a fire, then bidding us to take
aim, with his pistol he gave the signal for a general
discharge. In a moment the woods were all in a blaze,
as by a flash of lightning, accompanied by a tremen
dous clap of thunder. Down tumbled the deatd ; off
bolted the living; loud screamed the wounded; while
far and wide, all over the woods, nothing was to be
heard but the running of tories, and the snorting of
wild bounding horses, snapping the saplings. Such a
tragi-comedy was hardly ever seen. On running up
to their fires, we found we had killed twenty-three^
and badly wounded as many more ; thirteen we made
prisoners ; poor fellows who had not been grazed by
a bullet, but were so frightened that they could not
budge a peg. We got eighty-four stand of arms, chiefly
English muskets and bayonets, one hundred horses,
with new saddles and bridles, all English too, with a
good deal of ammunition and baggage. The conster
nation of the tories was so great that they never
dreamt of carrying off any thing. Even their fiddles
and fiddle bows, and playing cards, were all left
strewed around their fires. One of the gamblers, (it
is a serious truth} though shot dead, still held the
cards hard griped in his hands. Led by curiosity to
nspect this strange sight, a dead gambler, we found
that the cards which he held were ace, deuce, and
jack. Clubs were trumps. Holding high, low, jack,
and the game, in his own hand, he seemed to be in a
fair way to do well ; but Marion came down upon
him with a trump that spoiled his sport, and non
*uited him for ever.

But the most comfortable sight of all, was the fire

THE LIFE OF

supper which the tories had cooked ! three fat roasted
pigs, and six turkeys, with piles of nice journey-cakes.
Tis true, the dead hodies lay very thick round the
fires : but having rode seventy miles, and eating no*
thing since the night before, we were too keen set to-
think of standing on trifles ; so fell upon the poof
tones' provisions, and made the heartiest supper in
the world. And, to crown all, we found among the
spoil, upwards of half a barrel of fine old peach
brandy.

" Ah, this brandy!" said Marion, " was the worst
foe these poor rogues ever had. But I'll take care if
shall be no foe to us." So, after ordering half a pint
to each man, he had the balance put under guard.
And I must observe, by way of justice to my honour-^
ed friend, that success never seemed to elate him ;;
nor did ever he lose sight of safety in the blaze of
victory. For instantly after the defeat, our guns were
all loaded and our sentinels set, as if an enemy had
been in force in the neighbourhood.

CHAPTER X\

The ivhigs in high spirits on account of our successes^**
an express from Governor Rut ledge — promotions—*
British and tories in great wrath — sketch of theif
treatment of the patriots.

THE news of this fourth overthrow of the enemy,
was soon spread far and wide among both our friends
and foes ; producing every where the liveliest emo
tions of joy or sorrow, according as the hearers hap
pened to be well or ill affected towards us. The im*
pression whicli it made on our honoured executive,
was sweeter to our thoughts than honey or the honey
comb. For on the fifth day after our last flagellation
of the tories, in came an express from governor Rut-
ledge, with a commission of brigadier general for Ma-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

rion, and a full colonel's commission for me. Having
always looked up to my country as to a beloved mo
ther, whose liberty and prosperity were inseparably
connected with my own, it is no wonder that I shouli
have been so delighted at hearing her say, by her fa
vourite son, governor Rutledge, that, reposing especial
trust hi my courage, conduct, and attention to her in
terests, she had appointtd me a colonel in her armies t
&c. &c.

Scarcely had I perused my commission, before Ma
rion reached me hi* ; and with a smile, desired me to
read it. Soon as I came to his new title, " brigadiei
general," I snatched his hand and exclaimed," Huzza!
God save my friend ! my noble GENERAL MARION !
general! general! Aye that will do ! that will do! that
sounds somewhat in unison with your deseits."

" Well, but what do you think of the style" replied
he, " and of the prerogative — is it not prodigiously in
the pompous ?"

" Not at all? said I.

" No,1' continued he ; " why now to my notion, it h
very much in the turgid, in the Asiatic. It gives me
dominions from river to river, and from the mountains
to the great sea, like Tamerlane or Ghenghis Khan ;
or like George III. * by the grace of God, king of
Great Britain, FRANCE,' &c. &c. whereas, poor
George dares not set a foot there, even to pick up a
periwinkle !"

" Well, but general," said I, " as the English gave
France to George because they wish him to have it ;
so I suppose the good governor gives you this vast
district for the same reason."

^ Perhaps so," replied Marion.

The truth is, governor Rutledge was a most ardent
lover of his country ; and, therefore, almost adored
such an unconquerable patriot as Marion.

Hence, when he found, that notwithstanding the
many follies and failures of northern generals and ar*
mies ; notwithstanding the victories, and proclama-
M

126 THE LIFE Of

tions,and threats of Cornwallis andTarleton, Marion?
still stood his ground, and fought and conquered fof
Carolina; hfe whole soul was so filled with love of
him, that I verily believe he would have given him
u all the kingdoms of the earth and the glory thereof,"
had they been in his gift. Indeed what he did give
him was sketched out with a prodigiously bold hand.
He gave him all that territory, comprehended within
a line drawn from Charleston along the sea, to George
town ; thence westerly to Camden ; and thence to
Charleston again ; making a domain of extent, po
pulation,, and wealth, immense ; but over which the
excellent governor had no more power tft grant mili
tary jurisdiction, than to give kingdoms in fhe moon ;
for the whole of it was in the hands of the British,
and their friends the tories; so that the governor had
not a foot to give Marion : nor did Marion hold a
foot of it but by his own vigilance and valour; which
were so extraordinary, that his enemies, with all their
men, money, and malice, could never drive him out
of it,

.Hut while governor Rutledge, with all the good
whigs of the state, were thus heartily rejoicing with
Marion for his victories, the British and tories were
as madly gnashing their teeth upon him for the same.
To be struck four such severe blows, in so short a-
time, and all rising one over another in such curserf
climax of bad to worse; to be losing, in this manner,
their dear allies, with all their subsidies of arms, am
munition, and money; to have their best friends thus
cooled ; their worst enemies thus heated ; and rank
rebellion a-gain breaking up, out of a soil where they
nad promised themselves nothing but the richest fruits
of passive obedience : and all this by a little, ugly
Rpawn of a Frenchman ! It was too much ! they could
not stand it. Revenge they must and would have;
that was certain : and since, with all their eiTorts, they
could not get at Marion, the hated trunk and root of
all, they were determined to burn and sweat hi

GEIs FRANCIS MARION. 127

branches, the p^or whigs, i. e. to carry the curses ol
fire and sword through all their families and habita
tions. *

Now, had this savage spirit appeared among a few
poor British cadets, or piney -wood tories, it would not
have been so lamentable. Their ignorance of those
idivine truths, which exalt the soul above such hellish
passions, would have furnished some plea for them.
But, that a British general, and that general a noble
man ! a lord ! with an archbishop for his brother, and
hot-pressed bibles, and morocco prayer books, and all
such excellent helps, to teach him that " God is love,"
and " mercy his delight ;" that such a one, I say,
should have originated the infernal warfare, of plun
dering, burning, and hanging the American patriots,
is most HORRIBLE. And yet, if possible, more true
than horrible. Yes, sure as the day of doom, when
that fearful day shall come, and lord Cornwallis, stript
of his " brief authority," shall stand, a trembling ghost
before that equal bar : then shall the evil spirit, from
the black budget of his crimes, snatch the following
bloody order, and grinning an insulting smile, flash it
before his lordship's terrified optics.

AUGUST 18, 1780.
To lieutenant colonel Cruger, commandant at the En*

tish garrison at Ninety-Six,
SIR,

I have given orders that all the inhabitants of this
province, who had submitted, and who have taken a
part in this revolt, shall be punished with the greatest
rigour ; that they shall be imprisoned, and their whole
property taken from them or destroyed. I have like
wise directed, that compensation should be made out
of their effects, to persons who have been plundered
$nd oppressed by them. I have ordered, in the most
positive manner, that every militia-man who had
borne arms with us, and had afterwards joined the
enemy, should be immediately hanged. I have now

1S8 THE LIFE OF

sir, only to desire that you will tata the most vigor
ous measures to extinguish the rebellion in the dis
trict which you command, and that you will obey, in
the strictest manner, the directions I have given in
this letter, relative to the treatment of this country.

This order of lord Cornwallis proved to South Ca-
olina like the opening of Pandora's hox. Instantly
there broke forth a torrent of cruelties and crimes
never before heard of in our simple forests. Lord
Rawdon acted, as we shall see, a shameful part in
these bloody tragedies, and so did colonel Tarleton.
But the officer who figured most in executing the de
testable orders of Cornwallis, was a major Weymies
This man was, by birth, a Scotsman ; but, in princi
ple and practice, a Mohawk. So totally destitute was
ne of that amiable sympathy which belongs to his
nation, that, in sailing up Winyaw bay, and Wacca-
maw and Pedee rivers, he landed, and pillaged, and
burnt every house he durst approach ! Such was the
style of his entry upon our afflicted state, and such the
spirit of his doings throughout: for wherever he went,
an unsparing destruction awaited upon his footsteps.

Unhappily, our country had but too many pupils
that fitted exactly such a preceptor. The lazy, dram-
drinking, plunder-loving tories, all gloried in major
Weymies ; and were ever ready, at the winding of
his horn, to rush forth with him, like hungry blood
hounds, on his predatory excursions. The dogs of
hell were all now completely uncoupled, and every
devilish passion in man had its proper game to fly at
Here was a fine time for malice to feed her ancient
grudges ; for avar'ce to cram her maw with plunder;
and revenge to pay off her old scores, with bloody
interest.

A thievish tory, who had been publicly whipped
by a whig magistrate, or had long coveted his silver
tankard, or his handsome rifle, or his elegant horse,
had but to point out his house to major Weymies,

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 129

and say, " There lives a d — d rebel." The amiable
^najor and his myrmidons, would surround the noble
building in a trice; and after gutting it of all its rich
furniture, would reduce it to ashes. It was in vain
that the poor delicate mother and her children, on
bended knees, with wringing hands and tear-swirn-
ming eyes implored him to pity, and not to burn their
house over their heads. Such eloquence, which has
often moved the breasts of savages, was all lost on
jnajor Weymies and his banditti. They no more re
garded the sacred cries of angel-watched children
than the Indians do the cries of the young beavers,
whose houses they are breaking up.

But, oh, joy eternal! " THE LORD is KING." His
Jaw is love, and they who sin against this law, soon or
late, shall find that they have sinned against their own
souls.

A planter, in his fields, accidentally turning towards
his house, suddenly discovers a vast column of smoke
bursting forth, and ascending in black curling volumes
to heaven. " Oh my God ! my house !" he exclaims.
" my poor wife and children !" Then, half bereft ot
his senses, he sets off and runs towards his house. —
Still, as he cuts the air, he groans out, u Oh, my pool
wife and children !" Presently he hears their cries ;
he sees them at a distance with outstretched arms
flving towards him. Oh, pa! pa! pa! his children
tremblingly exclaim j while his wife, all pale and ou
of breath, falls on his bosom, and, feebly crying out
" The BRITISH ! oh the British" sinks into a swoon.

Who can tell the feelings of the father and the hus
band ! His wife convulsed in his arms ! his little beg
gared children screaming around him ! and his pro*
perty all sinking to ruin, by merciless enemies ! Pre
sently his wife, after a strong fit, with a deep sigh,
comes to herself; he wipes her tears; he embraces
find hushes his children. By and by, supposing the
British to be gone, arm in arm the mournful group
return. But ah, shocking sight! their once stately

ISO THE LIFE Of

mansion which shone so beauteous on the plain, the
pride and pleasure of their eyes, is now the prey of
devouring names. Their slaves have all disappeared ;
their stock, part is taken away, part -lies bleeding in
the yard, stabbed by bayonets ; their elegant furniture,
tables, glasses, clocks, beds, all is swallowed up. An
army of passing demons could have done no worse.
But while with tearful eye they are looking round on
the wide-spread ruin, undermined by the fire, down
comes the tall building with thundering crash to the
ground. The frightened mourners start aghast from
the hideous squelch, and weep afresh to see all the
hopes and glories of their state thus suddenly ended
in smoke and ashes.

It was in this way exactly that the British treated
my brother, major Hugh Horry, as brave a soldier as
ever fought in America. They laid in ashes all his
dwelling houses, his barns of clean rice, and even his
rice stacks ! Destroyed his cattle ; carried off eighty
negroes, which were all he had, not leaving him
one to bake him a cake. Thus, in one hour, as the
wild Arabs served Job, did the British serve my
poor brother, breaking him up root and branch ; and,
from a state of affluence, reduced him to a dunghill.

These savage examples, first set by the British, and
followed by the tories, soon produced the effect which
Marion had all along predicted. They filled the hearts
of the sufferers with the deadliest hate of the British ;
and brought them, in crowds, to join his standard,
with muskets in their hands, and vows of revenge
eternal in their mouths.

Hence it was that nothing so pleased Marion as to
hear of British cruelty to his countrymen.

a 'Tis a harsh medicine" he used to say, u but it is
necessary; for there is nothing else that will work
them. And unless they are well -worked and scoured
of their mother milk, or beastlmg partiality to the
English, they are lost. Our country is like a man who
has swallowed a mortal poison. Give him an anodyne

GEN. FRANCIS MARION IS!

to keep him easy, and he's a dead man. But if you
can only knock him about, and so put the poison in
motion as to make him deadly sick at the stomach, and
heave like a dog with a bone in his throat, he is safe.
Cornwallis has ail this time been lulling them by his
proclamations , and protections, and lies. But, thank
God, that time is pretty well over now ; for these un
feeling monsters, these ckildren of the devil, have let
out the cloven foot, and the thing is now beginning to
work as I expected. Our long deluded people are
opening their eyes, and beginning to see and smell the
blood and burnings of that Tophet, that political hell
of slavery and ruin, to which the British army is now
endeavouring, by murder and rapine, to reduce
them."

This was truly the case : for, every day the whigs
were coming into Marion's camp. Those who were
too old to fight themselves, would call upon their
sturdy boys to " turn out and join general Marion"

It was diverting to see how they would come
staving upon their tackies ; belted round with their
powderhorns and shotbags, with rifles in hand, and
their humble homespun streaming in the air. The
finely curling smile brightened in the face of Ma
rion ; and his eye beamed that laughing joy, with
which a father meets his thoughtless boy, returning
dirty and beaten by blackguards, from whose dan
gerous company he had sought in vain a thousand
times to wean him.

" Well, my son !" Marion would say, " and what
good news do you bring us ?"

" Why, why, why, sir general," replies the youth,
half cocked with rage, and stammering for words,
44 as I was overlooking my father's negroes in the rice
grounds, the British and tories came and took them
and carried them all away ; and I only am left alona
to tell you."

Presently another comes and says: "As I was
driving the horses and cattle down to the pasture,

m THE LIFE OF

She British and tories fell upon them, and carried
them all away ; and I alone am left to tell you."

While he was yet speaking, another comes and
says 2 " The British and tories came with fire and
burnt our houses and goods, and have driven my
mother and the children into the woods; and I only
am left alone to tell you."

Next comes another, who says : " My father anc}
myself were ploughing together' in the field, and the
British and tories came upon us and shot my father*
#nd I only am left alone to tell you."

Another comes and tells, that "lord Rawdon is
taking the whig prisoners every week, out of the jail
in Camden, and hanging them up by half dozens, near
the windows, like dead crows in a corn-field, to fright
en the rest, and make good tories of them."

Another states, that " colonel Charles Pinckney,
prisoner in Charleston, for striking a couple of ins<$
fent negroes, was cursed by the British officers as a
4 — -d rebel, and driven with kicks a?nd blows into the
house, for daring to strike his Rritanmc Majesty's
subjects!"

Here Marion snapped his fingers for joy, and shout
ed, "Huzza / that's right! that's right! O my noble
Britons, lay on ! lay on the spaniels stoutly ! they want
British protections, do they I O the rogues ! show
them no quarter, but give it to them handsomely!
Ureak their backs like dogs ! cut them over the face
and eyes like cats ! bang them like asses ! thank ye J
lhank ye, Cprnwallis and Rawdon ! most noble lords,
I thank ye ! you have at last brought the wry face
upon my countrymen, the cold sweat, the sardonic
grin. Thank God! the potion begins to work f
huzza, my sons ! heave ! heave ! aye, there comes the
bl>e; the atrabilzary ; the black vomiting which por
tends death to the enemy. Now Britons, look to youj
jrfiis, for Carolina will soon be tno hot to hold

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 133

CHAPTER XVL

Colonel Tynes, the famous to'ry partisan, attempts to
surprise Marion — is himself surprised and taken,
-with nearly all his party — the author, -with thirty
choice cavaliers, sent by Marion to reconnoitre — de
ft 2t of a British party af horse — anecdote of Scotch
Macdonald — surprise and slaughter of the tories—
captain Lewis is killed — anecdote of an extraordi
mry lad.

SOON after this last victory on Pedee, Marion
moved down into the neighbourhood of Black river ;
where he instantly got notice, that a large body of
tories under the celebrated Col. Tynes, were making
great preparations to attack him. This Tynes was a
man of valour and address worthy of a better cause.
In several contests with the whigs, he had handled
them very roughly ; and was become such a terror to
the friends of liberty in that part of the world, that
they were greatly alarmed on finding that he was
mustering all his forces to attack Marion. We were
scarcely encamped, before three expresses arrived
from the whi[; settlements on Black river, stating
colonel Tynes'' movements ; and advising to keep a
good look out, for that he was a very artful and dan
gerous felfaiv. According to their conjectures, colonel
Tynes must have had no less than one hundred and
fifty men: our number did not quite reach ninety,
but they were all volunteers, and exceedingly chafed
and desperate in their minds, by the barbarous usage
of the British and tories. Having, by this day's
march of fif ty miles, ^got within twenty miles of the
enemy, who supposed that we were still on Pedee.
Marion instantly resolved to attack him that night.
No sooner was this made known to the troops, than
the fatigues of the day appeared to be entirely for
gotten. All hands fell to work, currying, rubbing and
feeding tjveir norses, like young men preparing for a

> M THE LIFE OF

ball or barbacue. Then after a hearty supper and a
few hours' sleep, we all sprung upon our chargers
again, and dashed oiT about one o'clock, to try our
fortune with colonel Tynes. Just before day, we came
upon the enemy, whom we found buried in sleep,
The roar of our guns first broke their slumbers ; and
by the time the frightened wretches had got upon their
legs, man and horse, we were among them hewing
down. Three and thirty fell under our swords; for
ty-six were taken ; the rest, about sixty, made theii
escape. Colonel Tynes himself, with upwards of one
hundred horses, and all the baggage, fell intQ oil?
hands.

A day or two after this victory, the general order
ed me to take captain Baxter, lieutenant Postell, and
sergeant Maodonald, with thirty privates, and see if 1
could not gain some advantage over the enemy near
the lines of Georgetown. About midnight we cross.;-
ed Black river ; and, pushing on in great silence
through the dark woods, arrived at dawn of day near
the enemy's sentries, where we lay in ambush close
on the road. Just after the usual hour of breakfast,
a chair, with a couple of young ladies, 'squired by a
brace of British officers elegantly mounted, came
along at a sweeping rate from Georgetown.

They had not passed us more than fifty steps, t eforg
they stopped short. I was confoundedly afraid at first
that they had, somehow or other, smelt a rat ; hut it
turned out, as we afterwards learned, that this wa$
only a little courting party, going into the country to
dine. On getting into the gloomy woods, the vjirls
were taken with a quaking fit for their sweethearts,
lest that vile " swamp fox," as they called Marion,
should come across them. Whereupon the halt afore
said was ordered, and a consultation held ; the result
of which was, that the girls should go on to their
friend's house, and the officers back to town for a par-
Iv of dragoons. Accordingly the chair proceeded, and
Hicers galloped b?>ck by us? undisturbed ; for \v«

. FRANCIS MARION. us

did not think it worth while to risk an alarm for thf
sake of a couple of officers. Presently beginning ttf
feel very hungry, for we had travelled all night and
eaten nothing, we agreed to retire to the house of a
neighbouring planter, who was known to be a good
whig. As we entered the yard, what should we see
but the identical chair that had passed us a little be
fore ! — and on stepping into the house, behold thd
very same young ladies ! They were richly dressed*
and well formed, and would no doubt have appeared
nandsome, but for the hostile passions which glared
from their eyes, and gave their whole physiognomy
a fury-like expression. They asked us, with great
pertness, u what business we had there ? The gentle-*
fnan of the house," continued they, " is not at hornef
and there are no provisions here for you, and to be
sure, you are too much of gentlemen to think of
frightening a family of poor helpless women!"

Happily I made no reply ; for while these young
viragoes were catechising us at this rate, I discover
ed with much pleasure, that the lady of the house
did not utter a word, but walked the room backward
and forward with a smiling countenance. Presently
she went out; and showing herself at an opposite win
dow, beckoned me to come to her ; when she said^ in
a low voice, " Go back into the house, I'll be there
directly. On rny stepping iii you must demand pro-
visions ; I will deny that I have any. You must then
get into a violent passion, and swear vou will have
them, or set the house on fire. I will then throw
down the keys, and you can take just what you want ;
for thank God* there is enough, both for you aacl
your horse s."

Such was the farce, which the whigs in those days*
6oth ladies and gentlemen, were obliged to play, wheii
they had any of their tory acquaintance about them,
We now played it, and with the desired success ; for
the troughs in the yard were all presently filled with
corn and fodder for our cavalry ; while for ourselves,

156 THE LIFE OF

the good-natured cook wenches soon served up a most
welcome repast of fried bacon and eggs, with nice
hearth cakes and butter and milk. " God be praised,"
said we ; and down we sat, and made a breakfastr of
which even kings, without exercise and keen appe
tites, can form no idea.

Just as we had got completely refreshed, and braced
up again, what should we hear but the firing of our
sentinels. U7b horse! to horse! my brave fellows f
was the cry of one and all. Quick as thought, we
were all mounted and formed, when in came our sen
tinels, with the "British dragoons hard after them,
smack up to the fence. Charge boys, charge ! was
the word. In a moment the yard was bright with the
shining of our swords. The tory girls shrieked out
for their sweethearts — "Oh the British ! the British I
murder! murder I Oh!" Then off we went, all at
once, in solid column. The enemy took to their heels,
and we pursued. Over the fence we bounded like
stags. Down the hill went the British. Down the
hill went we; helter-skelter, man and horse, we flew:
roaring through the woods like the sound of distant
thunder.

We were all excellently mounted ; but there was
no horse that could hold the way with Selim. He
was the hindmost of all when the chase began ; ared'
J wondered at first what had become of Selim ; but
presently I saw him and Macdonald coming up on my
right like a thundergust. Indeed, with his wide
spread nostrils, and long extended neck, and glaring
eyeballs, he seemed as a flying dragon in chase of his
prey. He soon had his master up with the enemy.
I saw when Macdonald drew his claymore. The
shining of his steel was terrible, as, rising on his stir
rups, with high-lifted arm, he waved it three times
in fiery circles over his head, as if to call up all his
strength, Then, with a voice of thunder, he poured
his charging shout, dreadful as the roar of the lion
when, close up to his game, with hideous paws un

feEN. FRANCIS MARIOJST. 45?

clenched, he makes his last spring on the fat buffaloed
of his chase.

ITiough their mortal enemy, I could not but pity
the pocr fugitives, for I saw that their death was at
hand. One of the British officers fired a pistol at
him, hut without effect: before he could try anoxher?j
he was clit down by Macdonald. After this, at a
blow a piece, he sealed the eyes of three dragoon^
in lasting sleep. Two fell beneath the steel of th£
strong-handed Snipes; nor did my sword return
bloodless to its scabbard. In short, of the whole*
party, consisting of twenty-five, not a man escape d-,
except one officer, who, in the heat of the chasd
and carnage, cunningly shot off, at right angles, for
a swamp, which he luckily gained, and so cleared
himself.

The name of this officer was Meriot, and as finish^
ed a gentleman he was too, as 1 ever saw. I got ac°
quainttd with him after the war, at New York. Soon
as the ceremony of introduction was over, he smiled,*
and asked if I were not in the skirmish just related ?
On being answered in the affirmative, he again in-
quired, if I did not recollect how handsomely one of
trie British officers gave me the slip that day F I told
him I did. " Well," continued he, " I was that offi
cer ; and of all the frights I ever had in my life, thai
was the most complete. Will you believe me, sir,
when I assure you, that I went out that morning, with
my locks of as bright an auburn as ever curled upon
the forehead of youth ; and by the time I had crawl^
ed out of the swamp, into Georgetown, that night.-
they were as gray as a badger ! I was well nigh
taking an oath never to forgive £ou, during breath*
for frightening me so confoundedly. But, away with
all malice ! let it go to the devil, where it belongs.
So come, you must go dine with me, and I'll show
you a lovelier woman than either of those that rode
m the chair that day."

I went with him, and wag introduced to his wife,
N

13S THE LIFE OF ^

a lovclj woman indeed ! to whom, with great glee*
he related the whole history of the chase, and his own
narrow escape, and ther, laughed very heartily. But
not so his gentle partner. For, as he told of the
shrill whizzing of our swords close behind him, and
of the groans of his dragoons as they fell, cut down
from their horses, her face turned pale, and pensive;
then, looking at him with great tenderness, she heaved
a deep sigh, to think how near her husband had been
to death.

Meriot looked with pleasure on the troubled coun
tenance of his lovely wife, because he well knew the
fond source of her troubles. Then, snatching up a
goblet of sangree, richly mantled over with nutmeg,
he presented it to her ruby Hp&, saying, " Come, my
dear, drink, and forget the past !" Then, taking my
hand with great cordiality, he exclaimed, "Well, colo
nel Horry, we have been foes, but thank God, we are
good friends again. And now let me drink to you a
sentiment of my heart, Here*s friendship in marble^
enmity in dust"

The behaviour of this noble Englishman, has often-
served to deepen my abhorrence of WAR, which too
frequently sets those to cutting each other's throats^
who were born to be brothers.

But to return to our story. " Meriot," you'll sayr
"and his brother officer, brought their pigs to a bad
market." Yes, mdeed: but not a jot worse than some
of their friends came to the very day afterwards. On
the morning of that day, Marion, now concealed in
the swamps, near Georgetown, was pleased to order
me out on a second excursion. " Take captain
Snipes," said he, u with thirty men, and proceed
down the Sandpit road, in quest of the enemy. The
moment you discover them, whether British or to*
lies, charge with spirit, and I'll warrant your s*ic«
cess."

As we approached the bridge, still moving on very
chcumspectly, in the woods, we discovered at ashor*

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 13*

distance, a body of horsemen, perhaps a hundred, ap
parently in great confusion, and very anxious to form.
Instantly we took the road, and clapping spurs to our
horses, dashed upon them at full speed, at the same
time shouting as we rushed on. The enemy broke
and fled in all directions. We pursued. Then you
might have seen the woods all covered with armed
men ; some flying, others pursuing ; and with muskets,
and pistols, and swords, shooting and cutting down
as fast as they could.

From the unevenness of the ground, and rapidity of
the charge, my men were all soon out of sight, leav
ing with me but a lad of fourteen, named Gwinn, wh&
carried a musket. At that instant, a party of nine ot
ten men were seen advancing, whom I took for whigs,
and challenged as such, asking if they were not friends ?
" Friends ! O yes !" replied their captain, (one Lewis)
44 friends to be sure ; friends to king George !"

Quick as thought, off went Gwinn's musket, close
by my side, and down tumbled captain Lewis from
his horse, with a heavy squelch, to the ground. Bui
in the very instant of receiving his death, his musket,
which was raised to kill mt, took fire and shot my
horse dead on the spot. Seeing my horse drop, Gwinn
dismounted, and led his horse up to me in a moment.

Happily for us both, captain Snipes heard the re
port of our pieces, and thinking that we might be in
danger, dashed on to our aid, with several of my
troop, whooping and huzzaing as they came on. The
tory party then fired at us, but without effect, and fled,
leaving four of Marion's men, whom they had just
taken, and beaten very barbarously with the butts of
their muskets.

This was a fatal day to the tories, who must have
lost more than half their number. For I had with rne
not only Macdonald and Snipes, but several other
very strong and brave men, whose families had suf
fered very severely, by British and tory cruelty ; and.
I am afraid, they did not forget this, when their

140 THE LIFE OF

awords were hanging over the heads of the fugitives
4t any rate, they took but few prisoners.

In the course of this day's fighting, there happened
an affair which served to amuse us noj: a little on our
return to our camp that night. The tories, who, from
time to time had fallen into our hands, were often
easing their vexation, by saying, that it was true.
t1 Marion had proved too cunning for colonel Tynes
and captain Barfield, and other British and loyal offi
cers, whom he had attacked ; but that there was stili
one left behind, who, they were sure, if he could
come forward, would soon show us quite a different
§qrt of play; and that was colonel Gainey, from the
jhead waters of Pedee." We answered, that it was
all very well ; and that we should be glad to see col -
pel Gainey. Now, as God was pleased to have ii
who should it be, that with one-third of his number,
we had been chasing so to-day, but colonel Gainey \
a stout officer-looking fellow he was too, and most
nobly mounted. Macdonald made a dash at him, in
L*ll Confidence of getting a gallant charger. But die
good book tells us, that " the race is not always to the
swift ;" and owing partly to the fleetness of his horse,
and partly to a most extraordinary sort of accident,
colonel Gainey made his escape from our Scotsman.
The chase was towards Georgetown, distant little
more than two miles. Never on earth did two horses
or horsemen make greater exertions. Fear impelling
the one, fury urging the other. Macdonald declared,
that in the chase he passed several tories whom he
could easily have cut down, but like the lion in pur
suit of a favourite buffalo, he took no notice of .'*em,
His eye was fixed on colonel Gainey. Just as they
Burned Richmond corner, Selim had brought his mas?
ter near enough to his prey to make a stroke at him
with his bayonet. By a sudden jerk, it is supposed,
£he weapon turned ; so that when Macdonald drew
feack the carbine, he left the bayonet up to the hilt in

OEN. FRANCIS MARION.

his back. In this way colonel Cainey rode into town
prodigiously to his own and the mortification of hi*
friends the British and tories.

CHAPTER XVII.

Spirit of the torles — assassination of lieutenant Marion
— the murderer murdered — Marion's reflections on
the death of his nephew — his manner of rewarding
extraordinary courage among his men—sketch of the
brave boy Gzoinn.

•If mortal hands thy peace destroy,

Oi- friendship's gifts bestow,
Wilt thou to man ascribe the joy.

To man impute the wo?

* Tis GOD, whose thoughts for wisest ends,

The human lots dispose ;
Around thee plants assisting friends,

Or heaps chastising foes.

•"Not from the bow the deaths proceed.

But from the Archer9 8 skill,
He lends the winged shaft its jpeed,

And gives it power to kill/*

AND here I must relate a tragical affair that befel
us that day, and which filled us all with grief, because
of our beloved general. I mean the barbarous murder
of his nephew. Of all men who ever drew the sword,
Marion was one of the most humane. He not only
prevented all cruelty, In his own presence, but strictly
forbade it in his absence. I have known him to talk
fbr a quarter of an hour together, with one of his men,
for striking over the head, a horse that had started j
and to punish another for taking away from a negro,
his ragged chicken. To reason then like men, one
would suppose that he was the last person on whom

14? THE LIFE OF ,

§uch a cruel blow as the murder of a favourite nephew
should have fallen. But thanks to God, for that most
comfortable doctrine, that not even a sparrow can die
Until his death -warrant has been signed in heaven:
and, since this young man did d»c? at that time, there
can be no doubt but that was the right time.

The manner of his death was this. We have told
the reader, that, in the course of this day's fighting,
we retook from the tories four of Marion's men, whom
they had very barbarously beaten with the- butts of
their guns. On being asked how they came to fall
Jnto such bad company, they said, that immediately
$fter sending me off, in the morning, Marion got in
formation that a party of tories were encamped not
far distant, on a plantation of colonel Alston's, called

* The Penns." Captain M was despatched to

surprise them ; but he played his cards so badly, that,
instead of surprising them, they surprised him, killed
several of his men, and took the others. Among the
prisoners was the general's nephew, lieutenant Gabriel
Marion, of the continentals, who, happening at that
time on a visit to his uncle, turned out a volunteer,
£nd was taken. The tories murdered several of their
unfortunate prisoners in cold blood, bv first beating
them over the head with the butts of their muskets,
and then shooting them. They said that lieutenant
Marion, at sight of such horrid scenes, appeared much
shocked: and seeing among them a man who had
often been entertained at his uncle's table, he Hew to
him for protection, and threw himself into his arms.
The man seemed greatly distressed, and tried hard to
save him ; but the others roared out, that u he was
one of the breed of that d — d old rebel," and that
they would have his heart's blood. They, moreover,
swore, with the most horrid oaths, that if the man
did not instantly push young Marion from him, they
would blow him through also. The unfortunate youth,
being then thrust from the side of his friend, was jjj}-
mediately destroyed.

GEN. FRANC ib MARION. 14S

I hope the tender mercies of God are so great as
IVQt to let our unrworthiness prevent him from always
doing what is exactly right and good for us. We ought
not, therefore, to breathe a wish different from the will
and order of Providence. But still, to us, it seems a

great pity we did not get notice of captain M 's

advancing. We could have made a handsome joint
attack of it, and thereby not only have prevented the
horrid murders above related, but have scourged
those barbarians, as they deserved. For we heard
the firing, but thought it was colonel Alston's people
killing beeves.

Among the very few prisoners that we made in our
last action, was a mulatto fellow, who was suspected
to be one of those who had murdered the general's
nephew. Whether the suspicion was well or ill found
ed, I cannot say : but, certain it is, that the indigna
tion excited against him, on that account, soon proved
his destruction. For, as we were crossing the swamps
of Black river that night, an officer rode up to him,
while marching in the line of prisoners under guard,
and with a pistol, shot him dead on the spot. The
captain of the guard was instantly sent for- and se
verely reprimanded by the general, for not having
killed the author of that savage deed.

It was said the officer had offered a bottle of rum
to have the mulatto shot, but, finding none that would
do it, he did it himself. I do not give this as a fact:
but, I know it was the talk in camp, though carefully
kept from the general, as every body knew it would
have given him great pain. He often said, " he truly
lamented the untimely death of his nephew ; and that
he had been told, that this poor man was his murderer.
But that, as a prisoner, his life ought to have been
held most sacred ; especially as the charge against
him was without evidence, and, perhaps, no better
than conjecture. As to my nephew," continued he,
" I believe he was cruelly murdered : but living vir
tuously, as he did, and then dying ' fighting for the

THE LIFE OP

rlghw of man, he Is, no doubt, happy ; and this is my
comfort."

The next day Marion ordered the troops under
arms, and formed them into a large circle, all fronting
th« centre. While we were wondering what could be
the meaning of this strange manoeuvre, a sergeant was
seen leading into the circle an elegant horse, under
saddle and bridle, with portmanteau, sword, pistols,
and musket. This was the horse, furniture, and arms
of captain Lewis, whom the lad Gwinn, so fortunate
ly for me, had killed in the action three days before.
Marion then called Gwinn from the ranks.

The boy approached him with his hat off.

The general, placing his hand upon his head, in the
presence of the whole squadron, pronounced him " a
brave little man ; and there," pointing to the horse and
furniture, " there is the reward of your gallantry."

" Gwinn, sir," said I, " is not a good soldier, he
fired without orders."

" That's very true," replied he, " but I am sure,
colonel, you are the last that ought to blame me, on
that account ; for if I had not fired and killed captain
Lewis, exactly as I did, he would have killed you f
and besides, his saying he was the friend of GEORGE
the third, was enough for me; I did not think I could
fire too quick on such a man as that."

But when the sergeant, at the order of Marion, led
up to him the horse, richly furnitured, as aforesaid,
the confusion and grimace of the lad were truly di
verting. He blushed, he chuckled, he looked around
and around upon his comrades, as if at a loss how to
contain himself, or what to do. At length he made
shift to reach out his hand to the bridle, though deep*
ly blushing, and said, " Dear me now! well la! what
will mammy think, and the children, when they come
to see me, riding up here on this famous horse, and
all these fine things ! \ know well enough how mam
my will have a hearty cry, that's what she will ; for
•he will think I stsled him. But if any of the folk*

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 145

up our way should go to jaw about me, at that rate,
I trust as hciv, general, you will take my part, and
set 'em straight."

Marion smiled, and commended him for a good
boy, and told him to give his compliments to his
mother, and also his thanks to her, for being such a
true mother to her children, in bringing them up so
honestly.

But the general was told the next day, that Gwinn
had said, "he always hated the tories, because they
would not fight for their country; and, since the ge^
neral had paid him so well for killing one of them, he
was determined to try if he could not kill more."

And he .did kill more too, I'll warrant him, for he
was with us to the end of the war, in many a hard
brush. \»d then he was such a dead shot with a
rifle ! Standing, running, or flying, it was all one to
Gwinn. He would make nothing, at a hundred
yards, to stop you a buck, at full tilt through the
woods, as hard as he could crack it ; and at every
clip, to bring down the squirrels from the tops of the
taPest trees in the forest.

140 THE LIFE OF

CHAPTER XVIII.

Mutiny in our camp — Marion suppresses it — hi* ad*
dress to the o

THIS war, though on our part a war of virtue, was
not always so pleasant as might have been expected.
Instances of human weakness often occurred to dis
turb our harmony, and fill good men's hearts with
sorrow. For how, without grief, could we behold a
man fighting by our side to-day like a hero, for the
rights of bleeding humanity ; to-morrow, like a head
strong child) or a headlong beast , trampling them un
der foot ! And oh ! how sad to see nature's good
liest gifts, of manly size, and strength, and courage,
set off, too, in the proudest ornaments of war, the
fierce cocked hat, the flaming regimentals, and gold
en shoulderknots, all defeated of their power to
charm, nay, all turned into pity and contempt, in con
sequence of our knowing the owners to be gamblers,
swindlers, and villains !

Such was the truly pitiable case of some, in tliis
our glorious war of liberty. For want of a good edu
cation, I mean the early precepts of virtue, from a
parent's lips, with a few excellent books, to lift the
noble kindlings of the soul, the flame could not ascend
to what was heavenly and just; but with inverted
point, stuck downward to selfishness and vice. Men
of this character, though enlisted in the war of liberty,
were not her soldiers, felt riot her enthusiasm, nor her
consolations. They did not walk the camp, glorying
in themselves, as men called to the honour of hum
bling the tyrant, and of establishing the golden reign
of equal laws, in their own dear country, and thence,
perhaps over all the earth. Alas! no! strangers to
these divine views and wishes, they look no higher
than sordid gain / and as there was but little of that
kind of pay to be had, they were often gloomy and low

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 14?

ipirited. " Their life," they were wont murmuringly
to say, " was wearing away ; their country gave them
nothing, and they must e'en try to do something for
themselves."

In truth, plunder, plunder, was what they were
spelling for. They were continually darting their
greedy eyes upon every piece of merchandise that
came in their way. They had the heart not only to
plunder the tories, and to bring their unoffending
children to want ; but also to rob and ruin their own
frjends the whigs, if they could but do it with impu
nity.

I am led to these reflections by a most shameful
affair, which happened in our camp about this time,
and which threatened consequences as serious as thefo
source was shameful.

We were encamped near the house of a rich man
by the name of Cross. His wife, in sense and domes
tic virtues, was an Abigail ; while as to her hus-r
band, his niches, though great, were his least reconv
mendation, for he possessed all the generosity and
honour of the noblest patriot. His soul delighted in
Marion, whom he called the pillar of our cause. Oft
as he took leave of us, for battle, his bosom would
heave, his visage swell, and the tear would start into
his eye. And when he saw us return again, loaded
with the spoils of victory., he would rush to meet us,
with all a brother's transports on his face. His flocks
and herds, his meat-houses and corn-fields, were all
our own ; while his generous looks would tell us that
he still wished for more to give. Indeed, often at the
most imminent risk of his life, he used to send us in
telligence, and also furnish us with powder and ball.
But this most amiable of men, was not permitted to
*ee our cause triumphant; for in the midst of his sighs
and tears for his struggling country, God took him to
his own rest. The messenger of death came to him.
in the character of a nervous fever. As the phvsi-

143 THE LIFE OF

cians did not like to visit him on his plantation, he
was carried into Georgetown to be near them.

Marion went to See him the morning he set out;
and immediately after his departure, fixed a guard at
his house, that nothing might be disturbed. One
would indeed have supposed it unnecessary to place
a guard over such a house as his. But alas ! what
will not a base heart-hardening avarice do ! And I
blush while I relate, that, the very day after our ge
nerous friend was carried off, pale and hollow-eyed,
to Georgetown, whence he never more returned, two
of our officers, one of them a MAJOR, went to his
house to pillage it !

The guard, of course, opposed : but they dammed
him for an "impertinent rascal," and swore that if he
opened his mouth again, they would spit him on the
spot. Then bursting the door, they went in, and after
forcing the desks, drawers, and crunks, they rifled
them of whatever they wanted.

This most unsoldierly and detestable transaction
was communicated to me by Mrs. Cross herself;
whose servant came to me next morning with her
compliments, and requested that I would go down to
her, where she was sitting in her carriage at the road.
I waited on her at once ; and greatly to my grief,
found her in tears. I entreated to know the cause.

"Oh, sir," replied she, "we are ruined! we are
ruined! Poor Mr. Cross is, I fear, on his deathbed.
And then what will become of me and my poor chil
dren, when he is gone, and every thing is taken from
us !" She then reminded me of her husband's love
to general Marion and his people, from whom he
withheld nothing, but gladly imparted of all he had,
though often at the risk of his utter destruction from
the British and tories. " And yet, after all," said
she, " soon as my poor sick husband's baok is turned,
your people can go and break him up !"

" Madam," I replied, " I hope 'tis no offence to
ask your pardon j far 1 really cannot admit a suspi-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 14*

:1on so disgraceful to our troop : and to n?.y certain
Knowledge, general Mat ion placed a guard over your
house the moment Mr. Cross left it."

u Yes, sir," said she, u that's very true. And it
was like general Marlon. But some of our officers
have forced the guard and broken open the house,
and this instant I saw one of them with Mr. Crosses
sword by his side."

I never felt more mortified in my life. Then, after
entreating her to be perfectly easy about her house
and furniture in future, I took leave of this excellent
lady, and flew to the guard to set if what I had heard
were true.

He told me it was too true ; mentioned the names
of the officers ; and even went so far as to show me
one of them strutting about with the sword by his
fide f

It was well for the wretch, that I did not possess
the eyes of a basilisk, for I should certainly have
blasted him on the spot. Pausing, however, one
salutary moment, to confirm myself in the love of
virtue, by noting how abominable a villain looks, I
hasted to the general with the hateful tale ; which ex
cited in hi<* honest bosom the indignation which I
had expected. Then calling one of his aids, he said,

w Go to major , and desire him to send me Mr.

Cross's %word immediately."

The aid was presently back, but without the sword.
On being asked by the general, why he had not
brought it, he replied ; " The major says, sir, that the
sword does nnt belong to Mr. Cross. He says,
moreover, that if you want the sword, you must go
for it yourself."

"Well, go back," said the general, "and desire
those two officers to come to me."

It was not for sue1; an affair as this to be kept se
cret. It took wind in a moment ; and by the time
the tvro officers were arrived, almost all the field offi-
O

THE LIFE OP

cers had come together to the general's quarters, to
see how he would act on this extraordinary occasion.

Inferring from the looks of the two culprits, that
they meant to test his firmness ; and, willing that
the company should fully understand the merits of
the case, he thus addressed us :

" You well know, gentlemen," said he, " how like
a brother the proprietor of this plantation has always
treated us. We never gained a victory, but it caused
him tears of joy ; and however starved by others, by
him we have ever been feasted. You also know, that
he is now gone, sick, to Georgetown — -there, perhaps,
to die. Soon as he left us, I placed a guard over his
house ; but, at the same time, blushed for the reflec
tion cast on my men ; all of whom, as I thought,
would, instead of robbing, have defended it with
their lives. But, equally to my astonishment and
grief, I find I was mistaken. Yes, gentlemen, our
friend has been robbed, not by the poor untutored
privates in the ranks, 4>ut by my officers ! by those
who ought to have abhorred such an act! Yes, gen
tlemen, two of our brethren in arms — two of our offi
cers — forgetting what they owed to you, what they
owed to me, and, most of all, to their country and to
themselves, have done this odious deed ! And one of
them (here he pointed to the major) now wears by
his side the sword of our sick and injured friend.

" Well knowing that all men, even the best, have
too often * done those things which they ought not to
have done,' I felt it my duty to be as tender with this
gentleman as possible ; and therefore, sent him a po
lite request that he would return the sword : to which
he was pleased to reply, that * if I wanted it, I must
come and take it myself.' Still wishing to settle the
affair m a way as much to his credit as possible, I
sent for him to come to me. An J now, sir, (address
ing the major) I entreat of you, for the last time, to
give me up that sword.'*

With great rudeness he swore he would not. In-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION, 151

a*- !y every face was dark : and, biting his lip with
rage, each officer laid his hand upon his sword and
looked to the general. One word, nay, one assenting
look) and the brute would have been hewed to mince
meat in a moment. For my own part, whether I felt
more, or governed myself less than the rest, I cannot
say : but looking to the general, I broke out with an
oath, that if I commanded as he did, / "would have
that fellow hung- in Jive minutes.

"This is no business of yours, sir," replied he, ra
ther sternly ; " they are now before me."

Then looking at the major, still with great benig
nity, he said — " And do you really mean, sir, not to
give me up that sword ?"

" Sir, I will not!" replied the major.

a Sergeant of the guard !" said the general, " bring
me instantly a file of soldiers !"

Upon this, the major's colleague, who stood by
was seen to touch him.

Seehig the guard coming up with their naked
weapons, and much anger in their looks, the major
lost his courage, turned pale, and, in a sadly altered
tone, whined out, " General, you needed not to have
called in the guard. I will deliver up the sword.
Here it is."

" No, sir, I will not accept it at your hands. Give
it to the sergeant."

To this humiliating order, with much shame and
blushing, the poor major was constrained to comply.

Thus, happily, were extinguished the first sparks
of a mutiny, which, it was once thought, would have
broken out into a dangerous flame. The cool, dis
passionate address which effected this, did not fail to
produce a proper impression on us all. This the
general easily perceived in our looks ; and thereupon
as was common with him, when any sucn occasion
served, he arose and addressed us, in, as nearly as 1
can recollect, the fc$( $r:\ng words :

* When, geatlenacL $ &T wt catch th« spirit qC oui

Itt THE LIFE OF

profession; the spirit of men fighting for a republic f
to&ifyi&mvea/th f brothers .' that government most
glorious, where (Sod alone is king! that government
most pleasant, where men make and obey their own
laws! and that government most prosperous, where
men, reaping as they sow, feel the utmost stimulus
to every -virtue that can exalt the human character
and i ondition ! This government, the glory of the
earth., has ever been the desire of the wise and good
of ail nations. For this, the Piatos of Greece, the

u<;> of Home, the Tells of Switzerland, the Sidneys
of England, and the Washingtons of America, have
sighed and reasoned, have fought and died. In this
grand army, gentlemen, we are now enlisted; and
are combating under the same banners with those
excellent men of the earth. Then let self-gratulation
gladden our every heart, and swell each high-toned
nerve. With such worthies by our sides, with such
a CAUSE before our eyes, let us move on with joy to
the battle, and charge like the honoured champions
01 v^wd and of human rights. But, in the moment
of victory, let the supplicating enemy find us as
lovely in mercy, as we are terrible in valour. Onr
enemies are blind. They neither understand nor de
sire the happiness of mankind. Ignorant, therefore,
as children, they claim our pity for themselves. And
as to their widows and little ones, the very thought
of them should fill our souls with tenderness. The
crib that contains their corn, the cow that gives them
milk, the cabin that shelters their feeble heads from
the storm, should be sacred in our eyes. Weak and
helpless, as they are, still they are the nurslings of
heaven — our best intercessors with the Almighty.
Let them but give us their blessings, and I care not
how much the British curse. Let their prayers as
cend up before God in our behalf, and Cornwall! s
and Tarleton shall yet flee before us, like frightened
wolves before the well armed shepherds !"

Such wers the words of Marion, in the day vvhei

-•

Page 158.

General Marion feasting tJie British Officer on sweet
potatoes.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

he saw in our looks, that our hearts were prepared for
instruction. And such was the epilogue to the mutiny
The satisfaction which it gave to tne officers was so
general and sincere, that I often heard them say after
wards, that since the mutiny was suppressed, they
were glad it happened ; for it had given them an op
portunity to hear 'a lecture, which they hoped would
make them better men and braver soldiers too, as
long as they lived.

About this time we received a flag from the ene
my in Georgetown ; the object of which was, to make
some arrangements about the exchange of prisoners.
The flag, after the usual ceremony of blindfolding,
was conducted into Marion's encampment. Having
heard great talk about general Marion, his fancy had,
naturally enough, sketched out for him some stout
figure of a warrior, such as O'Hara or Cornwallis
himself, of martial aspect and flaming regimentals.
But what was his surpiise, when, led into Marion's
presence, and the bandage taken from his eyes, he
beheld in our hero, a swarthy, smoke-dried little
man, with scarce enough of threadbare homespun to
cover his nakedness ! and in place of tall ranks, of
gaily dressed soldiers, a handful of sunburnt yellow-
legged militia-men ; some roasting potatoes and some
asleep, with their black firelocks and powderhorns
lying by them on the logs ! Having recovered a little
from his surprise, he presented his letter to general
Marion; who perused it, and soon settled every thing
to his satisfaction.

The officer took up his hat to retire

44 Oh no .' ' sitid Ma. ion ; it is now about our time
of dining; and I hope, sir, you will give us the plea
sure of your company to dinner."

At mention of the word dinner, the British officer
looked around him ; but to his great mortification,
could see no sign of a pot, pan, Dutch-oven, or any
other cooking utensil that could raise the spirits of a
hungry man.

W4 THE LIFE OF

44 Well, Tom," said the general to one of his men
44 come, give us our dinner."

The dinner, to which he alluded, was no other than
a heap of sweet potatoes, that were very snugly roast
ing under the embers, and which Tom, with his pine
stick poker, soon liberated from their ashy confine
ment ; pinching them, every now and then, with his
fingers, especially the big ones, to see whether they
were well done or not. Then having cleansed them
o/the ashes, partly by blowing them with his breathf
and partly by brushing them with the sleeve of hia
old cotton shirt, he piled some of the best on a large
piece of bark, and placed the A between the British
officer and Marion, on the trunk of the fallen pine oa
which they sat.

44 I fear, sir," said the general, " our dinner will
not prove so palatable to you as I could wish ; but it
is the best we have."

The officer, who was a well bred man, took up one
of the potatoes and affected to feed, as if he had found
a great dainty; but it was very plain, that he ate
more from good manners than good appetite.

Presently he broke out into a hearty laugh. Ma
rion looked surprised. " I beg pardon, general,"
said he : "but one cannot, you know, always com
mand his conceits. I was thinking how drolly some
of my brother officers would look, if our government
were to give them such a bill of fare as this."

" I suppose," replied Marion, " it is not equal to
their style of-dining."

44 No, indeed," quoth the officer ; " and this, I ima
gine, is one of your accidental lent dinners j a sort of
a ban yan. In general, no doubt, you live a great
deal better."

44 Rather worse," answered the general : " for ofte»
we don't get enough of this."

44 Heavens !" rejoined the officer. " Bat probably,
what you lose in meal you make up in malt; tho^gb
stinted in provisions^ you draw nobk pay ?n

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 155

" Not a cent, sir," said Marion, " not a cent."

a Heavens and earth ! the n you must be in a bad
box. I don't see, genen-ii, how you can stand it."

"Why, sir," replied Marion, with a smile of self-
approbation, " thrse things depend on feeling."

The Englishman said, he " did not believe that it
would be an easy matter to reconcile his feelings to a
soldier's life on general Marion's terms ; all fig h ting
and no pay ! and no provision* but potatoes .'"

u Why, sir," answered the general, u the heart is
all ; and, when that is much interested, a man can
do °.iv thing. Many a youth would think it hard to
indent himself a slave for fourteen years. But let
him be over head and cars in love, and with such a
beauteous sweetheart as Rachel, and he will think no
more of fourteen years' servitude than young Jacob
did. Well, now, this is exactly my case. I am in
love; and my sweetheart is LIBERTY. Be that hea
venly nymph my companion, and these wilds and
woods shall have charms beyond London and Pans
in slavery. To have no proud monarch driving
over me with his gilt coaches ; nor his host of ex
cise-men and tax-gatherers insulting. and robbing me;
but to be my own master, my own prince and sove
reign, gloriously preserving my national dignity, and
pursuing my true happiness ; planting my vineyards,
and eating their luscious fruits ; and sowing my fields,
and reaping the golden grain : and seeing millions of
brothers all around me, equally free and happy as my-
self. This, sir, is what I long for."

The officer replied, that both as a man and a Bri
ton, he must certainly subscribe to this as a happy
state of things.

"Happy!" quoth Marion; "yes, happy indeed!
and I had rather fight for such blessings for my coun
try, and feed on roots, than keep aloof, though wal
lowing in all the luxuries of Solomon. For now, sir,
I walk the soil that gave me birth, and exult in the
thought that I am not unworthy of it. I look upon

136 THE LIFE OF

these venerable trees around me, and feel that I 4
not dishonour them. I think of my own sacred
rights, and rejoice that I have not basely deserted
them. And when I look forward to the long ages
of posterity, I glory in the thought that I am fighting
their battie-s. The children of distant generations
may never hear my name ; but still it gladdens my
heart to think that I am now contending for their
freedom, and all its countless blessings."

I looked at Marion as he uttered these sentiments,
and fancied I felt as when I heard the last words of
the brave De Kalb. The Englishman hung his ho-
nest head, and looked, I thought, as if he had seen
the upbraiding ghosts of his illustrious countrymen,
Sidney and Hampden.

On his return to Georgetown, he was asked bv
colonel Watson why he looked so serious ?

" I have cause, sir," said he, " to look serious."

" What ! has general Marion refused to treat I"

" No, sir."

"Well, then, has old Washington defeated sir
Henry Clinton, and broke up our army ?"

* No, sir, not that neither ; but zvorse"

u Ah ! what can be worse ?'*

44 Why, sir, I have seen an American general and
his officers, without pay, and almost without clothes,
living on roots and drinking water ; and all for LI
BERTY! What chance have we against such men!"

It is said colonel Watson was not much obliged to
him for this speech. But the young officer was so
struck with Marion's sentiments, that he nev<;r rested
until he threw up his commission, and retired from
the service.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Itt

CHAPTER XIX.

v Ah brandy ! brandv ! baneoflife,
"Spring; of tnimilt — source of strife:
"Could I but half thy curses tell,
"The wise would wish thee safe at hell."

Curious and Instructive Anecdotes,

fri/vT great poet, John Milton, who seems to
knuwa nim well, assures us that the devil was
the inventor of gunpswder. But, for my own part,
Were I in the humour to ascribe any particular inven
tion to the author oi ail evil, it should be that of dis*
tilling apple-brandy. We have scripture for it, that
he began his cauers whn the apple ; then, why not
go on with the brandy, \vhloh is but the fiery juice
of the apple ?

At any rate, I am pretty sure \ shall hardly ever

be able to think of it again wuh luicrable patience, as

.ong as I live. For, it was that vile lilthy poison that

tut me out of one of the finest piunr-cs that I ever ex*

ected to feather my cap with.

The case stands briefly thus. 1 have told the
reader, that Marion surprised and captured the cele
brated tory partisan, colonel Tynes, after killing the
major part of his men. For safe keeping, he was
*ent into North Carolina; whence he made his es*
cape— got back 5nto the forests of Black river, and
collected a stout force to try his fortune a second
time with Marion.

But, getting knowledge of the thing, Marion made
one of his forced marches, fell upon him, unawares,
and broke him up worse than before ; killing and
taking his ivholt party. Tynes wp* bent again to
North Carolina; whence. he contrived agrnn to make
nis escape; and, returning to his old haunts, soon
rallied a formidable force, for a third trial. This
news was IOCTI brought to genera! Marion, who there
upon, dee, +f, rnc t > take forty of our best cavaliers,

153 THE LIFE OF

and see if we could iiot scourge colonel '] ynes once
more.

About sunset we mounted, and travelled hard a I!
that night and until the middle of next clay, when we
halted, for refreshment, at the house of one who was
truly a " publican and sinner," for he was a great tory.

Not knowing what secret intelligence the man
might convey to the enemy, who were but fifteen
miles off, I had him taken up and put under guard,
We then got dinner, for which we honourably paid
the poor woman his wife. And now comes my woful
story. While, after dinner, I was busily employed
in catechising my prisoner, how should the devil be
employed, but in tempting my men with the distilled1
juice of the apple? Having, by some ill luck, found
out that there was a barrel of it in the house, they
hastened to the poor landlady, who not only gave
them a full dose for the present, but filled their bot
tles and canteens.

As we pushed on, after dinner, in high spirits, foi
the enemy, I could not but remark how constantly
the men were turning up their canteens.

a What the plague have you got there, boys,"1' said
E, u that you are so eternally drinking."

" Water ! sir, water ! nothing but water !" The
rogues were drinking brandy all the time ; but, b\
way of whipping the devil round the stump, they
called it -water I that is, apple "water.

Presently, finding, from their gaiety and frolick
so-meness, what they had been after, I ordered a halt,
and set myself to harangue them for such unsoldierly
conduct. But I might as well have talked to a troop
jf drunken Yahoos. For, some of them grinned in
my face like monkeys ; others looked as stupid as
asses ; while the greater part chattered like magpies .
each boasted what a clever fellow he was, and what
mighty things he coul j do, yet reeling all the time,
and scarcely able to sit his horse. Indeed our guide,

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 159

4 fat jolter-header1 rellow, fetching one of his heavy
lee lurches, got so far beyond his perpendicular, that
be could not right again ; but fell off, and came to
the ground as helpless as a miller's bag. In short,
among my whole corps there was but one sober man,
and that was captain Neilson.

It is not for language to express one thousandth
part of my mortification and rage. To have made
such an extraordinary march, and at the head of such
choice fellows too ; to have come almost within sight
of the enemy ; an enemy that I was eager to humble,
and which would have yielded me so complete and
glorious a victory; and vet to have lost all so shame
fully: and thus like a £ool to be sent back to my
general, with my finger in my mouth, was, indeed,
almost beyond endurance. But I was obliged to en
dure it. For, to have led my men into action, in that
condition, would have been no better than murdering
them. And to have kept them there until they could
have cooled off, was utterly out of the question. For
there was not a fLimily in that whole district that
would, with their good will, have given us an hour's
repose, or a morsel of bread. I therefore instantly
ordered a retreat, which was made with all the noise
and irregularity that might have been expected from
a troop of drunkards, each of whom mistaking him
self for commander in chief, gave orders according to
his own mad humour; and whooped and hallooed at
such a rate, that I verily believed, no bull-drivers
ever made half the racket.

That we should have obtained a most complete
victory, is very certain. For in a few days after this,
we laid hands upon some of those very same tories ,
who stated, that in consequence of the noise which
we made that nig-ht, colonel Tynes despatched some
of his cavalry up the road next morning, to see what
was the matter. On coming to the spot, where I ha f
vainly endeavoured to form my drunken dogs, the

THE LIFE OF

found on the ground some of our plumes ; which
colonel Tynes no sooner saw than he bawled out,
"Marion! Marion /" then, leaping on their horses,
off they went, whip and spur.

** Well, Where is colonel Tynes ?" said the general,
as I entered his presence. This was the question
which I had expected, and, indeed, blushed for the
answer. Bat after hearing my doleful story, he re
plied with his usual philosophy : u Well, you did right
to retreat ; but pray keep a careful eye oil the apple
water next time."

Btit to give the devil his due, I must confess there
was one instance, in which I thought some good was
done by brandy. This was in the case of captain
Snipes and his command, which by way of farce to
\ny own tragedy, I beg leave to relate.

Hearing of a tory camp-meeting not far distant*
Marion despatched the brave captain Snipes with a
pjtrty to chastise them. They had scarcely got upon
the toiy cruising- ground, before, at a short turn in the
road, they came full butt upon a large body of horse
men. Supposing them to be tories, Snipes instantly
gave the word to charge ; himself leading the way
with his usual impetuosity. The supposed tories,
wheeling about, took to the sands, and went off, as
hard as their horses could stave ; and thus, crack ancf
crack, they had it for about two miles.

Finding that Snipes was gaining upon them, the
runagates began to lighten themselves of every thing
they could spare, p.nd the road was presently strewed
with blankets ara knapsacks. One of them, it seems,
carried a five gallon keg of brandy, which he could
not think of parting with ; and being well mounted, he
stood a good pull for the two first miles. But finding
he was dropping astern very fast, he slyly cut the straps
of his mail pillion, and so let his keg, brandy and all
50 by the run, over his horse^s rump. Captain Snipes,
turho led the chase, found uo difficulty in passing the

GEM. FRANCIS MARION. 161

keg : but liis men coming up instantly, 1: t cached to, ail
standing; for they could no more jrass by a keg o
brandy, than young monkeys could pass a basket oi
apples.

Snipes cursed and raved like a madman, but all i*
vain : for they swore they must have a dram. While
they were devising ways and means how to gtt into
the keg, the supposed tories, now a good distance
ahead, came to aha.lt, and their captain fortunately re
flecting that their pursuers might nqt be enemies, sent
back a flag. The result was, the very joyful discovery;
that the owners of the keg were good whigs comhy
to join general Marion. Thus, to a moral certainty
this keg of brandy was made, of kind heaven, die
happy means of preventing much bloodshed that day

Having given two cases of brandy, the one good,
the oxher bad, I will now give a third, which the reader,
if he pleases, may call indifferent^ and which runs as
follows.

General Ptlarion, still encamped in the neighbour
hood of Georgetown, ordered captain Withers to
take sergeant Macdonald, with four volunteers, and
go on the enemy's lines to see what they were doing.
On approaching the town, they met an old tory ; one
of your half-witted fellows, whom neither side re
garded any more than a Jew does a pig, and there
fore suffered him to stroll when and where he pleased.
The old man knew captain Withers very well ; and
as soon as he had got near enough to recollect him,
he bawled out, " God's mercy, master Withers ! why,
*diere are you going this course ?"

fc Going, old daddy ! why to the devil, perhaps,1*
replied Withers.

" Well faith ! that's like enough, captain," said the
old man, "especially if you keep on this tack much
longer. But before you go any further, suppose yew
take a pull with me of this holding up a stout tickler

163 THE LIFE OF

of brand}*, mayhap you may not get such good liquor
where you are going."

44 With all my heart, daddy," answered Withers,
and twigg'd the tickler to the tune of a deep dram :
then passed it on to Macdonald, who also twigg'd it,
u and Tom twigg'd it, and Dick twigg'd it, and Har
ry twiggM it, and so they all twigg'd it." In the
mean time the chat went round very briskly, and
dram after dram, the brandy, until the tickler was
drained to the bottom. And then the subtle spirit
of the brandy, ascending into their noddles, worked
such wonders, that they all began to feel themselves
as big as field officers. Macdonald, for his part, with
a face as red as a comet, reined up Selim, and draw
ing his claymore, began to pitch and prance about,
cutting and slashing the empty air, as if he had a score
of enemies before him, and ever and anon, roaring
out — u Huzza, boys ! damme, let's charge !"

u Charge, boys ! charge !" cried all the rest, rein
ing up their horses, and flourishing their swords.

** W here tne plague are you going to charge ?M
asked the old tory.

44 Why, into Georgetown, right off," replied they.

44 Well, you had better have a care boys, how you
charge there, for I'll be blamed if you do not get
yourselves into business pretty quick : for the town
is chock full of red coats."

44 Red coats !" one and all they roared out, " red
coats ! egad, that's just what we want. Charge,
boys ! charge ! huzza for the red coats, damme !"

Then, clapping spurs to their steeds, off went these
six young mad-caps, huzzaing and flourishing then
swords, and charging at full tilt, into a British gar
rison town of three hundred men ! !

The enemy, supposing that this was only our ad
vavce, and th'-it general Marion, with his whole force,
would presently be upon them, flew with all speed to
their redoubt, and there lay, as snug an flea3 in a

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Id*

ahcep-ftkin. But all of them were not quite so lucky ,
for several were overtaken and cut down in the streets,
among whom was a sergeant major, a stout greasy
fellow, who strove hard to waddle away with his
bacon ; but Selim was too quick for him : and Mac-
donald, with a back-handed stroke of his claymore,
sent his frightened ghost to join the MAJORITY.

Having thus cleared the streets, our young troop
ers then cqjjed at the houses of their friends ; asLc. i
the news ; and drank their grog with great unconcern.

The British, after having for some time vainly
looked for Marion, began to smell the trick, and in
great wrath sallied forth for vengeance. Our adven
turers then, in turn, were fain to scamper off as fast
as they had made the others before, but with better
success ; for though hundreds of muskets were fired
after them, they got clear without receiving a scratch.

But nothing ever so mortified the British, as did
this mad frolic. " That half a dozen d-n-d young
rebels," they said, "should thus dash in among us in
open daylight, and fall to cutting and slashing the
king's troops at this rate. And after all, to gallop
away without the least harm in hair or hide. 'Tis
high time to turn our bayonets into pitch forks, and
go to foddering the cows."

CHAPTER XX.

History of captain Snipes — wanton destruction of Ms

property by the tories — his own miraculous escape —

admirable fidelity of his negro driver Cudjo.

CAPTAIN SNIPES, who made such a figure in

the wars of Marion, was a Carolinian, of uncommon

strength and courage ; both of which he exerted with

great good will, against the British and tories ; from

principle partly, and partly from revenge. But though

a choice soldier, he was no philosopher. He did not

consider that to fight for duty, people must love }t •

164 THE LIFE OF

that to love it, they must understand it ; that to un
derstand it, they must possess letters and religion :
that the British and tories, poor fellows ! possessing
neither of these, were not to have been expected to
act any other than the savage and thievish part they
did act; and therefore, no more to he hated for it
than the cats are for teazing the canary birds.

But captain Snipes had no turn for investigations
of this sort. Knowledge, by intuition, was all that
he cared for ; and having it, by instinct, that an
u Englishman ought never to fight against liberty,"
nor an M American against his own country," he
looked on them, to use his own phrase, as a " pack
of d-n-d rascals, whom it was doing God service to
kill wherever he could find them."

But Snipes was not the aggressor. He kept in,
very decently, till the enemy began to let out, as they
did, in plundering, burning, and hanging the poor
whigs ; and then, indeed, like a consuming fire, his
smothered hate broke forth :

** That hate which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign,
•* The souls of royal slaves untimely slain."

Afraid, in fair fight, to meet that sword which had
so often shivered their friends, they determined to
take him as the Philistines did Sampson, by surprise ;
and having learned from their spies, that he was at
home, they came upon him in force about midnight.
His complete destruction, both of life and property,
was their horrid aim. Happily, his driver, or black
overseer, overheard their approach ; and flying to his
master with terror-struck looks, cries out " Kun ! run !
massa, run ! de enemy 'pon you."

Snipes, stark naked, save his shirt, darted out a*
swift as his legs could carry him,

" But where shall I run, Cudjo ? into the barn ?"
tt Oh no, massa ! dey burn de barn, dat sure ting !"
tt Well, where shall I run then ?"
a Take de bush massa ! take de brJ ;r bush."

GEN FRANCIS MARION, 16J

Within fifty yards of the house was a clump of
briers, so thick set, that one would have thought a
frightened cat would scarcely have squeezed herself
into it from the hot pursuing dogs. But what will
not fear enable a man to do ? Captain Snipes, big as
he was, slipped into it with the facility of a weasel
through the chinks of a chicken-coop ; but lost every
th read and thrum ot his shirt ; and moreover, got
h.s hide so scratched and torn by the briers, that the
blood trickled from him fast as gravy from a fat
green goose.

Scarcely had he gained his hiding-place, before the
tories, with horrid oaths, burst into his house, with
their guns cocked, ready to shoot him. But oh !
death to their hopes ! he was gone : the nest was there,
and "warm, but the bird was flown !

Then seizing poor Cudjo by the throat, they bawl
ed out : " You d — d rascal, where's your master ?"

He told them he did not know.

" You lie ! you black son of a b-t-h ! you lie."

But he still asserted he knew nothing of his master.

Suspecting that he must be in some one or other
of his buildings, they set fire to them all ; to his
dwelling house, his kitchen, his stables, and even his
negro cabins, watching all the while, with their
muskets ready to shoot him as he ran out. From
their nearness to his lurking place, the heat of his
burning houses was so intense as to parch his skin
into blisters. But it was death to stir, for he would
certainly have been seen.

Not having made the discovery they so much wish
ed, they again seized Cudjo ; and, with their cocked
pieces at his breast, swore if he did not instantly tell
them where his master was, they would put him to
death.

He still declared he did not know where he was.

Then they clapped a halter round his neck, and toH

166 THE LIFE OF

lam to " down on his knees, and say his prayers *t
once, for he had but two minutes to live !"

He replied, that he " did not want to say hii
prayers now, for that he was no thief, and had always
been a true slave to his master."

This fine sentiment of the poor black was entirely
lost on our malignant -whites ; who, throwing the end
of the halter over the limb of an oak, tucked him up
as though he had been a mad dog. He hung till hs
was nearly dead ; when one of them called out,
" D — n him, cut him down, I'll be bound he'll tell us
now." Cudjo was accordingly cut down ; arid, as
soon as a little recovered, questioned again about his.
master. But he still declared he knew nothing of him.
He was then ^isted a second time ; and a second time,
when nearly dead, cut down and questioned as before :
but still asserted his ignorance. The same inhuman
part was acte^ on him a third time, but with no better
success ; for tne brave fellow still continued faithful
to his master, who squatted and trembled in his place
of torment, his brier bush, and saw and heard all that
was passing.

Persuaded now that Cudjo really knew nothing of
Ms master chey gave up the shameful contest, and
went off, leaving him half dead on the ground, but
covered with glory.

Jt is not easy to conceive a situation raore severely
torturing than this of captain Snipes. His house, with
all his furniture, his kitchen, his barn and rice-stacks,
his stables, with several fine horses, and his negro
houses, all wrapped in flames ; himself scorched and
blistered with the furious heat, yet not daring to stir;
his retreat well known to a poor slave; and that
slave alone, in the hands of an enraged banditti, with
their muskets at his breast, imprecating the most hor*
rid curses on themselves, if they did not instantly
nmrder him unless he disclosed the secret ! What
he to expect of this poor slave, but that

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 167

eink under the dreadful trial, and to save himself
would sacrifice his master. But Snipes was safe. Tc
discover his hiding-place, death sta/ed his slave it
the face, hut, happily, his slave possessed for him tha\
u love which is stronger than death."

Captain Snipes and his man Cudjo had been brought
up from childhood together ; and the father of our
hero being a professor of Christianity, a Baptist
preacher, whos« main excellence is " to teach little
children to love one another," had taken great pains
to inspire his son with love towards his little slave.
Nor did that love pass unrequited. For Cudjo used
every day to follow his young master to school, cai
rying his basket for him, prattling as he went; and
smiling, would remind him of the coming Saturday^
and what fine fishing and hunting they would have that
day. Many a time had they wrestled, and slept side
by side on the green ; and thence springing up again
with renovated strength, set out in full march for some
favourite fruit tree, or some cooling pond, there to
swim and gambol in the refreshing fl^od. And when
the time of dinner came, Cudjo was not scornfully
left to sigh and to gnaw his nails alone, but would
play and sing about the door till his young master
was done, and then he was sure to receive a good
plate full for himself. LOVE, thus early ingrafted on
his heart, grew up with daily increasing strength to
manhood ; when Snipes, by the death of his father,
became master of the estate, made Cudjo his drivet
or overseer, and thus rivetted on his honest bosom
that sacred friendship which, as we have seen, enabled
him to triumph in one of the severest trials that hu
man nature was ever put to.

The above is a solemn fact, and the wise will la^
>t to heart.

X&8 THE LIFE OF

CHAPTER XXL

Marion pursues major Muckleworth—Jinr anecdott c,/
the major — Mariorfs generosity to him.

LEARNING that a detachment of the British were
marching up Black river towards Stateshurgh and
Camden, general Marion gave orders to chase ; which
was conducted, as usual, with such rapidity, that
about sunset of the second day we came up with them.
Our advance, composed of choice fellows, instantly
began to skirmish with the enemy, of whom thej
killed eight or nine. A few on both sides, rathej
badly wounded, were made prisoners. Marion,
coming up, gave orders to call off the troops, meaning
to give the enemy a serious brush in the morning. —
But of this gratification they entirely disappointed us,
]>y striking their tents and pushing off in silence be-
io're day.

Soon as light returned, and the retreat of the British
was announced, we renewed the pursuit ; and by late
breakfast-time, reached the house at which the enemy
had refreshed themselves. This house belonged to a
poor, but excellent old lady, well known to Marion.

The general was hardly alighted from his horse, be>
fore th£old lady had him by the hand, declaring how
happy she had always been to see him, " but now,"
continued she, " if I an't right down sorry to see you
then I'll be hanged."

Marion, with a look of surprise, asked her why she
was sorry to see him no~w.

" Oh ! don't I know you too well, general ? don't I
know that old Scratch himself can't keep you from
fght'mg f And now you are hurrying along here,
with all your men, only to fight the British. An't it
90 now, general ?"

Marion told her, that that was indeed his business.

u Well, dear me now ! and did I not tell you so i
Pat pray now, my dear general Marion, let me

. FRANCIS MAfilOtt.

of you, don't you do any harm to that dear good mail
that major Mucklcworth, who went from here alittl&
while ago : for O ! he's the sweetest-spoken, mildest
looking, noblest-spirited Englishman I ever saw in all
my born days. As to that Rawdon and Tartleton;
God's curse upon the thieves and blackguards ! 1
would not care if you could kill a thousand of them
But that good major Muckleworth ! indeed, indeed
now general, you must not hurt a hair of his head$
for it would be such a crying sin."

Marion asked her in what respects was he bettef
than other British officers.

44 Better than other British officers !" replied the old
lady.—*4 Lord bless your dear soul, general Marion I
Well, come along, come along with me, and I'll let
you see."

We followed the old lady, who, tripping alori$
nimble a*s a girl, conducted us into a clean looking
cabin, wherein sat a middle-aged man very genteelly
dressed, and several wounded persons lying before
him, on pallets on the floor. Marion saluted the'
stranger, who informed us that he Stas " a surgeon irt
the service of his Britannic majesty, and left by majotf
Muckleworth to take care of the wounded ; of whom*
sir, I believe that nearly one half are your own men.

Here the old lady's face brightened up towards
Marion ; and giving him a very significant look, shtf
«akl, 44 Ah ha, general ! didn't I tell you so ?"

Then diving her withered hand in her pocket, snd
scooped up a shining parcel of English guineas, and
exultingly cried out, u See there, general ! see there'*
a sight for you ? and every penny of it given me by
that dear good gentleman, major Muckleworth ; fcVerj/
penny of it, sir. Yes, and if you will but believe mev
general, when I and my daughters were getting
breakfast for him and his people, if he didn't come?
here himself with his sergeants, and had this place?
swept out all so sweet and clean for them poor sicfe
people ; atfcl, witb his owfc dear hands to'?, helped that

ITO THE LIFE OF

gentleman there to dress and doctor the poor things;
that he did.

" And then besides all that, general, he was such a
sweet spoken gentleman ! for when i asked him how
his men came to be hurt so, he did not, like that beast
Tarleton, turn black and blue in the face, and fall to
cursing the J— d rebels. Oh no ! not he indeed. But
he said with a smile, We got them wounded last
night, madam, in a little brubh with your brave coun
tryman, general Marion.

u Now only think of that, general ! And besides,
when he was going away, what do you think he did?
Why, sir, he sent for me and said, Well, my good
madam, and what shall I pay you for all the trouble
we have given you, and also for taking care of the
doctor I am going to leave with you, and the sick peo
ple, who may be on your bands for a fortnight yet?

" I told him it was no business of mine to fix a price.

u He seemed surprised, and asked me what I meant
Dy that.

u I answered that I was now all ont as his prisoner,
and prisoners had nothing they could call their own.

"My king, said he, madam, does net make war
against widows.

u I told him I wished to God all his countrymen had
remembered that ! it would have saved the hunger and
nakedness, and cries and tears of many a poor widow
and orphan. At this he seemed mightily hurt.

u I then told him that many of the British officers,
after eating and drinking all that they wanted, for
themselves and people, and horses, instead of turn
ing round to pay, as he had done, had turned in to
plunder, and then set fire to the houses, not leaving
the widows and children a cover over their heads,
nor a bit of bread for their mouths, nor a stitch of
clothes for their bacis.

uMy God! said he, and is this the way that my
countrymen have come here to carry on war ! Well
madam, (&o he went on,) my king does not know anr

GEN. FRANCIS MAR1O&. if*

thing of this, nor does the English nation, I am sur&
[f they did, they would certainly call those officers t6
iccount. Such men will ruin our cause* For the
<vord of God assures us, that his ear is always operi
to the cry of the widow and orphan ; and believe me,
madam, I dread their cry more than I do the shouts
of an enemy's army. However, madam, (continued
he,) I have not a moment to lose, for I am sure
general Marion is pursuing me as hard as he can, sd
let me know what I owe you.

" I told him again, I made no charge ; but since he
was so good as to insist on giving me something, I
begged to leave the matter entirely to himself. Uporf
which, after a moment's study, he looked at me and
said, Well, madam, suppose we say sixpence sterling
a-piece man and horse, all around, will that eld ? I
replied that was too much, a great deal too much, for
such a poor breakfast as I had given him and his
men. Not a penny too much, madam, said he, live and
let live is the royal law, madam, and here's your mo
ney. With that he put all these guineas here, ifito'
my hand ! and said moreover, that if the doctor and
sick people should be longer with me, and give me
more trouble and cost than we had counted cm, then I
must send a noce to him, at such a house in Charles
ton, and he would send me the money. And now,*
general, would it not be a burning shame to go kill
such a dear good gentleman as that ?"

Marion listened v/ith delight to the old lady's his*
tory of this amiable officer; but on her leaving him
to hasten our breakfast, he looked very pensive, and
at a loss what to do. However, as soon as the troops
were refreshed, he ordered my brother, colonel H/
Horry, who led the advance, to remount, and pusf*
after the enemy with all speed. We followed close
in the rear. For an hour the general did not open
XJR mouth, but rode on like one absorbed in thought
At length heaving a deep sigh, he said " Well, I sup*

172 THE LIFE OF

pose I feel now very much as I should feel, were I
• in pursuit of a brother to kill him."

About three o'clock our advance came up with the
enemy, near the wealthy and hospitable captain John
Singleton's mills, where the firing instantly com
menced, and was as spiritedly returned by the British,
still retreating. Our marksmen presently stopped one
of Muckleworth's captains, and several of his men,
who lay dead on the ground at the very spot where
we happened to join the advance. The sight of these
poor fellows lying in their blood, gave the general's
wavering mind the casting vote in favour of generosi
ty ; for he immediately cried out, "Call off the troops !
call off the troops /" Then turning to his aid he said,
" I cannot stand it any longer; we owe yon English
men to our injured countrv; but there is an angel
that guards them. Ten rignteous Lots would have
saved Sodom. One generous Muckleworth shall save
this handful. Let us turn and fight other enemies.""

The general's orders were quickly passed on to the
troops to cease firing. And to their credit be it
spoken, they never, I believe, obeyed his orders with
more alacrity than on this occasion. Indeed I heard
many of them say, afterwards, that major Muckle
worth's generosity to their wounded comrades and
to the poor widow, had so won their hearts to him,
that they had none left wherewith to fight against
him ; and they said also, that, for their parts, they
had rather kill a thousand such savages as Rawdon
and Tarleton, than hurt a hair of major Muckle-
worth's head.

From the effect produced on our troops, by this
atniaMe officer's conduct, I have been often led to
think favourably of a saying common with Marion,
viz. had the Bncish officers but acted as became a
wise and magnanimous enemy, they might easily
have recovered the revolted colonies.

Never did the pulse of love towards a parent state
beat strange* in human boeon^ than in those of the

GKN. FRANCIS MARION. 173

Carolinians towards Britain. We looked on her as
indeed our mother, and on her children as our bro
thers. And ah ! had their government but treated
us with correspondent kindness, Carolina would have
been with them to a man. Had they said to the peo
ple, as they might easily have done, (for there was
time, and a long time too, when the whole state was
entirely at their feet,) had they then said* to us, " We
are far richer, far stronger, than you ; we can easily
burn your houses, take your provisions, carry off your
cattle, and sweep your country with the besom of
destruction ; but we abhor the idea. Your houses,
your women, your children, are all sacred in our eyes ;
and even of your goods we will touch nothing with
out giving you a reasonable price." Had they but
said this, Carolina would, to a certainty, have been
divorced from Congress, and re-wedded to Britain.

We may lay what emphasis we please on the term
countrymen^ countrymen ! but after all, as Christ says,
tt he is our countryman who showeth mercy unto us."

A British officer, a major Muckle worth, for exam
ple, calls at my plantation, and takes my fine horses
and fat beeves, my pigs, poultry and grain ; but at
parting, launches out for me a fist full of yellow boys !
On the other hand, an American officer calls and
sweeps me of every thing, and then lugs oat a bundle
of continental proc ! such trash, that hardly a cow
would give a corn shock for a horse load of it.

The Englishman leaves me richer than he found
me, and abler to educate and provide for my chil
dren : the American leaves me and my family half
ruined. Now I wish to know where, in such a self
ish world as this, where is there a man in a million,
but would take part with the generous Englishman,
and fight for him ?

This \vas the theory cf Marion ; and it was the
practice of Muckleworth, whom it certainly saved to
the British; and would, if universal, have saved Ca?
and Georgia to them too ; and perhaps, all

Jf4 THE LIFE OF

America. But so little idea had they of this mode of
conciliating' to conquer, that when the good majoi
JMuckleworth returned to Charleston, he was hooted
at by the British officers, who said he might do well
enough for a chaplain, or a methodist preacher, for
•what they knew, but they'd be d — n — d if he were fit
to be a British major.

The truth is, such divine philosophy was too refined
for such coarse and vulgar characters, as Cornwallis,
Rawdon, Tarleton, Balfour, and Weymies ; monsters
who disgraced the brave and generous nation they
represented, and completely damned the cause they
were sent to save. But what better was to have been
expected of those, who, from early life, if tradition
say true, discovered a total dislike to the ennobling
pleasures of literature and devotion, but a boundless
passion for tht- brutalizing sports of the bear-garden
and cockpit? Bull-baiters, cock-fighters, and dog
worriers, turned officers, had no idea of conquering
the Americans, but by " cutting their throats or
knocking out their brains ;" or as the tender hearted
Cornwallis commanded, by "hanging them, and tak
ing away, or destroying their goods."

Now Satao himself could have counselled my lora
better than that; as any man may see. who will bm
open his bible and turn to the book of Job, rbap. tK,
1st, verse 6th, and so on. There Moses injnnnx, thai
when Satan, whose effrontery is up to any thmg, pre •

speech to poc

;iviily asked him "where he had been of late."

To this, his royal highness, the brimstone king, re
plied, that he had been only taking a turn or two u up
i nd down the earth."

The divine voice again interrogated : " Hast thou
considered my servant Job ? an excellent man, is hf
pot ; one who leareth God and escheweth evil ?"

* Job's well enough," replied Satan, rather

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. IfS

'" but where's the wonder of all that ? You have done
great things for the fellow ; you have planted a hedge
around him, and around all that he hath on every side.
You have blessed the works of his hands, and his
substance is increased in the land ; and if, after all
this, he cannot afford you a little gratitude, he must
be a poor devil indeed. But put forth thine hand now,
and touch all that he hath, and ht*ll curse thee to thy
face:]

This was the devil's logic as to Job : but the British
general had not the wit to reason in that style towards
the Americans. For my lord Cornwallis said unto
my lord Rawdon ; and my lord Rawdon said un*o
iny ivould-be lord, colonel Tarleton; and colone)
Tarleton said unto major Weymies ; and major
Weymies said unto Will Cunningham, and unto the
British soldiers with their tory negro allies ; " Put
forth your hands, boys, and burn, and plunder the
d-n-d rebels ; and instead of cursing you to your face,
they will fall down and kiss your feet."

" Experience," says Doctor Franklin, " is a dear
school; but fools will learn in no other, and hardly
in that." And what right had lord North to expect
success in America, when for officers he sent such
fools as would take no lesson either from God or devil.

CHAPTER XXII.

SoloneJ IVatson attempts to surprise Marion — is
generakd, and after much loss driven back to George
town.

IN consequence of his incessant attacks on the
British and tories, Marion was, I believe, heartily
hated by them, as ever Sampson was by the Philis
tines, or George Whitefield by the devil. Numerous
were the attempts made by their best officers to sur
prise him j but such was his own vigilance and the
fidelitv of his whig friends* that he seldom failed to

176 THE LIFE^OF

get the first blow at them, and to take their unwary
Feet in the same evil net which they had spread for him.
His method to anticipate the meditated malice of
his enemies, is well worthy of notice. He always had
in his service a parcel of active young men, generally
selected from the best whig families, and of tried
courage and fidelity. These, mounted on the swiftest
horses, he would station in the neighbourhood of those
places where the British and tories were embodied in
force, as Camden, Georgetown, &c. with instructions
to leave no stratagem untried to find out the intended
movements of the enemy. Instantly as this informa
tion was obtained, (whether by climbing tall trees
that overlooked the garrisons, or from, friends acting
as market people) they were to mount and push off
at full speed to the nearest of a chain of posts estab
lished at short and convenient distances, with fieej
horses ready saddled and bridled, to bear the intelli
gence with equal speed, the first to the second, the
second to the third, and so on. In this expeditious
method, as by a telegraph, Marion was presently no
tified of the designs of the enemy. Of the exceeding
importance of such a plan, we had a very striking
proof at this time. Exasperated against Marion, for
the infinite harm he did the royal cause in Carolina,
the British general, in Camden, determined to surprise
him ajt his okl place of retreat, SNOW'S ISLAND; and
th^s destroy or break him up completely. To this end
he despatched a couple of favourite officers, colonel?
Watson and Doyle, with a heavy force, both cavalry
£nd infantry, to seize the lower bridge on Black river
and thereby effectually prevent our escape. But the
vigilance and activity of his scouts frustrated this*
well-concerted plan entirely. Gettirg early notice of
this manoeuvre by captain, now general Canty, Ma-
rion instantly started his troops, composed chiefly of
mounted riflemen and light dragoons, and pushed hard
for the same point. By taking a nearer cut, we had
jjie good fortune to gain the bridge before the enemy 4

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 177

and having destroyed it as soon as we crossed, we
concealed ourselves in the dark swamp, anxiously
waiting their arrival. In a short time, they came in
full view on the opposite hill, and there encamped. —
Presently, unapprehensive of danger, for they saw
nothing of us, two of their men came down for \vater
fco jjie river. Unable to resist such a temptation, two
of our noted marksmen instantly drew their sights and
let fly. The two Englishmen fell ; one of them was
killed dead ; the other badly wounded, and so fright
ened, that he bellowed like a bull-calf for help. Seve
ral of his gallant comrades ran to his assistance, but
they were shot down as fast as they got to him.

The next morning colonel Watson sent a flag over
to Marion, whom he charged with carrying on war in
a manner entirely different from all civilized nations.
" Why sir," said he to Marion, " you must certainly
command a horde of savages, who delight in nothing
l^ut murder. I can't cross a swamp or a bridge, but I
am waylaid and shot at as if I were a mad dog.
Even my sentries are fired at and killed on their
posts. Why, my God, sir ! this is not the way that
Christians ought to fight !"

To this Marion replied, that ** he was sorry to be
obliged to say, that from what he had known of them,
the British officers were the last men on earth who
had any right to preach about honour and humanity,
That for men to come three thousand miles to plun
der and hang an innocent people, and then to tell that
people how they ought tojight, betrayed an ignorance
and impudence which he fain would hope had no pa
rallel in the history of man. That for his part, he al
ways believed, and still did believe that he should be
doing God and his country good service to surprise
and kill such men, while they continued this diaboli
cal warfare, as he would the wolves and panthers of
jthe forest."

Thus ended the correspondence for that time.

While things remained in this state between the

17« THE LIFE OF

hostile parties, Macdonald, as usual, was employing
himself in a close and bold reconnoitre of the enemy's
camp. Having found out the situation of their sen
tries, and the times of relieving them, he climbed up
into a bushy tree, and thence, with a musket loaded
with pistol bullets, cracked away at their guard
as they passed by; of whom he killed one man, and
badly wounded the lieutenant, whose name was Tor-
quano ; then sliding down the tree, he mounted his
swift-footed Selim, and made his escape.

The next morning colonel Watson sent another flag
to Marion, requesting that he would grant a passport
to his lieutenant Torquano, who was badly wounded,
and wished to be carried to Charleston. On receiving
the flag, which happened while I was by him, Marion
turned to me, and with a smile said, " Well, this note
of colonel Watson looks a little as if he were coming
to his senses. But who is lieutenant Torquano ?"

I replied that he was a young Englishman, who had
been quartered in Charleston, at the house of that
good whig lady\ Mrs. Brainford and her daughters,
whom he had treated very politely, and often pro*
tected from insults.

a Well," said he, " if that be lieutenant Torquano, he
must be a very clever fellow ; and shall certainly have
a passport to Charleston, or even to Paradise, if I
had the keys of St. Peter."

On repassing Black river in haste, Macdonald had
left his clothes behind him at a poor woman's house,
where the enemy seized them. By the return of the
flag just mentioned, he sent word to colonel Watson,
that if he did not immediately send back his clothes,
he would kill eight of his men to pay for them.

Several of Watson's officers who were present when
the message was delivered, advised him by all means
to return his clothes, for that they knew him to be a
most desperate fellow, one who would stop at nothing
he set his head upon ; witness his late daring ict of

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. U9

itimb'mg like a cougar, into a tree, to kill his passing
enemies. Watson sent him back his wallet of clothes.

Soon after this, the enemy decamped silently in
che night, and took the road towards Santee. On the
return of day announcing their flight, Marion order
ed me to take the mounted riflemen, thirty in number,
with fifty horse, and pursue and harass the enemy as
much as possible, till he could come up with the in
fantry.

About night I approached their encampment, and
halted in a neighbouring swamp ; whence I continued
to send out small parties, frequently relieved, with
orders to pop away at their sentinels, and keep them
alarmed and under arms all night. At daybreak
they pushed hard for the sandpit bridge. We follow
ed close in the rear, constantly firing on them from
every thicket and swamp ; and often, in spite of their
field pieces, making false charges. Never did I see
a body of infantry ply their legs so briskly. The
rogues were constantly in a dog trot, except when they
occasionally halted to give us a blast, which they did
from their whole line. But though their bullets made
a confounded whizzing and clatter among the branches
over our heads, yet thank God they did no harm, savs
that of scratching some three or four of us.

On coming within a few miles of it, we made a
rapid push for the bridge, which we quickly rendered
impassable, by throwing off the plank and sleepers.
Then having posted my riflemen in the thick woods,
within fifty yards of the ford, under command of
lieutenant Scott, I drew up my cavalry close in the
rear, and waited impatiently for the enemy, hoping to
give a handsome Bunker's Hill account of them.

The enemy were presently in sight, and formed in
close column, began to push through the fording
place, though full waist deep. My heart now throb
bed with anxiety ; looking every moment for a stream
of fire to burst upon the British, spreading destruction
through their ranks.

180 THE LIFE OF

But, to my infinite mortification, no lightning?
bursted forth; no thunders roared; no enemy fell.
As, half choked with grief and rage, I looked around
for the cause, behold ! my brave lieutenant Scott, al
the head of the riflemen, came stooping- along with
his gun in his hand, and the black marks of shame
and cowardice on his sheepish face. " Infamous pot-
troon" said I, shaking my sword over his head,
"where is that hecatomb of robbers and murderers dut
to the vengeance of your injured country ?"

He began to stammer out some apology, which I
quickly suppressed, by ordering him out of my sight.
It is worthy of remark, that his men, instead of apo
logising for him, called him a coward to his face, and
declared that it was he who had restrained them by
telling them they were flanked by the enemy, who
would assuredly cut them to pieces if they fired a shot.

As the advance of the British were thus undisturb
edly passing on, a heavy firing was suddenly heard in
the rear. It was Marion ; who, having come up with
the enemy, had attacked him with great fury. The
British did not halt, but continued a running fight
through the woods till they gained the open fields;
where, by means of their artillery, they kept us at a
distance. In this rencontre, Watson had his horse kill
ed under him, and left about twenty of his men dead
on the ground. His wounded filled several wagons

He did not halt a moment, but pushed hard for
Georgetown ; and late at night encamped on the
plantation of Mr. Trapier, to whom he told a dread
ful story about Marion and his damned rebels, who
would not, as he said, sleep and fight like gentlemen,
but, like savages, were eternally firing and whooping
around him by night; and by day, waylaying and
popping at him from behind every tree he went by.

As it was too late to pursue the enemy, Marion
encamped for the night near the field of battle, and
next morning marched for his old post, Snow's Island,
where he allowed us a few days of welcome repose

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 181

CHAPTER XXIII.

Patriotism of Mrs. Jenkins — colonel Watson^ colonel
Doyle, and the tories, make alarming advances upon
general Marion — his men begin to desert him — Har
ry turns orator, and harangues the troops — they re
peat their assurances of patriotism and attachment to
Marion — he dashes out again upon the enemy — pros
i>ects brighten — and the good old cause begins to
'look up again.

IT was not for the British and Marion to lie long
at rest in the same neighbourhood. After a short
repose, colonel Watson, with a stout force of regulars
and tories, made an inroad upon Pedee ; which was
no sooner known in our camp, than Marion pushed
after him. We presently struck their trail; and after
a handsome day's run, pitched our tents near the
house of the excellent widow Jenkins, and on the very
spot which the British had left in the morning. Co
lonel Watson, it seems, had taken his quarters that
night in her house ; and learning that she had three
sons with Marion, all active young men, he sent for
her after supper, and desired her to sit down and take
a glass of wine with him. To this request, a good
old lady of taste and manners could have no objec
tion : so waiting upon the colonel, and taking a chair
which he handed her, she sat down and emptied her
glass to bis health. He then commenced the follow
ing conversation with her.

" So, madam, they tell me you have several sons in
general Marion's camp ; I hope it is not true.".

She said it was very true, and was only sorry that
U was not a thousand times truer.

%< A thousand times truer, madam /" replied he with
great surprise, "pray what can be your meaning in
that ?"

"Why, sir, I am only sorry that in place of three,

have not three thousand sens with general Marion.''

"Aye indeed i v/cl1 then madam, begging your

1*2 fHE LIFE

pardon, you had better send for them immediately
to come in and join his majesty's troops under my
command : for as they are rebels now in arms against
their king, should they be taken they will be hung as
sure as ever they were born."

^ a Why, sir," said the old lady, " you are very con
siderate of my sons ; for which at any rate I thank
you. But, as you have begged my pardon for giving
me this advice, I must beg yours for not taking it.
My sons, sir, are of age, and must and will act fot
themselves. And as to their being in a state of re
bellion against their king, I must take the liberty, sir,
to deny that"

"What, madam r replied he, "not in rebellion
against their king ? shooting at and killing his majes
ty's subjects like wolves ! don't you call that rebellion-
against their king, madam ?"

a No, sir," answered she : " they are only doing
ihcir duty, as God and nature commanded them, sir/'

" The d—l they are, madam .'"

" Yes, sir," continued she, * and what you and
every man in England would glory to do against the
King, were he to dare to tax you contrary to your
own consent and the constitution of the realm. 'Tis
the king, sir, who is in rebellion against my sons, and
not they against him. And could right prevai
against might, he would as certainly lose his head, as
ever king Charles the First did."

Colonel Watson could hardly keep his chair under
the smart of this speech : but thinking it would never
do for a British colonel to be rude to a lady, he filled
her glass, and saying, "he'd be d— n — d if she were
aot a very plain-spoken woman at any rate," insisted
she would drink a toast with him for all.

She replied she had no objection.

Then filling the glasses round, he looked at he*
with a constrained smile, and said, " Well, madam*
' -re's George the Thirl"

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 1B3

* With all my heart, sir !" and turned offher bum
per wkh a good grace.

Afttr a decent interval of sprightly conversation
he catted on the widow for a toast; who very smartly
retorted, *w Well, sir, here's George Washington /" At
which he c?&rkened a little, but drank it off with an
oflicer-lik^ politeness.

The next moxning early, we left the good Mrs.
Jenkins ; and burning with impatience to give Wat
son another rac«> \ve drove on Jehu-like.

We encamped ^>al night almost within sight of the
enemy's fires : but fouxicl them too much on the alert
for surprise. We keM, nowever, a good look out, and
learning next morning tLat a roosting party were out,
Marion detached my brother colonel Horry, with
some choice cavaliers, to avtack them ; which he did
with such spirit, that at the nrst onset he killed nine,
and made the balance, sixteen, all prisoners. The
rogues were so overloaded with plunder that for
their lives they could not rcvyiin their camp, though
in full view of it when the> were charged. This
brilliant stroke of my brother, threw the enemy's
camp into the utmost hurry -and uproar ; and their
dragoons were quickly mounred, dashing out to res
cue their comrades ; but in vain, for my brother
brought them all off in safety to our camp.

Our strength at this time was far inferior to that of
the enemy. But it soon became alarmingly reduced.
For learning that, besides this heavy force under
Watson, there was another from Camden under colo
nel Doyle, and also of mounted tories from Pedee,
all in full march against us, our men took a panic and
began to desert, and those who staid behind looked
very serious, and talked as if certain ruin both to
themselves and families would follow from their con
tinuing to fight in so hopeless a cause.

In answer to these desponding gentlemen, I re
plied, that I was ashamed and grieved too, to hear
rhcm talk at that rate.
R

184 THE LIFE OF

tt Our prospects" said I, " gentlemen, are to be sure
dark, very dark ; yet thank God, they are not despe
rate. We have often before now seen as heavy
clouds hanging- over us ; and yet with heaven's bless
ing on our arms those clouds have been dispersed,
and golden days restored. And who knows but we
may shortly see it so again ? I am sure we have good
reason to expect it ; and also to hope that God will
assist us, who are only fighting to make ourselves
free and happy, according to his own most blessed
will. And will it not be a most sweet cordial to your
spirits as long as you live, to think that, in such try
ing times as these, you stood up for your country,
and fought and won for yourselves and children all
the blessings of liberty.

" And, besides," said I, " do not the tories, who
are more than half the authors of your misfortunes,
possess large estates ? And have you not arms in your
hands, wherewith to pay yourselves out of theii ill-
saved treasuKes ?"

This speech seemed to raise their spirits a good deal.

I then went to see the general, who with his hands
behind him, was walking backwards and forwards in
front of his tent, meditating no doubt on the deser
tion of his men ; whose numbers, from more than two
hundred, were now reduced to less than seventy.

u General Marion," said I, " I am sorry to tell you
that our men are now so few ; especially since, ac
cording to report, we shall soon want so many"

" Why," replied he, " that is the very thing I have
been grieving at ; but it will signify nothing for us to
stand here sighing and croaking ; so pray go and or
der a muster of the men, that I may say a few words
to them before they all run off and leave me."

Soon as the troops were all paraded around the
door of his tent, he stepped upon the trunk of a fall
en pine, and in his plain but impressive manner, ad
dressed us nearly as follows ; —

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 18$

u Gentlemen andjdh-w-sold\ers.

" It is not for words to express what I feel when I
look around upon your diminished numbers. Yester
day I commanded 20O men ; men whom I gloried in,
and who I fondly thought, would have followed me
through my dangers for their country. And, now,
when their country most needs their services, they
are nearly all gone ! And even those of you who re
main, are, if report be true, quite out of heart ; and
calk, that you and your families must be ruined if you
resist any longer ! But, my friends, if we shall be
ruined for bravely resisting our tyrants, what will be
done to us if we tamely lie down and submit to them ?
In that event, what can we expect but to see our own
eternal disgrace, and the wide-spread ruin of our
country ; when our bravest and best citizens shall be
hung up like dogs, and their property confiscated to
enrich those villains who deserted their country, and
joined her enemies ; when Cornwallis, Rawdon, and
Tarleton, after so long plundering and murdering
your friends, shall, in reward of such services, be set
Dver you as your governors and lord lieutenants, with
princely salaries out of your labours; when foreign
bishops and their hireling clergy shall be poured
upon you like hosts of consecrated locusts, consuming
die tithes and fat of the land ; when British princes,
and nobles, and judges, shall swarm over your devot
ed country, thick as eagles over a new-fallen carcass ;
when an insatiate king, looking on your ccwntry as
his plantation, and on your children as his slaves,
shall take away your substance, every year, for his
pomps and pleasures ; and to keep you under for ever,
shall fill your land with armies ; and when those ar
mies, viewing you with malignant eyes, shall constant
ly be insulting you as conquered rebels ; and under
pretence of discovering among you the seeds of ano
ther rebellion, shall be perpetually harassing and
giving up to military execution the best and worthiest
of your fellow-citizens ?

186 THE LIFE OF

** Now my brave brethren in arms, is there a man
among you, who can bear the thought of living to see
his dear country' and friends in so degraded and
wretched a state as this ? If there be, then let thai
man leave me and retire to his home. I ask not his
aid. But, thanks to God, I have now no fears about
you: judging by your looks, I feel that there is no
such man among us. For my own part I look upon
such a state of things as a thousand times worse than
death. And God is my judge this day, that if I
could die a thousand deaths, most gladly would I die
them all, rather than live to see my dear country in
such a state of degradation and wretchedness."

In reply to this speech of our honoured general, we
told him, in brief, it was on account of his noble sen
timents we had always so highly esteemed him ; that
it was on account of these we had already suffered so
much, and were ready to suffer more ; and that rather
than see our country in that wretched state which he
had so feelingly described, and which, with him, we
firmly believed would be the case if the British were
to get the upper hand, we had made up our minds to
fight by his side to a glorious death.

I never saw such a change on the face of a human
being, as then took place on that of Marion. His
eyes sparkled with pleasure, while in transport he
exclaimed — a Well, now colonel Doyle, look sharp,
for you shall presently feel the edge of our swords.''

Soon as night came on we mounted, and took the
swamps of L-ynche's creek, though swimming deep,
and after a long time spent in plunging and splashing
through the dark floods, we got over, at least about
two-thirds of us. The rest, driven down by the force
of the current, were cast ashore on hills and high
banks, which by the freshet were converted into
islands; and there they continued whooping and hal
looing to each other all night. When the welcome
light returned, they plunged again into the furious
stream, and though swept down a good way by tha

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

force of the current, arrived safely on our side, where
we had prepared some largo fires to dry their clothes
and muskets, and plenty of roasted roots and Indian
cakes for breakfast.

As God was pleased to have it, none of us lost our
lives, though many did their great coats, blankets, and
saddles, and some few their pieces. As to myself, I
must needs say, I was never so near the other world
in my life. For, as we were borne along down the
stream in the dark, my horse and I were carried un
der the limb of a tree hung thick with wild vines,
which soon caught me by the head like Absalom, and
there held me fast, dangling in the furious flood, while
my horse was swept from und»r me. I hallooed for
some time like a lusty fellow, without getting any an
swer, which made me begin to think my chance was
bad. And, God forgive me for it ! I could not help
thinking it a sad thing, that after so many fierce frays
and hard knocks with the British and tories, I should
come at last to be choked like a blind puppy, in this
dirty swamp : but God be praised for his good angel,
. who had brought me through six dangers, and now
took me out of the seventh. For, as I was near giv
ing out, a bold young fellow of the company over
heard me bawling, and having the advantage of a stout
horse, dashed in and took me safely off.

I was afraid at first that my horse was drowned—
but sagaciously following the rest of the horses, he
made his way good, but lost my saddle, great coat,
and clothes. But what grieved me most of all was
the loss of my holsters, with a pair of elegant silver
mounted pistols, a present from Macdonald, and
which he had taken from a British officer whom he
killed near Georgetown.

Soon as our firearms were dried, and ourselves and
horses well refreshed, we mounted and rode hard aU
that day, to surprise colonel Doyle. About midnight
we had approached the house of a good whig, who
fold us that Doyle had been there, but that warned by

188 THE LIFE OF

an express from Camden,he had started in great haste,
and was certainly by that time fur beyond our reach.
We were much puzzled in our minds for the mean
ing of this precipitate retreat of colonel Doyle ; how
ever, after one day of welcome rest and high cheer,
we faced about, fully determined, notwithstanding our
inferiority of force, once more to try our fortune with
colonel Watson. But in reaching the ground where
we had left him encamped, we got advice that he too,
with all his troops, were gone off, at a tangent, as
hard as he could drh'e. While we were wondering
what could have possessed the British to scamper
thus in every direction, captain Conyers, of Lee's le
gion, hove in sight, with the welcome news that the
brave colonel Lee was at hand, coming up full tilt to

i'oin us; and also that general Green, with a choice
etachment from the great Washington, was bending
towa/ds Camden, to recover the laurels which the in
cautious Gates had lost. These glorious tidings at
once explained the cause of the enemy's flight, and
inspired us with a joy which the reader can better
corvee ive than I express.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Marion's method of managing the militia — sends tht
author on another expedition against the tories —
anecdote of Mr. F. Kinloch — curious dream of black
Jonathan, and fortunate escape of Mr. Kinloch — the
author's party surprised by the British, but come ojf
with Jlying colours.

THE world, perhaps, never contained a partisan
officer who better understood the management of
militia than did general Marion. He was never foi
dragooning1 a m-an into the service. " God loves a
cheerful giver, and so do 7," said he, "« willing sol
dier. To have him such you must convince him that
it is hj6 interest, for interest is every man's pole star

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

Every man wishes to be happy, and thereto wishes
a happy wife and children, a happy country and
friends. Convince him that all these invaluable
blessings cannot be had without srveet liberty, and
you shall have a soldier as brave as Washington.—
For no man, worthy of the name, could ever yet bear
to see his. wife, children and friends, enslaved and
miserable." Such was Marion's method of making
soldiers. And what with this, and the cruelty of the
British and tories, he had with him, perhaps, some of
as brave and desperate men as ever fought.

" Never ride a free horse to death," he used to say
to his officers ; " push, while he is fresh, but soon as
he begins to lag, then lie by and feed high is your play."

For this purpose he always kept a snug hiding-
place in reserve for us ; which was Snow's Island, a
most romantic spot, and admirably fitted to our use.
Nature had guarded it, nearly all around, with deep
waters and inaccessible marshes ; and the neighbour
ing gentlemen were all rich, and hearty whigs, who
acted by us the double part of generous stewards and
faithful spies, so that, while there, we lived at once
in safety and plenty.

We had reposed ourselves but two days in the
pleasant wilds of Snow's Island, before Marion, learn
ing that a part of the enemy were in the neighbour
hood, desired me to take captains Clarke and Irvin,
with fifty men, and try if I could not bring him a
good account of them.

We encamped the first night on the plantation of
Mr. John Withers, where hearing that Mr. F. Kin-
loch, our member of Congress, was at a neighbouring
house, I sent him the following note.

Honourable Sir,

If in these dangerous times you can think yourselt
safe among a handful of militia-men, I shall be very
glad to see you at our camp. As to supper, thank
God we can give you a trencher of fat pork and po-

190 THE LIFE OF

t a toes, but for bed and furniture, we can pronv.se you
nothing better than earth and sky. I shall place a
sentinel on the road to conduct you to,
Honourable Sir, your friend,

PETER HORRY.

Mr. Kinloch, who was one of the cleverest men in
the world, instantly set out to come to us, but unluck
ily missed our sentinel, and went several miles belo\\
us to Mr. Alexander Rose's plantation, managed by
a mulatto driver named Jonathan. The day being
nearly spent, Jonathan very politely urged Mr. Kin
loch to alight and spend the night there, promising him
a warm suffer and a good bed. Mr. Kinloch accept
ed Jonathan's offer very cheerfully, and after taking
part of a nice fowl and a cup of coffee, went to bed,
He had not slept long before Jonathan waked him up,
and, with great terror in his looks, told him, " he was
mighty 'fraid there was harm a brewing."

44 Aye, Jonathan ! why so, my good lad ?"

44 Oh, sir," replied Jonathan, " such a dream as I
have had, sir! a marvellous bad dream about the
enemy's coming upon you to-night, sir !"

44 Poh !" quoth Mr. Kinloch, turning himself over
for another nap : I have dreamed nothing about it,
Jonathan. And I'm sure such a dream ought to have
come to me, and not to you ; so we'll even go to sleep
again, and trust to heaven."

Accordingly he fell asleep a second time ; but had
not long enjoyed that sweetest of opiates, before
Jonathan comes again, and awakes him with the old
story of his dream.

44 Well, Jonathan," said Mr. Kinloch, very good-
naturedly, " if you are determined to turn me out of
doors, I suppose I must go. But where can I get to,
this time of night ?"

44 Why," sir, quoth Jonathan, " I'll get your horse
and go with you to the main road, sir, and from there,

GEN. FRANCIS MARION 191

you can't miss your way back to the house you came
from this afternoon."

On Jonathan's return from the short distance he
had conducted Mr. Kinloch, he found the yard filled
with the British light horse !

These dreams are droll thing?. ; but they some
times come so well attested, that there is no doubting
them. He who made our frame, can certainly speak
to us as well asleep as awake ; and the wise will feel
the importance of making a friend of Him, who can
cause an airy dream to defend us as effectually as a
legion of angels.

The next night, just as we were about to encamp,
we lighted on a negro fellow, belonging to Mr. Joseph
Alston, whom I quickly had by the heels, lest he
should give intelligence to the enemy. But, as the
devil would have it, just before day, the sergeant of
the guard, overcome by the negro's importunities,
loosened him and let him go. And, mark now, young
officers, what conies from disobeying orders. This
villain of a blackamoor had not gone above three
miles before he fell in with the British, to whom,
Judas-like, he betrayed us off hand! and they as
quickly took horse, and pushed on to surprise us.

By sunrise I had all my men mounted; captain
Clarke leading the advance, myself and captain Irvin
bringing up th~ rest of the corps.

The British first discovered captain Clarke, which
they did in the way of a glimpse, through an opening
in the woods ; then sounding their bugles, they rush
ed on to the charge. Unfortunately, Clarke had not
yet seen the enemy, and mistaking their bugles for
the huntsmen's horns, ordered a halt to see the deer
go by. But instead of a herd of flying deer, behold f
a column of British cavalry all at once bursting into
the road, and shouting and rushing on with drawn
swords to the charge. In a moment, as :£ themselves
metamorphosed into deer, Clarke and his advance

THE LIFE OF

wheeled about, and giving their horses " the tinu
6er,"* flew back upon our main body, roaring out aa
they came in sight — " The British ! the British !"

Quick as thought my men caught the panic, and
facing about, took to their heels, and went off as if the
d — 1 had been behind them. I bawled after them as
loud as I could roar, " Halt! Halt /" but I might as
well have bawled to the whirlwinds, for it appeared
to me the louder I bawled, the swifter the rascals
flew. Whereupon I clapped spurs to my young
Janus, and went off after them at full stretch, hoping
to gain their front and so bring them to. Being
mounted on a young full-blooded charger, fresh and
strong from the stable, I bid fair to gain my point toot
for I was coming up with them hand over hand.—
But, in that very juncture of time, as the Lord was
pleased to order it, my girth gave way, my saddk
turned, and my charger fetching a ground start, threw
me, saddle, holsters, and all, full ten feet over his
head, and then ran off. I received no harm, God be
praised for it, but recovering my legs in an instant,
bawled out again to my men to halt and form.

Happily for me, at the very moment of my dis
aster, the enemy, suspecting our flight to be only a
finesse, had halted, while only sixteeti dragoons un
der colonel Camp, continued the chase.

Scorning to fly from such a handful, some of my
more resolute fellows, thirteen in number, faced
about, and very deliberately taking their aim at the
enemy as they came up, gave them a spanker, which
killed upwards of half their number. The rest took
to flight, leaving their colonel, whose horse was slain,
to shift for himself, which he quickly did by running
into the woods.

* This is a Carolina phrase for slashing. If a husband should sc
far forget himself as to beat his wife ! which, thank God, i

rare, his neighbours, with great scorn, say of him as he pokes his
hated face along, Aye, that's the jockey that gives iiis witc the

timber.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 103

British were so near us when they received
the firt of my men, that one of them, a stout fellow,
as he wheeled to go off, came so close to me, where
I stood on the ground, that he was lifting his broad
sword fora Lack-handed stroke, which would proba
bly have eavtd me the trouble of writing this history,
had I not, wuh one of my pistols, which I took from
the saddle ^nen my horse left me, anticipated his
kindness, by driving a bullet through his shoulder,
which brought him to the ground. Then mounting
his horse, while my men caught the horses of those
that were killed, we galloped off, very well satisfied
that the affair had turned out no worse,

On returning to Marion, I could not help com
plaining to him of my men, whose behaviour, I said,
in this last affair, had been so very dastardly, that I
was much afraid, I should never again put confidence
in them, nor gain any credit by commanding them.
* Pshaw !" said he, with a smile, " it is because you
do not understand the management of them: you
command militia ; it will not do to expect too much
from that sort of soldiers. If, on turning out against
the enemy, you find your .nen in high spirits, with
Horning eyes all kindling around you, that's your time •
then in close columns, with sounding bugles and
shining swords, dash on, and I'll warrant your men
will follow you, eager as the lion's whelps bounding
with their sire to the chase of the buffaloes. But on
me other hand, if by any unlooked-for providence
they get dismayed, and begin to run, you are not to
fly in a passion with them, and show yourself as mad
RS they are cowardly. No ! you must learn to run
too: and as fast as they; nay faster •, that you may
get into the front, and encourage them to rally.

" And as to the credit that you are to get by com-
Dianding them,, I find, my dear fellow, that you arc
entirely in the wrong there also. Our country can
not expect us to cope with British regulars. War is
an art, the deepest of all arts, because the greatest of

THE LIFE OF

all earthly consequences depend on it. And none can
expect to be masters of that terrible art, but such as
serve a long apprenticeship to it. But as we have
served no apprenticeship, we can know but little
about it in comparison with our enemies, who in dis
cipline and experience have greatly the advantage of
us. But, thank God, we have our advantages too.-—
We are far better riders, better woodsmen, and bet
ter marksmen than they. These are noble advan
tages. Let us but improve them by redoubled acti
vity and vigilance, and kindness to our men, and
especially by often conversing with them on the
grounds of the war, the merits of our cause, and the
vast consequences depending. Let us, I say, in this*
way, make them soldiers in principle, and fond o£
their officers, and all will be well yet. By cutting ofF
the enemy's foraging parties, drawing them into am
buscades and falling upon them by surprise, we shall,
I hope, so harass and consume them, as to make then*
glad to get out of our country. And then, the per
formance of such a noble act will bring us credit, and
credit enough too, in the eyes of good men ; while as
to ourselves, the remembrance of having done so
much to vindicate the rights of man, and make pos
terity the happier for us, will afford us a pleasure that
may outlive this momentary being."

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 195

CHAPTER XXV.

Colonel Harry Lee joins general Marion — Georgetown
surprised— colonel Campbell made prisoner — major
Irvin killed — adjutant Crookshanks miraculously
saved by his sweetheart— force of female affection
— American generosity contrasted with British bar
barism — interesting anecdotes of Mr. Cusac, young
Gales and Dinkins, colonel Lee^s little bugler, John
Wiley, Peter Tarnal, young frFCoy, major Brown^
colonel Haynes, and lord Rawdon.
THE next day, colonel Lee with his legion came
up, to the inexpressible joy of us all; partly on ac
count of his cavalry, which to be sure, was the hand
somest we had ever seen ; but much more on account
of himself, of whom we had heat d that, in deep art
and undaunted courage, he was a second Marion.—
This, our high opinion of him, was greatly exalted by
his own gallant conduct, for he had been with us but
a few days before he proposed the surprise of George
town, which was very cordially concurred with by
general Marion.

The infantry and cavalry employed on the occa
sion, were to approach the town at iifferent points,
after midnight, and at a signal from the latter, to
commence the attack. Unfortunately, the cavalry
did not get up in time, owing to some fault of their
guide. The infantry arrived at the appointed mo
ment, and dreading the dangers of delay, charged at
once into the town, which they found utterly unpre
pared for an attack. Colonel Campbell, the com
mander, was made prisoner in his bed; adjutant
Crookshanks, major Irvin, and other officers, were
sound asleep at a tavern belonging to a genteel fami
ly, with whom they had spent the evening with great
hilarity. A detachment of our men approached the
house and surrounded it. Soon as the alarm was
given, the officers leaped out of bed, and not waiting
to dress, flew into the piazza, flourishing their pistol?

196 THE LIFE Of

ana shouting to the charge. Major Irvin, with
Courage than discretion, fired a pistol, and would have
tried another, but just as he had cocked it, he wai
stopped short by the stroke )f a*bayonet, which end
ed him and his courage together. Adjutant Crook-
shanks, acting in the same heroic style, would have
shared the same fate, had it lot been for an angel of
a young woman, daughl »r «f the gentleman of the
house. This charming gh1 was engaged to be mar
ried to Crookshanks. Wakt«i bjr the firing and hor
rid din of battle in the piazza, ^he was at ft/st almost
'reft of her senses by the fright But the moment she
heard her lover's voice, all her ^errors vanished, and
instead of hiding herself under the bedclothes, she
rushed into the piazza am dst the mortal fray, with
no armour but her love, no Covering but her flowing
tresses. Happily for her l6vert she got to him just
in time to throw her arms around his mjek and scream'
out, w Oh save ! save major Crookshanks f" 'fl-rasy
with her own sweet body shielding him against the
uplifted swords of her enraged countrymen!

Crookshanks yielded himself our prisoner; but we
paroled him on the spot, and teft him to fhose deli
cious sentiments which he must have felt in the arms
of an elegant young woman, wh6 had saved his life
try an effort of love sufficient to endear her to htm to
all eternity. ^ ^ .

It was told us afterwards of this charming girl,
that as soon as we were gone, and, of course, the
danger past and the tumult of her bosom subsided,
she fell into a swoon, from which it was with diffi
culty that she was recovered. Her extreme fright, on
being waked by the firing and horrid uproar of battle
in the house, and her strong sympathy in her lover's
danger, together with the alarm occasioned by find*-
ing herself *m his arms, were too much for her deli
cate frame.

There is a beauty in generous actions which charms
he souls of men 1 and a sweetness, which like that

CEN. FRANCIS MARION. t*7

mmortal love whence it flows, can never die. The
eyes of all, even the poorest soldiers in our camp,
f parkled with pleasure whenever they talked, as they
often did, of this charming woman, and of our gene
rosity to major Crookshanks ; and to this day, even
.after a lapse of thirty years, I never think of it but
with pleasure ; a pleasure as exquisite, perhaps, as
what I felt at the first moment of that transaction.

And it is a matter of great satisfaction to me, to
think how nobly different in this respect was our con
duct from thai of the British. I speak not of the
British nation, which I hold most magnanimous; but
of their officers in Carolina, such as Cornwallis, Raw-
don, Tarleton, Weymies, Brown, and Balfour, who
instead of treating their prisoners as we did Crook-
shanks, have often been known to butcher them in
cold blood; though their fathers, mothers and children^
on bended knees, with wringing hands and streaming
eves, have been imploring pity for them.

There was Mr. Adam Cusac, of Williamsburg dis
trictj this brave man,

" This buckskin Hampden ; that, with dauntless breast,

a The base invaders of his rights withstood,"

was surprised in his own house by major Weymies,
who tore him away from his shrieking wife and chil
dren, marched him up to Cheraw court-house, and
after exposing him to the insults of a sham trial, had
feixn condemned and hung ! The only charge evei
.exhibited agajnst him was, that he had shot across
Black river at one of Weymies' tory captains.

There was that gallant lad of liberty, Kit Gales,
with his brave companion, Sam Dinkins : these two
heroic youths were dogged to the house of a whig
friend, near the hills of Santee, where they were sur
prised in Jtheir beds by a party of tories, who hurried
|hem away to lord Rawdon, then on his march from
Charleston to Camden. Rawdon quickly had them,
according to his favourite phrase, "knocked into
Irons/' and marched on under guaid with his troops

198 THE LIFE OF

On halting for breakfast, young Gales was tucked up
to a tree, and choked with as little ceremony as if he
had been a mad dog. He and young Dinkins had,
it seems, the day before, with their horses and rifles,
ventured alone, so near the British army, as to fire
several shots at them ! For such heroic daring in de
fence of their country, in place of receiving applause
from lord Rawdon, Gales, as we have seen, received
his bloody death. His gallant young friend, Dinkins,
was very near drawing his rations of a like doleful
dish, for lord Rawdon had him mounted upon the
same cart with the halter round his neck, ready for
a launch into eternity , when the tories suggested to
his lordship their serious apprehensions that a terrible
vengeance might follow : this saved his life.

Every body has heard the mournful story of colo
nel Lee's little bugler, and how he was murdered by
colonel Tarleton. This "poor beardless boy," as
Lee, in his pathetic account of that horrid transaction,
calls him, had been mounted on a very fleet horse;
but to gratify a countryman who had brought some
news of the British, and was afraid of falling into
their hands, Lee ordered the boy to exchange his
horse, a moment, for that of the countryman, which
happened to be a miserable brute. This Lee did in
his simplicity, not even dreaming that any thing in
the shape of civilized man could think of harming
such a child. Scarcely had Lee left him, when he
was overtaken by Tarleton's troopers, who dashed up
to him with looks of death, brandishing their swords
over his head. In vain his tender cheeks, reminding
them of their own youthful brothers, sought to touch
their pity ; in vain, with feeble voice, and as long as
he was able, he continued to cry for quarter. They
struck their cruel swords into his face and arms,
which they gashed with so many mortal wounds
that he died the next day.

a Is your name Wiley ?" said one of Tarleton's cap
tains, whose name was TUCS-, to Mr. John Wiley,

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 19*

sheriff of Camden, who had lately whipped and crop
ped a aoted horse thief, named Smart. "Is your
name Wiky ?" said captain Tuck to the young man,
at whose door he rode up and asked the question.—
* Yes, sir," replied Mr. Wiley. " Well, then, sir,
you are a d — n — d rascal" rejoined captain Tuck,
giving him at the same time a cruel blow over the
forehead with his broadsword. Young Wiley, though
doomed to die, being not yet slain, raised his naked
arm to screen the blow. This, though no more than
a common instinct of poor human nature in the mo •
ment of terror, served but to redouble the fury of
captain Tuck, who continued his blows at the bleed
ing, staggering youth, until death kindly placed him
beyond the reach of human malice.

All this was done within a few hundred paces of
lord Cornwallis, who never punished captain Tuck.

But poor Peter YarnalPs case seems still more de
plorable. This hard fated man, a simple, inoffensive
quaker, lived near Camden. Having urgent business
with a man, who, as he understood, was with general
Sumpter, on the opposite side of the Catawba, he
went over to him. The man happened, at that mo
ment, to be keeping guard over some tori/ prisoners.
A paper which Yarnall wanted to see was, it seems,
in a jacket pocket in the man's tent hard by. " Hold
my piece a moment, sir," said he to Yarnall, "and
I'll bring the paper.' Yarnall, though averse, as a
quaker, from all killing of enemies with a gun, yet
saw no objection to holding one a moment. The
next day, a day for ever black in the American calen
dar, witnessed the surprisal of general Sumpter and
the release of the tory prisoners, one of whom imme
diately went his way and told colonel Tarleton that
he had seen Peter Yarnall, the day before, keeping
guard over the king's friends, prisoners to the rebels.
The poor man's house was quickly surrounded by the
British cavalry. Vain were all his own explanations,
bis wife's entreaties, or his children's cries. He

ITO THE LIFt OF

dragged to Camden, and thrust into prison. Every
morning, his wife and daughter, a girl of about fif
teen, rode into town in an old chair, to see him, and
to bring him milk and fruits, which must have been
highly acceptable to one crammed, in the dogdayss
into a small prison, with one hundred and sixty-three
half-stifled wretches. On the fourth day, an amia
ble young lady, Miss Charlton, living near the prison,
had heard of poor Yarnall's fate that morning. Soon
therefore as she saw Mrs. Yarnall and her daughter
coming along as usual, with their little present to
their husband and father, she bursted into tears.
Mrs. Yarnall alighted at the door of the jail, and beg
ged to see her husband. " Follow me," said one of
the guard, " and I'll show you your husband." As
she turned the corner, " There he is, madam," said
the soldier, pointing to her husband as he hung dead
on a beam from the window. The daughter sunk to
the ground ; but her mother, as if petrified at the
sight, stood silent and motionless, gazing on her
dead husband with that wild keen eye of unutterable
wo, which pierces all hearts. Presently, as if braced
up with despair, she seemed quite recovered, and
ralmly begged one of the soldiers to assist her to
take down the corpse and lay it in the bottom of the
chair. Then taking her seat, with her daughter sob
bing by her side, and her husband dead at her feet,
she drove home apparently quite unmoved ; and dur^
ing the whole time she was preparing his coffin and
performing the funeral duties, she preserved the
same firm unaltered looks. But soon as the grave
had shut its mouth on her husband, and divorced
him for ever from her sight, the remembrance of the
past rushed upon her thoughts with a weight too
heavy for her feeble nature to bear. Then clasping
her hands in agony, she shrieked out, " Poor me !
poor me ! I have no husband, no friend now *" and
immediately ran raving mad, and died in that state.
There was young M'Coyi the eye of humanity

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. *UI

must weep often, as she turns the page that tells how
this amiable youth was murdered. His father was
one of the most active of our militia captains. As
none better understood American rights, so none
more deeply resented British aggressions, than did
captain M'Coy. His just views and strong feel
ings, were carefully instilled into his boy, who,
though but fifteen, shouldered his musket, and, in
spite of his mother's tears, followed his father to war.
Many a gallant Englishman received his death at their
hands. For, being well acquainted with the river,
and bravely supported by their friends, they oftea
fired upon the enemy's boats, killing their crews and
intercepting their provisions. This so enraged co
lonel Brown, the British commander at Augusta, that
he made several attempts to destroy captain M'Coy.
Once, in particular, he despatched a captain and fifty
men to surprise him. But M'Coy kept so good a
look out, that he surprised and killed the captain and
twenty of his men. The rest, by giving good leg
bail, made their escape. Young M'Coy fought by
the side of his father in this and many other rencon
tres, in one of which he had the great good fortune
to save his father's life.

At the head of some gallant friends, they fell in
with a strong party of tories, near Brier creek, com
manded by a British officer. As usual, an obstinate
and bloody contest ensued. The combatants quickly
coming to close quarters, M'Coy grappled with the
officer ; but not possessing strength equal to his
courage, he was overpowered and thrown on the
ground. The youth, who had just fired his piece
into the bosom of a tory, seeing his father's danger,
flew to his aid, and with the butt of his gun knocked
out the brains of the officer, at the very instant he
was lifting his dirk for the destruction of his father*

In a skirmish, in which his party were victorious,
captain M'Coy was mortally wounded, and died ex«
horting his son still to fight undauntedly for the liber-

THE LIFE OF

ties of his country. After the death of his fatker,
voung M'Coy joined the brave captain Clarke. ID
an expedition against colonel Brown, Clarke was de*
feated, and young M'Coy made prisoner. Hearing
of his misfortune, his mother hastened to Augusta,
but arrived only in time to meet him with colonel
Brown and a guard, carrying him out to the gallows.
With gushing tears, she fell upon his neck, and bit
terly mourned her lot, as wretched above all women,
jn thus losing her husband and only son.

The behaviour of young M'Coy, it is said, was he-
j/oic beyond his years. Instead of melting with his
{disconsolate mother, he exhorted her like one who
had acted op principle, and now felt its divine conso?
lotions stronger than death.

He entreated his mother not to weep for him, nor
for his father. 4t In the course of nature, mother/1
paid he, " we we*e to part. Our parting indeed, ii
£?irly ; but it is glorious. My father was like a Kon
fn battle for his country. As a young lion, I fought
by his side. And often, when the battle was over,
fU4 he embrace and call me his boy ! his own brave
fyay! and said I was worthy of you both. He ha*
just gone before, and I now follow him, leaving you
M*e joy to remember, that your son and husband have
Attained the highest honour on earth ; the honour of
lighting and dying for the rights of man."

Anxious to save the life of so dear a son, poor Mrs.
M*Coy fell on her knees to colonel Brown, and with
fill the widowed mother agonizing in her looks, plead
for his life. But in vain. With the dark features
pf a soul horribly triumphant over the cries of mercy,
jie repulsed her suit, and ordered the executioner to
$p his office! He hung up the young man before the
eyes of his mother! and then, with savage joy, suf
fered his Indians, in her presence, to strike their
tomahawks into his forehead ; that forehead which
fifhe had so often pressed to her bosom, and kisse-j
all the transports of a doating mother.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 3O3

Who, without tears, can think of the hard fate of
poor colonel Haynes and his family.

Soon as the will of heaven had thrown Charleston
into the hands of the British, lord Cornwallis, famed
for pompous proclamations, began to publish. The
tenour of his gasconade was, that Carolina was now^
to all intents and purposes, subjugated ; that the ene
mies of his lord the king were all at his mercy ; and
that though, by the -war rubrick for conquered rebels
he had a right to send fire and sword before him, witih
blood and tears following in his course ; though he
had a right to feed the birds of heaven with rebel
carcasses, and to fatten his soldiers with their confis
cated goods, yet he meant not to use that dreadful
right. No indeed ! Far from him was all such odious
thoughts. On the contrary he wished to be merciful;
and as proof of his sincerity, all that he asked of the
poor deluded people of his majesty's colony of South
Carolina was, that they should no longer take part nor
lot in the contest, but continue peaceably at their homes.
And that, in reward thereof, they should be most
sacredly protected in property and person.

This proclamation was accompanied with an in
strument of neutrality, as an u outward and visibk
sign of an inward and spiritual grace," in my lord
Cornwallis towards the Carolinians ; and which in
strument they were invited to sign, that they might
have a covenant right to the aforesaid promised bless
ings of protection, both in property and person.

The heart of colonel Haynes was with his country
men, and fervently did he pray that his hands could
be with them too. But, these, alas ! were bound up
by his wife and children, whom, it is said, he loved
passing well. Helpless and trembling as they were,
how could they be deserted by him in this fearful
season, and given up to a brutal soldiery ? And why
should he insure the destruction of a large estate,
when all opposition seemed hopeless ? In short,
with thousands of others, he went and signed an in

JKHk THE LIFE OF

#trument, which promised security to his family ani
fortune. But alas ! from that fatal moment he nevei
jnore enjoyed peace. To hate the ministerial mea
sures as he did, and yet thus tamely to have submit
ted to them ; to love his country as heartily as he did*
£nd to know that she was now fighting, with her all
£t stake, and yet thus to have deserted her !

These ke,en self-condemning reflections harrowed
£very root of quiej: from his soul. If he went to hia
£Ouch, it was only to groan, sleepless and tossing, all
$he restless night. If he got up, it was but to sit, 01
svalk to and fro in his family, with dark and woful
Jooks, like one whom trouble had overcome.

In the midst of these anguishing reflections, which
appeared to be wearing him fast to the grave, a res
pite was afforded, and by a hand from which it was
feast expected. Lord Cornwallis, having by his first
proclamation, obtained to the instrument of neutrality
aforesaid, the signatures of many thousands of the
/citizens of South Carolina, then came out with a sc-
CQnd proclamation, in which he nominates the paper
above not an instrument of neutrality, but a bond of
allegiance to the king, and calls upon all who had
signed it, to take up arms against the rebels !-r-threat-
ening to treat as deserters those who refused !

This fraud of my lord Cornwallis, excited in all
honest men the deepest indignation. It completely
revived colonel Haynes. To his unspeakable joy, he
now saw opened a door of honourable return to duty
and happiness. And since, contrary to the most so
lemn compact, hue was compelled to fight, he very na
turally determined to fight the British, rather than his
own countrymen. He fled to his countrymen, who
received him with joy, and gave him a command of
horse. He was surprised and carried to Charleston,
where lord Rawdon, then commandant, ordered him,
in his favourite phrase, to be knocked into irons. A
mock trial, dignified with the name of court martial,
^^s bejd over him, and colonel Haynes was sentence^

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

t$ be hung! Every body in Charleston, Briton* s
tircll as Americans, all heard this sentence with horror/
except colonel Haynes himself. On his cheek alone^
all agree, it produced no change. It appeared that
the deed which he had done, signing that accursed
paper, had run him desperate. Though the large!
part, even of his enemies, believing that it was don£
merely from sympathy with his wife and children^ felt
the generous disposition to forgive him, yet he eotrfd!
never forgive himself. It had inflicted on his mh*d!
% wound too ghastly to be healed. • „ ,

To their own, and to the great honour of hiiiiiaff
flaturej numbers of the British and loyalists, with?
governor Bull at their head, preferred a petition to*
lord Rawdon in his behalf. But the petition Was nof
noticed. The ladies then came forward iri his fevouf
with a petition, couched in the most delicate an'dl
moving terms, and signed by all the principal female*
of Charleston, tories as well ag whigs. But aft tt> ntf
mirpose. It was then suggested by the friend* of
humanity, that if the colonel's little children,- for tney
had no mother, she, pobr woman ! crushed under the?
double weight of grief and the small-pox, was jus£
sunk at rest in the grave. It was suggested,- I sa^y
that if the colonel's little children, dressed in- mourn-*
ing, were to fall at the knees of lord Rawdon, he
wrould pity their mbtherless Condition, and give to*
their prayers their only surviving parent. They
were accordingly dressed iri black, anxl liitrbtfuc'ea
into his presence : they fell down at his knees, and.*
with clasped hands and tear-streaming eyes, lisped
their father's name, and begged his life : but in? vfcinV

So many efforts to save him, both by friemts and
generous foes, could not be made, unknowfr to Colo-*
ftel Haynes. But he appeared perfectly indifleren*
about the result; and when told that they had all
failed, he replied with the utmost unconcen>^-a
God, lord Rawdon cannot hurt me. He

2CT6 THE LIFE OF

not be more anxious to take my life tnan 1 am to lay
it down "

With his son, a youth of thirteen, who was per
mitted to stay with him in the prison, colonel Haynea
used often to converse, in order to fortify him against
the sad trial that was at hand. Arid indeed it was
necessary, for seldom has a heavier load been laid on
a tender-hearted youth. War, like a thick cloud, had
darkened up the gay morning of his days ; the grave
had just closed her mouth on a mother who doated
©» him; and he now beheld his only parent, a be
loved father, in the power of his enemies, loaded with
irons, and condemned to die. With cheeks wet with
tears, he sat continually by his father's side, and look
ed at him with eyes so piercing and sad, as often
wrung tears of blood from his heart,

" Why," said he, " my son, will you thus break
your father's heart with unavailing sorrow? Have I
not often told you, that we came into this world but
to prepare for a better ? For that better life, my dear
boy, your father is prepared. Instead then of weep
ing, rejoice with me, my son, that my troubles are so
near an end. To-morrow, I set out for immortality.
Yeu will accompany me to the place of my execution ;
and when I am dead, take and bury me by the side
ef vour mother."

rfhe youth here fell on his father's neck, crying,
- Oh my father! my father! I will die with you! .
will die with you !"

Colonel Haynes would have returned the strong
embrace of his son ; but, alas ! his hands were loaded
with irons. " Live," said he, " my son, live to honour
God by a good life ; live to serve your country ; and
live to take care of your brother and little sisters !"

The next morning colonel Haynes was conducted
to the place of execution. His son accompanied him.
Soon as tney came in sight of the gallows, the father
strengthened himself and said — "Now, my son, sh&ut
yourself a man. That tree i-? the \zundar\) of my life

Oh my father! my father! I will die with you.
T

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. SOT

and of all my life's sorrows. Beyond that, the wicked
cease from troubling' and the %veary are at rest. Dorft
lay too much to heart our separation from you; it wiU
be but short. ' Twas but lately your dear mother died
To-day I die. And you, my son, though but young,
must shortly follow us"

" Yes, my father," replied the broken-hearted youthj
u I shall shortly follow you : for indeed I feel that I
cannot live long." And so it happened unto him.
For on seeing his father in the hands of the execu
tioner, and then struggling in the halter, he stood like
one transfixed and motionless with horror. Till then
he had wept incessantly ; but soon as he saw that
sight, the fountain of his tears was staunched, and
he never wept more. It was thought that grief, like
a fever, burnt inwardly, and scorched his brain, for
he became indifferent to every thing around him, and
often wandered as one disordered in his mind. At
times, he took lessons from a fencing master, and
talked of going to England to fight the murderer of
his father. But he who made him had pity on him,
and sent death to his relief. He died insane, and in
his last moments often called on the name of his father,
in terms that brought tears from the hardest hearts.

I hope my reader will not suppose, from these odi
ous truths which I have been telling him about the
British and tories, that I look on them as worse than
other men ; or that I would have him bear an eternal
hatred against them. No, God forbid. On the con
trary, I have no doubt on my mind, that the British
and tories are men of the same passions with our
selves. And I also as firmly believe, that, if placed
in their circumstances, we should have acted just as
they did. Upon honour this is my conviction now;
but it was not always so : for I confess there was a
time, when I had my prejudices against them, and
prejudices too as strong as those of any oth^r man,
let him be who he would. But thank God those pre
judices, so dishonourable to the head, and so uneaay

fOS THE LIFE OF

£o the heart, are done away from me now. And from
ghis most happy deliverance, I am, through the divine
goodness, principally indebted to my honoured friend,
general Marion, of whose noble sentiments, on these
subjects, I beg leave to give the reader some little
specimen in the next chapter.

CHAPTER XXVI.

and sweet — or, a curious dialogue between gene?
ral Marion and captain Snipes, on retaliation.

" No radiant pearls that crested fortune wears,
No gem that sparkling hangs in beauty's ears;
Not the bright stars that night's blue arch adorn,
Nor opening suns that gild the vernal morn,
Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows
Down virtue's manly cheeks, for others' woes."

WHAT gigantic form is that which stalks thus
awfully before the eyes of my memory; his face,
rough and dark as the cloud of winter, and his eye-
• balls burning like coals of fire ? 'Tis the impetuous
captain Snipes. He is just returned from the quarter
house near Charleston, where he and captain M'Cau-
Jey, with Macdonald and forty men, have recently
surprised and cut to pieces a large party of the ene
my. He looks as if the fury of the battle had not yet
subsided in his wrathful countenance. His steps are
{towards Marion, and as he presents a packet, he ex
claims in an angry tone, " There, sir, is a Charleston
paper. You'll see there how those villains are going
on yet. Not satisfied with all the murders they had
committed before, they have gone now and murder
ed colonel Haynes." Here he gave the heads of that
disgraceful act, seasoning his speech every now and
then, as he went along, with sundry very bitter im
precations on lord Rawdon.

" Ah shame ! shame upon him !" replied the gene
ral with a sigh, and shaking his head ; " shame upon
Rawdon !"

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

tt Shame !" answered captain Snipes, his eyes flash
ing fire; "shame! I hope something heavier than
shame will light upon him for it soon. The Ameri
can officers have sworn never again to give quartet
to the British or tories."

Marion. God forbid that my countrymen should
have taken such an oath as that !

Snipes. Why, general Marion, would you have the
enemy go on at this rate, and we take no revenge ? ^

M. Revenge? O yes, to be sure^sir; revenge is
sweet, and by all means let us have it ; but let it be
of the right kind.

S. Of the right kind, sir ! what do you call revenge
of the ri-ght kind ?

JK Why, sir, I am for takkig that kind of revenge
which will make our enemies ashamed of their con
duct, and abandon it for , ever.

£ Ashamed of their conduct ! Monsters I they are
not capable of shame.

M. Pshaw ! don't talk so, captain Snipes ! our ene
mies, sir, are men, and just such men as we are ; and
as :apable of generous actions, if we will but show
them the way.

S. Well then, general Marion, how do you account
for that great difference between us and them in point
of spirits ? We have never yet killed any of their
men, except in fair fight, that I have heard of; but
they have often murdered ours. Yes, the cowardly
rascals ! they have often done it, and that in cold
blood too.

Jf. Granted. And I am very glad that when we
have had them in our power, we have always treated
them so much more generously. But, I suppose the
reason of such barbarity on their part, is, they have
had, or which is the same thing, have thought they
had greater provocations.

S. They be d — n — d, they and their provocations
loo ! Are not tut the persons who have been invaded,
T2

itO THE LIFE-OF

&nd plundered and murdered by them, and not they by
ys? How then can they have greater provocations ?

M. Why, sir, sprung originally from them, and al
ways looked on by them as their children, our turning
now and fighting against them, must appear, in their
sight, a very great provocation ; as great perhaps as
that of children fighting against their parents. And
again, our shaking off what they glory in, as the wisest ^
and freest, and happiest government on earth, must
make us seem to them as no better than the vilest
traitors and rebels ; which cannot otherwise than prove
another very great provocation. And again, after
having been first settled in this country by them, as
they will have it, and afterwards, so long and liberally
assisted with their best blood and treasure, in hope
that some day or other we should be of service to
them ; that now, at the very time when, by our im?
inense population, we were just arrived to the so long
desired point, to swell their wealth and spread there
commerce and arms over the world, we should sepa-
|*ate from them, blast all their fond hopes, and throw
them hack to. the former level ; this, I say, you will
certainly allow, must be a very severe provocation.
Now, sir, putting all these provocations together, and
also taking poor human nature into the account, is it
to be wondered at, that the British should be so much
in ore angry, and consequently more violent than we ?

S. Why, certainly, general Marion, you have al
ways a very fine knack at setting off your arguments.,
But still, sir, I can't see things in that light. For a
man, sir, to go and trump up a pack of claims against
me, and all of them because I can't credit him in the
Abominable extent he wishes, to fall upon me and kill
$nd murder me, as the British and tories have done
with us, and we not stop them by revenge ! why, my
pod ! sir, it will never do. For, at this rate, whom
shall we have living in all this country, in a little time,
Ibut the British, and their friends the tories and ne«
gross l

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Si*

M. My brave captain let me tell you again, I am
£S anxious to stop them as you can possibly wish me
to be ; but I am for doing it in what I think the right
way. I mean the way of policy and humanity.

S. Policy, sir ! can their be policy in letting our
best men be murdered by these savages ! I'm sure
general Washington did not think so. For, though
I am no man of learning myself, yet I have been told
by those that are, that, on its being threatened by
general Gage to hang an American soldier, he instant
ly wrote him word, that if he dared to do such a thing,
the life of a British soldier should pay for it. And,
it is well known, that he kept the British army and
nation too, in a fright for three months together, with
the halter constantly around the neck of captain As<-
gil, expecting every day to be hung for the murder
of captain Huddy.

M. True ; general Washington did act so. And k
jvas policy to act against a foreign enemy. But our
standing with the tqries is quite a different case, and
requires a very different course. The tories are our
countrymen, a part of our own population and
strength, so that every man of them that is killed, is
a man for ever lost to ourselves. Now, since the
British have put them up to murder us, if we go, out
of revenge, to murder them again, why, in the course
of a little time our population will be so cut up, as to
allow the British ministry, with ease, to take our
country, and make slaves of us all ; which is just
what lord North desires.

S. Yes, I dare say it is. But I hope he'll be dis
appointed yet.

M. No doubt of it, sir ; if we shall be wise and
magnanimous enough to follow the true policy, which
s no other than HUMANITY to these deluded people,
the tories . and to this we have every inducement
that generous spirits could desire. The tones and
ourselves are brothers ; many of us went to the same
school together ; and a thousand times have ate and

art THE LIFE OF

drank in each other's houses. And as to the quarrel
in which we are now unfortunately engaged, thou§fe
not the most, still we are much in fault. We made no
allowances for those follies of theirs which led to it.
They thought — First, That we were too nearly allied
to England to go to war with her : this was a weak
ness, but there was something amiable in it. — Se
condly, They thought the British were much too war
like and powerful to be resisted by us : this was an
error, but it was learned in the nursery. — Thirdly
They wished to keep in with the British, merely tha»
they might save their property : this was altogethei
from fear, and therefore claimed some commiseration.
But no ! we could not grant one grain of indulgence
to any of their mistakes. We would have it, they
all proceeded from the vilest of motives. We called
them traitors, and cowards, and scoundrels ; and load
ed them with a thousand indignities besides. Well,
the consequences were, as might have been expected
from human weakness and passion. Wrought to des
peration, and caring not what they did, they have
gone and joined our enemies, and many valuable lives
have been lost on both sides. Surely 'tis high time
now that we should set about doing something to
end, it.

S. Well ! let them set about ending it themselves,,
They were the first to begin it.

M. But would you have the tories to lead to glory ?

S. GLORY ! I should think it meanness to be the
first to make overtures to such rascals !

M. Well, but, ca-ptain Snipes, when brethren, as we
are, fall out, is it policy to go on to exasperate and cut
h other's throats, until our enemy comes and takes
away a fine country, of which, by such madness, we
had rendered ourselves unworthy? Would it not be
much better policy to trace back all our wrong steps
of passion and revenge, and making hearty friends
again, and joining our forces against the common ene
my, drive him out of our country j and then bv estah*

GEN. FRANCIS MARION, 2t3

lishing a tree government, and encouraging agricul
ture and commerce, and learning, and religion, make
ourselves a great and happy people again ; would not
this, I say, be the true policy ?

£ Why yes, I confess, general Marion, it would
be a noble thing, and very desirable, if it could be
done. But I cannot bear to think of being the first to
make terms with the tories, after they have been
burning, and plundering, and murdering our best
friends. It is too hard, sir, for mortal flesh and blood.

M- It is a great trial, I confess; but ".the heavier
the cross the brighter the crown," you know, sir. And
as to the difficulty of the undertaking, that's the very
thing that should make us jump at it ; the glory of
showing ourselves wiser and better men than our
enemy. . And besides, let us recollect that the glory
of this exploit all now lies with us : for if we do not
pluck up courage and do it, it will never be done. —
The tories are, generally, an ignorant people ; and
therefore not much of wise or good is to be expected
from that quarter. They have also, in many instances,
acted a very savage part by us : their consciousness
of this can have no tendency to make them court re
conciliation with us. Since, then, but little is to be
expected from them, it seems incumbent on us to do
iYie more. We have better information, and we have
also a much better cause. These are great advantages
which God has given us ; and now it becomes us to
improve them, to his glory and to our own honour, by
showing a conciliatory and magnanimous spirit to
wards our enemies. And though it should cost us
labour to win such a victory, yet, I am confident, that
when won, it will appear to us the most glorious that
we ever achieved. To conquer an enemy by the
sword, is, no doubt, honourable ; but still it is nothing
in comparison of conquering him by generosity. As
arguing both superior virtue and courage, it com-
mauds higher admiration from the vrorld, and is re
flected on by ourselves with far more self-esteem and

214 THE LIFE OF

applause. And then, sir, only consider how such
conduct will gild the future scenes of life. This un
fortunate quarrel betwixt us and our countrymen, the
tories, is not to last for ever. It was only the act of
a wicked ministry, attempting, by an unconstitutional
tax to enslave an affectionate part of the nation. God
can never suffer such an attempt to prosper. It must
be but a momentary quarrel ; and we ought to ac
custom ourselves to think of it as such, and to look
beyond it to the happy days that are to succeed. And
since the storm of war is soon to subside into th«
calm of peace, let us do nothing now, that may thro\\
a cloud over the coming sunshine. Let us net even
talk of exterminating war / that unnatural crime which
would harrow up our souls with the pangs of remorse,
and haunt our repose with the dread of retaliation — -
which would draw down upon our cause the curse of
heaven, and make our very name the odium of all
generations. But, far differently, let us act the gener
ous part of those who, though now at variance, are
yet brothers, and soon to be good friends again. And
then, when peace returns, we shall be in proper frame
to enjoy it. No poor woman that we meet will seem
to upbraid us for the slaughter of her husband; no
naked child, for robbing him of his father ; no field
will cry against us for a brother's blood. On the
contrary, whenever the battles which we are now fight
ing, shall recur to our thoughts, with the frightened
enemy grounding their arms and crying for quarter,
we shall remember how we heard their cries and stop
ped the uplifted sword. Joy will spring in our bo
soms, and all around will smile with approbation. —
The faces of the aged will shine upon us, because we
spared their sons ; bright-eyed females will bless us
for their surviving husbands : and even the lips of
the children will lisp our praises. Thus with a heaven
of delighted feeling in our hearts, and the smiles both
of God and man on our heads, we shall pass the even
ing o. ^ur days in glorious peace. And when death

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 215

shall call us to that better world, we shall obey with
out reluctance. Conscious of neither dread nor hate
towards any of the blessed people that dwell there,
we shall go in strong hope of witnessing the bright
realities of that state, where all is immortality and
love. Perhaps we shall there meet many of those
whom it has been our sad destiny to fight with here ;
not in their present imperfect state, but in their state
of exaltation, clad in robes brighter than the stars,
and their faces outshining the sun in his noonday
splendours. Perhaps at sight of us, these glorious
spirits may rush with new-flushed beauties, to embrace
us, and in the presence of crowding angels, recount
our kindness to them in the days of their mortality ;
while all the dazzling throngs, listening delighted,
shall fix on us their eyes of love, inspiring those joys,
which none but strong immortals could sustain. Are
not these, O my friends, hopes worth contending for ?
Is revenge to be cherished that would rob us of such
honours ? Can generosity be dear that would ensure
to us so great rewards ? Then let us not think bene
volence was enjoined in vain, which is to conduct us
to such immortal felicities."

As Marion spoke these words, his countenance,
which in general was melancholy, caught an anima
tion beyond the reader's fancy to conceive. The
charms of goodness, and the bright rewards which
await it, were painted in such living colours on hia
face, that not even the stranger could have beheld it
unmoved. On me, who almost adored Marion for
his godlike virtues, its effects were past describing.
My bosom heaved with emotions unutterable, while
the tear of delicious admiration swelled in my eyes.
As to captain Snipes, he appeared equally affected.
His eyes were riveted on the general, and towards
the close of the speech his breath seemed suspended;
his colour went and came; and his face reddene<l
and swelled; as under the powerful eloquence of the
ulpit.

218 THE LIFE OF*

CHAPTER XXVII.

Marion and Lee attack and take fort Watson and f on
Lee — interesting anecdotes;

FROM Georgetown:, Marion proceeded with colo
nel Lee to attack the British post on Scott's lake,
generally called fort Watson. The situation of this
fort was romantic and beautiful in the extreme. — -
Overlooking the glassy level of the lake,' it Stood ori
at mighty barrow or tomb like a mount, formed of the
bones of Indian nations, there heaped up from time
immemorial, and covered with earth and herbage.-^
Finding that the fort mounted r>o artillery, Marion
resolved to make his approaches in a way that
should give his riflemen a fair chance against their
riiusqueteers. For this purpose^ l&rge quantities of
pine logs were cut, and as soon as dark came on, wer£
carried in perfect silence'* within point blank shot of
the fort, and run up in the shape of large pens of
chimney-stacks, considerably higher than the enemy's
parapets. Great, no doubt, was the consternation of
the garrison next morning, to see themselves thus
suddenly overlooked by this strange kind of steeple,
pouring down upon them from its blazing top inces
sant showers of rifle bullets. Nor were they Mle the
while, but returned the blaze with eqtial fury, pre-
sehtifig to us, who lay at a distance, a very interesting
scene — as of two volcanoes that had suddenly broke
out into fiery strife, singeing the neighbouring pines;

Though their enemy, yet I could not but pity the
British, when I saw the great disadvantage under
which they fought. For our riflemen, lying above
them and firing through loopholes, were seldorn,
hurt; while the British, obliged, ^vefy time they
fired, to show their heads, were frequently killed. —
Increasing still the awkwardness of their situation,
their well, which was on the Outside of the fort, was
so entirely in the reach of our rifles, that they could

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 21 J

not get a pail of water for coffee or grog, without the
utmost hazard. After a gallant resistance, they sur
rendered themselves prisoners of war ; one hundred
and twenty in number.

This fort hacl been very judiciously fixed in a coun
try exceedingly fertile, and on a lake abounding with
fine fish, and from its contiguity to the river Santee,
forming an admirable deposite for their upland posts.
From their military storehouse, which was on the
outside of the fort, the British attempted, at the com
mencement of our attack, to get out their goods, and
to roll them up into the fort. But in this exposed
state, their men were picked off so fast by our sharp
shooters, that they were soon obliged to quit such
hot work.

The sight of their casks and bales, rolled out and
shining so richly on the side of the hill, set the fmg-ers
of our ragged militia-men on such an itch, that tnere
was no resisting it. And presently a squad of three
of them were seen pushing out, without leave or li
cense, to attack a large hogshead, that lay very invit
ingly on the outside of the rest. The enemy seeing
the approach of our buccaneers, reserved their fire
until they had got pretty near up to the intended
prize; then all at once cut loose upon them with a
thundering clap, which killed one, crippled a second,
and so frightened the third, that he forgot the cask,
and turning tail, thought of nothing but to save his
baeon ! which he did by such extraordinary running
and jumping, as threw us all into a most immoderate
laugh.

Presently up comes my black waiter, Billy, with' a
broad grin on his face, and says, " Why, master, them
militia men there, sir, are tarnal fools : they do net
know nothing at all about .stealing. But if you will
please, sir, to let me try my hand, I can fetch off that
hogshead there, mighty easy, sir."

"No, no, Billy!" said I, shaking my head, "that

218 THE LIFE OF

will never do, my lad. I value you much too highly,
Billy, to let you be knocked on the head, so foolishly
as all that comes to."

" Lord bless you, sir," replied he, smiling, " there
is no more danger in it, than in eating when a body is
hungry. And if you will only please let me try my
hand, sir, if you see any danger, why then, master,
you may call me back, you know, sir."

Upon this he started. Fortunately for him our
riflemen, seeing what he was after, made a noble di
version in his favour, by throwing a galling fire into
the fort. On getting within thirty yards of the hogs
head, he fell flat on his face, and dragged himself along
on his belly until he reached it. Then seizing the
hogshead with a hand on each chine he worked it back
wards and backwards, like an alligator pulling a dog
into the river, until he had fairly rolled his prize to the
brink of the hill, where, giving it a sudden jerk by
way of a start, and at the same time jumping up, he
ran with all his might down the precipice, the hogs
head hard after him, and was soon out of all danger.
Numbers of shot were fired at him, but not one
touched him, which gave great joy to our encamp
ment, who were all anxious spectators of the trans
action, and seemed to take a deep interest in Billy's
success. And no wonder ; for he was a most noble-
hearted fellow, and exceedingly useful in camp. Offi
cers or soldiers, cadets or colonels, no matter who
they were, that asked Billy a favour, they were sure
to have it done for them ; and with such a cheerful
air, as did them more good than the service itself.
So that I much question, whether there was a man in
all our camp, whose good luck would have given
more general satisfaction than his.

On opening Bill's hogshead, which indeed was no
hogshead, but rather a puncheon, as big as two hogs
heads, there was a prodigious stare among our men
at the sight of so much wealth.

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. *I9

100 strong white shirts for soldiers,
50 fine do. do. for officers,
5O camp blankets,

100 black stocks,

10O knapsacks, and

6 dragoon's cloaks,

were the valuable contents of Billy's cask. The na
tive genius of the poor fellow instantly broke out in
a stream of generous actions, which never stopped,
until the hogshead was completely emptied. First of
all, he began with me, to whom he presented half a
dozen of the fine shirts and black stocks, with a dra
goon's cloak. Then to the general he made a present,
also to the officers of his family. To his fellow-ser
vants, who messed with him, he gave two shirts
a-piece. But what pleased me most in Billy's dona
tions, was his generosity to the two men who had
miscarried in their attempt on the same cask. Seeing
that they were much mortified at their own failure,
and a little perhaps at his success, he desired them to
come and help themselves to what they liked. Hear
ing him then express a wish that he knew what to do
with the balance, I told him that many of our dragoons
were poor men, and much in want of shirts. u A ye,
sure enough," said he, and immediately handed them
out a shirt a-piece, until all were gone.

For this generosity of Billy's, general Marion dub
bed him " captain Billy," a name which he went by
ever afterwards. Nothing was ever more seasonable
than this supply, purchased by Billy's valour ; for be
fore that, we were all as ragged as young rooks.
There was not an officer in camp, except colonel Lee
and his staff, who was so rich as to own two shirts.
I am very sure that Marion's aids had hut ono
a-piece. And yet so independent of wealth is cheer
fulness, that I have often seen our officers in their
naked buffs, near a branch, singihg and dancing around
their shirts, which they had just washed, and hung on
the bushes to dry.

220 THE LIFE OF

From the reduction of fort Watson, we s&t out im
mediately in high spirits, for the still nobler attack
on foit Motte. For the sake of fine air, and water,
and handsome accommodations, the British had erect
ed this fort in the yard of Mrs. Motte's elegant new
house, which was nearly enclosed in their works. But
alas ! so little do poor mortals know what they are
about ! the fine house, which they had rudely taken
from poor Mrs. Motte, proved to the British, what
his gay shirt did to Hercules. It wrought their down^
fall. For, after a fierce contest, in which many valu-^
able lives were lost on both sides, through the sharp
shooting of the yaugers, and the still closer cutting of
our riflemen, it struck Marion that he could quickly
drive the enemy out of the fort, by setting the house
on fire. But poor Mrs. Motte ! a lone widow, whose
plantation had been so long ravaged by the war, her
self turned into a log cabin, her negroes dispersed,
and her stock, grain, &c. nearly all ruined ! must she
now lose her elegant buildings too ? Such scruples
were honourable to the general ; but they showed his
total unacquaintedness with the excellent widow. FOF
at the first glimpse of the proposition, she exclaimed,
"O! burn it! burn it, general Marion ! God forbid I
should bestow a single thought on my little concerns,
when the independence of my country is at stake. —
No sir, if it were a palace it should go." She ihen
stepped to her closet and brought out a curious bow
with a quiver of arrows, which a poor African boy
purchased from on board a Guineaman, had formerly
presented her, and said, "Here, general, here is what
will serve your purpose to a hair." The arrows,
pointed with iron, and charged with lighted combus
tibles, were shot on top of the house, to which they
stuck, and quickly communicated the flames. The
British, two hundred in number, besides a good many
lories, instantly hung out a white flag in sign of sub-,
mission.

The excellent Mr?. Motte was present when hej

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 221

fine new house, supposed to be worth six thousand
dollars, took fire ; and without a sigh, beheld the red
spiry billows prevailing over all its grandeur.

The day after the destruction of her house, she
invited general Marion with all the officers, British
as well as American, to dine with her. Having now
no better place of accommodation, she entertained
us under a large arbour built in front of her log cabin,
where, with great pleasure, I observed that the same
lady could one day act the Spartan, and the next the
Parisian : thus uniting in herself, the rare qualities
of the heroine and the Christian. For my life I could
not keep my eyes from her. To think what an irre
parable injury these officers had done her ! and yet
to see her, regardless of her own appetite, selecting
the choicest pieces of the dish, and helping them with
the endearing air of a sister, appeared to me one of
the loveliest spectacles I had ever beheld. It produced
the happiest effect on us all. Catching her amiable
spirit, we seemed to have entirely forgotten our past
animosities ; and Britons and Americans mingled to
gether, in smiles and cheerful chat, like brothers. I
do not recollect a transaction in the whole war, in
which I can think thai God looked down with higher
complacency than on ti:is. And to the day of my
death, I shall believe, that God enabled us to beat the
British in arms, because we had so far beaten them
in generosity. Men, who under such cruel provoca
tions, could display such moderation as we did, must
certainly have given our Maker good hope, that we
were equal to the glorious business of self-govern
ment; or, in other words, of living under a republic,
which must certainly be his delight, because both im
plying and producing more wisdom and virtue, than
any other government among men.

The name of the British commandant, our prisoner,

was Ferguson ; and a very pleasant gentleman he was

too, as I found on getting acquainted with him, which

I soon did. After talking over our various adventures

U2

THE LIFE Ol<

in the war, he asked me if I did not command the
cavalry, in the late skirmishing between Watson and
Marion. I told him I did. " Well," replied he, "you
made a very lucky escape that day: for do you know
that we were twelve hundred strong, owing to colone)
Small's joining us in the march ?"

" Then truly," said I, " if that were the case, I
made a lucky escape, sure enough."

" And where were you," he asked again, " when
general Marion so completely surprised our guard at
Nelson's old fields : were you there ?"

I told him I was not, but that my brother, Hugh
Horry, was.

" Well," continued he, laughing heartily, " that was
my lucky day. I had a command there that morning
of about thirty men, as an advance. We had not left
the guard more than five minutes before the Ameri
cans charged and swept all. The moment we heard the
firing and the cries of our people, we squatted in the
high grass like so many rabbits, then running on the
stoop, till we gained the woods, we cleared ourselves."
I laughed, and asked how many men he supposed
Marion had that morning.

He replied, he really did not know, but supposed
he must have had three or four hundred.

" Well, sir," said I, " he had exactly thirty."

The reader may perhaps conceive Ferguson's as
tonishment : I cannot describe it.

Soon as the dishes were removed, we were present
ed with a spectacle to which our eyes had long been
strangers, a brave parade of excellent wine : several
hampers of which had been received at the fort the
very day before we commenced the attack. To poor
soldiers like us, who, for years, had hardly quenched
our thirst on any thing better than water or apple
brandy grog, this was a sight immensely refreshing.
Whether it was owing to the virtues of this noble cor
dial, with the recollection of our late glorious victo
ries ; or whether it was the happy result of our gene-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 223

rosity to the enemy, and of their correspondent
politeness to us, I do not know; but certain it is, we
were all very gay. But in the midst of our enjoy
ments, which none seemed to relish with a higher
glee than general Marion, a British soldier came up
and whispered to one of their officers, who instantly
coining round to the general, told him in a low voice,
that the Americans were hang-ing' the tones who had
been taken in the fort !

In a moment he sprang up, in a violent passion, and
snatching his sword, ran down towards our encamp
ment. We all followed him, though without knowing
the cause. On turning the corner of the garden which
had concealed their cruel deeds, we discovered a sight
most shocking to humanity, a poor man hanging in the
air to the beam of a gate, and struggling hard in the
agonies of death. " Cut him down ! cut him down !"
cried the general, as soon as he had got near enough
to be heard, which was instantly done. Then running
up, with cheeks as red as fire coals, and half choked
with rage, he bawled out, " In the name of God ! what
are you about, what are you about here !"

" Only hanging a few tories, sir," replied captain
Harrison of Lee's legion.

" Who gave you a right, sir, to touch the tories ?"

To this, young M'Corde, of the same corps, replied,
that it was only three or four rascals of them that
they meant to hang ; and that they had not supposed
the general would mind that.

" What ! not mind murdering the prisoners. Why,
my God ! what do you take me to be ? do you take
me for a devil ?"

Then, after placing a guard over the tories, and
vowing to make an example of the first man who
should dare to offer them violence, he returned with
the company to Mrs. Motte's table.

Of the three unfortunate tories that were hung dead,
one was nanred Hugh Mizcally., The name of the per
son so timely cut down was Levi Smith, a most iuri»

224 THE LIFE OF

OU3 tory. This title produced him such respect among
those degenerate Britons, that they appointed him
gatekeeper of Charleston, a circumstance that ope
rated much against the poor whigs in the country.
For Smith soon broke up a pious kind of fraud, which
the wives and daughters of the tories had for some
time carried on at a bold rate.

To the immortal honour of the ladies of South Ca
rolina, they were much more whiggishly given thav
the men ; insomuch that though married to tones,
they would be whigs still.

These fair ladies, in consequence of their relation
to the tories, could, at pleasure, pass into Charleston ;
which they never left without bringing off quantities
of broad cloth cut and jumped into petticoats, and art
fully hid under their gowns. The broad cloth, thus
brought off, was for regimentals for our officers.— -
Things went on swimmingly in this way for a long
time, till Smith, getting one day more groggy and
impudent than usual, swore that some young women
who were going out at the gate, looked much bigger
over the hips than they had need, and insisted on a
search. The truth is, these fair patriots, preparing
for a great wedding in the country, had thus spoiled
their shape, and brought themselves to all this dis
grace by their over greediness for finery. But Mr.
tory Smith affected to be so enraged by this trick,
which the girls had attempted to play on him, that he
would never afterwards suffer a woman to pass with*
out first pulling up her clothes.

He carried his zeal to such length, as one day very
grossly to insult a genteel old lady, a Mrs. M'Corde.

Her son, who was a dragoon in Lee's legion, swore
vengeance against Smith, and would, as we have seen,
have taken his life, had not Gen. Marion interposed.

In the Charleston papers of that day, 1781, Smith
gives the history of his escape from Marion, wherein
he relates an anecdote, which, if it be true, and I see

GEM. FRANCIS MARION.

no reason to doubt it, shows clear enough that his
toryism cost him dear.

In his confinement at Motte's house, he was exces-
sively uneasy. Well knowing that the whigs owed
him no good will^ and fearing that the next time they
got a halter round his neck, he might find no Marion
to take his part, he determined if possible to run off.
The tories were all handcuffed two and two, and con
fined together unde-r a centinel, in what was called a
bull-pen, made of pine trees, cut down so judgmati-
cally as to form, by their fall, a pen or enclosure. It
was Smith's fortune to have for his yokefellow a poor
sickly creature of a tory, who, though hardly able to
go high-low, was prevailed on to desert with him.
They had not travelled far into the woods, before his
sick companion, quite overcome with fatigue, declared
he could go no farther, and presently fell down in a
swoon. Confined by the handcuffs, Smith was obliged
to lie by him in the woods, two days and nights,
without meat or drink ! and his comrade frequently
in convulsions ! On the third day he died. Unable
to bear it any longer, Smith drew his knife and se
parated himself from the dead man, by cutting off
his arm at the elbow, which he bore with him to
Charleston.

The British heartily congratulated his return, and
restored him to his ancient honour of sitting, Morde^
eai-like, at the king's gate, where, it is said, he be*
havecl very decently ever afterwards.

Smith's friends say of him, that in his own country
(South Carolina) he hardly possessed money enough
to buy a pig, but when he got to England, after the
war, he made out as if the rebel* had robbed him of
as many flocks and herds as the wild Arabs did Job.
The British government, remarkable for generosity
to their friends in distress, gave him money enough
to return to South Carolina with a pretty assortment
qf merchandise. And he is now, I am told, as

226 THE LIFE OF

thy as a Jew, and, which is still more to Ins credit
as courteous as a Christian.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

The author congratulates his dear country on her late
glorious victories — recapitulates British cruelties^
drawing after them, judicially, a succession of ter
rible overthrows.

HAPPY Carolina ! I exclaimed, as our late victo
ries passed over my delighted thoughts ; happy Caro
lina f dear native country, hail ! long and dismal has
been the night of thy affliction : but now rise and
sing, for thy " light is breaking forth, and the dawn
of thy redemption is brightening around."

For opposing the curses of slavery, thy noblest citi
zens have been branded as rebels, and treated with a
barbarity unknown amongst civilized nations. They
have been taken from their beds and weeping fami
lies, and transported, to pine and die in a land of
strangers.

They have been crowded into midsummer jails
and dungeons* there, unpitied, to perish amidst suf
focation and stench; while their wives and children,
in mournful groups around the walls, were asking
with tears for their husbands and fathers !

They have been wantonly murdered with swords
and bayonets,f or hung up like dogs to ignominious
gibbets.

* All Europe was filled with horror at the history of the one
hundred and twenty unfortunate Englishmen that' were sutfo-
cated in the black hole at Calcutta. Little was it thought that
an English nobleman (lord Rawdon) would so soon have repeated
that crime, by crowding one hundred and sixty-foil*' unfortunate
Americans into a smallprison in Camden, in me dogdays.

f A Brother of that excellent man, major Linning, of Chaiie*
ton, wus taken from his plantation on Ashley liver, by one w

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 227

They have been stirred up and exasperated against
*ach other, to the most unnatural and bloody strifes,
* Fathers to kill their sons, and brothers to put bro
thers to death /"

Such were the deeds of Cornwallis and his officers
in Carolina! And while the churches in England were,
every where, resounding with prayers to Almighty
God, "to spare the effusion of human blood," those
monsters were shedding it with the most savage wan
tonness ! While all the good people in Britain were
praying, day and night, for a speedy restoration of
the former happy friendship between England and
America, those wretches were taking the surest steps
to drive all friendship from the American bosom, and
to kindle the flames of everlasting hatred !

But, blessed be God, the tears of the widows and
orphans have-prevailed against them, and the righte
ous Judge of all the earth is rising up to make inqui
sition for the innocent blood which they have shed.
And never was his hand more visibly displayed in
the casting down of the wicked, than in humbling
Cornwallis and his bloody crew.

At this period, 1 780, the western extremities were
the only parts of the state that remained free. To
swallow these up, Cornwallis sent Col. Ferguson, a fa
vourite officer, with fourteen hundred men. Hearing
of the approach of the enemy, and of their horrible
cruelties, the hardy mountaineers rose up as one man,
from Dan to Beersheba. They took their faithful rifles.
They mounted their horses, and with each his bag of
oats, and a scrap of victuals, they set forth to find the
enemy. They had no plan, no general leader. The

the enemy's galleys, and thrust down into the hold. At night the
officers began to drink and sing, and kept it up till twelve o'clock,
when, by way of frolic, they had him brought, though sick, into
their cabin, held a court martial over him, sentenced him to
death, very deliberately executed the sentence by stabbing him
with bayonets, and then threw his mangled body into the river
for tl\e sharks and crabs to devour \

228 THE LIFE OF

youth of each district, gathering around their own
brave colonel, rushed to battle. But though seemingly
blind and headlong as their own mountain streams,
yet there was a hand unseen that guided their course,
They all met, 6%? by chance, near the King's moun
tain, where the ill-fated Ferguson encamped. Their
tmmbers counted, made three thousand. That the
work and victory may be seen to be of God, they
sent back all but one thousand chosen men.

A thousand men on mountains bred,

With rifles all so bright,
Who knew full well, in time of need,

To aim their guns aright.

At parting, the ruddy warriors shook hands with
their returning friends, and sent their love. " Tell
oui fathers," said they," that we shall think of them,
in the battle, and draw our sights the truer"

Then led on by the brave colonels Campbell, Cleve
land, Shelby, Sevier^ and Williams, they ascended the
hill and commenced the attack. Like Sinai of old, the
top of the mountain was soon wrapped ia smoke and
flames ; the leaden deaths came whizzing from all-
quarters ; and in forty minutes Ferguson was slain,
and the whole of his party killed, wounded or taken.

To avenge this mortifying blow, Cornwallis des
patched colonel Tarleton with thirteen hundred and
fifty picked troops, against Morgan, who had but
nine hundred men, and these more than half militia.
At the first onset, the militia fled, leaving Morgan
with only four hundred to contend against thirteen
hundred and fifty, rushing on furiously as to certain
victory. What spectator of this scene must not have
given up all for lost, and with tears resigned this lit
tle forlorn, to that unsparing slaughter which colonel
Tarleton delighted in ? But, contrary t® all human
expectation, the devoted handful stood their ground,
and, in a short time, killed and captured nearly the
whole of their proud assailants !

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

Raging like a wounded tiger, Cornwallis destroys
all his heavy baggage, and pushes hard after Morgan.
The pursuit is urged with unimaginable fury : and
Cornwallis gains so fast upon the Americans, encum
bered with their prisoners, that on the evening of the
ninth day he came up to the banks of the Catawba,
just as Morgan's rear had crossed at a deep ford.
Before the wished-for morning returned, the river
was so swollen by a heavy rain, that Cornwallis could
not pass. Adoring the hand of Heaven, the Ameri
cans continued their flight. On the morning of the
third day, Cornwallis renewed the pursuit with redou
bled fury, and by the ninth evening, came up to the
banks of the Yadkin, just as Morgan's last rifle corps
was about to take the ford. Presently the rain came
rushing down in torrents, and by the morning light
the furious river was impassable ! Who so blind as
not to acknowledge the hand of God in all thi's ?

Soon as he could get over, the wrathful Cornwallis
renewed the pursuit ; but before he could overtake
them at Gui Idf or d court-house, the Americans, joined
by their countrymen, gave him battle, and killed one
third of his army. Cornwailis then^ in turn, fled be
fore the Americans ; and as he had outmarched them
before, he outran them now, and escaped safely to
Wilmington. With largely recruited force he re
turned to Virginia, where four hundred deluded men,
(tories) under colonel Pyles, came forward ta join
him. On their way they fell in with Col. Lee and his
legion. Mistaking them for Tarleton and his cavalry,
they wave their hats and cry out, u God save the
king! God save the king!" Let encourages the mis
take, until they are all intermixed with his dragoons,
who at a signal given, draw their swords and hew the
wretches to pieces. Only one hundred make their
escape. These fall in, the next day, with colonel
Tarleton, who, mistaking them for what he called
u damned rebels," ordered his troops to charge, which
they did; and regardless of their repeated cries, that

230 THE LIFE OF

tt they were the king's best friends," put most of them
to death.

Thus wonderfully did God baffle lord Cornwallis,
and visit a sudden and bloody destruction upon those
unnatural wretches, who were going forth to plunge
their swords into the bowels of their own country !

After this, being joined by all the British troops in
that quarter, he rolled on like an angry flood to Wil-
liamsburgh and York, where God sent his servant
Washington, who presently captured him and his
fleet and army, near ten thousand strong.

CHAPTER XXIX.

The British evacuate Charleston — great joy of the
citizens — patriotism of the Charleston ladies.

AS when a lion that has long kept at bay the fierce
assaulting shepherds, receives at last his mortal wound,
suddenly the monster trembles under the deadly
stroke ; and, sadly howling, looks around with wistful
eye towards his native woods. Such was the shock
given to the British, when the sword of heaven-aided
justice struck down the bloody Cornwallis. With
him fell the hopes of the enemy throughout our state.

In Charleston, their officers were seen standing to
gether in groups, shaking their heads as they talked
of the dreadful news. While those who had marched
up so boldly into the country, now panic-struck, were
every where busied in demolishing their works, blow
ing up their magazines, and hurrying back to town in
the utmost dismay. Hard pressing upon the rear,
we followed the steps of their flight, joyfully chasing
them from a country which they had stained with
blood, and pursuing them to the very gates of Charles
ton. As we approached the city, our eyes were pre
sented with scenes of desolation sufficient to damp all
hearts, and to inspire the deepest sense of the horrors

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 331

of war. Robbed of all animal and vegetable life, the
neighbouring plantations seemed but as dreary de
serts, compared with what they once were, when, co
vered with sportive flocks and herds, and rice and
corn, they smiled with plenteousness and joy. In the
fields, the eyes beheld no sign of cheerful crops, nor
in the woods any shape of living beast or bird, except
a few mournful buzzards, silently devouring the un-
buried flesh of some poor wretched mortals, who had
fallen in the late rencontres between the English and
Americans. Indeed, had those days continued, no flesh
could have been saved ; but blessed be God, who
shortened them, by chastising the aggressors (the
British) as we have seen.

On the memorable 14th of December, 1782, we en
tered and took possession of our capital, after it had
been two years seven months and two days m the
hands of the enemy. The style of our entry was
quite novel and romantic. On condition of not being
molested while embarking, the British had offered to
leave the town unhurt. Accordingly, at the firing of
a signal gun in the morning, as agreed on, they quit
ted their advanced works, near the town gate, while
the Americans, moving on close in the rear, follow
ed them all along through the city down to the
water's edge, where they embarked on board their
three hundred ships, which, moored out in the bay in
the shape of an immense half moon, presented a most
magnificent appearance.

The morning was as lovely as pure wintry air and
cloudless sunbeams could render it ; but rendered far
lovelier still by our procession, if I may so call it,
which was well calculated to awaken the most plea
surable feelings. In front, were the humble remains
of that proud army, which, one and thirty months ago,
captured our city, and thence, in the drunkenness of
victory, had hurled menaces and cruelties disgraceful
to the British name: — And close in the rear, was
our band of patriots, bending forward with martial

THE LIFE OF

music and flying colours, to play the last joyful act in
the drama of their country's deliverance ; to proclaim
liberty to the captive ; to recall the smile on the cheek
of sorrow ; and to make the heart of the widow leap
for joy. Numbers, who, for years, had been confined
to a single room in their own elegant houses, could
now throw open their long-locked doors, and breathe
and walk at large in these beloved apartments, from
which they had been so long excluded. Numbers,
who, for years, had mourned their separation from
children, wives, and sires, were now seen rushing,
with trembling joy, to the long-coveted embrace. Oh f
it was a day of jubilee indeed ! a day of rejoicing
never to be forgotten. Smiles and tears were on every
face. For who could remain unmoved, when they saw
the little children running with outstretched arms to
embrace their long absent fathers ; when they saw the
aged trembling with years and affection, clasping their
warrior sons, glorious in arms, and those sons, with
pleasure-sparkling eyes, returning the pious embrace,
and congratulating the deliverance of their fathers ;
while all along the streets, as we moved in clouds of
joy-rolling dust, nothing was to be heard but shouts
of, LIBERTY and AMERICA FOR EVER; and nothing
was to be seen but crowds of citizens shaking hands
and thanking God for bringing them to see that hap
py day. And to crown all, on both sides of us, as we
marched in shining rows, stood our beauteous coun
try women, mingling their congratulations. The day
was precious to all, but nc&ie I believe enjoyed it so
highly as did the ladies of Charleston. Being, great
numbers of them at least, women of fortune and libe
ral education, they had early discovered the deformi
ty of lord North's enslaving principles, " unconditional
taxation" which they abhorred worse than the yaws ;
and hating the measure, they could not but dislike the
men who were come to execute it. In common with
their sex, they were sufficiently partial to soldiers of
honour. But alas ! they were not permitted the plea-

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

sure to contemplate the British in that prepossessing
light. On the contrary, compelled to view them as
mertjlfhtinff machines, venal wretches, who for pay
and plunder, had degraded the man into the brutO)
tne Briton into the buccaneer, how could they
otherwise than detest them ?

Nor were the manners of the British officers at all
calculated to remove those antipathies. Coming to
America, under the impression that the past genera
tion were convicts, and the present rebels, they looked
on and treated their daughters only as pretty Creoles,
whom it was doing great honour to smile on !

But this prejudice against the British officers, found-
edjir&t on their sordidness, then, secondly, fed by their
insolence, was, thirdly and lastly, matured by their
cruelty. To see the heads of their first families,
without even a charge of crime, dragged from their
beds at midnight, and packed off like slaves to St.
Augustine ; to see one of their most esteemed coun
trymen, the amiable colonel Haynes, hung up like a
dog before their eyes ; and to hear continually, from
all parts, of the horrid house-burnings and murders
committed by Kawdon, Tarleton, Weymies, and their
tory and negro allies, filled up the measure of female
detestation of the British officers. They scorned to
be seen in the same public walks with them ; would
not touch a glove or snuff-box from their hands ; and
in short, turned away from them as from the com
monest felons or cut-threats. And on the other hand,
to be treated thus by buckskin girls, the rebel daught
ers of convict parents, was more than the British offi
cers could put up with. The whig ladies, of course,
were often insulted, and that very grossly too ; and
not only often threatened, but actually thrown into the
provost or bastile. No wonder then that they were
nighly delighted to see such rude enemies, after re
peated overthrows in the country, chased back to
town, and thence, covered with disgrace, embarking
to leave the country for ever. No wonder that, on
V2

234 THE LIFE OF

hearing of our line of march that morning, they had
decked themselves in their richest habks, and at the
first sound of our drums, flew to their doors, windows,
and balconies, to welcome our return.

Never before had they appeared half so charming.
Sweet are the flowers of the field at every season of
the year, but doubly sweet, when, after long icy win
ter, they spread all their blossoms to the springtide
sun. Even so the daughters of Charleston, though
always fair, yet never seemed so passing fair as now,
when after sustaining the long wintry storms of Bri
tish oppression, they came forth in all their patriot
charms to greet the welcome beams of returning li
berty. And never shall I forget the accents of those
lovely lips, which, from behind their waving handker
chiefs, that but half concealed their angel blushes,
exclaiming, " God bless you, gentlemen ! God bless
you ! welcome ! welcome to your homes again !"

CHAPTER XXX.

Marion returns to his plantation — is appointed a
ber of the legislature — some valuable anecdotes of
him — his marriage— and retirement.

AFTER the retreat of the British from Carolina,
Marion sheathed his sword for lack of argument, and
went up to cultivate his little plantation in St. John's
parish, where he was born. But the gratitude of his
countrymen did not long allow him to enjoy the
sweets of that rural life, of which he was uncom
monly fond. At the next election, he was in some
sort compelled to stand as a candidate for the legisla
ture, to which, by an unanimous voice, he was sent,
to aid with his counsel, the operations of that govern
ment, to whose freedom his sword had so largely con
tributed. The friends of humanity were all highly

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

pleased with his call to the legislature. From his well
known generosity to his enemies, during the war, they
fondly hoped he would do every thing in his power
to extinguish that horrid flame of revenge, which still
glowed in the bosoms of many against the tories. Nor
did Marion disappoint their hopes. His face was al
ways, and undauntedly, set against every proposition
that savoured of seventy to the tories, whom he used
to call his " poor deluded countrymen." The reader
may form some idea of general Marion from the fol
lowing anecdote, which was related to me by the
honourable Benjamin Huger, Esq.

During the turious contests in South Carolina,
between the British and Americans, it was very com
mon for men of property to play jack of both sides^
for the sake of saving their negroes and cattle. —
Among these, a pretty numerous crew, was a wealthy
old blade, who had the advantage of one of those very
accommodating faces, that could shine with equal
lustre on his victorious visitants, whether Britons or
buckskins. Marion soon found him out ; and as aoon
gave him a broad hint how heartily he despised such
trimming ; for at a great public meeting where the
old gentleman, with a smirking face, came up and
presented his hand, Marion turned from him without
deigning to receive it. Every body was surprised at
this conduct of the general, and some spoke of it in
terms of high displeasure. However, it was not long
before they caught the old weathercock at one of his
tricks, and, soon as the confiscation act was passed,
had him down on the bldck list^ fondly hoping, no
doubt, to divide a large spoil. Marion, who was then
a member of the legislature, arose to speak. The aged
culprit, who also was present, turned pale and trem
bled at the sight of Ma<rion, giving up all for lost.™
But how great, how agreeable was his surprise, when
instead of hearing the general thundering against him
for judgment, he heard him imploring for mercy !
His accusers were, if possible, still more astonished.

S36 THE LIFE OF

Having counted on general Marion as his firmest foe
they were utterly mortified to find him his fastest
friend, and, venting their passion with great freedom,
taxed him with inconsistency and fickleness that but
illy suited with general Marion's character.

44 It is scarcely eighteen months, sir," said they,
44 since you treated this old rascal with the most
pointed and public contempt, on account of the very
crime for which we wish to punish him. And here,
now, instead of taking part against him, you have
declared in his favour, and have become his warmest
advocate with a legislature."

44 True, gentlemen," replied Marion, " but you
should remember that it was war then ; and there
fore my duty to make a difference between the real
and pretended friends of my country. But it is peace
now, and we ought to remember the virtues of men,
particularly of the old and timid, rather than their
follies. And we ought to remember too, that God
has given us the victory, for which we owe him eter
nal gratitude. But cruelty to man is not the way to
show our gratitude to heaven."

Of the same complexion was his behaviour in a
large partv at governor Matthew's table, just after
the passage of the famous act to confiscate the estates
of the tories. "Come, general, give us a toast" said the
governor. The glasses were all filled, and the eyes
of the company fixed up< n the general, who, waving
his bumper in the air, thus nobly called out — " Well,
gentlemen, here*s damnation to the confiscation act"

The following anecdote of Marion I have heard
from a thousand lips, and every time with that joy
on the countenance, which evinced the deep interest
which the heart takes in talking of things that are
honourable to our countrymen.

While Marion was a member of the legislature, a
petition was presented to the house for an act of am*
nesty of all those arbitrary measures which the Ame
rican officers had been obliged to adopt during the war,

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 207

in order to get horses, provisions, &c. for the army.
The petition was signed by the names of all the favou
rite officers of the state, and among the rest, by that of
our hero. Some of his fiends, it seemed, had done it
for him, on the supposition that he needed such an
act as well as the rest. But Marion, who had listened
very attentively to the reading of the petition, on hear
ing his nam« mentioned as one of the subscribers, in
stantly arose, and insisted that his name should be
struck off from that paper. He said " he had no manner
of objection to the petition; on the contrary, he most
heartily approved of it, and meant to vote for it ; foi
well did he know, he said, that during the war, we
had among us a world of ignoramuses, who, for lack
of knowing their danger, did not care a fig how the
war went, but were sauntering about in the woods,
popping at the squirrels, when they ought to have
been in the field fighting the British ; that such gen
tlemen, since they did not choose to do any thing for
their country themselves, might well afford to let then
cattle do something; and as they had not shed any of
their blood for the public service, they might certainly
spare a little corn to it : at any rate he had no notion,
he said, of turning over to the mercy of these pol
troons, some of the choicest spirits of the nation, to
be prosecuted and torn to pieces by them ; but that,
nevertheless, he did not like to have his name to the
petition, for, thank God, he had no favours to ask of
them. And if, during the war for his country, he had
done any of them harm, there was he, and yonder
his property, and let them come forward, if they darct
and demand satisfaction"

And I never heard of any man who ever accused
him of the least injury done him during all the war.

Marion continued a member of the legislature, un
til orders were issued to repair and put in commission
Pert Johnson, to the command of which he was ap
pointed, with the pay of about twenty-two hundred
dollars per annum. Though this salary had been

. THE LIFE OF

votea him chiefly because of his losses during the ww
yet it was not continued to him longer than two 01
three years, when it was reduced to less than five hun
dred dollars annually. Numbers of people had their
feelings greatly hurt on this occasion, and, I dare say,
much worse than his own. For he was a man who
caied very little for money; and besides, about that
time he entered into matrimony with that excellent
and wealthy lady, Miss Mary Videau, who, with her
affections, bestowed on him a fortune sufficient to sa
tisfy his utmost wishes, even though they had been
far less moderate than they were. Seeing now no par
ticular obligation on him to continue longer in the
public service, he gladly yielded to his sense of what
ne owed to a generous and beloved companion, and
with her, retired to his native parish of St. John's,
where, amidst the benedictions of his countrymen,
and the caresses of numerous friends, he spent the
short remnant of his days, participating every rural
sweet with the dear woman of his choice, feasting on
the happy retrospect of a life passed in fighting for
THE RIGHTS OF MAN, and fondly cherishing the hopes
of a better.

CHAPTER XXXL

The author's last visit to Marion — interesting conver
sation on the importance of public instruction —
free schools sho"wn to be a great saving to a na
tion.

I OFTEN went to see Marion. Our evenings were
passed as might have been expected between two old
friends, who had spent their better days together in
scenes of honourable enterprise and danger. On the
night of the last visit I ever made him, observing that
the clock was going for ten, I asked him if it were
not near his hour of rest,

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 239

a Oh no," said he, u we must not talk of bed yet,
£t is but seldom, you know, that we meet. And as
this may be our last, let us take all we can of it in
chat. What do you think of the times ?"

" O glorious times," said I.

" Yes, thank God !" replied he. u They are glorious
times indeed ; and fully equal to all that we had in
hope, when we drew our swords for independence*
But I am afraid they won't last long."

I asked him why he thought so.

tt Oh ! knowledge, sir," said he, u is wanting ! know
ledge is wanting ! Israel of old, you know, was de»
stroyedfor lack of knowledge ; and all nations, all in
dividuals, have come to naught from the same cause."

I told him I thought we were too happy to change
so soon.

" Pshaw !" replied he, " that is nothing to the pur
pose. Happiness signifies nothing, if it be not known^
and property valued. Satan, we are told, was once
an angel of light, but for want of duly considering his
glork>us state, he rebelled and lost all. And how
many hundreds of young Carolinians have we not
known, whose fathers left them all the means of hap
piness ; elegant estates, handsome wives, and, in
shoit, every blessing that the most luxurious could
desire ? Yet they could not rest, until by drinking
and gambling, they had fooled away their fortunes,
parted from their wives, and rendered themselves the
veriest beggars and blackguards on earth.

" Now, why was all this, but for lack oj knowledge ?
For had those silly ones but known the evils of pover*
ty, what a vile thing it was to wear a dirty shirt, a
long beard, and ragged coat ; to go without a dinner,
or to spunge for it among growling relations ; or to
be bespattered, or run over in the streets, by the sona
of those who were once their fathers* overseers ; 1 say,
had those poor boobies, in the days of their prospe
rity, known these things as they now do, would they
have squandered away the precious means of inde-*

24© THE LIFE OF

pendence and pleasure, and have brought themselves
to all this shame and sorrow? No, never, never, never.

"And so it is, most exactly, with nations. If those
that are free and happy, did but know their blessings,
do you think they would ever exchange them for
slavery ? If the Carthagenrans, for example,' in the
days of their freedom and self-government, when they
obeyed no laws but of their own making ; paid no
taxes, but for their own benefit ; and, free as air, pur
sued their own interest as they liked ; I say, if that
once glorious and happy people had known their
blessings, would they have sacrificed them all, by
their accursed factions, to the Romans, to be ruled,
they and their children, with a rod of iron ; to be bur
dened like beasts, and crucified like malefactors I

" No, surely they would not.

" Well, now to bring this home to ourselves. We
fought for self-government ; and God hath pleased to
give us one, better calculated perhaps to protect our
rights, to foster our virtues, to call forth our energies,
and to advance our condition nearer to perfection
and happiness, than any government that was ever
framed under the sun.

u But what signifies even this government, divine
as it is, if it be not known and prized as it deservea ?"

I asked him how he thought this was best to be
done ?

"Why, certainly," replied he, "by free schools."

I shook my head.

He observed it, and asked me what I meant by
that?

I told him I was afraid the legislature would look
to their popularity, and dread the expense.

He exclaimed, " God preserve our legislature from
such 'penny rvit and pound foolishness /' What sir!
keep a nation in ignorance, rather than vote a little
of their own money for education ! Only let such poli
ticians remember, what poor Carolina has already
lost through her ignorance. What was it that broughl

GEN FRANCIS MARION. 241

the Briti&h, last war, to Carolina, but her lack of
knowledge ? Had the people been enlightened, they
would have been united; and had they been united,
they never would have been attacked a second time by
the British. For after that drubbing they got from
us at fort Moultrie, in 1 776, they would as soon have
attacked the devil as have attacked Carolina again',
had they not heard that they were ' a house divided
against itself? or in other words, had amongst us a
great number of TORIES ; men, who, through mere
ignorance, were disaffected to the cause of liberty, and
ready to join the British against their own country
men. Thus, ignorance begat toryism, and toryisrti
begat losses in Carolina, of which few have any idea.

" According to the best accounts, America spent
in the last war, seventy millions of dollars, which,
divided among the states according to their popula
tion, gives to Cai ~>lina about eight millions ; making,
as the war lasted eight years, a million a year. Now,
it is generally believed, the British, after their loss of
Burgoyne and their fine northern army, would soon
nave given up the contest, had it not been for the foot-
nold they got in Carolina, which protracted the war
at least two years longer. And as this two years'
ruinous war in Carolina was owing to the encourage
ment the enemy got there, and that encouragement to
toryism, and that toryism to ignorance, ignorance ma)
fairly be debited to two millions of loss to Carolina.

44 Well, in these two r.xtia years of tory-begotten
war, Carolina lost, at least four thousand men ; and
among them, a Laurent* , a Williams , a Campbell, a
HayneS) and many others, whose worth not the gold
of Ophir could value. But rated at the price at which
the prince of Hesse sold his people to George the
Third, to shoot the Americans, say, thirty pounds
sterling ahead, or one hundred and fifty dollars, they
make six hundred thousand dollars. Then count the
twenty-five thousand slaves which Cariolina certainly
lost, and each slave at the moderate price of three

THE LIFE OF

hundred dollars, and yo\ have seven millions
hundred thousand. To this add the houses, barns,
and stables that were bu--.it ; the plate plundered ; the
furniture lost; the hogs sheep and horned cattle kill
ed; the rice, corn and other crops destroyed, and
they amount, at the most moderate calculation, to five
millions.

" Now, to say nothing of those losses, which can
not be rated by dollars and cents, such as the destruc
tion of morals and the distraction of childless parents
and widows, but counting those only that are of the
plainest calculations, such as,
1st. Carolina's loss in the extra two) ~ ,

year's war, 5 »2,OOO,OC

2d. For her four thousand citizens?

slain in that time, 5 600,OOO

3d. For twenty-five thousand slaves >

lost, 5 7,500,000

4th. For buildings, furniture, cattle,")

J

grain, &c. &c. destroyed,

S 15,1 00,000

Making the enormous sum of fifteen millions and
odd dollars capital; and bearing an annual interest
of nearly ten hundred thousand dollars besides! am5
all this for lack of a few free schools, which would
have cost the state a mere nothing."

I sighed, and told him I wished he had not broach
ed the subject, for it had made me very sad.

" Yes," replied he, (> it is enough to make any one
sad. But it cannot be helped but by a wiser course
of things ; for, if peop e will not do what will make
them happy, God will surely chastise them; and this
dreadful loss of public property is one token of his
displeasure at our neglect of public instruction."

I asked him if this were really his belief. " Yes,
sir," replied he, frith great earnestness, " it is my be
lief, and I would not exchange it for worlds. It is

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 243

my firm belief, that every evil under the sun is of the
nature of chastisement, and appointed of the infi
nitely good Being for our benefit. When you see a
youth, who, but lately, was the picture of bloom and
manly beauty, now utterly withered and decayed ; his
body bent; his teeth dropping out ; his nose consum
ed ; with fetid breath, ichoroas eyes, and his whole
appearance most putrid, ghastly, and loathsome, you
are filled with pity and with horror ; you can hardly
believe there is a God, or hardly refrain from charg
ing him with cruelty. But, where folly raves, wisdom
Adores. In this awful scourge of lawless lust, wisdom
discerns the infinite price which heaven sets on con
jugal purity and love. In like manner, the enormous
sacrifice of public property, in the last war, being no
more, as before observed, than the natural effect of
public ignorance, ought to teach us that of all sins,
there is none so hateful to God as national ignorance ;
that unfailing spring of NATIONAL INGRATITUDE,

REBELLION, SLAVERY, and WRETCHEDNESS !

" But if it be melancholy to think of so many ele
gant houses, rich furniture, fat cattle, and precious
crops, destroyed for want of that patriotism which 9
true knowledge of our interests would have inspired ;
then how much more melancholy to think of those
torrents of precious blood that were shed, those cruel
slaughters and massacres, that took place among the
citizens from the same cause ! As proof that such hell
ish tragedies would never have been acted, had our
state but been enlightened, only let us look at the peo
ple of New England. From Britain, their fathers had
fled to America for religion's sake. Religion had
taught them that God created men to be/za/>/>z// that
lobe happy they must have virtue ; that virtue is not
to be attained without knoivlsdge, nor knowledge with
out instruction, nor public instruction without free
schools* nor free schools without legislative order.
Among a people who fear God, the knowledge of
is the same as doing it. Believing it to be tha

244 THE LIFE OF

first command of God, " let there be light;" and be
lieving it to be the will of God that" all should be in-
structed, from the least to the greatest," these wise
legislators at once set about public instruction. They
did not ask, how will my constituents like this ? won't
they turn me out ? shall I not lose my three dollars
per day ? No ! but fully persuaded that public instruc
tion is God's will, because the people's good, they set
about it like the true friends of the people.

" Now mark the happy consequence. When the
war broke out, you heard of no division in New Eng
land, no toryism, nor any of its horrid effects ; no
houses in flames, kindled by the hands of fellow-citi
zens, no neighbours waylaying and shooting theif
neighbours, plundering their property, carrying off
their stock, and aiding the British in the cursed work
of American murder and subjugation. But on the con
trary, with minds well informed of their rights, and
hearts glowing with love for themselves and posteri
ty, they rose up against the enemy, firm and united,
as a band of shepherds against the ravening wolves.

" And their valour in the field gave glorious proof
how men will fight when they know that their all is at
stake. See major Pitcairn, on the memorable 19th of
April 1 775, marching from Boston, with one thousand
British regulars, to burn the American stores at Con
cord. Though this heroic excursion was commenced
under cover of the night, the farmers soon took the
alarm, and gathering around them with their fowling
pieces, presently knocked down one-fourth of their
number, and caused the rest to run, as if, like the
swine in the gospel, they had a legion of devils at
their hacks.

" Now, with sorrowful eyes, let us turn to our own
state, where no pains were ever taken to enlighten the
minds of the poor. There we have seen a people na
turally as brave as the New Englanders, for mere
lack of knowledge of their blessings possessed^ of the
dangers threatened* suffei lord Cornwallis, with

GEN. FRANCIS MARION.

only sixteen hundred men, to chase general Greene
upwards of three hundred miles ! In fact, to scout
him through the two great states of South and North
Carolina as far as Guildford court-house ! and, when
Greene, joined at that place by two thousand poor
illiterate militia-men, determined at length to fight,
what did he gain by them, with all their number, but
disappointment and disgrace ? For, though posted
very advantageously behind the corn-field fences, they
could not stand a single fire from the British, but in
spite of their officers, broke and fled like base-born
slaves, leaving their loaded muskets sticking in the
fence corners!

" But, from this shameful sight, turn again to the
kand of free schools ; to Bunker's Hill. There, be
hind a poor ditch of half a night's raising, you be
hold fifteen hundred militia-men waiting the approach
of three thousand British regulars ivith a heavy train
of artillery ! With such odds against them, such fear-
mi odds in numbers, discipline, arms, and martial
fame, will they not shrink from the contest, and,
like their southern friends, jump up and run ! Oh no j
to a man they have been taught to read ; to a man
they have been instructed to know, and deafer than
life to prize, the blessings of FREEDOM. Thefr bodies
are lying behind ditches, but their thoughts are on
the wing, darting through eternity. The warning
voice of God still rings in their ears. The hated
forms of proud merciless kings pass before their eyes.
They look back to the days of old, and strengthen
themselves as they think what their gallant forefathers
dared for LIBERTY and for THEM. They looked
forward to their own dear children, and yearn over
the unoffending millions, now, in tearful eyes, looking
up to them for protection. And shall this infinite
host of deathless beings, created in God's own imagen
and capable by VIRTUE and EQUAL LAWS, of endless
progression in glory and happiness ; shall they be ar
rested in their high career^ and from the freeborn

Wa

246 THE LIFE OF

sons of God, be degraded into the slaves of man ?
Maddening at the accursed thought, they grasp their
avenging firelocks, and drawing their sights along
the death-charged tubes, they long for the coming up
of the British thousands. Three times the British
thousands came up ; and three times the dauntless
yeomen, waiting their near approach, received them
in storms of thunder and lightning that shivered theii
ranks, and heaped the field with their weltering car
casses.

" In short, my dear sir, men will always fight for
their government, according to their sense of its
value. To value it aright, they must understand it.
This they cannot do without education. And as a
large portion of the citizens are poor, and can never
attain that inestimable blessing, without the aid of
government, it is plainly the first duty of government
to bestow it freely upon them. And the more per
fect the government, the greater the duty to make it
well known. Selfish and oppressive governments, in
deed, as Christ observes, must " hate the light, and
fear to come to it, because their deeds are evil.1" But
a fair and cheap government, like our republic, " longs
for the light, and rejoices to come to the light, thai
it may be manifested to be from God," and well
worth all the vigilance and valour that an enlightened
nation can rally ?or its defence. And, God knows,
a good government can hardly ever be half anxious
enough to give its citizens a thorough knowledge of
its owu excellencies. For as some of the most valu
able truths, for lack of careful promulgation, have
been lost ; so the best government on earth, if not
duly known and prized, may be subverted. Ambi
tious demagogues will rise, and the people, through
ignorance, and love of change, will follow them.
Vast armies will be formed, and bloody battles fought,
And after desolating their country with all the hor
rors of civil war, the guilty survivors will have U
bend thfeir necks to the iron yoke of some 3tent

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. li?

usurper, and like beasts of burden, to drag, unpitied,
those galling chains which they have riveted upon
themselves for ever."

This, as nearly as I can recollect, was the substance
of the last dialogue I ever had with Marion. It was
spoken with an emphasis which I shall never forget.
Indeed he described the glorious action at Bunker's
Hill, as though he had been one of the combatants.
His agitation was great, his voice became altered and
broken ; and his face kindled over with that living
fire with which it was wort to burn, when he entered
the battles of his country. I arose from my seat as he
spoke ; and on recovering from the magic of his
tongue, found myself bending forward to the voice
of my friend, and my right hand stretched by my
side ; it was stretched to my side for the sword that
was wont to burn in the presence of Marion when
battle rose, and the crowding foe was darkening
around us. :« But thanks to God, 'twas sweet delusion
all. No sword hung burning by my side ; no crowd
ing foe darkened around us. In dust or in chains they
had all vanished away, and bright in his scabbard
rested the sword of peace in my own pleasant halls
on Winyaw bay«

**>

948 THE LIFE OF

CHAPTER XXXII.

The death of Marion — his character.

** Next to Washington, O glorious shade !

" In page historic shall thy name have place,
" Deep on thy country's memory are portrayed

" Those gallant deeds which time shall ne'er erase,

•* A h ! full of honours, and of years, farewell !

" Thus o'er thy tomb shall Carolina sigh ;
*' Each tongue thy valour and thy worth shall tell,

** Which taught the young tofighti the old to die."

THE next morning, I set out for my plantation on
Winyaw bay. Marion, as usual, accompanied me to
my horse, and, at parting, begged I would come and
see him again soon^ for that he felt he had not long
tQ stay. As the reader may suppose, I paid but little
heed to this expression, which I looked on as no more
than the common cant of the aged. But I soon had
cause to remember it with sorrow. For I had been
Ibut a few weeks at home, before, opening a Charles
ton paper, I found in a mourning column, "THE

DEATH OF GENERAL MARION." NeVCl* shall I for-

get the heart-sickness of that moment; never forget
what I felt when first I learned that Marion was no
more. Though the grave was between us, yet his be
loved image seemed to appear before me fresher than
ever. All our former friendships, all our former wars
returned. But alas ! he who was to me the soul of all
she rest ; the foremost in every battle ; the dearest at
every feast ; he shall return no more ! " Oh Marion,
my friend !" my bursting heart seemed to say, " and
sirt thou gone ? Shall I no mere hear that \oice which
^vas always so sweet ; no more see that smile which
Awakened up such joy in my soul ! Must that beloved
form be lost forever among the clods of the valley!
And jlipse godlike virtues, shall they pass away lik£
$*e eiitpty visions ol the night !"

GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 249

From this deep gloom which strong atheistic sor
row had poured over my nerves, I was suddenly
roused, as by an angel's touch, to the bright hopes ef
religion. The virtues of my departed friend all flash
ed at once upon my kindling thoughts ; his counte
nance so stern with honour; his tongue so sacred to
truth ; that heart always so ready to meet death in
defence of the injured; that eye ever beaming bene
volence to man, and that whole life so reverential of
God. The remembrance, I say, of all these things,
came in streams of joy to my heart.

" O happy Marion !" I exclaimed, " thou art safe,
my friend ; thou art safe. No tears of mine shall
doubt thy blissful state. Surely if there be a God,
and that there is, all nature cries aloud through all
her works, he must delight in virtue, and what he de
lights in must be happy."

Then it was, that I felt what a benefactor Marion
had been to me. How dear his company while liv
ing ; how sweet his memory when dead. Like the
sun travelling in brightness, his smiles had ever been
my joy, his example my light. And though now set
in the grave, yet has he not left me in darkness. His
virtues ^ like stars, are lighted up after him. They
point my hopes to the path of glory ; and proclaim,
that, though fallen, he is not extinguished.

From the physicians and many others who attend
ed him in his last illness, I learned that he had died
as he had lived, a truly GREAT MAN. His chamber
was not, as is usual with dying persons, a scene of
gloom and silent distress, but rather like the cheerful
parlour of one who was setting out on an agreeable
journey. " Some," said he, " have spoken of death
as a leap in the dark ; but for my part, I look on it
as a welcome resting' place, where virtuous old age
may throw down his pains and aches, wipe off his old
scores, and begin anew on an innocent and happy state
that shall last for ever. What weakness to wish to
Jjve to such ghastly dotage, as to frighten the chil-

THE LIFE OF

dren, and make even the dogs to batk at as as we
totter along the streets. Most certainly then, there is
a time when, to a good man, death is a great mercy
even to his body ; and as to his soul, why should he
tremble about that ? Who can doubt that God created
us to be happy ; and thereto made as to love one am*
ther f which is plainly written in our hearts ; whosti
every thought and work of love is happiness, and as
plainly written as the gospel ; whose every line
breathes love, and every precept enjoins good works,
Now, the man who has spent life in bravely denying
himself every inclination that would make others
miserable, and in courageously doing all in his power
to make them happy, what has such a man to fear
from death, or rather, what glorious things has he not
to hope from it :"

Hearing one of his friends say that the methodists
and baptists were progressing rapidly in some parts
of the state, he replied, " Weil, thank God for that ;
that is good news." The same gentleman then asked
him which he thought was the best religion. " I know
but one religion," he answered, " and that is hearty
love of God and man. This is the only true religion ;
and I would to God our country was full of it. vor
it is the only spice to embalm and to immortalize
our republic. Any politician can sketch out a fin<?
theory of government, but what is to bind the peo
ple to the practice ? Archimedes used to mourn that
though his mechanic powers were irresistible, yet
he could never raise the ivorld; because he had nc
place in the heavens, whereon to fix his pullies. Even
so, our republic will never be raised above the shame
ful factions and miserable end of all other govern
ments, until our citizens come to have their hearts
like Archimedes' pullies, fixed on heaven. The ivorld
sometimes make such bids to ambition, that nothing
but heaven can outbid her. The heart is sometimes
so embittered, that nothing but divine love can sweeten
III so enragedy that devotion only can becalm it; and

GfelST. FRANCIS MARION. ill

So broke down, that it takes all the force of heavenly8
hope to raise it. In short, religion is the only sove^
reign and controlling power over man. Bound by
that, the rulers will never usurp, nor the people rebel*
The former will govern like fathers, and the lattef
obey like children. And thus moving on, firm and
united as a host of brothers, they will continue invin-*
cible as long as they continue virtuous-'7

When he was rear his end, seeing his lady weep*
ing by his bedside, he gave her a look of great ten*
derness, and said, " My dear, weep not for me, I am
not afraid to die ; for, thank God, I can lay my hand
on my heart and say, that since I came to man's es
tate, I have never intentionally done wrong to any."

These were nearly his last words, for shortly
after uttering them, he closed his eyes in the sleep
of death.

Thus peaceful and happy was the end of general
Francis Marion, of whom, as a partisan officer, ge*
fieral Greene has often been heard to say, that " thd
page of history never furnished his equal." And if
any higher praise of Marion were necessary, it is to
be found in the very remarkable resemblance between
:iim and the great Washington. They both came
orward. volunteers in the service of their country |
they both learned the military art in the hard and
hazardous schools of Indian warfare ; they were both
such true soldiers in vigilance, that no enemy could
ever surprise them ; and so equal in undaunted va*
lour, that nothing could ever dishearten them : while
as to the still nobler virtues of patience, disinterest-*
edness, self-government, severity to themselves and
generosity to their enemies, it is difficult to determine
whether Marion or Washington most deserve ou?
admiration. And even in the lesser incidents of their
lives, the resemblance between these two great meri
is closer than common. They were both born in the
same year; both lost their fathers in early life j both

THE LIFE OF GEN. MARION.

married excellent and wealthy ladies ; both left wi'»
dows ; and both died childless.

The name of Marion continues dear to the people
of the south ; and to this day, whenever his amiable
widow rides through the country, she meets the
most pleasing evidences, that her husband, though
dead, is not forgotten. The wealthy every where,
treat her with the respect due to a mother ; while
trie poor, gathering around her carriage, often press
to shake hands with her, then looking at each other,
with a sigh they exclaim — " THAT'S THE

O* OUR GLORIOUS OLD MARION."

THE END.

14 DAY USE

RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED

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