Page 57. 
 
 S&rjecmt Jasper^ rescuing the Jmarican prisoners. 
 
TUB LXFS 
 
 or 
 
 GEN. FRANCIS MARION, 
 
 A CELEBRATED 
 IN THE 
 
 AGAINST THE 
 
 BRITISH AND TORIES 
 IN SOUTH CAROLINA AND GEORIIA 
 
 . -^^^^^ 
 
 % 
 
 BY BRIG. GEN. P. HORRY, OP MARION'S BRIGADB ! 
 AND M. L. WBEM«. 
 
 • On Verwow's Chief, why lavish all our lays ; ^ 
 
 « Come, honest Muse, and sing great Mariow g praise. 
 
 flTERBOTYPED BT (» JOHNSOW. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 PUBLISHED BY JOSEPH ALLEN, 
 
 AND SOLD BY GRIGG & ELLIOT. 
 
 No. 9 North Fourth Stre«t. 
 
 1837. 
 

 Ea»Um Distriet of Pennsylvania, te unt : 
 
 BE IT REMEMBERED, That oa th« twtoty.fifUi Jay 
 
 of September, in the forlj-ninth jesr of the Independenee of the 
 
 United States of America, A. D. 1824, H. C. Carey & I. Lea, of 
 
 tb« said district, have deposited m this office the title ef a book, the 
 
 rig^hl whereof they claim as proprietors, in the word* foUowit^ 
 
 M> wit: 
 
 *The Life of Gen. Francis Marion, a celebrated partiian officer in 
 
 " the Rerolutionary War, against the British and Tories in South 
 
 •Carolina and Georgia, By Brigadier General P, Hqrry, of 
 
 ^Marym'i Brigade, and M. L. Weems. 
 
 • On Vernon's Chiefi why lavish all ow laya ? 
 •Come, honest Muse, and sing great Marion's piuise.* 
 I« Conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United Stales, 
 •■titled, ** As Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing 
 Che Copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprie- 
 ton of such Copies, during the times therein mentioQed^" — And ako 
 tD th* Act, entitled, ^ An Act supplementary to an Act, entitled, 
 • An Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing the Copieg 
 of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of 
 9Qch Copies during the times therein mentioned, azul extendiiig 
 the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, flf)gravi«g« a^ etcjkuog 
 llisiorical and other prints.* 
 
 D. CALDWELL, 
 Clerk of the Easlera Diatriot of Fenncylvaota 
 
 N. B. The aborre Copy- Right has beea purahaaed by Joseph 
 AUeo, suad us regularly tracs^Mred to him. 
 
 
 If 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 " THA T mine enemy rvcnld write a bookJ^ — This, 
 in former times, passed for as sore an evil as a good 
 man could think of wishing to his worst enemv.— 
 Whether any of my enemies ever wished me so great 
 an evil, I know not. But certain it is, I never dream- 
 ed of such a thing as wridng a book ; and least of all 
 a rmr hook. What, I ! a man here under the frozen 
 zone and grand climacteric of my days, with one foot 
 in the grave and the other hard by, to quit my prayer 
 book and crutches, (an old man's best companions;^ 
 and drawing my sword, flourish and fight over agam 
 the battles of my youth. 
 
 The Lord forbid me such madness ! But what can 
 one do when one's friends are eternally teazing him, 
 as they are me, and calling out at every whipstitch 
 and comer of the streets, " Well, but, sir, where's 
 Marion? where's the history of Marion, that we have 
 so long" been looking' for P* 
 
 'Twas in \^in that I told them I was no scholar; 
 no historian. " God," said I, " gentlemen, has made 
 * many Tien of many minds ;' one for this thing and 
 another for that. But I am morally certain he nevei 
 made me for a writer. I did indeed once understand 
 something about the use of a broad-sword ; but as to 
 a pen, gentlemen, that's quite another part of speech. 
 The difference between a broad-sword and a pen, 
 gendemen, is prodi^ous ; and it is not every officer, 
 let me tell you, gentlemen, who can, like Cxsar, fighi 
 A2 
 
IT PREFACE. 
 
 you a great battle with his sword to-day, and fight it 
 over again as elegantly with his pen to-inorrow." 
 
 " Burn Cxsar /" replied they, " and his book too. 
 If it -were written in letters of gold^rue -would not read 
 it. What have honest republicans like us to do with 
 such an ambitious cut-throat and robber ? Besides 
 sir, your reasoning about scholarship, and fine style, 
 and all that, does not, begging your pardon, apply at 
 all to the case in hand. Small subjects indeed, re- 
 quire great writers to set them off; but great sub- 
 jects require no such artificial helps : like true beau- 
 ties, they shine most in the simplest dress. Marion 
 is one of this sort : great in his simplicity. Then 
 give us Marion — ^plain, brave, honest Marion ; that's 
 all we want, sir. And you can do this better than 
 any other man. You have known him longest j have 
 fought closest by his side : and can best tell us of his 
 noble deeds. And surely now, after all, you can't 
 bear to let him die, and all his great actions, and be 
 forgotten forever." 
 
 This, I confess, went to the quick, and roused me 
 completely. " What! Marion forgotten ?^'' I exclaim- 
 ed, ^'' Marion forgotten ! and by me P^ No, never! 
 never ! while memory looks back on the dreadful 
 days of the revolution ; when a British despot, not 
 the NATION, (for I esteem them most generous,) but 
 a proud^ stupid^ obstinate^ despot,, trampling the holy 
 CHARTER and constitution of England's realm, issued 
 against us, (sons of Britons,) that most unrighteous 
 edict, taxation without representation ! and then, be- 
 cause in the spirit of our gallant fathers, we bravely 
 opposed him, he broke up the very fountains of his 
 malice, and let loose upon us every indescribable, 
 unimaginable curse of civil -war; when British ar- 
 mies, with their Hessian, and Indian, and tory allies, 
 overran my afflicted country, swallowing up its fruits 
 and filing every part with consternation ; when no- 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 thing was to be seen but flying crowds, burning 
 houses, and young men, (alas! too often,) hanging 
 upon the trees like dogs, and old men wringing their 
 withered hands over their murdered boys, and wo- 
 men and children weeping and flying from their 
 ruined plantations into the starving woods! When I 
 think, I say, of these things, oh my God! how can I 
 ever forget Marion, that vigilant, undaunted soldier, 
 whom thy own mercy raised up to scourge such 
 monsters, and avenge his country's wrongs. 
 
 The Washington of the south, he steadily pursued 
 the warfare most safe for us, and most fatal to our 
 enemies. He taught us to sleep in the swamps, to 
 feed on roots, to drink the turbid waters of the ditch, 
 to prowl nightly round the encampments of the foe 
 like lions round the habitations of the shepherds who 
 had slaughtered their cubs. Sometimes he taught us 
 to fall upon the enemy by surprise, distracting the 
 midnight hour with the horrors of our battle; at other 
 times, when our forces were increased, he led us on 
 boldly to the charge, hewing the enemy to pieces, 
 under the approving light of day. Oh, Marion, my 
 friend ! my friend ! never can I forget thee. Although 
 thy wars are all ended, and thyself at rest in the 
 grave, yet I see thee still. I see thee as thou wert 
 wont to ride, most terrible in battle to the enemies of 
 thy country. Thine eyes like balls of fire, flamed be- 
 neath thy lowering brows. But lovely still wert thou 
 in mercy, thou bravest among the sons of men! For, 
 soon as the enemy sinking under our swords, cried 
 for quarter, thy heart swelled with commiseration, 
 and thy countenance was changed, even as the coun- 
 tenance of a man who beheld the slaughter of his 
 brothers. The basest tory who could but touch the 
 hem of thy garment was safe. The avengers of blood 
 stopped short in thy presence, and turned away 
 abashed from the lightning of thine eyes. 
 
^* 'RIFACE. 
 
 O that my pen were of the quili of the swan tl,« 
 rfif f°'-/"*"rdays! thenshoSldst thou'myfrie.? 
 receive the fukess of thy fame. The fatC^ of th, 
 years to come, should talk of thy noble S and 
 
 &"* /^d ruheth-aii t; th" ^"'^ '^» f ' 
 
 should follow the- in the nath „f 5k ^ ''"''"^'' *'^«^ 
 .hcmseU-es the f^Cfetrof^ftC^-- 
 
 PETER HORRY. 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 GEN. FRANCIS MARION, 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 Short sketch of an extraordinary French couple^ viz. 
 the grandfather and mother of our hero — their 
 early and happy loves — cruel persecution of the 
 priests — final expulsion from their native country*-^ 
 providential settlement in South Carolina— their 
 prosperous and exemplary lives — singular will of 
 old 31arion — and birth of his grandson^ Francis. 
 
 Immortal may their memory be 
 Who fought and ble<i 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 Rochell«, 
 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 
 
8 THE LIFE OF 
 
 him to understand, that he must either " recant oi 
 trot ;'' that is, quit his heresy or his country. 
 
 Too* brave to play the hypocrite, and too wise tf 
 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 landi 
 unknown. The angel who guides the footsteps or the 
 virtuous, directed his course to South Carolina; and 
 as a reward for his piety, placed him in a land where 
 mighty deeds and honours were ripening for his 
 grandson. Nor did he wander alone. A cherub, 
 in the form of a lovely wife, followed his fortunes, 
 and gave him to know, from happy experience, that 
 where love is, there is no exile. 
 
 Previous to his expulsion, the priests had, for 
 some time, suspected young Marion of what they 
 called " heresy?"^ But, learning that he was enamour- 
 ed of the beautiful and accomplished Mademoiselle 
 Louisa D'Aubrey, and like to win her affections, 
 they withheld for a while, their sacred thunders, 
 hoping, that through fear of them, and love of her, 
 he might yet return to the bosom of the Catholic 
 Church, to which she belonged. 
 
 Young Marion's suit to his fair mistress, was for- 
 tunate to the full extent of an ardent lover's wishes. 
 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 him 
 the edict of banishment. 
 
 At this time, Marion with his lovely Louisa, were 
 living on a small farm in the vicinit^ 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. . 
 
 " Fow* etes nommes Marion P^^ said they; that is 
 •* your name is Marion ?" 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen, that is my name." 
 
 Upon this, they rudely thrust a letter into his hand, 
 and turned away, but with such looks as tigers throw 
 at a tender lambkin, whose well-guarded fold forbids 
 their access. On opening the letter he found as 
 follows : 
 
 "Your damnable heresy, well deserves, even in 
 this life, that purgation by fire which awfully awaits 
 it in the next. But, in consideration of your youth 
 and worthy connexions, our mercy has condescended 
 to commute your punishment to perpetual exile. — 
 You will therefore, instantly prepare to quit your 
 country for ever. For, if after ten days from the 
 date hereof, you should be found in any part of the 
 Kingdom, your miserable body shall be consumed 
 Dy fire, and your impious ashes scattered on the 
 tvinds of heaven. 
 
 "Pere Rochelle."* 
 
 Had this dreadful letter been presented to Marion 
 even while a bachelor, it would have filled him with 
 
 * I forewarn all my friends from thinking me capable of charging 
 this rile persecuting spirit on the " Old W — e of Rome''' 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 
 letisfied, that the priests are as apt to abuse power as the people^ and 
 ihat, when " clcSd with a little brief aulhorily^'^ protestants as well as 
 rapists, have committed those cruelties which make milder devils 
 olush. [By way of a note on a note, I would observe, that the " Ca- 
 Violic Layman^^ is a very sensible and spirited pamphlet ; the pro- 
 iuction, it is said, of Mathew Carey, Esq. of Philadelphi'. '^'C 
 though a Roman Catholic, has printed more protestant Bibleis . 
 Testaments thac hal/ the preachers and printers in America put to 
 lather.] 
 
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 hia horse was led up, and 
 he about to mount, she snatched the bridle, and 
 laughing, vowed he should not go until he had pro- 
 mised her one thing. 
 
 **Well, charmer, what's that?" 
 "Why that you will return very soon." 
 **Well, indeed I will; so now let me go." 
 * "Oh no! I am afraid that when you get out of 
 sight you will play truant. You must give me seen* 
 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 
 hare felt it would not exchange for worlds. TheB> 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 11 
 
 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 to 
 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 sv/eets, to receive her 
 returning lover. Animated with this fond sugges- 
 tion of conjugal ajfectton^ (woman's true life,) which 
 at every quickened pulse diffused an ansv/ering rap- 
 ture through the virtuous breast, she commenced her 
 pleasing task ; and with her task she mingled the 
 music of her voice, clear and strong as the morning 
 tark, 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 her 
 fragrant flowers and singing the happy hours away 
 She was singing her favourite hymn, by Madani 
 Guion. 
 
 " That love I sin^, that wondroui lov», 
 
 " Which wak'd my slaepmg clay ; 
 •* That spread tho sky m azure bright, 
 
 " And pour'd 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- 
 mg every day more and more angelic ! 
 
 Soon as her song was finished, he called out, 
 "Louisa !" 
 
 Startled at the sudden call, she turned around to 
 the well-known voice, presenting a face on which 
 love and sweet surprise had spread those rosy 
 charms, which in a moment banished all his sorrows. 
 ' My dearest Gabriel," she exclaimed, dropping her 
 B 
 
..« 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, 
 50 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. 
 
 " 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 !" continued he, " part ! for ever part !'* 
 
 " No, Marion, no ! never ! never !" 
 
 " 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 !" 
 
 " 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, that 
 I never dreamed of before." 
 
 " My dearest Gabriel, did you ever doubt my 
 love ?" 
 
 " Pardon me, my love, I never doubted your love, 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 1^ 
 
 '^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 ! Methinks, 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 our 
 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 9 
 comforter! I came just now from Rochelle with tixa 
 
H THE LIFE OF 
 
 load of a mountain on my heart. You have taken ofT 
 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 
 €temal complacency and delight of my soul." 
 
 In the midst of this tender scene, a servant came 
 running to inform Louisa that her mother, Madame 
 D' Aubrey, had just arrived, and was coming to her 
 in the garden. This startled our lovers into a pain 
 ful expectation of another trial. For as Louisa was 
 an only daughter, and her parents doatingly fond of 
 her, it was not to be imagined that they would give 
 her up without a hard struggle. Seeing the old lady 
 coming down the walk towards them, they endea- 
 voured to adjust their looks, and to meet her with the 
 wonted smile. But in vain. The tumult in their bo- 
 soms was still too visible in their looks to escape her 
 discernment. She eagerly asked the cause. Their 
 changing countenances served but to increase her 
 fears and the vehemence of her curiosity. The bi- 
 shop's letter was put into her hands. Its effects on 
 the good old lady were truly distressmg. Not hav- 
 ing, like her daughter, the vigour of youth, nor the 
 fervours of love to support her, she was almost over- 
 come. 
 
 Soon as her spirits were a little recovered, she in- 
 sisted that her daughter and son-in-law should in- 
 stantly step into her coach and go home with her 
 " Your father, my dear," said she to Louisa, " your 
 father, Monsieur D' Aubrey, will, I am certain, do 
 something for us." 
 
 But in this she was wofuUy mistaken, for Mon- 
 sieur D' Aubrey was one of that blind sort who v»lace 
 all their religion in forms and notions He could 
 «mile and look very fond upon a man, though not 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. U 
 
 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 
 nities 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 hiu 
 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 dii- 
 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, " could they have besn 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, " 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 !" 
 
 " 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 
 B3 
 
16 . THE LIFE OF 
 
 loving, that I would as soon cease to live as cease to 
 love. Some indeed, sordid celebates for example, 
 seem 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 
 a sweetness into my heart unknown before. And 
 those delicious sparks, fanned by your loves and 
 graces, have now risen to such a flame of bliss, that 
 methinks, were it to go out, my life would go o i 
 with it. Then, my first and last, and only sweetheart, 
 I pray you, do not fear that I shall ever cease to love 
 you : 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 
 his ruddy cheeks to her heaving bosom, " if it de- 
 pends on me, on my constant affection and studious- 
 ness to please, you shall never love me less ; but 
 more and more every day of your life." 
 
 The next morning, accompanied by Madame 
 D' 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 thai 
 Marion's thoughts were at first turned towards the 
 VVest Indies. But it would appear that Heaven had 
 -lecret d for him a different direction. For scarce!} 
 had he reached his home, much agitated about the 
 means of getting off in time, before a letter %vas 
 brought him, from an intimate friend in Rochelle, in- 
 forming him that a large ship, chartered for the Ca- 
 rulinas, by several wealthy Huguenot families, was 
 then lying at anchor under tlie Isle de Rhee. Grate- 
 fully regarding this as a beckoning from heaven, 
 they at once commenced their work, and prosecuted 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ' 17 
 
 it 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, 
 Postells, 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 her anchors and loosed her sails. Then wheel- 
 ing before the freshening gale, she bid adieu to her 
 native shores, and on wings of wide-spread canvas, 
 commenced her foaming course for the western world. 
 
 But though mutual love and confidence in heaven 
 were strong in the bosoms of 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 of 
 time, is uncertain. Nor does tradition say for how 
 much Marion sold his little farm. But it is well known 
 that on their arrival in Carolina, they went up into the 
 country, and bought a plantation on Goose creek, near 
 Charleston, where their dust nov/ sleeps, after a long 
 life endeared by mutual love, and surrounded by 
 every comfort 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 J^rst place, as to debts, thank God, I owe 
 none. And therefore shall give my executors but 
 little trouble on that score. 
 
 tSccondly — As to the poor, I have always treated 
 them as my brethren. My dear family will, I know, 
 follow my example. 
 
 TJi'irdlij — 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 
 ihe 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 table. 
 I give her my new carriage and horses— that she 
 
 may visit her friends in comfort. 
 I give her my family bible — that she may live above 
 
 the ill tempers and sorrows of life. 
 I give my son Peter a hornbook — for I am afraid he 
 
 will always be a dunce. 
 
 But Peter was so stung with this little squib, that 
 he instantly quit his raccoon hunting by nights, and 
 betook himself to reading, and soon became a very 
 sensible and charming young man. 
 
 His eldest son, who, after his father, was named 
 Gabriel, married a Miss Charlotte Corde, by whom 
 he had six children — Esther, Gabriel, Isaac, Benja- 
 min, Job, and our hero Francis, the least as well as 
 the last of the family. As to his sister Esther, I 
 have never heard what became of her; but for his 
 four brothers, I am happy to state, that though not 
 formidable as soldiers, they were very amiable as 
 citizens. They bought farms — proved their oxen- 
 married wives — multiplied good children, and thus, 
 very unlike our niggardly bachelors, contributed a 
 liberal and laudable part to the population, strength, 
 and glory of their country. God, I pray heartily, 
 take kind notice of all such ; and grant, that having 
 thus done his will in this world, they may partake or 
 his glory in the next. 
 
so THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Marion^^' first appearance — an humble cultivator of 
 the earth — the great Cherokee war of 17&1 comes 
 on-^volunteers his services to his country — is ap" 
 pointed a Jirst lieutenant in the provincial line^^ 
 commands a forlorn hope — narroivhj escapes ivith 
 his life — the Anglo-American and the Indian forces 
 eji gaged — bloody battle — the Indians defeated — ■ 
 their country laid luaste — 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 thro'svTi into a horse pond with as little 
 ceremony as a blind puppy. Had such been the order 
 of the day in 17o2, Carolina would never have 
 boasted a Marion ; for I have it from good authority 
 that this great soldier, at his birtli, 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 tweh e, 
 when it was removed by the following extraordinary 
 providence. 
 
 On a ti'ip to the West Indies, which his friends put 
 him upon lor his healtirs sake, the little schooner in 
 which he was embarked was suddenly attacked by 
 some monstrous fish, probably a thorn-back whale, 
 who ga\e 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 thejr 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 fre T for their 
 schooner went down so suddenly as not to give them 
 
GLN. FRANCIS MARION. 21 
 
 hme 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 Jleah they feasted without restraint ; but the 
 hlocd they preserved with more economy, to coo 
 their parched lips. In a few days, however, their owi 
 blood, for lack of cooling food, became so fiery hot 
 as to scald their brain to frenzy. About the tenth 
 day the captain and mate leaped overboard, raving 
 mad ; and the day following the two remaining sea- 
 men expired in the bottom of the boat, piteously 
 crying to the last for 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- 
 sumed 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 Viappy of all callings, a cultivator of the earth, 
 till his twenty-seventh year. 
 
218 THE LIFE OF 
 
 A report then prevailing that the Cherokee Indians 
 were murdering" the frontier settlers, Marion turned 
 out with his rifle, as a volunteer under governor Lyt- 
 tleton. The affair, however, proved to be a mere flash 
 in the pan : for the Cherokee s finding that things 
 were not exactly in the train they wished, sent on a 
 deputation with their wampum belts and peace-talks 
 to bury the hatchet and brighten the old chain of 
 friendship with the whites ; and the good-natured 
 governor, thinking them sincere, concluded a treaty 
 with them. The troops of course were dismissed, 
 and Marion returned to his plantation. 
 
 Scarcely, however, had two years elapsed, before 
 the perfidious Cherokees broke out again in a fresh 
 place, killing and driving the defenceless inhabitants 
 at a most barbarous rate. Marion instantly flew again 
 to the governor with the tender of his services to fight 
 for his afflicted countrymen. His excellency was sc 
 pleased with this second instance of Marion's patriot- 
 ism, that he gave him a first lieutenancy in the pro- 
 vincial line under the brave captain William Moul- 
 trie. The reported force and fury of the Indians 
 struck such a terror through the colony, that colonel 
 Grant (of the British) with twelve hundred regulars. 
 wis ordered out on a forced march to succour the 
 bleeding frontiers. 
 
 On their way they were joined at Ninety-six, Ma^ 
 14, 1761, by twelve hundred provincials, all men of 
 surest aim with the deadly rifle. 
 
 To draw off the enemy from their murderous ex< 
 cursions, Col. Grant wisely determined to push tht 
 war at once into their own country ; which was nt 
 sooner discovered by them, than they instantly col- 
 lected their whole force to oppose him. The onh 
 passage into their country was through a dark defile 
 or gap in the mountain, which it was resolved shoul* 
 be forced as rapidly as possible. A forlorn of thirn 
 brave fellows were ordered to explore fiie dangercu^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 23 
 
 pass : and Marion, though but a young lieutenant, 
 had the honour to be appointed their leader. At the 
 head of his command he advanced with rapidity, 
 while the army moved on to support him. But 
 scarcely had they entered the gloomy defile, when, 
 from behind the rocks and trees, a sheet of fire sud- 
 denly blazed forth, which killed twenty-one of his 
 men ! With the remainder, he faced about and push- 
 *_'d back with all speed ; whereupon great numbers 
 of tall savages, frightfully painted, rushed from their 
 lurking places, and with hideous yells and uplifted 
 iomahawks, 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, 
 they determined to yield the victory only with their 
 Jives. A long summer's day was before them, for the 
 sun had just risen above the hills, a bright spectator 
 of the coming fight. Then, in high spirits, with jus- 
 tice on their side, and an approving conscience, they 
 sheerfuUy left the event to Heaven. The British were 
 formed in small corps, the more promptly to suppor*^ 
 the 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 v/ing to wing, quite across the defile, the woods 
 aopeared as if all on fire-j while the incessant crash 
 oK small arms tortured the ear like claps of sharpest 
 thunder. The muskets of the British, like their native 
 bn!l-dogSy kept up a dreadful roar, but scarcely did 
 
214 THE LIFE OF 
 
 more than bark die trees, or cut off the branches above 
 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 for 
 nearly two hours, during which the superiority of the 
 American riflemen was very remarkably displayed. 
 For in that time they lost only fifty-one — whereas of 
 the Indians there fell one hundred and three, which 
 so disheartened them that they fled and gave up their 
 country to the conquerors, who prepared immedi- 
 atelv to enter it. 
 
 Colonel Grant had hoped to surprise their towns, 
 but concluding that their swift-footed runners had 
 given the alarm, he moved on in slow marches 
 through the wilderness towards the 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 
 bending under the double weight of lusty roasting 
 rars 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 whoU 
 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 Cirant, to burn down the Indian cabins. Some of 
 our men seemed to enjoy this cruel work, laugliing 
 very beartiiv at the curling flames, as ihey mouniccl 
 ioud crackling over the tops of the huts. But to in<r 
 It ajipeared a shocking sight. Poor creatures ! thouvjlit 
 I, we surely need not grudge you such iniscrahlt- 
 habitations, but when we came, according ;o ordvnt^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MAUION. 25 
 
 to cut down the fields of com, 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 sec 
 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 
 mder the shade of their rustling com. No doulit they 
 had often looked up with joy to the swelling shocks, 
 and gladdened when they thought of their abundant 
 cakes for the coming winter. \^Tien 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 
 
 " ' IV/iy did thia?"^ they will ask their mothers. 
 
 "' T/: white people did it;"* the mothers reply 
 ' the christians did it P 
 
 " 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 remember 
 that these were the dark deeds chiefly of a kingly 
 government. A gloomy monarch, three thousand 
 miles distant, and rolling in all the pomps and plea- 
 suies of three millions of dollars per annum, could 
 hardly be supposed to know what was passing in the 
 American wilds ; but Washington had known. With 
 bleeding heart he had often beheld the red and white 
 men mingling in bloody fight. The horuors of the 
 cruel strife djrelt 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, 
 Hia successors, Adams, Jefiferson, ftfid Madisoo^ 
 
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 hav« 
 not only saved an immensity of blood and treasure, 
 but are rapidly adding to the population and strength 
 of the country. 
 
 Now to return to Marion's letter. — ^'^ After burn- 
 ing twenty towns, and destroying thousands of corn- 
 fields,* the army returned to Koewee, where the 
 Little Carpenter y a Cherokee chief, met colonel Grant 
 and concluded a peace." The troops were then dis- 
 banded: and Marion returned to his plantation in 
 St. John's parish, where, with a few well-fed slaves, 
 he continued to till his parental acres, occasionally 
 amusing himself with his gun and fishing rod, of 
 which he was always very fond. 
 
 *" To this day the Indiana cannot bear the name of colonel Grant \ 
 and whenever they see a droT« of horses destroying a corU'^ld, tliey 
 cull out " Grant ! Grant !" 
 
OEN. FRANCIS MARION. 27 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ^ar between England and America-^Marton up 
 po'.nted a captain in the Second South Carolina^ 
 regiment — £i'oes 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 
 
 Sleasant walks of life, as above, till the beginning of 
 lay, 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 fiame 
 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 oat 
 for a captaincy in the second regiment, under com- 
 mand of the brave William Moultrie. In a little time 
 my name whs called out as a captain also, in the same 
 regiment with Marion. This to me, was matter of 
 ffreat joy, as 1 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 
 somei^ing 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 
 
38 THE LIFE OF 
 
 rally spring from congenialities, I must confess, that 
 the warm and constant friendship of Marion has evei 
 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 or 
 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 prologue of our play. 
 
 " But what shall we do for money, captain Ma- 
 rion ?" said I. 
 
 " Why,'* replied he, " we must get it from the as- 
 sembly." 
 
 The assembly was accordingly applied to, but alas ! 
 " could not help us to a single dollar !" 
 
 I wonder whether posterity will ever muster faitb 
 to believe that the gray heads of South Carolina, 
 without a penny in pocket, ventured to war with 
 Great Britain, the nation of the longest purse in Eu- 
 rope ? Surely it was of him who pitied young David 
 with his maiden sling and pebbles against the giant 
 Goliah. 
 
 But though the poverty of the legislature was 
 enough to have thrown a damp on spirits of ordinarj 
 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 I" 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 our own credit." 
 
 " With all my heart," I replied. 
 
 So away went we to borrow money ©f our friends 
 in Charleston j I mean hard money. And hard 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2d 
 
 monej 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 
 atop 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, 
 ixnd Great Pedee. Fortune seemed to smile on our 
 enterprise ; for by the time we reached Pedee, w« 
 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 
 "ihe 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- 
 ite among men of honour, could not bear the least 
 Approach of any thing that looked like rascality. Im- 
 jnediately, therefore, oil hearing this infamous pro- 
 position, he brought Johnson into the dining room 
 
30 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, 
 enatching a paii 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 tliat Johnson had very richly deserved this 
 ignominious chastisement, we gave him up to Char- 
 nock, who thrashed him very soundly, until, faljlng 
 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 ai 
 the appointed time. 
 
 On the morrow they came, and " let the cat out of 
 the bag." It appeared then, that that most worthless 
 fellow, Johnson, had told the poor simple recruits 
 such dreadful stories about the war, that in their 
 fright they had offered him all their cows and 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 v/ar. 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 coippletely 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 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 31 
 
 for ammunition and military stores, and put under a 
 g^ard 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 add a company of regu- 
 lars, under some brave and vigilant officer. Marion 
 had 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 
 oloated 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 — now 
 give it to them, my heroes — hurra, they run, they 
 run. I thank you, my lads, for your gallantry in 
 your country's cause." 
 
 All this time the sweat would roll in torrents 
 down his cheeks. Then, quite exhausted, he 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 time after this, our regiment was dc- 
 
33 THE LIFE OF 
 
 priveJ of another very genteel young officer, 1' 
 tenant Perrineau; who also fell an early sacrifice t • 
 tha' most shameful and detestable practice of morn- 
 ing slings and mid-day draughts of strong grog. 
 
 After these two tragedies, the reader wi'.l not, I 
 hope, be displeased with the following far.e, which 
 was acted in fort Jolmson, while Marion \/as repair- 
 ing it, in January, 1776. The principal actors in it, 
 v.'ere captain Marion, and a young lieutenant, whose 
 name, delicacy, yet a while, bids me suppress. This 
 officer, though in his person as handsome as Absalom, 
 or the blooming Adonis, was as destitute of soul as 
 a monkey. He appeared to have no idea above that 
 of dress and diversion: and provided he could but 
 compass his own little pitiful ends, which were al» 
 ways of the sensual sort, he cared not how shame- 
 fully he prevaricated and lied , but would wink, and 
 grin, and chuckle, as if he haa done some great 
 thing. He had served under a score of captains, 
 who had all spoken of him as a slippery, worth- 
 less fellow, whom they knew not what to do with. 
 But though most heartily despised, the fool had the 
 vanity to think himself amazingly clever ; and ac- 
 tually boasted to me one day, that he would soon let 
 me see how far he was over my famous captain Ma- 
 rion's speed. Presently he hears thai there is to be, 
 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 !" But 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 long be at a loss. In 
 short, he went to Marion, with a doleful face, and in 
 piteous accents, stated that his father, an excellent 
 old man as ever son was blessed with, was at his last 
 gasp, and only wanted to see him before he died. 
 
 The generous Marion, not suspecting that su 
 
GKN. FRAirCIS MARION. S3 
 
 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 
 »'eturii as soon as possible, for you see how much we 
 have to do." 
 
 The lieutenant affected to be quite overcome with 
 Marion's generosity, and swore he would be back in 
 two days, or at farthest in three. As he stepped 
 along by me, he thrust his tongue into his cheek, and 
 looked prodigiously arch, as if he had achieved a 
 grand exploit. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, I told Marion I suspect- 
 ed it was all a trick. And so it turned out; for in- 
 stead of hurrying off, as he had pretended, to see hi a 
 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 fortnight's absence, he came over 
 to the fort, and entering the marquee, where Marion 
 was sitting with his officers, he began to bow and 
 scrape. As if not perceiving him, Marion turned 
 his head another way. The lieutenant then, exceed- 
 ingly embarrassed, came out with his apology, — '''' I 
 Am sorr)% sir, to have outstayed my time so long ; 
 but — b?it I could not help it — but now I am returned 
 to do my duty." 
 
 Marion turned very quickly upon him, r.nd with 
 a most mortifying neglect, said, *' Aye, lieutenant, 
 is that you I well, never mind it — there is no harm 
 done — I never missed you." 
 
 The poor lieutenant was so complete!}* cut up, thai 
 he could not say a word, but sneaked ofT, hanging 
 down his head, and looked much more like a detect- 
 ed swindler than a gentleman soldier. 
 
 The officers, who were p11 prodigiously pleased 
 with his confusion, pre?\jntly went out arul began to 
 
54 THE LIFE OF 
 
 rally him — ''^ Ah, ha, lieutenant, and so the captain 
 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 of 
 Marion. 
 
 " I was never at a loss before," said he, "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 knew 
 better how to manage truants from duty. 
 
 To a coarse, conceited chap, like our lieutenant 
 Marion gave no quarter, but checked him at once 
 but still in a 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 treat 
 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 
 iiant became remarkably polite, and also attentive tc 
 duty. In short, no subaltern behaved better. And 
 this very happy change in his mavxners^ was soon 
 succeeded by as pleasing a change in tha sentiments 
 £>f all around him. The officers of the regiment grew 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 35 
 
 fond of him — Marion spoke of him with pleasure, as 
 an excellent soldier — and he of Marion, as his best 
 friend. 
 
 This is sufficient to show the truth of the remark 
 madie by Aristotle — "that there is no art so difficult 
 and j;;odlike as that of managing men to their own 
 happiness and glory." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The clouds of danger darker and darker — two addi" 
 tional regimtrntfi raised — Marion fu-omoted to a ma- 
 jority — -fort Moultrie huilt — A British fleet and ar- 
 my invade Carolina — grand preparations to receive 
 them — admirable patriotism of the Charleston ladies 
 — heavy at ttu k on fort Moultrie — glorious defence 
 of the garrison, 
 
 THE cloud of war growing still darker and darker 
 evfr\' i\9y^ the council of safety determined to raise 
 a regiment of artillery, and another of in fan cry. In 
 consequence of th»s, several of the officers of the 
 former regiments were promoted. Among these was 
 my friend Marion, who from the rank of captain, was 
 raided 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 alertnt*ss of one who. as general 
 Moultrie used to say, was born a soldier. In fact, he 
 a)">peared 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 :n perform.ing their evo- 
 lutions, they soon became the admiration and praise 
 both of citizens and soldiers. And indeed 1 am not 
 D 
 
;J6 THE LIFE OF 
 
 afraid to say that Marion was the architect of the 
 second regiment, and hiid 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 broughc 
 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. ] 
 loved Marion, and " love^"* as every body knows 
 ** envuth not^^ We met like brothers. I read in hi? 
 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 xvithout put on her lovelies* 
 aspects. The island of sand no longer seemed 2 
 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 ti'ees were 
 trought to us by the blacks, in lar^c rifts^ of which 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ^ 
 
 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 carriag'-is and 
 mounted our guns, of which twelve were 18 pound- 
 ers — twelve 24''s, and tv/elvc French 36V>, equal to 
 English 42h. 
 
 A general joy waii spread over the faces of our regi- 
 ment, as v/e looked along our battery of thimclerers. 
 
 But our giorj'ing, under God, was chiefly in our 
 two and forty pounders. And indeed their appear- 
 ance was terrible, where they lay v/ith 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 ftct 1 ajleet.^ ho T"* Looking out to sea, we all at 
 once beheld, as it were, a wilderness of ships, hang- 
 ing, like snow-white clouds from the north-east sky. 
 It was the sirs Parker and Clinton, hastening on with 
 nine ships of war and thirty transports, bearing three 
 thousand land forces, to attack Charleston. 
 
 Such an armament was an awful novelty, that pro- 
 duced on us all a momentary flutter ; but, thank God, 
 no serious fear. On the contrary, it was very visi- 
 ble in every glowing cheek and sparkling eye, as we 
 looked, 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, 
 as we learned daily, by the boats, were all in f.ne 
 spirits, and constantly making their best preparations 
 to receive the enemy. And still my pen trembles in 
 my hand j even after this long lapse of time, it trem- 
 bles with wonder and delight, to tell of that immor • 
 
iB THE LIFE OF 
 
 tat 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 they 
 would ^'' ?icvcr live the alavt's of Brit a in. ^^ Some peo' 
 pie in our days, may not beliexe me, when I add of 
 these noble ladies, that they actually begged leave of 
 their conimandant, to let them ''*'Ji,§'ht hij the sides of 
 their rehtives aiidfriejidsy 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, 
 their nerves were weak; for when the British ships 
 of war hove in sight, opposite to the town, they all 
 went dowii to the shore to view them. And then 
 strong fear, like the cold wind of autumn, struck their 
 tender frames with trembling, and bleached their 
 rosy cheeks. Some, indeed, of the younger sort, af- 
 fected to laugh and boast; but the generality re- 
 ttirned 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, ** happy the 
 wombs that bear not, ana the paps t/iat j^ive ?io sitci,^^ 
 In consequence of a most extraordinary continuation 
 of calms, baffling winds, and neap tides, the enemy's 
 ships never got within our bar till the 2rth of June : 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MAHiON. 39 
 
 And on the Ibllowing morn, the memorable 28th, they 
 weighed anchor on the young flood, and before a fine, 
 breeze, w'th top gallant sails, royals, and sky scraper? 
 all drawing, came bearing uj^ for the fort like floating 
 mountains. 
 
 The anxious reader must not suppose that we were 
 standing all this while, with fmger in mouth, idly 
 gaping like children on a raree show. No, by the 
 Living ! but, fast as they neared us, we still kept our 
 thunders close bearing'upon them, like infernal point- 
 ers at a dead set ; and as soon as they were come 
 within point blank shot, we clapped our matches and 
 gave them a tornado of round and double-headed 
 bullets, which made many a poor KnglishmaA^s head 
 ache. Nor were they long in our debt, hut letting 
 go their anchors and clewing up their sails, which 
 the} did in a trice, they opened all their batteries, and 
 broke loose upon us with a roar as if heaven and 
 earth had been coming together. 
 
 Such a sudden burst of flame and thunder, could 
 not but make us feel very queer at first, especially as 
 we were young hands, and had never been engaged 
 in such an awful scene before. But a few rounds 
 presently brought us all to rights again, and then, 
 with heads bound up, and stripped to the buff, wt 
 plied our bull-dogs like heroes. 
 
 The British outnumbered us in men and guns, a\ 
 least three to one, but then our guns, some of them 
 at least, wavt much the licavict>t, carrying balls of 
 two and forty pounds weight ! and when the mon- 
 sters, crammed to the throat with chained shot and 
 infernal fire, If:t out, it was with such hideous pealr^ 
 . made both earth and ocean tremble. At one time 
 ;t appeared as though, by a strange kind of accident, 
 .dl their broad-sides had struck us at once, which 
 made the fort tremble again. But our palmettoes 
 stood the fire to a min'cle, closed up without sig-n of 
 splinter, on iKeir shot, which was stopped by the in- 
 D2 
 
40 THE LIFE OF 
 
 termediate 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 luckles<i. 
 flower, in the bud : for the contest had hardly laslud 
 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 I Po-wderl 
 mUlions for poxvderP'* was our constant cry. Oh .' 
 had we but had plenty of that noisij kUUseed^ as the 
 Scotchmen call it, not one of those tall ships would 
 ever have revisited Neptune's green dominion. They 
 must inevitably ha.ve struck, or laid their vast hulks 
 along-side the fort, as hurdles for the snail-loving 
 shee/j's heads. Indeed, small as our stock of ammu- 
 nition was, we made several of their ships look like 
 selves, and smell like slaughter pens. The commo- 
 c^ore's ship, the Bristol, had fifty men killed, and up- 
 wards of one hundred wounded ! 
 
 The lav:**els of the second regiment can never fade 
 — the destructive eflcct of their fire gave glorious 
 proof, that 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 tjme and huzza, 
 ing, ^^God save liberty and my country for ever P"* 
 
 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, 
 " Hiizza^ my brave fellows^ I die^ but donH let the cause 
 of liberty die xvith 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 posvder, 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^ 
 Fra7ik^ the play is over I so Iet\'> ^o bdoxv and hob noh 
 to a ^'lass ofxvine^ for I am devilish dry /" 
 
 " With all my hearty Jack;'''' replied the other; so 
 down they whipped into the cabin, where the v/inc 
 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 jloultrie, 
 
A2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and asked him if it would not be well enough to givc^ 
 them the la&t blow, " ^<?*," replied Moultrie, " give 
 the7n 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 day's workP And on the second day after the 
 action, the governor and council, with numlDcrs of the 
 gi-eat 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, vv-hich we did with a spanking feu dejoi^ 
 and were not a little gratified v/ith 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 
 jeweh, and powdered and perfumed so nice, would 
 come up to them, in faces like angels, spaikling and 
 smiling so sweet, as if they would kiss them j I say, 
 to see the looks of our poor fellows, their awkrvard , 
 bozvs and broad grins, and other droll capers they cut 
 no human being could have refrained from laughing 
 
 Presently that excellent lady, Mrs. Colonel EHtot 
 (of the artillery,) came forward and presented us with 
 a most superb pair of colours, embroidered with gold 
 and silver by her ovi'-n lilv-white hands. 
 
 They were delivered, if I mistake not, to the bryvc 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION 43 
 
 sergeant Jasper, who smiled when he took them, and 
 vowed he '''"would never give them up but with his 
 lifer 
 
 Poor fellow I 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 J but this, Jasper absolutely refused. " I am 
 greatly obliged to you, governor,'* said he, " but I 
 had rather not have a commission. As I am, I pass 
 very well with such company as a poor sergeant has 
 any right to keep. If I were to get a commission, I 
 should be forced to keep higher company: and then, 
 as I don't kno*/ how to read, I should only be throw- 
 ing mysjlf in a way to be laughed at !" Parents, 
 who can waste on grog and tobacco, that precious 
 money you ought to educate your children with, 
 think of this ! 
 
i4 THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Oovtfrrior Rutlcd^e haran^'ut's the troops — shoxus Br\ 
 taints injustice to have been the cause of the Amr.r} 
 can xvar — independence declared — great joy on that 
 account. 
 
 ON the 20th of September, 1776, all the troops it, 
 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 ' mother country,' 
 England has long been working our ruin. I need not 
 tell you that our fathers were Britons, who for liber- 
 ty's sake, came and settled in this country, then a 
 howling wilderness. For a long time they ate their 
 bread, not only embittered with sweat, but often stain- 
 ed with blood — their own and the blood of their chil- 
 dren, fighting the savages for a dwelling place. At 
 length they prevailed and found a rest. But still their 
 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 wkh 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- 
 r)'ing them to our habitations, spread for them our 
 
GEN. FKANCIS MARION. 45 
 
 ^♦'asl, and rejoiced as men do in the society of their 
 dearest friends. 
 
 " Oh ! had our mother country but treated us with 
 equal affection — as a tender parent, had she but 
 smiled on our valour — encouraged our industry — 
 and thus exalted the horn of our glory, our union 
 and brotherly love would have been eternal ; and the 
 impious name of independence had never been heard ! 
 But, alas ! instead or 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 
 Buch a shameful traffic, she has come, at length, to 
 claim a r'li^ht to tax itfi at pleasure. 
 
 " But, my countrymen, will you suffer thus rudely 
 to be wrested from you, that goodly inheritance oi 
 Lin'^TRTY, 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 
 /«r!^/, 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 7.nd pickers oi 
 cotton, for a foreign tyrant and his minions ? No, m\ 
 friends, God never intended you for such dishonour- — 
 and can you be so v/icked as to bring it on your- 
 selves ? I trust you will not. Nay, the voices of 
 your brave countrymen in Congress, have said you 
 unllnot^2LX\d anticipating your heroic sentiments, have 
 already declared you a " free and independent 
 PEOPLE !" 
 
 I " And now my gallant friends, are you willing to 
 
 I *;onfirm 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 OF 
 
 highest rank of nations, by proclaiming her inde- 
 pendent?" 
 
 In a moment the air resounded with " Tes f 
 independence J independence for ever ! God save the 
 independent states of America /'" 
 
 The oath of allegiance was then tendered to the 
 troops. 1'he officers with great alacrity took \t first: 
 which highly pleased the common soldiers, who rea- 
 dily followed their patriotic example. Soon as the 
 solemn rite was performed, the governor onlered a 
 fe^t dejoie. Instantly at the welcome word, ^^ handle 
 7r?ns,^^ 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-doQ;s, rolled 
 their louder thunders along the field ; then madly 
 bounding back on their rattling wheels, they told to 
 fanci(''s eat y ''^ Freedotns sons are zve^ and d— -n the 
 viltuins that •*»' ^ uid make us slaves /" 
 
GEN. FRANCIS. MARION. 47 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 rvHts j^'roxoing squallif — the author sets out a vagrant 
 huntmj^ — ^^^6' i?ito hot -water — narrowly escapes 
 with n?s life — catches a host of vagabonds^ hut 
 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 de-oil,'' said George Whltefielc}, " is fond 
 of fshing in muddy waters'" — hence it Is, I suppose, 
 that that grand demagogue has always been so fond 
 of rear — that sunshine and baskifig 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-eyed yw.sf ice*, with her iron talons, is down upon 
 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 offaith, 
 hovering over the wretched fry, screaming for their 
 prey. 
 
 This was exactly the case in South Carolina. The 
 war had hardly raged there above a twelvemonth and 
 a day, before the state of society seemed turned up- 
 side dovvm. The sacred plough was every where 
 seen rusting in the weedy furrows — Grog shops and 
 Nanny houses were springing up as thick as hops—' 
 at the house of God you saw nobody — but if there 
 was a devil's hous'i (a dram shop) hard by, you 
 might be sure to see that crowded with poor Laza- 
 rites, with red noses and black eyes, and the fences 
 all strung along with starved tackles, in grape-vi*ie 
 bridles and sheep-skin saddles. In short, the whole 
 country was fast overrunning with vagabonds, like 
 E 
 
48 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ravening locusts, seeking where they might light, 
 and whom tliey should devour. 
 
 " Good heavens !" said Marion to me one day, and 
 with great alarm in his looks, " what's to be done 
 with these wretches, these vagrants ? I am actually 
 afraid we shall be ruined by them presently. For 
 you know, sir, that a vagrant is but the chrysalis or 
 fly state of the gambler, the horse-thief, the mone\'- 
 coiner, and indeed of every other worthless creature 
 that disturbs and endangers society." 
 
 ** 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." 
 
 " WTiy sir," said I, " give me but a lieutenant, ser- 
 geant, and corporal, 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 knevr 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 youn^ vai^ahonds I profound- 
 ly engaged at aJ! fours ^ in a log tippling shop, witli 
 cards as black as their own dirty hands, and a tickler 
 of brandy before them! and sex intent were the 
 thieves on fleecing each other, that they took no 
 manner of noticf. of us, but continued their scoun- 
 drel work, eagerly stretched over the table, thwack- 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MAKtON 40 
 
 ing down their cards with filthy knuckles, and at 
 ivery stroke bawling out, " there's a good trkk /" 
 
 " Thot's as good as he?'' 
 
 *' And there's the best of the- three — huzza, d — n 
 Die ! at him again my hearties." 
 
 '■'■Lieutenant Jossilin^''^ said I, '■'■ grab the7n 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 " most 
 honestest gentlemen in all Carolina^ 
 
 " Aye ! well, I am very glad to hear that, gentle- 
 men, said I, for I love honest men prodigiously, and 
 hope the magistrate will confirm the handsome re- 
 port you have made of yourselves." 
 
 So off we set all together for the magistrate. About 
 dinner time I ordered a halt at the house of one 
 Johnson, a militia captain, who appeared quite over- 
 whelmed with joy to see me. 
 
 "• Heaven bless us !" said he, " and now who could 
 have believed all this ? And have I, at last, to my 
 heart's desire, the great honour of seeing under my 
 humble roof the noble major Horry ?" 
 
 I told him I was much obliged to him, for his po- 
 liteness — but, for the present, was rather too hungry 
 to relish compliments. " Like sweetmeats, captain," 
 said I, " a little of them may do pretty well after u 
 good dinner." 
 
 " Oh, my dear major !" quoth he, " and how sorry 
 I am now that I have nothing fit for dinner for you, 
 /ny noble son of thunder — a saddle (A fat veniso?ij 
 major ; or a brace of young ducks ; or, a gree)i goose 
 with currant jelly, and a bottle of old Madeira to 
 wash it down, do you see, major ! something nice for 
 Kou, do you see, major !" 
 
 " Nice^"* said I, '* captain Johnson • We soKlIera 
 of liberty don't stand upon the nice — the substantial 
 Ma all that we care for — a rasher of fat bacon from tlie 
 
50 THE LIFE OF 
 
 coals, with a good stout lump of an ash cake, is ?i7ce 
 enough for us." 
 
 " Oh, my dear sir !" replied he, " now doii'ty doiHt 
 be angry with me ; for I was only sorry that I have 
 nothing half so good for ) ou as I could wish, but 
 such as it is, thank God, we have plenty; and you\ 
 shall have a hite in a trice." So oft' 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; 
 '' stickiui^ the blarnetj 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 
 iate, he then insisted that I must not deny him the 
 ^*' very great honour of jny companij that nights Soon 
 as my consent was obtained, he despatched a parcel 
 of riders, to order in, with their guns, as many of his 
 ganc^ 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 un- 
 derstand the meaning of so many ill-looking fellows 
 coming about the house witli tlieir 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, «// arfned. 
 
 When breakfast was over, t turned to the consta- 
 ble, and desired him to look to his charge^ meaning 
 the three vagrants^ for that we would start as soon as 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MAlllON. 51 
 
 our men were all refreshed. Upon this captain John- 
 son said he believed he should not let the pri«soners 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 ? 
 
 "21?5, ^z/," he answered, "/ am an American sol- 
 dier ; and as good a one, perhaps, as yourself, or any 
 other man." 
 
 " Well, sir, and is this the way you show your sol- 
 diership, by insrlting the law ?" 
 
 " I am not bound," continued he, " to obey a bad 
 law." 
 
 " But, sir, who gave ijou a right \.o judge the law ?" 
 
 " I don't mind that," quoth he, *' but d — n me^ 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 conaequencts^'' 
 
 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 windoxvs — and 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 I " don't tremble ; you 
 E2 
 
52 THE LIFE OP 
 
 have nothing to fear from me. A man who can act 
 as you have done, is not an object of anger, but coti' 
 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 ]#et rescue the 
 prisoners before wc got to the bluff. But they wisely 
 took care rot 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 .noment 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 handsoriie addition^'' as he was pleased to 
 term it, " xvJnch I had made to the regiment?'* 
 
 But on trial, it was fouiul that such vermin were 
 not worthy of thanks, nor were an;/ 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 vtsics a British post at Ebenszer — i7i companij 
 of sergeant Newton^ makes a second trip thither — 
 affecting v'^eiv of an American lady and her child^ 
 -with other -whig prisoners at Ebenezer — desperate 
 resohe of Jasper %id Newton^ to rescue them — theit 
 bloodif conflict and glorious triuviph. 
 
 IN the spring of 1779, Marion and myself were 
 fjent with our comnxands, to Piirysburgh, to re-en- 
 force general Lincoln, who was there on his way to 
 ittack 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 v/e were lying at Purysburgh, a. couple of 
 y^oung 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 — 
 
5* thf: life of ; 
 
 " and nozc, o?ily say the ivord^ my boy^ and here h a 
 commisstop for you, xvith regimentals and gold to hoot, 
 to Jight for his majesty.'''' 
 
 Jasper shooV his head and observed, that though 
 there was but little encouragement to fight yor his 
 country, yet he could not fmd in his heart to fight 
 against her. 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 rctnid about, returned to camp, and 
 told general Lincoln all that he had seen. 
 
 Having wasted several weeks longer of tiresome 
 idleness, and no news of the French fleet, Jasper look 
 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 yc>ung 
 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, witli- 
 out giving the least alarm. On the morning of the 
 third day his brother had some bad nexus to tell hinu 
 
 " Aye'l xvhat is it r"' he asked, " -what is it f-' 
 
 " 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 ''em,^'' said Jasper, " lt't''s see ''em.'''' 
 
 So his brother took him and Newton to see them. 
 And indeed it was a mournful sight to behold them, 
 where they sat, ])Oor fellows I all hand-cufied, bn the 
 ground. But all pity of them was forgot, soon as 
 the eye was turned to a far more doleful sight hard 
 by, which was a young woman, wife of one of tru 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. S5 
 
 pi^soncrs, 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- 
 Douring wood. The tear was in the eye of both. 
 Jasper first broke silence. ^' Newton," said he, " my 
 days have been but few ; but I believe their course is 
 nearly done." 
 
 "- Why so, Jasper ?" 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Well, that is exactly what I feel too," replied 
 Newton—-" and here is my hand and heart to stand 
 
56 THE LIFE OF 
 
 by you, my brave friend, to the last drop. Thank 
 God, a man can die but once, and there is not sc» 
 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 I 
 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 ptished 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 ciiance to contend agaiftst 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, 
 ' Perhaps," said Jasper, " the guard may stop there." 
 Then hastening on by a near cut through the woods, 
 ihey 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, oidered a halt. Hope sprung afresh in our 
 heroes' bosoms, strong throbbing too, no doubt, with 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 57 
 
 m 
 
 great alarms, for " it was a fearful oddsP 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 scat 
 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 herops lay 
 concealed, and resting their muskets against a pine 
 tree, dipped up water : and having drank themselves, 
 turned av/ay, with replenished canteens, to give the 
 prisoners also. '''' Noxu ! Nexvton^ is our time J^"* said 
 Jasper. Then bursting, like two lions, from iheir 
 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. 
 
58 THE LIFE OF . 
 
 At the commencement of the fray, poor Mrs. Jones^ 
 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, "C'A 
 hless God! bksfi God! my husband is safe ; my husbana 
 is not hung yet ;'*'' then snatching up her child, and 
 straining him to her soul, as if she would have pressed 
 him to death, she cried out — **■ praise! praise! praise 
 Gcdfor ever ! my son has a fa ^.her yet /" Then wildlv 
 darting round her eyes in que 5t of her deliverers, she 
 exclaimed, " Where ! where a re those blessed angels 
 that God sent to save my husband i" 
 
 Directing her eyes to Jaspirr and Newton, where 
 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 oux 
 army at Purysburgh, to the inexpressible astonish- 
 ment and joy of us all. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION 50 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The count D^Estang^ ivith the French fleet ^ arrives to 
 attack Savannah — our army marche.s and joins htm 
 — -fatal effects of D^Estang^s polittnfiss — biographi' 
 cal dash of young colonel Laurens — curious dialogue 
 betzvixt him a?id the French general — unsuccessful 
 attack on Savannah — the brave Jasper mortally 
 %uounded — 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 v in fresh 
 laurels. But alas ! the former of them, tLe heroic 
 Jasper, was soon led, like a young lion, to an evil net. 
 The mournful story of his death, with hea\y heart 
 I now relate. 
 
 Scarcely had he returned from Georgia, laden, as 
 aforesaid, with glory, when an express came into 
 camp, and informed that the count D'Estang was 
 arrived off Tybee. Instantly we struck our tents and 
 marched 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 I 
 had we but advanced at once to the attac'c, as became 
 skilf \1 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 fell 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 behind- 
 F 
 
60 THE LIFE OF 
 
 hand with the count in the article of pohteness, for 
 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 to such douceurs, 
 tor he actually allowed the enemy four and txventij 
 hours to think of surrendering I 
 
 But instead of thinkings like simpletons, they fell 
 to entrenching^Wkit 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 v/orks 
 with great rapidity. According to the report of oui 
 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 was 
 actually afraid he would have broke out on general 
 Lincoln. " 3Iy God P"* he exclaimed, " tvho ever heard 
 of any thing like this before I — first alloxv an e?ie?ny 
 to entrench^ and then fght him I / See the destruction 
 brought upon the British at Bunker"^ s Hill I arid yet our 
 troops there ivere only ?nilitia I razu^ half-armed clod^ 
 hoppers I and not a mortar^ nor carronade^ nor e^ien o 
 szvivel — 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 wrmgs 
 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 Laurens 
 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 with 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 £j'lrits, and threw him into those brown stu- 
 dies whi-;ii cost his lady full many a tear. LTnable 
 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 hopeSy and the daring bands that are destined 
 to carry the enemy's works by storm. Washington 
 often gave him letters to this effect to his generals. 
 And this was his object at Savannah, where a regi- 
 ment of choice infantry was immediately put under 
 his command. But instead of being permitted his 
 favourite pleasure of seeing his ardent warriors 
 mcunting the enemy's works, and rushing down 
 streams of fire, followed by the bayonet, he was 
 doomed to fret and pine in the humble office of 
 interpreter between count D'Estang and gener**^ 
 Lincoln. 
 
6^ THE LIFE OF 
 
 " But, Monsieur le count," said Laurens to D'Es- 
 tang, " the American officers say they are afraid you 
 have given the English too long time to think." 
 
 At 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 
 g^ar dat one ver good parole ! De Engleesh tink, heh^ 
 Mw^jsieur le colonel ! By gar, de Engleesh never tink^ 
 but for deir bellie. 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 i 
 Well den, by gar you no need for tink-a so — by gar 
 my French-a-mans run over de fence just like vun 
 tlef horse run over de cornfield 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 myFrenek-a-mans — Morbleul 
 my French-a-mans eat dem up like vun leetle gre- 
 nouille. ^ 
 
 " Green Owl!'*'* exclaimed one of general Linct)ln's 
 aids — ^^ Oh my God ! who ever heard of a green oxvl 
 before ?" 
 
 Here l4aurens, smiling at the officer's mistake, re- 
 
GEN, FRANCIS MARION. 63 
 
 plied, " not green owl^ sir, but grenoiiille ; grenobille, 
 sir, is the French for frog." 
 
 "Aye, sure enough, sure enough, yrc?^," continued 
 the count, ^^frog; grenouille is frog. By gar. Mon- 
 sieur le colonel, you be vun dmn good interpret^ I 
 set dat well enough. Well Jen, now. Monsieur le 
 colonel, you hea.-a me speak-— my French-a-mans 
 eat dem Jack Engleesh all same like vun leetle frog." 
 
 ' Oh to be sure ! — -no doubt of all that. Monsieur 
 le count — but, before we eat them up, they may kill 
 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." 
 
 " Vat r 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 
 m de sky ; de leaf on de tree ; de sand on de shore 
 — you no see all dat, heh ? Well den, by gar, Mon 
 sieur le colonel, de grand Monarque got soldier more 
 an-a all dat — ess, sacra Dieu ! more an-a all dat, by 
 gar." 
 
 " Well but. Monsieur le count, is it not cruel to 
 kill the poor fellows notwithstanding ?" 
 
 " 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 ;" 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 dat 
 fashong. Let-a me tell you, Monsieur le colonel^ de 
 F2 
 
64 THE LIFE OF 
 
 king of France no like general Washington— by gar, 
 general Washington talk \vi' de soldier — he shake 
 hand vrV 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 vun 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 c/iiens, 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- 
 
G£N. FRANCIS MARION, 63 
 
 den to me ; I would to God I was lying on yonder 
 field at rest with my poor men !" 
 
 ^ No ' no ! none of that, colonel," said I, " none oi 
 that; . icrust we shall live to pay them yet for all 
 this." 
 
 And so it turned out. And though for humanity's 
 sake, 1 ought not to hoa.'ft 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 M'as in danger, it was but natural for me to 
 rejoice in the downfall of my enemies, yet I was often 
 witness to scenes, which to this day I can never think 
 of but with sonow — 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 themseKes, of human be- 
 ings lying mangled over the crimson ground — some 
 stone dead, some still alive and struggling, with 
 brains oozing from their cloven skulls — and others 
 sitting up, or leaning on their elbov/s, but pale with 
 loss of blood, running in streams from their mortal 
 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, Avould much 
 abate the rancour of malice in the hearts of those 
 whose sad destiny it is to kill one another; especially 
 if It v/ere 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 sing-le week; 
 »nd the sickly season coming on, the greater part 
 
66 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of the garrison perished of the yellow or bilioas 
 fever ! ! 
 
 Thus friends and foes the same sad fortune shared, 
 And sickness swallowed whom the sword had spar'd. 
 
 Many gallant men were the victims of count D'Es- 
 tang's folly in this alTair; among the number was that 
 impetuous Polander, the count Polaski. 
 
 But none fell more universally lamented, than the 
 heroic Jasper. Ever}- 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 v/as 
 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, ' furlough indeed, for what?" 
 
 " Why to go home," he answered, " to go to Hea- 
 ven, I hope." 
 
 "Pooh!" said I, and having, as the reader must 
 suppose, a good deal to attend to, I turned off and 
 left him. Hov/ever, his words made such an impres- 
 sion on me, that soon as duty permitted, I v>'ent to 
 see him, and found too true what he had predicted ; 
 the ball had opened a blood vessel in the lungs which 
 no art could stop, and he was bleeding to slow but 
 certain death. 
 
 As I entered the tent, he lifted his eyes to me, but 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 67 
 
 their fire was almost quenched ; and stretching his 
 feeble hand, he said, with perfect tranquillity, " Well, 
 major, I told you I had got my furlough." 
 
 '* I hope not," I replied. 
 
 " O yes !" said he, " I am going — and very fast 
 too ; but, thank God, I am not afraid to go." 
 
 I told him I knew he was too brave to fear death, 
 and too honest to be alarmed about its consequences. 
 
 "Why, as to that matter, sir," said he, " I won't 
 brag: but I have my hopes, notwithstanding I may 
 be wrong, for I know I am but a poor ignorant body, 
 but somehow or other, I have always built my hopes 
 of what God may do for me hereafter^ on what 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 nothings 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 nothings 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 " 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 
 I 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^ hut for me! and also, that if I 
 would but do his will in that only acceptable way, a 
 
eg TUK m^E OF 
 
 good life^ he would do still greikel- and bette? ihings 
 for me hereafter. 
 
 " Well, major, from the mouth of a dear mother, 
 like her, these things went so deep into my heatt, 
 that they could never be taken away from me. 1 
 have hardly ever gone to bed.^ or got up again, with- 
 out saying my prayers. I have honoured my father 
 and mother j 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 nevei 
 was quarrelsome^ 
 
 I told him, nothing afforded me more satisfaction, 
 than to remember that, since he was now going to 
 die, he had always led so good a life. 
 
 He answered, with tears in his eyes, that he had a 
 good hope he was going where he should not do what 
 he had been obliged to do in this world. " I- ve killed 
 men in my time, major, but not in malice, but in whit 
 I thought a just war in defence of my country. And 
 as I bore no malice against those I killed, n^iiher 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 shall forgive 
 and love one another like brothers. I own, 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 Aoj&ffthat my death 
 is of God ; which makes it welcome to me, and so I 
 bow me to his blessed will. And now, my good friend, 
 as I feel I have but a little time to live, I beg you 
 will do a few things for me Avhen I am dead and 
 gone." 
 
 I could not speak : but gathering my answer frem 
 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- 
 «?ernor Rutledge presented to me for my services at 
 Fort Moultrie — give that sword to my father, and 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 69 
 
 tell 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 niy life in saving the colours she 
 gave to our regiment. And if ever you should come 
 across poor Jones and his wife, and little boy, tell 
 them Jasper is gone ; but that the remembrance of 
 the hard battle which he once fought for their sakes 
 brought a secret joy to nis heart just as it was abou 
 to stop its motion for evei." 
 
 He spoke these last woiqs in a livelier tone than 
 usual, but it was like the lasi 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 B'Estang's madness, I went 
 with a heavy heart on parade, to take a review of the 
 sad remains of the battle. The call of the roll com- 
 pleted the depression of my spirits. To every fourth 
 or fifth name there was no 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 j but 
 ah ! what words can express v/hat I then saw and 
 suffered ! 
 
 A scattered few lay here and there on the utmost 
 verge ot the field, killed by cannon shot, and so man- 
 gled, that in some instances, it v/as hard to tell who 
 they were. As we advanced, they lay thicker and 
 thicker. Some, ncw quite dead, were constantly cry- 
 ing, ^' Water ! water ! — Oh ' for God's sake, a little 
 water ! "--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 
 design Boushe, covering, \'Uh his dead body, the 
 
70 THE LIFE OF 
 
 very spot where he had fixed the American standard. 
 His face was pale and cold as the earth he pressed, 
 but stiil 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, farev/ell ! 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 
 niised 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 *" study the art of 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 7i 
 
 war,' that their countrymen might no more be mur- 
 dtred by military quacks 
 
 As a hint to American oflicf 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 
 ho\irs previous thereto, a council of war was held ; 
 md while it v/as deliberating, a deserter and spy had 
 the address to bear a musket, as sentinel at the doo> 
 'jf the marquee 1 1 On hearing where the attack was 
 to be made, he ran off in the dark, and gave such in- 
 telligence to the enemy, as enabled them very com- 
 pletely to defeat us. The fellow was afterwards 
 taken at the battle of 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 v/ar being, from this period, and 
 for some time at least, removed to the northern 
 states, the governor and council were pleased to re- 
 duce the regiments, and dismiss the supernumerary 
 offirers. To sor^e of mv brethren in arms, this was 
 matter of serious alaivn. But for rnyself, possessing, 
 thank God, a liberal ftrtune in the countr}-, and feel- 
 ing no attractkr*. to the camp, except when drav/n 
 thither by public danger, X was quite happy to hear 
 of this new arrangement, and v.uited on his excel- 
 lency to return my cc^nmission. 
 
 Perhaps srrne may say it was pride in me, and 
 diat I did not like the id^a of being unfrocked. Why, 
 as to thai matter, it is not for me to boast cf my 
 standing among my superiors in those days. But 
 this I ni'iFt needs say, that it is joy enough, and 
 glory enough too, for me to know, that I was always 
 the ia^"'1lrite of the great Marion j and thai he sel- 
 G 
 
72 THE LIFE OF 
 
 dom 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 c/id return, and there con- 
 tinued till spring, ITSO, when Charleston was taken 
 by the British j 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 like, I was kindly saved 
 from being kidnapped by the enemy, and also inrro- 
 duced into a field of some little service, I hope, to my 
 countr}'^, 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 IX. 
 
 Providentta/ escape of Marion out of Charleston — the 
 British feet and army invest and take that place — 
 
 Tarleton and the British officers beg-in to let out 
 
 younsf Scotch Macdoriald comes upon the turf— extra- 
 or dinar if anecdote of him — plai^t^ a verij curious trick 
 on a rich old tory. 
 
 HOW happy it is for man, that the author of hi^- 
 bcing loves him so much better than he loves him 
 5elf ; and has established so close a connexion betweei 
 his duty and his advantage. This delightful truth 
 was remr\rkably exemplified in an event that befel 
 Marion about this time, March, 1 780. Dining with 
 a squad of choice wliigs, in Charleston, in the hout-e 
 pf Mr. Alexts.nd^-r M-Qufcn^ TroAd «trff \, he was r-jo 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. TJ 
 
 fiequently 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 es- 
 caping a debauch^ but by leaping out of one of the 
 windows of the dining-room, which was on the se- 
 cond stoiy, 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 waa 
 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 
 sv/ords, and whoop and hoic 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 
 fi^eely of reducing the system to practice. Cornwal- 
 (is, 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 
 of ihe country. 
 
 "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, w^e'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 tlie old Madeira, that our souls 
 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 present* 
 ly see the violent and bloody course of these ruffians^ 
 who did such dishonour to the glorious island thev 
 came from. But before I begin my tragedy^ I beg 
 leave, by way of prologue, to entertain hlAn a momen* 
 with a very curious y^rc*? 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 
 Macdonald of famous defeat at Morris Creek Bridg^e 
 North Carolina. Soon after the defeat of his father. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. '5 
 
 J • • «,i «„>. fvnnn« Led by curioaity, 1 
 he carae and joined o^^."o°^;- j^^ ^,4 reason : to 
 
 Immemareiy grldRe, I fell to thinking w^at 
 
 his fnenda at the '-"^'^\°r'"f ' , ^ ■ ^ 
 
 could be the cause ; ^/" *^;'^^^?,;;^: njratitude. 
 have been owing to their ^^ "/"° V\° ^^ of people, 
 
 " Here -- " -<}i'3tb i^I^^ouL (!o^ 
 meaning my poor f^^'j^'^*""" p„M:sh 'after the mas. 
 the '--d-ous swords of the Engsh ,n ^_^^^ 
 
 rarwSgbutThf^io^^^^^ 
 
 SSg thfs f-ndly people that was e^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 K vprv eve that saw us, had pity , ^na e\er> .uiu 
 L\eryeyein«i ' ,j^ received us in their 
 
 reached out to ^^^'^\; ,^^^7^ ^^ei^^ ^ unfcrtunate 
 
 us, and spread then f"^«' ^"" ,^,^rc in a land of 
 
 {'eid ofYe ::>MUtle of CuUoden -d how a. 
 
 English gave no quarter t° -^-f-^-^f^.^^^-^^Sse 
 men, but butchered all hejcoua ^^^ ^^.^^ 
 
 ,/,.«/,^ ».n, ./ thoj^e "--';-/-- ,t the rueful 
 They recei*d us >"to. *^!'°'°'r^j "^eir beauteous 
 forests, and gave us t^-^'^we became rfch- And yet, 
 daughters in m^'-^fS^'^^t-.TsViJame to America; to 
 after all, soon as the E^f '^"^^Vor refusing to 
 rt- tUHieTm'y Ser Tndtlnds, forgetlng 
 \ tW^te Americans had done for them, went and 
 ■S the B^i^^h, to assist them to cut the throats of 
 
 '■"r;>f'4''^"aS'to myself, " if<roer there u:n a time 
 G 2 
 
 .^ 
 
i'ajfireTr. 
 
 McDonald's trick cm the old Ton 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 77 
 
 out Selim, my young Selim ! do you hear ? you vil- 
 lain, do you hear ?" 
 
 " Tes^ ?nassa, be sure /" 
 
 Then turnhig 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 ?'' 
 
 " Why, they say it is good of a rainy morning, 
 sir," replied Macdonald. 
 
 " O yes, famous of a rainy morning, Mr. Sergeant ! 
 1 mighty antifogmatic . It prevents you the ague, 
 Mr. Sergeant ; it clears a man's throat of the cob- 
 webs, sir." 
 
 " God bless your honour !" said Macdonald, as he 
 turned off a bumper of the high-beaded cordial. 
 
 But scarcely had he smacked his lips, before Dick 
 paraded Selim ; a preud, full-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'nt he, my boy V 
 
 " Faith, a noble animal, sir," replied Macdonald. 
 
 " Yes, egad ! a noble animal indeed ! — a charger 
 for a king, Mr. Sergeant ! — Well, my compliments to 
 colonel Tarleton : tell him I've sent him a horse, my 
 youg Selim, my grand Turk, do you hear, my son 
 of thunder ? And say to the colonel that I don't 
 grudge him neither, for egad! he's too noble for mc, 
 Mr. Sergeant. I've no work that's fit for him, sir; 
 no ! damme, sir, if there's 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 
 
TB THE 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 V 
 
 ^ No, sir, never !" replied Tarleton : " I never sent 
 a sergeant on any such errand. Nor till this moment 
 did I ever knoV 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 — hii^ hot 
 breakfast — ^liis 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« 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ^9 
 
 ner 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 ; 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 
 :s fair in war : and, besides, sir, if I had not taken 
 him, colonel Tarleton, no aoubt, would have got 
 him. And then, with such a swift strong charger 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 ofl'his back to get corn for him. And truly 
 Selim was not much his debtor j tor, at the first flash 
 and glimpse of a red coat^ he wouj 1 paw and champ 
 his iron bit with rage ; and the mo'nent he heard the 
 word "^0," 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 hia 
 eyes. Whether it was om or ten against him, \t made 
 
80 "" THE LIFE OF 
 
 no odds to this gallant Scotsman. He never^toppct! 
 to count noses, but would dash in upon the thickest 
 of them, and fell 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 wheu 
 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, when 
 he beholds the coming forth of the buffaloes towards 
 his gloomy cave. " Zounds, Macdonald," said I 
 " here's an odds against us, five to two." " By my soul 
 now captain," he replied, " and let 'em come on 
 Three are welcome to the sword of Macdonald." 
 
 Soon as they were come fairly opposite to us, we 
 gave them a blast from our bugles, and with draw)? 
 sabres broke in upon them like a tornado. 
 
 Their panic was complete ; two we stopped, over- 
 thrown and weltering in the toad. The remaining 
 three wheeled about, and taking to their heels, went 
 off as if old Nick had been bringing up the rear. Then 
 yovi 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 o4 death. My charger being but a heav} 
 brute, was soon distanced. But they could not dis- 
 tanee the swift-footed Selim. Rapid as the deadly 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. SI 
 
 blast of the desert, he pursue"H their dusty course, still 
 gathering upon them at every jump. And before they 
 could 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 o5 one 
 of the dragoons whom he had killed. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 < TTie abomination and desolation set up in South Caro 
 ' Una — the author^ xvith sorrowful hearty quits hi* 
 I native land^ and Jiies to the north in quest of war^ 
 I like friends-^fortunate rencontre ivith his gallant 
 friend colonel Marioii — curious adventures. 
 
 \ AFTER the capture of Charleston, with all our 
 I troops, the British, as aforesaid, began to spread them- 
 j selves over the country. Then was exhibited a spec- 
 tacle, which for sadness and alarm, ought never to be 
 forgotten by the people of America. I mean how easy 
 a thing it is for a small ])ody 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 ffty thou- 
 ] "io^dl and yet this host of poor honest men were made 
 I to trCiTible before that handful of ruffians, as a flock of 
 I sheep before the wolf, or a houseful of little children 
 before a dark frowning pedagogue. The reason is 
 I immensely plain. The British were all embodied and 
 , firm as a rock of granite ; the Carolinians were scat- 
 H 
 
82 THE LIFE OF 
 
 tered over the country loose as a rope of sand : the 
 British all well armed and disciplined, moved in 
 dreadful harmony, giving their fire like a volcano : 
 the Carolinians, with no other than birding pieces, 
 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 v/ere a handful 
 of hawks ; the poor Carolinians a swarm of rice-birds, 
 and rather than be plucked to the pin feather, or pick- 
 ed to the bone, they and their little ones, they were 
 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 btfore swine," richly deserve that 
 the beast should turn again and trample them^ and 
 their treasures too^ into the mire. Yes, and had it not 
 been for a better watch than our own, at this day, like 
 the wi etched Irish, we should have been trampled 
 into the mire of slavery; groaning under heavy bar 
 dens to enrich our task-masters ; and doomed on 
 every fruitless attempt at freedom, to fatten th^ 
 buzzards with our gibbeted carcasses. 
 
 For lack of this habitual military preparation on 
 our part, in a few days after the fall of Charleston, 
 Col. Tarleton, with only one hundred and fifty horse, 
 galloped up to Georgetown, through the most popu- 
 lous part of the state, with as much hauteur as an 
 overseer and his boys would gallop through a negro 
 plantation ! To me this was the signal for clearirig out. 
 Accordingly ^ though still in much pain from the rhcu 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION, B^ 
 
 Aiatism, 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 g-reat civility^ a.s I 
 thought, asked the nervs. 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 Jiave 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 
 -before 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 io 
 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 w 
 
84. THE LIFE OF 
 
 the same moment, " Is that colonel INIarion f" " la 
 that Horry ?" After the first transports of that joy, 
 which those who have been long absent from deai 
 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 hair, 
 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." 
 
 ^Vherenpon I dismounted; and with the help of his 
 servant, for his ankle was yet very crazy, got him down 
 too. Then, sitting side by side, on the trunk of a 
 fallen pine, we talked over the mournful state of our 
 country ; and came at last, as we had always c' jne, to 
 this solemn conclusion, that we would stand oy her 
 like true children, and either conquer or die vv th her. 
 
 After this, a piece of dried beef was paraded, from 
 Marion's saddle-bags, with a loaf of Indian bread and 
 a bottle of brandy. The wealthy reader may smile at 
 this bill of fare ; but to me it was a feast indeed. For 
 joy, like a cordial, had so raised my spirits, and re- 
 mvigorated my system, that I fed like a thresher. 
 
 I shall oever forget an expression which Marion 
 let fall duiTtig tnsx repast, and which, as things have 
 turned out, clearly shows what an intimate acquaint- 
 ance he had with human nature. I happened to say 
 that I was afraid " our happy days were all gone." 
 
 " Pshaw, Horry," he replied, " don't give way to 
 such idle fears. Our happy days are not all gone. On 
 the contraiy, the victor}'- is still sure. The enemy, it 
 is true, have all the trumps in their hands, and if 
 they had but spirit to play a generous game^ would 
 certainly ruin us. But they have no idea of that 
 game j but will treat the people cruelly. And tb*»« 
 one thing will ruin them, and save Amer'ica." 
 
GEN. rnANCIS MARION. 85 
 
 «1 pray God," said I, "it may be so.'* 
 ** Well, don't be afraid," replied he, '■'■ you xvitl as* 
 huredly 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, as made 
 me more sensible than ever what a divine thing friend 
 ship is. And well indeed it was for us that our hearts 
 were so rich in friendships for our pockets were as 
 bare of gold and silver as if there were no such metala 
 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 u?i, 
 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 oui'selves, 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 1 For instead of being smiled on every where 
 along the road as the champions-of liberty, we W'ere 
 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 " xve had 
 nothing to pciy^ they as candidly declared, '^^they had 
 riuthmg to give;'''' and that ^'' those that had no ynoncf 
 H2 
 
86 THE LIFE OF 
 
 had no busrness to travel.'''^ At length we came tv tiio 
 resolution to say nothing about our poverty^ but^ after 
 getting such things as we wanted, to give owv due hills* 
 In this we felt ourselves perfectly warranted ; for ww 
 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 of a 7;n^VjYi/ 
 fine tavern about five miles further on. 
 
 We begged hirn to recollect that it was night, and 
 also very rainy, and as dark as pitch. 
 
 " Oh /" quoth he, ^' the road is riiightif plain ; you 
 can'^t miss your zvay^ 
 
 " But consider, sir, we arc 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 mc." 
 
 " But, sir, we have travelled all day long without 
 a mouthful for ourselves or horses." 
 
 To this also the brute was preparing some fit an- 
 swer, when his wife, who appeared to be a very gen- 
 teel woman, with a couple of charming girls, her 
 daughters, ran out and declared that *^ take us in he 
 could, and should, that he should j and that he might as 
 well consent at first, for they M'"ould not be said nav." 
 
 Even against all this, he stood out for some time; 
 'v":ll at length his M'ife 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 
 ap""" rate it was irood tn hn':^*^ n friend at. court. 
 
Page 80, 
 
 7%c Author and Marion expostulating zvtifi tiit, 
 Innkeeper, 
 

 / 
 
6EN. FRANCIS MARION. 8. 
 
 On this he came to a pause ; and at length reluc 
 Untly drawled out, " Well — I suppose — you mast — 
 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 wearij^ I could not help exclaim 
 iiig, ••' O my God ! what pity it is that among so many 
 labours which poor rtiortals take under the sun, they 
 do not labour more for that which alone deserves their 
 care. I mean that lovc^ which at once diffuses and 
 enjoys all the happiness both of earth and heaven.'* 
 
 At supper, the poor creature of a husband strove 
 very hard to draw Marion into a disput;^, about what 
 he was pleased to call our *' rebellion." I expect- 
 ed to have heard him lashed very severely for such 
 brutality; for few men ever excelled Marion in the 
 retort abrupt. But every time the subject was intro- 
 duced, he contrived very handsomely to waive it,by 
 
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 nighty 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. 
 
 "' 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 andtory- 
 ism, this poor gentleman is in the condition of him in 
 the parable, who was possessed of seven de'oils. Since 
 we have not the power to cast them out, let us not 
 torment him before his time. Besides, this excellent 
 v/oman his wife; these charming ^\r\s.\\\s> 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." 
 
 " 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 
 would help me in my corn-field yonder." 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 89 
 
 Marion asked hiirj whether, if he were to find hh 
 nfg^oes, he would tliink it right to take them ? 
 
 ** To be sure I would," answered he. " You great 
 men who choose to fight against your king, are all 
 now running away. And why may I not go and catch 
 your negroes as well as any body else ?" 
 
 " My God !" replied Marion, with a deep sigh, 
 " what will this world come to ?" 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 fai 
 from the house when Marion's servant rode up, and, 
 with a very smirking face, told his master that he be- 
 lieved the gentle v/oman where we stayed last night, 
 must be a monstrous Jine lady I 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 vaj portmanteau too, filled it up chock 
 full, sir ! A fine ham of bacon, sir, and a pair of 
 roasted fov/ls, with two bottles of brandy, and a mat- 
 ter ot a peck of biscuU." 
 
 " God bless the de;'ir lady !" we both exclaimed at 
 tlie 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 avv^ay sinc« that time, I can still see that angel 
 smile which brii^htened on her face towards us, and 
 the memory of which springs a joy in my heart be- 
 yond what tbf memoiy of his m.oney bags ever gave 
 I 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. Kis eyes seemed as 
 I tiiough they would never lire 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 xvell. 
 '* Those people," continued he, " are mere Hotten- 
 tots; a set of unenlightened miserable tories, who 
 know nothing of the grounds of the war ; nothing of 
 the rights and blessings we are contending for ; nor 
 of the corruptions and cruelties of the British minis^ 
 try; and are therefore just as ready to fall into theii 
 destructive jaws, as young cat-birds are to run into 
 the mouth cf a rattle-snake." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Glorious neivs — a brave army of continentals coming 
 up — Marion and the author hasten to meet them at 
 Roanoke — -fortunately get introduced to the baron dt 
 Kalb — polite reception by that amiable offcer — ciiri-' 
 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 (he horse, who told 
 us the glorious news, that " Washington had sent on 
 a gallant detachment of continentals, who were now 
 in fall march to aid South Carolina." 
 
 Our hearts leaped for joy at the news. So great 
 was our impatience to see what our hearts had so long 
 and so fondly dwelt on, a?! army of friends., thwi we 
 could not wait until they came up, but hurried olf 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 hBve had many niili- 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION 91 
 
 tar> corps, but none had ever interested us like this. 
 In tihinihg regimentals and glittering arms, they 
 moved before the eye of the glowing fancy like a host 
 of heroes. 
 
 Thrice happy for man, that a veil, dark as the grave, 
 is thrown over 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 sub- 
 sided, we moved toward head quarters^ where we 
 had the good fortune to fall in with our old friend Col. 
 Semp, who appeared overjoyed to see us, and imme- 
 diately offered to introduce us to the general. His ex- 
 cellency Horatio Gates was the commander in chief 
 but as he had not yet arrived, the command rested on 
 that brave old German general, the baron de Kalb. 
 
 It was to this officer that colonel Semp introduced 
 us, and, as was usual with him, in very flattering 
 terms ; styling us " continental colonels, and two of 
 the wealthiest and most distinguished patriots of 
 South Carolina !" 
 
 I shall never forget what I felt when introduced 
 to tins gentlemai]. He appeared to be rather elderly. 
 Bat though the snow of winter was on his locks, h'S 
 cheeks were still reddtsned over with the bloom or 
 spring. His person was large and manly, above ih^. 
 common size, with great nerve and activity ; whii» 
 his fine blue eyes expressed the mild radiance of in- 
 telligence and goodness. 
 
 He received us very politely, saying he was ginu to 
 see us, " especially as we were the first Carolinians tii.rt 
 he had seen ; which had not a little surprised him." 
 
 Observing, I suppose, that we laboured undei ja- 
 Iher too much of our national weakness, I mean mo- 
 de!»ty, he kindly redoubled his attentions to ua, ami 
 •joon succeeded in curing us of our reserve. 
 
 ..iiatt^' 
 
12 THE Lilt OF 
 
 " I thought^" said he, " that British t5'^ranny would 
 have sent great numbers of the Soiuh Carolinians to 
 join our arms. But, so far from it, they ar** 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 their 
 work, they get no employment from them. Being 
 thus unsupported by the rich, they continue poor and 
 low spirited. They seldom get money ; and indeed, 
 what little they do get, is laid out in brandy to raise 
 their spirits, and not on books and newspapers to get 
 information. Hence they know nothing of the com- 
 parative blessings of their ov/n country, nor of the 
 great dangers which threattm it, and therefore crae 
 nothing about it. As to the other class, the rich, 
 \hii,y aic generally very nch^ and consequently afraid 
 to stir, unless a fair chance offer, lest the British 
 should burn their houses ana furniture, and carry oiF 
 their negroes and stock. But permit me to assure 
 yoa, sir, that though thus kept under by fear, thej 
 will mortally hate the British, and will, I am coiiti 
 dent, the moment they see an army of friends at their 
 door, lly to their standard, like a generous pack tp 
 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. 
 
 '^ No doubt of it at all sir," replied Marion. 
 
 I'fje baron Uien iaviled as to dine wiUi him, but 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. M 
 
 added, smiling, that he hoped we had good military 
 stomachs that could relish and digest plain fai*e, 
 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 
 ti'ue. 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 I It is true 
 that, by way of substitute, we 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 deserv'e On the con- 
 trary, I Tiiention it rather as a compliment to his 
 heavenly bounty, which is wont to spread our tables 
 %vith 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," can you answer me one 
 question V' 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Tou^h^ 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 
 tlie winter, by your looks in the summer of your days." 
 
 " Well but, colonel, striking the balance between 
 ll\e two, whereabouts do you take me to be ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, in the spring and prime of life ; abou 
 foit}'." ' 
 
 " Good heavens, ycr/y /" 
 
 " Yes, sir, that's the mark ; there or thereabouts.* 
 
 " What ! no more V 
 
 " No, sir, not a day more ; not an hour.** 
 
 ** Upon honour?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, upon honour ; upon a soldier's honour/' 
 
 "Ha ! — ha ! — ha ! — Well, colonel, I would not foi 
 a thousand guineas that your riflemen shot as wide 
 off the mark a€ 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 }'ears ! 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 I and yet such bloom, 
 such flesh and Wood !" 
 
 " If you are. so surprised, gentlemen, at my hoki 
 at sixty-three^ what would you have thought had you 
 seen my father at eighty-seven." 
 
 " Your father, general ! he cannot be alive yet 
 
 sure." 
 
 ''^ Alive! yes, thank God, and aVwe like to be, I 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 95 
 
 hope, f >r 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 ^randaughters carded the wool and sung a 
 hymn for her. Soon as the first transport of meeting 
 was over, I eagerly asked for my father. ' Do not 
 be uneasy, my son,' said she, *your father is only 
 gone to the woods with his three little great grand* 
 children, to cut some fuel for the fire, and they will 
 all be here presently, 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 hia 
 young relatives, the generv^Ps fine countenance caught 
 an animation which perfectly charmed us all. 
 
 The eyes of Marion sparkled v/ith 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 voufr, 
 12 
 
06 THE LIFE OF 
 
 colonel, is not a novel one by any m<*ana. 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 dissentei-. 
 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 infmitely 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. Plowever, 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 i-eligion^ I don^t mean pnesU 
 craft, I don't mean that superstitious grimace ; that 
 rolling up of white eyes, and spreading of sanctified 
 palms ; with ' disjig'ured faces and lorig prayers^ and 
 all the rest of that holy trumpery^ 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 tlie soul, which rises and embraces the great 
 author of its being with. Ji Hal ardour^ and walks and 
 converses with him, as a dutiful child with his revered 
 father. Now gentlemen, I would ask, all prejudice 
 apart ^Vi'h-iXt is there can so exalt the mind and gladden 
 the heart, ai^ this high friendship with heaven, and 
 those immortal hopes that spring from religion ?" 
 
 Here one of the company, half blushing, as palpa^ 
 dIv convicted by the truth of the general's argument 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 97 
 
 §inaft]y called out — '-'• WtU but, general, don't you 
 think wc caa do pretty wsU here in camp^ without 
 religion ^'^ 
 
 " What !*' replied Dt Kalb," would you give it all 
 up to the priests V 
 
 " Yes, to be sure I wculd," said the young officer, 
 *' for I am for every man\ following his own trade, 
 general. They are priests, ^nd we are soldiers. So 
 let them do ail tne prayin^^ and we will do all the 
 
 " Why, as to the fighting part,*' icjoined De Kalb, 
 * I hi) ve no objection to doing all th*it for the priests, 
 especially as their profession does not allow them to 
 fight for themselves. But as to giving them up all 
 the litfvotion^ I confess I am not so liberal. No I no! 
 gentlemen, charity begins at home : and I am not 
 for parting with pleasure so easily." 
 
 "Pleasure!" replied the young officer with % 
 sneer. 
 
 " Yes, sir, pleasvre^'* returned De Kalb. "Accord* 
 ing to my creed, sir, piety and pleasure are synony 
 mous terms; and I should just as so»)n think of living 
 ph)'sically, without bread, as of Uving pleasantly, 
 without religion. For what is religit^n, as I said be* 
 fore, but ifABiTUAL 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 glor}^ 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, hii 
 voice becomes sweet, and his whole air expressive of i, 
 
 cheerfulness. And as this happy feeling must, in the T 
 
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, an'd 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 ti pretty long- heat,, I beg leave to 
 order a halt and allow him a little time to breathe. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Gen. Gates — bo7i mot of British general Lee — how an 
 army ought not to march — De Kalb prophecies—^ 
 chickens counted before they are hatched^ a/ias^ Ma* 
 rion and the author sent by Gen. Gates to prevent 
 the escape of CormvalUs.^ before he had run — the 
 British and A??:e?'2can armies meet — Gates and his 
 militia-men leave De Kalb :n the lurch — his gallant 
 behaviour^ and glorious death. 
 
 W HEN a poor fellow is going down hill, it is but 
 too common, they say, for every body to give him a 
 kick. 
 
 ** Let clo^ delight to bark and bite, 
 " For heaven hath made them so." 
 
 But, if I know myself aright, I can truly say, thai 
 p.othing of this vilf^ spirit suggests a syllable of wimt 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 99 
 
 I now write of the unfortunate general Gates. On 
 the contrary, I feel an ardent wish to speak hanrl- 
 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 th'ck as a May-day queen with gaud}' flow- 
 ers. And though the greater part of t his 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 douht, to their own clearer selves, had the 
 courage to bring him forward on the military turf 
 and run him for the generalissimoship against the 
 great Washington. But though they were not able to 
 prosper him in this mad attempt, yet they so far sue- 
 ceedcd as to get him the command of the army of 
 Carolina, 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. 
 
 "W^hy, to take Cornwallis." 
 
 ^' I am afraid," quoth Lee, " you will find him a 
 tough piece of English beef." 
 
 '' Tough, sir," replied Gates ; ^ tough ! then begaa 
 rU tender him. I'll make />i/oo of him, sir, in three 
 hours after I set eyes upon him." 
 
 "Aye! will you indeed?" returned Lee. "Well 
 then send for me, and I will go and help you to eat 
 him." 
 
 Gates smiled; and bidding him adieu, rode off. 
 L<ie bawled after him,*' Take care^ Gates ! take care! 
 
100 THE LIFE OF 
 
 or your northern laurels will degenerate into south- 
 ern willows.'^ 
 
 The truth is, though general Lee was extremely 
 splenetic, other than which, such a miserable old ba- 
 chelor and infidel covXd 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^ fi^^S'^^f '^^^ ^^^^ 
 quertd Comwallis ; and flev/ 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 heakh 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 adv'sed, 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 phie 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, 
 my reader would, I am sure, lack faith. Indeed, at 
 this season, when the old crop was gone, and the new 
 not quite come in, what had we to expect, especially 
 in such a miserable country, where many a family goes 
 without dinner, unless the father can knock down a 
 squirrel in the woods, or his pale sickly boy pick up a 
 terrapin in the swamps ? We did, indeed, sometimes 
 fall in with a little corn ; but dien, the poor, skinnv* 
 
GKN. FRANCIS MARION. 101 
 
 fiun-l3urnl womeji, with long uncombed tresses, and 
 shrivelled breasts hanging down, would run scream- 
 ing to us, with tears in their eyes, declaring that if we 
 took away their corn, they and their children nnusi 
 pensh. Such times 1 never saw, and 1 pray Govi I 
 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 m 
 Rtance, permitted me to sutTer, except in thinking of it 
 
 There was one case in particular which 1 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 terror, 
 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 lighting 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 turnnig 
 hbout, went otf without saying another word. I must 
 contess 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 ^(ty 
 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 fi'uit. ScaT<:ely 
 were our tents pitched, before the whole army, foot 
 and horse, turned in to destroy. The trees were all 
 ^hre?hed in a trice : after which the soldiers fell, like 
 ft herd of v/ild 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 
 Irad ever grown there since the creation of the world. 
 What became of the poor man ai) \ his children God 
 
i02 THE LIFE OF 
 
 only knows, for by sunrise we were all under march' 
 ing orilers again, bending for the south. 1 said all 
 but I only meant all that were able. For numbers 
 were knocked up every night by ag'ties, Muxes', and 
 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 mys-tlf 
 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 rum that 
 would ensue. 
 
 " Here," said he, '' we are hurrying to attack an 
 enemy, who, if they but knew our condition, would 
 long for nothing so much as our arrival. JVe^ two- 
 thirds at least, raw militia ; thn/^ all regulars. We, 
 fatigued ; they, fresh. We, feeble and faint through 
 ;ong 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 
 fortunate. The least d?-u}}i of success woukl intoxi- 
 cate and make him Jho/ hardij. He could never bring 
 himself to believe, as he used to say, that " lord 
 Cornwallis would dare to look him in the face." 
 
 So confident, indeed, was he of victory, that on the 
 morning before the fatal action, he ordered Marion 
 and myself to hasten on to Santee river, and destroy 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. loa 
 
 every scozv, boat, or caiioe^ that could assist an En^ 
 lishmpn in his flight to Charleston ! 
 
 Immediately on receiving orders, we waited on 
 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 presentimei^ 
 that we part to meet no more." 
 
 We told him we hoped better things. 
 
 " Oh no !" replied he, " it is impossible. War is a 
 kind of game, and has its jixed rules ^ whereby, when 
 we are well acquainted with them, we can pretty cor 
 rectly tell how the trial will go. To-morrow it seems, 
 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. Bui 
 that, you know, won't do for me. I am an old soldier 
 and cannot run : and I believe I have with me some 
 brave fellows that will stand by me to the last. So 
 that, wheii you hear of our battle, you will probably 
 hear that your old friend De Kalb is at rest." 
 
 I do not know that I was ever more affected in my 
 life. I looked at Marion and saw that his eyes were 
 watery. De Kalb saw it too, and taking us by th* 
 hand, with a firm tone, and animated look, said, " No * 
 Ho ! gentlemen ; no emotions for me but those of con- 
 gratulation. I am happy. To die is the irreversible 
 decree of him who made us. Then what joy to be 
 able to meet his decree without dismay ! This, thanlr 
 God, is my case. The happiness of man is my wish 
 that happiness I deem inconsistent with slavery.-^ 
 ylnd to avert sc\ great an evil from an innocent peo 
 pie, I will gladly meet the British to-morrow, at any 
 odds whatever." 
 
 As he spoke this, I saw a something in his eye» 
 ^vhich at once demonstrated the divinity of virtue 
 siiid the immortality of the soul 
 K 
 
104 THE LIFE OF 
 
 With sorrowful hearts we then left him, and witn 
 feelings which I shall never forget, while memory 
 maintains her place in this my aged brain. 
 
 " Oh my God !" said Marion, as we rode off," what 
 a difference does education make between man and 
 man ! Enlightened b} her sacred ray, see here is the 
 native of a distant country, come to fight for oui 
 liberty and happiness, while many of our own people, 
 for iack of education^ are actually aiding the Britsh 
 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- 
 fey's mills, twelve miles from Camden, where the 
 enemy lay. About ten o'clock that night orders were 
 given to march to surprise the enemy, who had at 
 the same time commenced their march, to surprise 
 the Americans. To their mutual astonishment, the 
 advance of the two armies met about two o'clock, and 
 began to fire on each other. The firing, however, was 
 soon discontinued by both parties, who appeared very 
 willing to leave the matter to be d-ecided 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 positiop, vvait to be attacked. — 
 But Gates not onlv rejected this excellent counsel. 
 but threw out suspicions that it originated from fear^ 
 Upon this, the brave old De Kalb called to his ser^ 
 vant to take his horse, and leaping on the grourid 
 place^'l 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\\ 
 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. 
 
 " I wonder where we shall dine to-morrow ?" saiJ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 105 
 
 ime of his officers, as, in the dark, they sat on their 
 sleepy 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 snuff, 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 
 his 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 ttuo to one, they 
 sustained the shock of the enemy's whole force, for 
 upwards of an hour. With equal fury the ranks-sweep- 
 mg 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 fata* 
 stab, let drop their useless arms, and with dying fin 
 
106 THE LIFE OF 
 
 gers clasped the hostile steel that's cold in their bo a 
 els. Others, faintly crying out, " O God I am slain !" 
 sank pale, quivering to the ground, while the vital 
 current gushed in hissing streams from their bursted 
 bosoms. Officers, as well as men, now mingle in the 
 uproaring strife, and snatching the weapons of the 
 slain, swell the horrid carnage. Glorying in his con- 
 tinentals, the brave De Kalb towers before them, like 
 a pillar of fire. His burning face is like a red star, 
 guiding their destructive course ; his voic^, as the 
 horn that kindles the young pack in the chase of blood, 
 A British grenadier, of giant size, rushes on him with 
 a fixed bayonet. De Kalb parries the furious blow, 
 and plunges his sword in the Briton's breast ; then, 
 seizing his falling arms, he deals death around him 
 on the crowding foe.' Loud rise the shouts of the 
 Americans ; but louder still the shouts of the more 
 numerous enemy. The battle burns anew along all 
 the fierce conflicting line. There, the distant 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 odds ? The sons of freedom bleed on eyery side. 
 With grief their gallant leader marks the fall of his 
 heroes; soon himself to fall. For, as with a face all 
 inflamed in the fight, he bends forward animating hia 
 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, Mon- 
 sier du Buyson, ran to him, and stretching his arms 
 over the fallen hero, 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 Cornwallis was so stn»«'k 
 
G£N. FRANCIS MARION. 107 
 
 with the braverj' of De Kalb, that he generously au- 
 perinte^nded while his wounds were dressed, by his 
 own surgeons. It has also been said, that he appoint 
 ed him to be bui ied with the honours of war. British 
 oilicers 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 bvit 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, w^ith 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 hiin 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 low-laid head; no cypress decked his ^^<?/. But 
 the tall corn stood in darkening ranks around him, 
 and seemed to shake their green leaves with joy over 
 his narrow dwelling. 
 K 2 
 
108 THE LIFE OF 
 
 But the roar of his battle is not yet quite passed 
 away, nor his ghastly wounds forgotten. The citizens 
 of Camden have lately enclosed his grave, and placed 
 on it a handsome marble, with an epitaph gratefully 
 descriptive of his virtues and strv^ices, that the 
 people of future days may, like Washington, heave 
 the sigh when they read of " the generous strangei 
 who came from a distant land to fight their battles, 
 and to water, with his blood, the tree of their liber- 
 ties." 
 
 Fair Camden's plains his glorious dust inhume, 
 Where annual Ceres shades her hero's tomb. 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 Marion and the authoY very busy in dtstroying the 
 rice-makers'* boats on Santee^— first got the nexvs of 
 the defeat of our armijj and death of the brave De 
 
 • Kalb^ Marion addresses his followers — their gal 
 lant reply, 
 
 MARION and myself, as yet ignorant of the fate 
 of the army, were on the waters of the Santee, very 
 busily executing our boat-burning orders. Not con- 
 tent with destroying the common scows and flats of 
 the ferries, we went on to sweep the river of every 
 skiff and canoe that v/e could lay hands on ; nay, had 
 the harmless wonkopkins been able to feriy an Eng- 
 lishman over the river, we should certainly have de 
 clared war and hurled our firebrands among them, 
 
 The reader may be sure we gained no gOv)d will bv 
 our zeal in this affair ; for n was a serious thing to the 
 planters : and their w^ratf waxed exceedingjv hot 
 against us. Among that fl.-et of boats and flat's that 
 perished by our firebrands or hatchets, there were two 
 that belonged to my e3ccellent old uncle, colonel E. 
 Horrr. Tne old g«ntJ^m»n couid hardlv believe his 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION 109 
 
 iiegroes, 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 
 see. We had completely done for his scow, and were 
 just giving the finishing blows to his boat as he hove 
 m 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 coals, and 
 his mouth all in a lather, he roared out, " Why, what ? 
 what ? what are you about here ?" 
 
 " We are only trying to kidnap the British, uncle," 
 said I. 
 
 " Kidnap the d — I,'^ 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 oui 
 boats! why, how are we to harve.'jc our rice?'* 
 
 " Uncle,'* said I, " you had better think less of har 
 vesting your rice, and more of cajching 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 r 
 >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 
 
 " 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 utter a word. 
 Presently my uncle, casting a searching eye around ^ 
 on our men, about thirty in number, asked where ouif 
 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 planters' 
 boats at this rate, but I would not be in your coat, my 
 lad, for your jacket, though it was stiif with gold." 
 I asked him what he meant by that ? 
 " Why, I mean," replied he, " that if you are not, 
 all of you, knocked on the head in three hours, it will 
 be a wonder." 
 
 " Aye ! what makes you think so, uncle V said I, 
 He answered : " You know my old waiting man, 
 Tom, don't you ?" 
 
 " To be sure I do." said I ; " I have known Tom 
 ever since I was a boy, and should be confounded sor- 
 ry to hear Tom prophesy any harm of me ; for I have 
 always taken him to be a 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, yet, 
 I would as soon take Tom's word as that of any white 
 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 shook liis 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 
 their bullets, and making ready to cut you off." 
 I looked at Marion and 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 thmk of visiting;" and turning to his trumpeter, 
 I ordered him to wind his horn, which was instantly 
 done. Then placing himself at our head, he dashed 
 off at a charging lope ; v/ith equal speed we followed 
 and soon lost sight of my uncle Horry. 
 j - On reaching the woods, Marion ordered the troop 
 I to halt and form ; when, with his usual modesty, he 
 , thus addressed us : 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, you see our situation ! widely 
 
 different from what it once was. Yes, once we were 
 
 a happ}' people ! Liberty shone upon our land, bright 
 
 I as the sun that gilds yon fields ; while we and our 
 
 I fathers rejoiced in its lovely beams, gay as the birds 
 
 ( that enliven pur forests. But, alas ! those golden days 
 
 I 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 deach. Two gallant 
 
 ' armies have been marched to our assistance ; but, for 
 
 I lack of competent commanders, both have been lost. 
 
 I That under general Lincoln, after having beeu duped 
 
 I and butchered at Savannah, was at last completely 
 
 trapped at Charleston, And that under general Gates, 
 
 I after having been imprudently overmarched, is now 
 
 cut np at Camden. Thus are all our hopes from the 
 
 north entirely at an end j 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 
 
 the enemy against her. And now, my countrymen, I 
 
IW 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 I 
 live, she Hb<>13 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 oui* 
 own : and that we were steadfastly determined to die 
 with him, or conquer for our country. 
 
 " Well then, my brave friends," said he, " draw 
 your swords ! Now for a circle, emblematical of 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 peofle of South Carolina to submit and 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 11 
 
 I Cake royal protections ! ! Numbers of the ignorant and 
 , pusillanimous sort closed with the offer. But the no- 
 bler ones of the district, ( William sburgh) having no 
 . notion of selling their liberties for a pig in a poke ^ 
 J called a caucus of their own, from whom they select- 
 , cd captain John James, and sent him down to mastei 
 captain Ardeisoff, to know what he would be at. This 
 captain James, by birth an Irishman, had rendered 
 j himself so popular in the district, that he was made a 
 ] militia captain under the royal government. But in 
 l75^ 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 
 j( never serve a tyrant. Such was the gentleman 
 chosen by the aforesaid liberty caucus, to go on the 
 i embassy before mentioned. In the garb of a plain 
 . planter, James presented himself before the haughty 
 captain Ardeisoff, and politely asked " on what terms 
 i himself and friends must submit ?" 
 j " What terms, sir !" replied the angry Briton, 
 ( " what terms ! why, no other terms, you may be sure, 
 j than unconditional submission." 
 * " Well but, sir," answered James, very calmly, 
 ] •* are we not to be allowed to stay at home in peace 
 j and quiet ?" 
 
 '* In peace 'and quiet, indeed !" replied Ardeisoff, 
 
 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 
 
 jyou deserve, would now be dancing like dogs at the 
 
 arms of the gallows. But his majesty is merciful, sir; 
 
 land now that he has graciously pardoned you, he ex- 
 
 jpects you will immediately take up arms and turn 
 
 lout in support of his cause." 
 
 I " You are very candid, sir," said James ; " and now 
 [ hope you will not be displeased with me for being 
 equally plain. Permit me, then, sir, to tell you that 
 
114 THE LIFE OF 
 
 such terms will never go down with the gentlemen 
 whom I have the honour to represent." 
 
 " The gentlemen you have the honour to represent, 
 you d — n — d rebel !" 
 
 Vesuvius ! JEtna. ! 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 — d rebel ! 
 
 Instantly springing up, with eyes of lightning, he 
 snatched up his chair, and, regardless of consequences, 
 laid the audacious Ardeisoff sprawling on the floor; 
 then flying to his horse, he mounted and made his 
 escape. Learning from him, at his return, what they 
 had to understand by Bntisk protections^ his gallant 
 constituents came at once to the resolution to anji and 
 fight till death, rather than hold life on such ignomini- 
 ous terms. Immediately the whole force of the district, 
 about two hundred, able to bear arms, were mustered 
 and placed under captains William MXoltery, John 
 M'Cawley, Henr)" 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 learnmg 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 Rutledgc, 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, 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, INIarion had but ten men with him ; but 
 on reaching Santee, we were joined by major John 
 James, with about twenty gallant gentlemen volun' 
 feers, making his whole force about thirty. 
 
 A slender force to be sure, to oppose to the tremen 
 ilous powers which Marion had to encounter ! But, 
 ** the Lord is king, the victory is his !" and when he 
 
i-aoc 114 
 
 Captain J jLmes, knoclang cIozdh Can'.un Ardirisijif 
 with € Chair. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. :15 
 
 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 
 r-ader by informing him, that the noble major lost 
 nothing by his attachment to duty and the rights of 
 man. He lived to see CornVvallis, Tarleton, and Raw- 
 don, laid as low as the insolent Ardf'isofF; and after 
 enjoying many years of sweet repose, under the plea- 
 sant shade of peace and plenty, he sunk gently to 
 rest. But though now fallen asleep, he still lives in 
 his country's gratitude, and in the virtues of his son, 
 who fills one of the highest places in the judiciary of 
 his native state. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV, 
 
 Carolina apparently lost — Marion almost alone, keeps 
 the field— begins to figure — surprises a strong Bri" 
 tish 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 ^a/: "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 1 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 Jacksonborough, with 
 swarms of thievish and bloody minded tories, filling 
 up all between ; and the spirits of the poor whigs so 
 completely cowed, that they were fairly knocked u« 
 
113 THE LIFE OF 
 
 der to the civil and military yolce of the Brili*! ; 
 who, I ask again, will believe, that in this desperate 
 state of things, one little, swarthy, French^phizzed 
 Carolinian, with only thirty of his ragged country, 
 men, issuing out of the swamps, should have dared 
 to turn his horse's head towards this all conquering \ 
 foe ? \ 
 
 Well, Marion was that man. He it was, who, with 
 his feeble force, dared to dash up at once to Nelson's 
 feny, 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 
 ooir hiding place in the swamp, before in came our 
 scouts at half speed, stating that a British guard, with 
 a world of American prisoners, were on their march 
 for Charleston. 
 
 " How many prisoners do you suppose there were 1 * 
 said Marion. 
 
 " Near two hundred," replied the scouts. 
 
 " And what do you imagine was the number of the 
 British guard?" 
 
 "Why, sir, we counted about ninety." 
 
 "Ninety!" said Marion with a smile; "ninety! Well, 
 that will do. And now, gentlemen, if you will only 
 stand by me, I've a good hope that we thirty will have 
 those ninety by to-morrow's sunrise." 
 
 We told 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 party of good loyalist'!. 
 we easily got set over. The enemy, with their prison- 
 tT'^ having just effected the passage of the river ag 
 tiu'. iiim went down, halted nt the first tavern gene 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. in 
 
 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 
 bcastified, to the ground. 
 
 Just as the cock had winded his last horn for day 
 we approached the house in perfect concealment, be- 
 hind a string of fence, within a few yards of it. But 
 in spite of all our address, we could not effect a com- 
 plete surprisal of them. Their sentinels took tlie 
 alarm, and firing their pieces, fled into the yard. Swift 
 as lightning we entered with them, and seizing their 
 muskets, which M^ere 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 
 che survivors, they could hardly have roared out 
 lOuder 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 high hopes, that the Ameri- 
 can regulars, whom be 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 ozvn disgrace, not one of them could be pre- 
 vailed on to shoulder a musket ! " Where is the use,*' 
 said they, " of fighting now, when all is lost ?'' 
 This was the general impression. And indeed- 
 \j 2 
 
118 THE LIFE OF 
 
 except these unconquerable spirits, Marion and 
 Sumpter, witii a few others of the same heroic stamp, 
 who kept the field, Carolina was no better than a 
 British province. 
 
 In our late attack on the enemy, we had but four 
 rounds of powder and ball ; and not a single sword 
 that deserved the name. But Marion soon remedied 
 that defect. He bought up all the old saw blades 
 from the mills, and gave them to the smiths, who 
 presently manufactured for us a parcel of substantial _ 
 broadswords, sufficient, . as I have often seen, to kill 
 a man at a single blow. 
 
 From our prisoners in the late action, we got com- 
 pletely armed ; a couple of English muskets, with 
 bayonets and cartouch-boxes, to each of us, with . 
 which we retreated into Britton's Neck. 
 
 We had not been there above twenty-four hours 
 before the news was brought us by a 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 foi'ty 
 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 frienof the tories, who presently 
 despatched three stout companies to attack us. Tv/o 
 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 us, they gave over the chase, and r 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION, tt9 
 
 treated for their respective stations ; the British to 
 Georgetown, and the tories to Black Mingo. Learn- 
 ing this, from the swift mounted scouts whom h^ 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- 
 I rately. But losing their commander, and being hard 
 pressed, they at length gave way, and fled in the ut- 
 most precipitation, leaving upwards of two-thirds of 
 ' their number, killed and wounded, on the gi'ound. — 
 ; The surprise and destruction of the tories would 
 I have been complete, had it not been for the alarm 
 j given by our horses' feet in passing Black Mingc 
 bridge, near which they were encamped. Marion 
 ( never afterwards suffered us to cross a bridge in the 
 i night, until we had first spread our blankets on it, to 
 I prevent noise. 
 
 I This third exploit of Marion rendered his name 
 
 I very dear to the poor ivhigs^ but utterly abominable 
 
 I 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, 
 
 j though twenty miles from the field of battle ; but 
 
 continued their flight, not thinking themselves safe, 
 
 j until they had got Sanree river between him and 
 
 I them. 
 
 I 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, v/here he knew we had some excellent 
 
 j friends ; among whom were the Hugers and Trapiers, 
 
 Lind Alstons ; fine fellows! rich as Jews, and heartij 
 
 !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 of their 
 
120 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 o^ 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, 
 all of the fattest and Jinest^ and sweetly graced with 
 the smiles of the great ladies, were spread before us, 
 as though we had been kings : while Congress and 
 Washington v/ent round in sparkling bumpers, from 
 old demijohns that had not left the garret for many a 
 year. 
 
 This was feasting indeed ! It was a feasting of the 
 SOU- as well as of the sense. To have drawn the 
 sword for liberty and dear country's sake, was, of 
 Itself, no mean reward to honest republicans ; but, 
 beside that, to be so honoured and caressed, l^y tk 
 great ones of the land, was like throwing the zone o£ 
 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 
 rallyrig pomt of the poor whigs j 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 rhe country, they would 
 mount tlieir boys and push them oiTto 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 
 Waccamav/, when a likely young fellow at half speed 
 drove up one morning to the house, and asked fo* 
 general Marion. 
 
GEN FRANCIS MARION. 121 
 
 Marion went to the door. 
 
 " Well, my son, what do you want with me ?" 
 
 " Why, sir Keneral,'* replied the youth, " daddy 
 sent me down to let you know, as how there ig to be 
 a mighty gathering of the toriea, in our parts, to-mor- 
 row night.'* * 
 
 *' Aye indeed ! and pray whereabouts, my son, may 
 your parts be ?** 
 
 " Heigh, sir general ! don't you know where ou! 
 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." 
 
 " Yes, by jing, does he live a good way up ! a mat- 
 ter of seventy miles ; clean away up there, up on Little 
 Pedee." 
 
 " Very well, my son, I thank your daddy, and you 
 too, for letting me know it. And, I believe, I must 
 try to meet the tories there." 
 
 " O la, sir general, try to meet 'em indeed! yes, to 
 be sure ! dear me, sirs, hearts alive, that you must, sir 
 p"eneral ! 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, oi your 
 doing's, and are going to hold this great meeting, on 
 purpose to come all the way down here after yoti.^^ 
 
 " After me ?" 
 
 " 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- 
 tcwn, and brought up ci matter of two wagon loads of 
 guns ; great big English muskets ! I can turn my 
 J thumb in them easy enough ! And, besides them 
 ' plaguy guns, they have got a tamed nation sight o-f 
 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, 
 \ »ir general." 
 
 ^ 
 
1:22 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " Well, perhaps you and I may have some of then 
 fine things to-morrow night. What say you to it, my 
 son r 
 
 " By jing, I should like it proper well ! But, to b« 
 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 part}'^ were well acquaint- 
 ed with the lad's father, and knew him to be an ex- 
 cellent whig. 
 
 Having put our firearms in prime order for an at- 
 tack, 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 veiy gaily towards 
 the place the lad had told us of. Soon as it was 
 dark, we mounted, and took the track at a sweeping 
 gallop, which, by early supper time, brought us in 
 sight of their fires. Then leaving our horses under 
 a small guard, we advanced quite near them, in the 
 dark, without being discovered ; for so little thought 
 had they of Marion, that they had not placed a single 
 sentinel ; but were, all hands, gathered about the 
 fire : some cooking, some fiddling and dancing, np-* 
 
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 ! My tricky begad I'''* 
 
 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 dead ; 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 manj'^ 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 carrj'ing 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 Avith a trump that spoiled his sport, and non- 
 suited him for ever. 
 
 But the most comfortable sight of all, was the fire 
 
VM THE LIFE OF 
 
 supper which the tories had cooked ! three fat roasted 
 pigs, and six turkeys, with piles of nice journey-cakes. 
 Tis true, the dead bodies lay very thick round the 
 fires : but having rode seventy miles, and eating no- 
 thhig since the night before, we were too keen set to 
 think of standing on trifles ; so fell upon the poor 
 tories' 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 it 
 shall be no foe to us." So, after ordering half a pint 
 to each man, he had the balance put under guard. 
 And I must observe, by way of justice to my honour- 
 ed friend, that success never seemed to elate him ; 
 nor did ever he lose sight of safety in the blaze of 
 victor}^ For instantly after the defeat, our guns were 
 all loaded and pnr sentinels set, as if an enemy had 
 been in force in the neighbourhood. 
 
 CHAPTER X\ 
 
 The whig-s in hig-h spirits on account of our successes 
 
 an express from Governor Rutledge^iromotions 
 
 British and tories in g-reat xvrath-sketch of their 
 treatment of the patriots. 
 
 THE nev/s of this fourth overthrow of the enemy, 
 was soon spread far and wide among both our friends 
 and foes ; producing every where the liveliest emo- 
 tions of joy or sorrow, according as the hearers hap- 
 pened to be well or ill aflected towards us. The im- 
 pression which 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. 1S4 
 
 Hon, and a full coloners commission for me. Having 
 always looked up to my country as to a beloved mo- 
 ther, whose liberty and prosperity were inseparably 
 connected with my own, it is no wonder that I should 
 have been so deliglvted at hearing her say, by her fa- 
 vourite son, governor Rutledge, thm, rep osmg" especial 
 trust in my courage^ conduct^ and attrition to her in' 
 terestSy she had appointed me a colonel in her armies ^ 
 &c. &c. 
 
 Scarcelyhad I perused my commission, before Ma- 
 rion reached me his ; and with a smile, desired me to 
 read it. Soon as I came to his new title, " brigadiei 
 general," I snatched his hand and exclaimed," Iluzza! 
 God save my friend ! my noble General Marion 1 
 general! general I Aye that will do ! that will do! that 
 Bounds somewhat in unison with your deserts." 
 
 " 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. 
 I " No,^' continued he ; *' why now to my notion, it ia 
 ( very much in the turgid, in the Asiatic. It gives me 
 1 dominions from river to river, and from the mountains 
 ^ to the great sea, like Tamerlane or Ghenghis Khan ; 
 1 or like George III. * by the grace of God^ king oj 
 * 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 ; 
 8o I suppose the good governoi 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 
 Buch an unconquerable patriot as Marion. 
 
 Hence, when he found, that notwithstanding the 
 many follies and failures of northern generals and ar- 
 mies ; notwithstanding the victoiies, and proclaraa* 
 M 
 
158 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sir, only to desire that you will tak^ 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 Comwallis proved to South Ca- 
 olina like the opening of Pandora's box. 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- 
 Tliis man was, by birth, a Scotsman ; but, in princi- 
 ple and practice, a INIohawk. So totally destitute was 
 ne of that amiable sympathy which belongs to his 
 nation, that, in sailing up Winy aw 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 
 gi-udges ; for avar'ce to cram her maw with plunder j 
 and revfjige 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 
 
 •Micl say, " There lives a d — d rebel." The amiable 
 vfiajor 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-swim- 
 ming eyes implored him to pity, and not to bum their 
 house over their heads. Such eloquence, which has 
 often moved the breasts of savages, was all lost on 
 major 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 
 law is love, and they who sin against this lav/, 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 of 
 his senses, he sets off and runs towards his house. — 
 Still, as he cuts the air, he groans out, " Oh, my pooi 
 wife and children !" Presently he hears their cries ; 
 he sees them .at a distance with outstretched arms 
 flying towards him. Oh, pa! pa! pa! his children 
 tremblingly exclaim ; while his wife, all pale and ou 
 of breath, falls on his bosom, and, feebly crying out. 
 " The British ! oh the British,'''' sinks into a swoon. 
 Who can tell the feelings of the father and the 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 
 and 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 
 M 2 
 
1S8 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sir, only to desire that you will take 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 Comwallis proved to South Ca- 
 olina like the opening of Pandora's box. 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- 
 Tliis man v\ras, by birth, a Scotsman ; but, in princi- 
 ple and practice, a ISIohawk. So totally destitute was 
 ne of tliat 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 vialice to feed her ancient 
 grudges ; for avar'ce to cram her maw with plunder; 
 and reve.n^e 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, 
 bad but to point out his house to major Weymies, 
 
GEN, FRANCIS MARION. 12? 
 
 ■Mid say, ** There lives a d — d rebel." The amiable 
 vnajor 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-swim- 
 ming eyes implored him to pity, and not to bum their 
 house over their heads. Such eloquence, which has 
 often moved the breasts of savages, was all lost on 
 major 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 beaverSj 
 whose houses they are breaking up. 
 
 But, oh, joy eternal! " the Lord is king." His 
 law is love, and they who sin against this lav/, 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 of 
 his senses, he sets off and runs towards his house. — 
 Still, as he cuts the air, he groans out, " Oh, my pooi 
 wife and children !" Presently he hears their cries ; 
 he sees them .at a distance with outstretched arms 
 flying towards him. Oh, pa! pa! pa! his children 
 tremblingly exclaim ; while his wife, all pale and ou 
 of breath, falls on his bosom, and, feebly crying out, 
 "The British ! oh the British^'' sinks into a swoon. 
 Who can tell the feelings of the father and the 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 
 and 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 
 U 2 
 
ISO THE LIFE OF 
 
 map.sion which shone so beauteous on the plain, the 
 pride and pleasure of their eyes, is now the prey of 
 devouring flames. Their slaves have all disappeared j 
 dicir 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 o£ 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 afRuence, 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 j 
 and brought them, in crowds, to join his standard, 
 with muskets in their hands, and vows of revenge 
 eternal in their mouths. 
 
 Hence it was that nothing so pleased Marion as to 
 hear of British cruelty to his countrymen. 
 
 " 'Tis a harsh medicine^^- he used to say, " but it is 
 necessary ; for there is nothing else that will ivork 
 them. And unless they are well -worked and scoured 
 of their mother milk, or beastling 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 Ui 
 
 to keep him easy, and he's a dead man. But if yoM 
 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 ?. bone in his throat, he is safe. 
 Cornwallis h»s all this time been lulling them by his 
 proclamations^ and p7'otec.tions^ and lies. But, thank 
 God, that time is pretty well over now ; for these un- 
 feeling monsters, these children of the devil, have let 
 out the cloven foot^ and the thing is now beginning to 
 work as I expected. Our long deluded people are 
 opening their eyes, and beginning to see and smell the 
 blood and burnings of that Tophet^ that political hell 
 of slavery and ruin, to which the British army is now 
 endeavouring, by murder and rapine, to reduce 
 them." 
 
 This was truly the case : for, every day the whigs 
 were coming into Marion's camp. Those who were 
 too old to fight themselves, would call upon their 
 sturdy boys to " turn out and join [general Marion^'^ 
 
 It was diverting to see how they would come 
 staving upon their tackies ; belted round with tlieir 
 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 v/hose 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 vis ?" 
 
 " Why, why, why, sir general,'* replies the youth, 
 Kalf cocked with rage, and stammering for words, 
 '' as I was overlooking my father's negi'oes in the rice 
 grounds, the British and tories came and took them 
 Mid carried thepi all away ; and I only am left alone 
 to tell you." 
 
 Presently another comes and savs; "As I was 
 iriving the horses and cattle down to the pasture, 
 
133 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the British and tones 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 : " 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 and 
 myself were ploughing together in the field, and the 
 British and tories came upon us and shot my father^ 
 and I only am left alone to tell you." 
 
 Another comes and tells, that "lord Rawdon is 
 taking the whig prisoners every week, out of the jail 
 in Camden, and hanging them up by half dozens, 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 hise 
 lent negroes^ was cursed by the British officers as a 
 d — d rehel^ and driven with kicks a-nd blows into the 
 house, for daring to strike his Britanmc Majesty's 
 subjects r"^ 
 
 Here Marion snapped his fingers for joy, and shout- 
 ed, "/f?/2;2a/ z/i<7^V r/^V;?.' thafs right! O my noble 
 Britons, lay on ! lay on the spaniels stoutly ! they want 
 British protections, do they ? O the rogues ! show 
 them no quarter, but give it to them handsomely! 
 break their Imcks like dogs ! cut them over the face, 
 and eyes like cats ! bang them like asses ! thank ye ! 
 thank ye, Cornv/allis and Rawdon ! most noble lords, 
 I thank ye ! you liave at hist brought the wry face 
 upon my countrymen, tbe cold sweaty the sardonic 
 grin. Thank God ! the potion begins to work ' 
 huzza, ray sons ! heave ! heave I aye, there comes the 
 bile; the atrabi liar y; the black vomiting which por- 
 tends death to the eneiny. Now Britons, look to your 
 »hips, for Carolina will soon be ton hot to hold you." 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. IS^ 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Colonel Tynes^ the famous tonj partisan^ attempts to 
 surprise Marion — is himself surprised and taken* 
 with nearly all his party — the author^ xuith thirty 
 choice cavalie7's^ sent by Marion to reconnoitre — de- 
 ft ut of a British party af horse — anecdoie of Scotch 
 Macaonald — surprise and slaughter of the tories — 
 captain Lewis is killed — anecdoie of an extraordi 
 niry led. 
 
 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 
 gi'eat preparations to attack him. Ihis Tynes was a 
 man of valour and address worthy of a better cause. 
 In several contests with the wViigs, 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 whij; settlements on Black river, stating 
 colonel Tynes^ movements ; and advising to keep a 
 g'ood look outy for that he was a very artful and dan^ 
 gerous fellow . According to their conjectures, colonel 
 Tynes must have had no less than one hundred and 
 fifty men: our number did not quite reach ninety j 
 but they wer<i all volunteers, and exceedingly chafed 
 and desperate in their minds, by the barbarous usage 
 of the Britifih and tories. Having, by this day's 
 march of fifty miles, got within twenty miles of the 
 enemy, who supposed that we were still on Pedee. 
 Marion instantly resolved to attack him that night. 
 No sooner was this made known to the *roops, than 
 the fatigues of the day appeared to be entirely for- 
 gotten. All hands fell to work, currying, rubbing and 
 feeding their norses, like young men preparing for a 
 
54 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 off 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 their 
 escape. Colonel Tynes himself, with upwards of one 
 hundred horses, and all the baggage, fell into our 
 hands. 
 
 A day or two after this victory, the general order 
 ed me to take captain Baxter, lieutenant Postell, and 
 sergeant Macdonald, with thirty privates, and see if I 
 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 da%vn 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 j 
 brace of British officers elegantly mounted, came ' 
 along at a sweeping rate from Georgetown. 
 
 They had not passed us more than fifty steps, before : 
 they stopped short. I was confoundedly afraid at first - 
 that they had, somehow or other, smelt a rat ; hut it 
 turned out, as we afterwards learned, that this was '] 
 only a little courting party, going into the country to j 
 dine. On getting into the gloomy woods, the P^irls \ 
 were taken with a quaking fit for their sweethearts, ' 
 lest that vile " swamp fox," as they called Marion, i 
 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 an to their i 
 friend's house, and the officers back to town for a par- j 
 ty of dragoons. Accordingly the chair proceeded, and j 
 the ofiieerg galloped brxk by us, undisturbed ; for we 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 135 
 
 { did not think it worth while to risk an alarm for the 
 p sake of a couple of officers. Presently beginning to 
 1 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 
 I whig. As we entered the yard, what should we see 
 . but the identical chair that had passed us a little be 
 t fore ! — and on stepping into the house, behold the 
 ,5 very same young ladies ! They were richly dressed, 
 \ and well formed, and v/ould 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 
 I pertness, " what business we had there ? The gentle- 
 j man of the house," continued they, " is not at home, 
 and there are no provisions here for you, and to be 
 i sure, you are too much of gentlemen to think of 
 ( frightening a family of poor helpless women!" 
 I Happily I made no reply ; for while these young 
 H 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 
 I and forward with a smiling countenance. Presently 
 I she went out; and showing herself at an opposite win- 
 ^ dow, beckoned me to come to her ; when she said, in 
 J a low voice, " Go back ^nto the house, I'll be there 
 j directly. Op my stepping iii you must demand pro- 
 visions ; I will deny that I have ar^y. You must then 
 get into a violent passion, and sweai' v^ou 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 aad 
 your horses." 
 
 Such was the farce, which the whigs in those days, 
 60th ladies and gentlemen, were obliged to play, when 
 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 
 
iS6 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the good-natured cook wenthes soon served up a mo&t 
 welcome repast of fried bacon and eggs, with nice 
 hearth cakes and butter and milk. " God be praised," 
 said we ; and down w^e sat, and made a breakfast, 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 wc hear but the firing of our 
 sentinels. "To horse/ to horse J viy brave felloxvs !'*'' 
 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 v/ord. In a moment the yard was bright with the 
 shining of our swords. The tcry girls shrieked out 
 for their sweethearts- — ^Oh the British J the British ! 
 murder! murder! OA/" Then off we went, all at 
 once, in solid column. The enemy took to their heels, 
 and we pursued. Over the fence we bounded like 
 stags. Down the hill went the British. Down the 
 hill went we; helter-skelter, man and horse, v.^e flew: 
 roaring through the woods like the sound of distant 
 thunder. 
 
 Wc v/cre all excellently mounted ; but there was 
 no horse that could hold the --vay with Selim. He 
 ^as the hindmost of all when the ^hase began ; and 
 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 hia 
 prey. He soon had his master up v/ith the enemy. 
 I saw when Macdonald drew his claymore. The 
 shin'mg of his steel was terrible, as, rising on his stir- 
 rups, with high-lifted arm, he waved it three times 
 m fiery circles over his head, as if to call up all his 
 strength. Then, with a voice of thunder, he poured 
 his changing shout,, dreadful as the roar of the lion 
 when, close up to his game, with hideous paws un 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. l&T 
 
 clenched, he makes his last spring on the fat buffaloes 
 of his chase. 
 
 Though their mortal enemy, I could not but pity 
 the poor fugitives, for I saw that their death was at 
 hand. One of the British officers fired a pistol at 
 him, but without effect : before he could try another, 
 he was cut down by Macdonald. After this, at a 
 blow a piece, he sealed the eyes of three dragoons 
 in lasting sleep. Two fell beneath the steel of the 
 strong-handed Snipes ; nor did my sword return 
 bloodless to its scabbard. In short, of the whole 
 party, consisting of twenty-five, not a man escaped-, 
 except one officer, who, in the heat of the chase 
 and carnage, cunningly shot off, at right angles, for 
 a swamp, which he luckily gained, and so cleared 
 himself. 
 
 The name of this officer was Meriot, and as finish- 
 ed a gentleman he was too, as I ever saw. I got ac- 
 quainted with him after the war, at New York. Soon 
 as 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 
 the British officers gave me the slip that day ? I told 
 him I did. " Well," continued he, " I was that offi- 
 cer ; and of all the frights I ever had in my life, that 
 was the most complete. Will 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, 
 I tht'y were as gray as a badger ! I was well nigh 
 taking an oath never to forgive you, during breath, 
 for frightening me so confoundedly. But, away with 
 all malice ! let it go to the devil, where it belongs. 
 So come, you must go dine with me, and I'll show 
 you a lovelier woman than either of those that rode 
 m the chair that day." 
 
 I went with him, and was introduced to his wife^ 
 N 
 
188 THE LIFE OF 
 
 a lovely M'oman indeed ! to whom, with great glee, 
 he related the whole history of the chase, and his owti 
 naiTow escape, and then hiughed very heartily. But 
 not 80 his gentle partner. For, as he told of the 
 shrill whizzing of our s^vords 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. 
 
 Mcriot 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 lips, 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 viarble^ 
 tnmitij 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 others throat- 
 who were born to be brothers. 
 
 But to return to our story. " Meriot," you'll say, 
 " and his brother olTicer, brought their pig-s to a bad 
 market.'''' Yes, indeed; but not a jot worse than some 
 of their friends came to the very day afterwards. Or 
 the morning of that day, Marion, nov/ concealed in 
 the swamps, near Georgetown, was pleased to order 
 me out on a second excursion. " Take captain 
 Snipes," said he, " with thirt}- men, and proceed 
 down the Sandpit road, in quest of the enemy. ^Flie 
 moment you discover them, whether British or to« 
 lies^ charge with spirit, and V\\ warrant vour sue 
 cess. 
 
 ^ As we approached the bridge, f till moving on very 
 ciicumspectly, in the woods, wp discovered pj ■\ -Sort 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 139 
 
 r distance, a body of horsemen, perhaps a hundred, an- 
 t parently in great confusion, and very anxious to form. 
 ' Instantly v/e took the road, and clapping spurs to our 
 horses, dashed upon them at full speed, at the same 
 i 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, otiiers pursuing; and with muskets, 
 i| and pistols, and swords, shooting and cutting down 
 as fast as they could. 
 
 From the unevennessof the ground, and rapidity ot 
 5 the (^arge, my men were all soon out of sight, leav- 
 i ing with me but a lad of fourteen, named Gwinn, whc 
 j carried a musket. At that instant, a party of nine O! 
 I ten men were seen advancing, whom I took for whigs 
 I and challenged as such,askingifthey were not friends ? 
 j " Friends ! O yes !" replied their captain, (one Lewis) 
 \ " friends to be sure ; friends to king George !" 
 I Quick as thought, off went Gwinn's musket, close. 
 I by my side, and down tumbled captain Lewis from 
 nis horse, with a heavy squelch, to the ground. Bui 
 in the very instant of receiving his death, his musket^ 
 I which was raised to kill mt, took Rre 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 fital day to the torics, who must have 
 lost more than half their number. For I had with me 
 not only Macdonald and Snipes, but several other 
 very strong and brave men, whose families had suf- 
 fered very severely, by British and tory cruelty ; and, 
 I am afraid, they did not forget this, when their 
 
140 THE LIFE OF 
 
 swords were hanging over the heads of the fugitives, 
 At any rate, they took but few prisoners. 
 
 In the course of this day's fighting, there happened 
 an affair which served to amuse us not a little on our 
 return to our camp that night. The tories, who, from 
 time to time had fallen into our hands, were often 
 easing their vexation, by saying, that it was true, 
 '' 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 still 
 one left behind, who, they were sure, if he could 
 come forward, would soon show us quite a different 
 sort of play; and that was colonel Gainey, from the 
 head waters of Pedee." We answered, that it was 
 all very well ; and that we should be glad to see colo- 
 nel Gainey. Now, as God was pleased to have it, 
 who should it be, that with one-third of his number, 
 we had been chasing so to-day, but colonel Gainey ; 
 a stout oflRcer-looking fellow he was too, and most 
 nobly mounted. Macdonald made a dash at him, in 
 full confidence of getting a gallant charger. But the 
 good book tells us, that " the race is not always to the 
 swift :" and owing partly to the fleetness of his 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 them. 
 His eye was fixed on colonel Gainey. Just as they 
 turned Richmond corner, Selim had brought his mas- 
 ter near enough to his prey to make a stroke at him 
 with his bayonet. By a sudden jerk, it is supposed, 
 the weapon turned ; so that when Macdonald drew 
 back the carbine, he left the bayonet up to the hilt m 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION.' 141 
 
 his back. In this way colonel Gainey rode into town 
 prodigiously to his ov/n and the mortification of hi* 
 friends the British and tories. 
 
 HrtlUiH! 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Spirit of the tories — assassination of lieutenant Marion 
 — the murderer murdered — Marior^^ reflections on 
 the death of his nephew — his manner oj rewardint^ 
 extraordinary courage among his men"--^ ketch of ilie 
 brave boy Gwinn. 
 
 "If mortal htinds thy peace destroy, 
 
 O: friendsVup's gifts bestow, 
 Wilt thou to iiian ascribe the joy, 
 
 To man impute the wo ? 
 
 " *Tis GOD, whose thoughts for wisest e-mls, 
 
 The human lots dispose; 
 Around thee plants assisting fviends, 
 
 Or heaps chastising foes. 
 
 "Not from the bonv the deaths proceed, 
 But from the Archei'^s skill. 
 
 He lends the winged shaft its jpeed, 
 And irives it power to kill/* 
 
 gives It powei 
 
 AND here I must relate a tragicr/i affair that befei 
 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 knoTvn him to talk 
 ft)r a quarter of an hour together, with one of his men, 
 for striking over the head, a horse that had started ; 
 and to punish another for taking away from a negro» 
 his ragged chicken. To reabon then like men, one 
 would suppose that he wa$ the last person on whom 
 N2 
 
142 THE LIFE OF 
 
 such 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>e at that time, there 
 €an be no doubt but that was the right time. 
 
 The manner of his death was this. We have told 
 the reader, that, in the course of this day's fighting, , 
 we retook from the tories four of Marion's men, whom 
 they had very barbarously beaten with the butts of 
 their guns. On being asked how they came to fall 
 into such bad company, they said, that immediately 
 after sending me 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, 
 and was taken. The tories murdered several of their 
 unfortunate prisoners in cold blood, by 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 " he was 
 one of the breed of that d- — d old rebel," and that 
 they would have his hearths blood. They, moreover, 
 swore, with the most horrid oaths, that if the man 
 did not instantly push young Marion from him, they 
 would hlo-w him through also. The unfortunate youth, 
 being then thrust from the side of his friend, wa^ im- 
 mediately destroyed. 
 
GEN. FRANC iS MARION. 143 
 
 I hope the tender mercies of God are so great as 
 not to let our unworthiness 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 
 j of Black river that night, an officer rode up to him, 
 while marching in the line of prisoners under guard, 
 I 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 sav^age 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 m.an 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 OF 
 
 y ights of man, he is, no doubt, happy ; and this is my 
 tomfort." 
 
 The next day Marion ordered the troops under 
 arms, and formed them into a large circle, all fronting 
 the centre. While we were ^vondering 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 , 
 and besides, his saying he was the friend of Georob 
 the thirds was enough for me ; I did not think I could 
 fire too quick on such a man as that." 
 
 But when the sergeant, at the order of Marion, led 
 up to him the horse, richly furnitured, as aforesaid, 
 the confusion and grimace of the lad were truly di- 
 verting. He blushed, he chuckled, he looked around 
 and around upon his comrades, as if at a loss how to 
 contain himself, or what to do. At length he made 
 shift to reach out his hand to the bridle, though deep- 
 ly blushing, and said, " Dear me now! well la! what 
 will mammy think, and the children, when they come 
 to see me, riding up here on this famous horse, and 
 all these /?;2ff things I I know well enough how mam- 
 my will have a hearty cry, that's what she will ; for 
 she vnW think I st$led him. But if any of the folks 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION, 145 
 
 ap our way should go to jaw about me, at that rate, 
 I trust as hcxu^ 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. A.nd then he was such a dead shot with a 
 I 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 
 I woods, as hard as he could crack it ; and at every 
 \ clip, to bring down the squirrels from the tops of the 
 .' tamest trees in the forest. 
 
146 THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Mutiny in our camp — Marion suppresses it-^his ad' 
 dress to the offcers* 
 
 THIS war, though on our part a war of virtue, v/as 
 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 /icro, 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, thd 
 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 ttiis 
 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 fiame could not ascend^ 
 to what was heavenly and just; but with inverted 
 point, stuck downward to selfishness and vice. Men 
 of this character, though enlisted in the war of liberty, 
 were not her soldiers, felt not her enthusiasm, nor her 
 consolations. They did not walk the camp, glorying 
 in themselves, as men called to the honour of hum- 
 bling the tyrant, and of establishing the golden reign 
 of equal laws, in their own dear country, and thence, 
 perhaps over all the earth. Alas ! no ! strangers to 
 these divdne views and wishes, they look no higheir 
 than sordid gain ! and as there was but little of that 
 kind of pay to be had, they were often gloomy and low 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 147 
 
 sfpirited. " ITieir 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 
 frjiends 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 their 
 Bource 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- 
 band, his piches, though great, were his least recom- 
 mendation, for he possessed all the generosity and 
 honour of the noblest patriot. His soul delighted in 
 Marion, whom he called lYiQ pillar of our cause. Oft 
 fts he took leave of us, for battle, his bosom v/ould 
 heave, his visage swell, and the tear Vt^ould start into 
 his eye. And when he saw us return again, loaded 
 with the spoils of victory c, he would rush to meet us, 
 with all a brcther's transports on his face. His flocks 
 ^nd herds, his meat-houses and corn-fields, were all 
 o\iY 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 am>able of men, was not permitted to 
 Bee 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. 
 j in the rharacter of a nervous fever. As the phvsi- 
 
148 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 trunks, tiiey rifled 
 them of whatever they wanted. 
 
 This most unsoldierly and detestable transaction 
 was communicated to me by Mrs. Cross herself j 
 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! Pof»r 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 lov^e 
 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 back is turned, 
 your people can go and break him up !" 
 
 " Madarn," I replied, " I hope 'tis no offence to 
 ask your pardon ; for 1 really cannot admit a suspi- 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 149 
 
 cion so disgraceful to our troop : and to my certain 
 Knowledge, general Marion placed a guard over your 
 house the moment Mr. Cross left it." 
 
 ""^ Yes, sir," said she, '' that's very true. And it 
 was like general Marion. But some of our officers 
 have forced the guard and broken open the house, 
 and this instant I saw one of them with Mr. Cross's 
 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 sec 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 
 side ! 
 
 It was well for the Avretch, that I did not possess 
 the eyes of a basilisk, for I should certainly have 
 blasted him en the spot. Pausing, however, one 
 salutary moment, to confirm myself in the love of 
 virtue, by noting how abominable a villain looks, I 
 hasted to'the general with the hateful tale ; which ex- 
 cited m hi«i honest bosom the indignation which I 
 had expected. Then calling one of his aids, he said, 
 
 " Go to major , and desire him to send me Mr. 
 
 Cross's sword immediately." 
 
 The aid was.presently back, but without the sword. 
 On being asked by the general, wh}* he had not 
 I brought it, he replied ; " The major says, sir, that the 
 sword does not belong to Mr. Cross. He says, 
 moreover, that if you want the sword, you must go 
 for it yourself." 
 
 "VVell, go back," said the general, "and desire 
 those two officers to come to me." 
 
 It Avas not for suc!i an affair as this to be kept se- 
 cret. Tt too^K wind in a moment ; and by the time 
 the two officers were arrived, almost all the field offi- 
 C) 
 
1 THE LIFE OF 
 
 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 victoiy, 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 
 crief, I find I was mistaken. Yes, gentlemen, our 
 Friend has been robbed, not by the poor untutored 
 privates in the ranks, but by my officers! by those 
 who ought to have abhorred such an act! Yes, gen- 
 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. AnJ now, sir, (address- 
 ing the major) I entreat of you. for the last time, to 
 give me up that sword." 
 
 »>■ iVa pjreat rudeness he svvore he woiild not. In- 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 151 
 
 B^ ly (svery 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 s but looking to the general, I broke out with an 
 oath, that if I commanded as he did, / woicld have 
 that felloxv hung in Jive mi?iutes. 
 
 "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 sv/ord ?" 
 
 " Sir, I will not !" replied the major. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 Seeing 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 
 j t 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 iu our looks ; and thereunon 
 as was common with him, when any sucn occasion 
 served, he arose and addressed us, in, as nearlv as 1 
 can recollect, the fcil- ^-.Sng words : 
 
 " When, gent^em?? r i' ^'. catch the spirit of oui 
 
152 THE LIFE OF 
 
 profession; the spirit of men fighting for a republic /i 
 a commontvealth of brothers I that government most 
 glorious, where God alone is king! that government 
 most pleasant^ where men make and obeij their own 
 laws ! and that government most prosperous^ where 
 men, reaping as they sow, feel the utmost stimulus 
 to every virtue that can exalt the human character 
 and condition ! This government, the glory of the 
 earthy has ever been the desire of the wise and good 
 of ail nations. For this, the Platos of Greece, the 
 Catos of Rome, 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^very 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 
 of God and of human rights. But, in the moment 
 of victory, let the supplicating enemy find us as 
 lovely in mercy, as we are terrible in valour. Our 
 enemies are blind. 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 Cornwallis 
 and Tarleton shall yet flee before us, like frightened 
 wolves before the well armed shepherds !" 
 
 Such werf^ the words of Marion, in the day whei 
 
Page IftS. 
 
 General Marion feasting the British Officer on su^eet 
 potatoes. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. liS 
 
 he saw in our looks, that our hearts were prepared for 
 instruction. And such Avasthe epilogue to the mutiny. 
 The satisfaction which it gave to the 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 encam.pment. Having 
 heard great talk about general Marion, his fancy had, 
 naturally enough, sketched out for him some stout 
 figure of a warrior, such as O'Hara or Cornwallis 
 himself, of martial aspect and flaming regimentals. 
 But what was his surprise, when, led into Marion's 
 presence, and the bandage taken from his eyes, he 
 beheld in our hero, a swarthy, smoke-dried little 
 man, with scarce enough of threadbare homespun to 
 cover his nakedness ! and in place of tall ranks, of 
 gaily dressed soldiers, a handful of sunburnt yellow- 
 legged militia-men ; some roasting potatoes and some 
 askep, with their black firelocks and powderhorns 
 bring 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 
 
 " Oh no '.' buid ^jitt.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 ofllicer 
 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 
 huncjry man. 
 
154 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " Well, Tom," said the general to one of his men 
 " come, give us our dinner." 
 
 The dinner, to which he alluded, was no other than 
 a heap of sweet potatoes, that were very snugly roast- 
 ing under the embers, and which Tom, with his pine 
 stick poker, soon liberated from their ashy confine- 
 ment ; pinching them, every now and then, with his 
 fingers, especially the big ones, to see whether they 
 were well done or not. Then having cleansed them 
 ofthe ashes, partly by blowing them with his breath, 
 and partly by brushing them with the sleeve of his 
 old cotton shirt, he piled som.e 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 cy£ 
 which they sat. 
 
 " I fear, sir," said the general, " our dinner will 
 not prove so palatable to you as I could wish ; but it 
 is the best we have." 
 
 The officer, who was a well bred man, took up one 
 of the potatoes and affected to feed, as if he had found 
 a great dainty; but it was very plain, that he ate 
 more from good manners than good appetite. 
 
 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." 
 
 " No, indeed," quoth the officer ; " and this, I ima- 
 gine, is one of your accidental lent dinners ; a sort of 
 a ba?i yan. In general, no doubt, you live a grea* 
 deal better." 
 
 " Rather worse," answered the general ; " for oftep 
 we don't get enough of this." 
 
 " Heavens !" rejoined the officer. " Bat probably, 
 what you lose in yneal you make up in 7nalt , thongb 
 stinted in provisions^ you draw nobif pay :?" 
 
i 
 
 GEN. FRANCIS MARION. IM 
 
 «Not a cent, sir," said Marion, " not a cent." 
 « Heavens and earth ! then you must be m a bad 
 box. I don't see, general, how you can stand it. 
 
 "Why sir," replied Marion, with a smile of self- 
 approbation, " these things depend on fee mg 
 
 -rhe Englishman said, he " did not believe that it 
 would be an easy matter to reconcile /"^fif'/jXt 
 soldier's life on general Marion's terms ; alfghtzng 
 ^nAnopay! and no provhions ha potatoe.^ 
 
 "Whv sir," answered the. general, the K-art is 
 ill- and,' when that is much interested a man can 
 do '•- !y thing. Many a youth would thmk it hard to 
 fnden^hims'elf a sla've for fourteen years But let 
 him be over head and cars in love, and with such a 
 beTuteous 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- 
 fenlv mmph mv companion, and these wilds and 
 vooL sH havi charms beyond London and Paris 
 n slavery. . To have no proud monarch driving 
 over meTvith his gilt coaches; nor his host of ex. 
 cise-men and tax-gatherers insulting and robbing me, 
 b u t^ be mv own master, my own pnnce and soye- 
 reL gloriously preserving my national dignity, and 
 m rsuiSg my trie happiness ; planting my vineyards, 
 and eltfng their luscious fruits ; and sowing my fields 
 and r^ap^ng the golden grain : and seeing millions of 
 brothers aU around me, equally free and happy as my 
 gelf. This, sir, is what I long for. 
 
 The officer replied, that both as a m,an and a Bri- 
 ton he must certainly subscribe to this as a happy 
 
 '%lpy'''%th Marion; "yes, happy indeed! 
 and I had rather fight for such blessings for my couij- 
 t^ and feed on roots, than keep alooi, though wal- 
 o^^ing in all the luxuries of Solomon. For now, sir 
 I ;;ik the soil that gave me birth and e-Jt >^ *e 
 thought that I am not unworthy of it. I look upon 
 
156 THE LIFE OF 
 
 these venerable trees around me, and feel that I 4 
 not dishonour them. I think of my o\vn sacrei 
 rights, and rejoice that I have not basely deserted 
 them. And when I look forward to the long ages 
 of posterit}'-, I glory in the thought that I am fighting 
 their battles. The children of distant generations 
 may never hear my name ; but still it gladdens my i 
 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 V 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Well, then, has old Washington defeated sir 
 Henry Clinton, and broke up our army V* 
 
 " No, sir, not that neither ; but worsen 
 
 " Ah ! what can be worse ?" 
 
 " '\^Tiy, 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 never rested 
 until he threw up his commission, and retired from 
 the service. 
 
 's 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Uf 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 » Ah brandy I branch'! bane of life, 
 **Sprin£;' of tmnuit — source of strife: 
 « Could I but half thy curses tell, 
 " The wise would wish thee safe at hell." 
 
 Curious and Instriictrje Anecdotes, 
 
 CriAT greai poet, John Milton, who seems to 
 nave known him well, assures us that the devil was 
 the inventor of gunpowder. But, for my own part, 
 were I in the humour to ascribe any particular inven- 
 tion to the author of ail evil, it should be that of dis- 
 tilling apple-brandy. Wt have scripture for it, that 
 he began his capers with the apple; then, why not 
 go on with the brandy, which is hut the fiery juice 
 of the apple ? 
 
 At any rate, I am pretty sure 1 shall hardly ever 
 i)e able to think of it again wivh toi^:rable patience, as 
 »ong as I live. For, it was that vilc iilthy poison that 
 cut me out of one of the finest phxnr s';*; that I ever ex- 
 acted to feather my cap with, 
 i he case stands briefly thus. 1 have told the 
 reader, that Marion surprised and captured the cele- 
 brated tory partisan, colonel Tyncs, after killing the 
 major part of his m^n. For safe keepiiig, he wa.s 
 Aent into North Carolina; whence he made hi.; es- 
 I cape — got back into the forests of Black nver, and 
 collected a stout force to try his fortune a se^OAid 
 time with Mamon. 
 
 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 
 1 taking his zv/io*t party. Tynes w?«» btnt again to 
 . North Carolina; whence he contrived a g.'* in to make 
 I nis escape; and, returning to his old haunts, sooii 
 ( rallied a tormidable force, for a third trial. This 
 Inews was ioon brought to general Marion, who there.- 
 JH^on, dt'i : rrl ra-: 1: 5 take iottf of our best cavalier?^. 
 
15S THE LIFE OF 
 
 and see if we could not scourge colonel Tynes once 
 more. 
 
 About sunset we mounted, and travelled hard all 
 that night and until the middle of next day, when we 
 halted, for refreshment, at the house of one who was 
 truly a " publican and sinner," for he was a great torij. 
 
 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 tiien 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, iiow should the devil be 
 employed, but in tempting my men with the distilled 
 juice of the apple ? Having, by some ill luck, found 
 out that there 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. 
 
 *' What the plague have you got there, boys," said 
 I, " that you are so eternally drinking." 
 
 " Water ! sir, water ! nothing but water !" The 
 rogues were drinking brandy all the time ; but, by 
 way of whipping the devil round the stump, they 
 called it water I that is, apple -water. 
 ^ Presently, finding, from their gaiety and frolick- 
 
 someness, what they had been after, I ordered a hal^ 
 and set myself to harangue them for such unsoldierly 
 conduct. But I might as well have talked to a troop 
 of drunken Yahoos. For, some of them grinned in 
 my face like monkeys ; others looked as stupid as 
 asses ; while the greater part chattered like magpies . 
 each boasted what a clever fellow he was, and what 
 mighty things he could do, yet reeling all the tim 
 and scarcely a^ble to sit his horse. Indeed our gui 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 159 
 
 a fat jolter-headed fellow, 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 
 die ground as helpless as a miller's bag. In short, 
 among my whole corps there was but one sober man, 
 and that was captain Neilson. 
 
 It is not for language to express one thousandth 
 part of my mortification and rage. To have made 
 such an extraordinary march, and at the head of such 
 choice fellows too ; to have come almost within sight 
 of the enemy; an enemy that I was eager to humble, 
 and which would have yielded me so complete and 
 glorious a victory ; and yet to have lost all so shame- 
 fully : and thus like a fool to be sent back to my 
 general, with my finger in my mouth., was, indeed, 
 almost beyond cr^durance. 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 family in that whole district that 
 would, with their good will, have given us an hour's 
 repose, or a morsel of bread. I therefore instantly 
 ordered a retreat, which was made with all the noise 
 and irregularity that might 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 completi; 
 
 i 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 night, colonel Tynes despatched some 
 
 of his cavalry up the road next morning, to see wh?t 
 was the matter. On coming to the spot, where I ha ; 
 
 ♦.vainly endeavoured to form my drunken dogs, th< 
 P ^ 
 
 €■ 
 
160 "' THE LIFE OF 
 
 found on the ground some of our plumes ; which 
 colonel T\Ties 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. But after hearing my doleful stor}% he re- 
 plied with his usual philosophy : ''' Well, you did right 
 to retreat ; but pray keep a careful eye on the apple 
 water next time." 
 
 But to give the devil his due, I must confess there 
 was one instance, in which I thought some good was 
 done by brandy. This was in the Cwise of captain 
 Snipes and his command, which by way of farce to 
 Tsay own tragedy, I beg leave to relate. 
 
 Hearing of a tory camp-meeting not far distant, 
 Marion despatched the brave captain Snipes with a 
 party to chastise them. They had scarcely got upon 
 the tory cruising-ground, before, at a short turn in the 
 road, they came full butt upon a large body of horse- 
 men. Supposing them to be tories, Snipes instantly 
 gave the word to charge ; himself leading the way 
 with his u«ual impetuosity. The supposed tories, 
 wheeling about, took to the sands, and went off, as 
 hard as their horses could stave ; and thus, crack and 
 crack, they had it for about two miles. 
 
 Finding that Snipes was gaining upon them, the 
 runagates began to lighten themselves of every thing 
 they could spare, ?.nd the road was presently strewed 
 with blankets ar J knapsacks. One of them, it seems, 
 carried a five gidlon 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, 
 who lerJ the chase, found i\o dKEculty iu passing tlkc j 
 
 "X. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARUvN. IGI 
 
 keg : lull his men coming up instantly, I loachcd to, wis 
 standing; for they could no more fass by a keg a 
 brandy, than young monkeys could pass a basket ol 
 apples. 
 
 Snipes cursed and raved like a madman, but all i» 
 \ain : for they swore they mimthave a dra?u. While 
 they were devising ways and means how to get into 
 tWe keg, the supposed tories, now a good distance 
 ahead, came to ahalt,and their captain fortunately re- 
 veling that thei,r pursuers might not be I'liemies, sent 
 back a flag. The result was, the very joyful disrover'/, 
 that the owners of the keg were good whiga comlrj^; 
 to join general Pylarlon. Thus, to a moral certainty 
 thlo keg of brandy was made, of kind heaven, the 
 happy means of preventing much bloodshed that day 
 
 Having given two cases of brandy, the one good, 
 the ovher bad, I will now give a third, which the reader, 
 if he pler.ses, may call indifferent^ and which runs as 
 follows. 
 
 Gene: ;d Marion, 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. 
 Q\\ 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, 
 where are you going this course ?" 
 
 " Going, old daddy ! why to the devil, perhaps," 
 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 you 
 Jake a pull with me of this holding up a stout tickler 
 
163 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of brand}', mayhap you may not get such good liqitOf 
 where you are going/' 
 
 " ^^'idl all my heart, daddy," answered AVithers, 
 and twiggVi the tickler to the tune of a deep dram : 
 then passed it on to IMacdonald, who also twigg'd it, 
 ' " and Tom twiggM it, and Dick twiggM it, and Har- 
 ry twigg'd it, and so they all twigg'd it/' In the 
 mean time the chat wtjnt round very briskly, afW 
 dram after dram, the brandy, until the tickler v^ 
 drained to the bottom. And then the subtle spi^t 
 of the brandy, ascending into their noddles, worked 
 such wonders, that diey all began to feel themselves 
 as big as field officers. IMacdonald, 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 befoie him, and ever and anon, roaring 
 out — " Huz/a, bovs I damme, let's charge!" 
 
 " Charge, boys I charge !" cried all the rest, rein- 
 ing up their horses, and fiotirishing their swords. 
 
 ^'" NN'here tne plague are you going to charge ?** 
 asked the old tory. 
 
 *^ \Miy, into Georgetown, right otT/' replied they, 
 
 ^^ "NVeil, \ouhad better have a caie boys, how you 
 charge there, for I'll be blamed if you do not get 
 yourselves into business pretty' quick : for the town 
 is chock full of red coats." 
 
 " Red coats !" one and all they roared out, '^^ red 
 coats ! egad, that's just what we want. Charge, 
 boys ! charge ! huzza for the red coats, damme !" 
 
 ITien, clapping spurs to their steeds, off went these 
 six young mad-caps, huzzaing and tloun?>hing theii 
 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 
 iv?^7jr, and thit general INlarion. with his whole force, 
 would presently be upon them, flew with all speed io 
 iheir redoubt, and there lav, as snug as flea^ in a 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. IdJ 
 
 »?iccp-«kin. 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 hrs 
 bacon ; but Selim was too quick for him : and Mac- 
 donald, with a back-handed stroke of his clajnnore, 
 sent his frightened ghost to join the majority. 
 
 Having thus cleared the streets, our young troo •- 
 crs then called at the houses of their friends ; as^*.., 1 
 the ?ieTvs; 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 — xvanton destruction of his 
 property by thetories — his oxun 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 tliough 
 a choice soldier, he was no philosopher. He did not 
 consider that to fight for duty, people must lovt it • 
 P2 
 
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 otlier than the savage and thievish part they 
 did act; and tlierefore, no more to he hated for it 
 tlian 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 
 " Englishman ought never to fight against liberty," 
 nor an ** American ag-ainst his own country," he 
 looked on them, to use his own phrase, as a ^* pack 
 of d-n-d rascals, whom it was donig God service to 
 kill wherever he could find them." 
 
 But Snipes was not the aggressor. He kept in, 
 ver}^ decently, till the enemy began to let out, as they 
 did, in plwuiering^ burning'^ and hanging' the poor 
 whigs ; and then, indeed, like a consuming fire, his 
 smothered hate broke fortli : 
 
 "That hate which hurled to Pluto^s gloomy reign, 
 '* The souls of i*oyal slaves untimely slain." 
 
 Afraid, in fiir 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 flving to his 
 master with terror-struck looks, cries out " Run ! run ! 
 massa, run ! de enemy 'pop you." 
 
 Snipes, stark naked, save his shirt, darted out ay 
 swift as his legs could carry him. 
 
 ** But where shall I run, Cudjo ? into tlie barn ?" 
 ** Oh no, massa ! iley burn de barn, dat sure ting !** 
 " Well, where shall I run then V 
 ** Take de bush massa ! take de hn :r bush." 
 
GEN FRANCIS MARION. 16J 
 
 Within iil'ty 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 
 thread and thrum of his shirt; and moreover, got 
 h is 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 xvarm, but the bird was flown ! 
 
 Then seizing poor Cud jo by tlie throat, they bawl- 
 ed out : " You d — d rascal, whereas your master ?'* 
 
 He told them he did not know. 
 
 " You lie ! you black son of a l)-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 L«aildings, 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 
 mto blisters. But it was death to stir, for he would 
 certainly have been seen. 
 
 Not having made the disco\ ery 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 wa*. 
 
 Then they clapped a halter round his neck, and toJ'* 
 
166 THE LIFE OF 
 
 i.im to "down on his knees, and say his prayers ^ 
 once, for he had but two minutes to live !'* 
 
 He replied, thitt he *^ did not want to say hit 
 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 vialigmant 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 h«i 
 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 ; and, aa 
 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 tmie, 
 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 becier 
 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 
 his master, they gave up the shameful contest, and 
 went o/T, leaving him half dead on tht- ground, but 
 covered with glory. 
 
 It is not easy to conceive a situation more severely 
 torturing than this of captain Snipes. HJ«i house, with 
 all his furniture, his kitchen, his barn and rice-stacks, 
 his stables, with several line horses, and his neq:ro 
 houses, all wrapped in tlames ; himself scorch^^d and 
 blistered witli the furious heat, yet not darinc;; 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 hif> breast, imprecating the most hor- 
 rid curses on themselves, if they did not instantly 
 murder him unless he disclosed the secret! What 
 l>«d he to expect of this poor slave, but that he would 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. I6f 
 
 sink under the dreadful trial, and to save himself 
 would sacrifice his master. But Snipes was safe. Tc 
 discover his hiding-place, deatli stared his slave ii 
 \he face, Init, happily, his slave possessed for him thai 
 *' love which is stronger than death." 
 
 Captain Snipes and his man Cudjo had been brought 
 up from childhood together; and the father of our 
 hero being a professor of Christianity, a Baptist 
 preacher, whose main excellence is " to teach little 
 children to love one another," had taken great jxiins 
 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 v/restled, 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 fi ./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 mastei 
 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 driver 
 or overseer, and thus rivetted on his honest bosom 
 that sacrfilfriemls/iip v/hich, as we have seen, enabled 
 him to triumph in one of the severest trials that hu- 
 i*\an niitui^ was ever j)ut to. 
 
 The above is a solemn fact, and the wise will lay 
 »t to heart. 
 
166 THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Marion pursues ynajor Mucklexvorth-^Jine anecdote oj 
 the major — Marion^s gejierosity to him. 
 
 LEARNING that a detachment of the British were 
 marching up Black river towards Statesburgh 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 they 
 killed eight or nine. A few on both .sides, rather 
 badly wounded, were made prisoners. Marion, 
 coming up, gave orders to call off the troops, meaning 
 to give the enemy a serious brush in the morning.— 
 But of this gratification they entirely disappointed us, 
 by striking their tents and pushing off in silence be- 
 fore day. 
 
 Soon as light returned, and tlie 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 5larion. 
 
 The general was hardly alighted from his horse, be- 
 fore the old lady had him by the hand, declaring ho^y 
 happy she had ahuays been to see him, " but now,'* 
 continued she, " if I an't right down sorry to see you 
 then I'll be hanged." 
 
 Marion, with a look of surprise, asked her why she 
 was sorry to see him iioxv. 
 
 " Oh ! don't I know you too well, general ? don't 1 
 know that old Scratch himself can't keep you from 
 fighting ? And now you are hurrying along here, 
 with all your men, only to fight the British. An't ii 
 so now, general ?" 
 
 Marion told her, that that was indeed his business^ 
 
 ^* Well, dear me now ! and did I not tell you so l 
 But pray now, my dear general Marion, let me h^j^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 169 
 
 of you, don't you do any harm to that dear good man 
 
 that major Muckleworth, who went from here a little 
 
 while ago : for O ! he's the sweetest-spoken, mildcsi 
 
 looking, noblest-spirited Englishman I ever saw in all 
 
 my born days. As to that Rawdon and Tartlcton 
 
 ,. God's curse upon the thieves and blackguards ! 1 
 
 I; 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 better 
 than other British officers. 
 
 " Better than other British officers !" replied the old 
 lady. — '•'' Lord bless your dear soul, general Marion ! 
 Well, come along, come along with me, and I'll let 
 you see." 
 
 We followed the old lady, who, tripping along 
 
 aimble as 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 was " a surgeon in 
 
 the service of his Britannic majesty, and left by major 
 
 I Muckleworth to take care of the wounded ; of whom, 
 
 sir, I believe that nearly one half are your ozv7ime?i,'** 
 
 Here the old lady's face brightened up toward* 
 
 I Marion ; and giving him a very significant look, she 
 
 I said, " Ah ha, general ! didn't I tell you so ?" 
 
 I Then diving her withered hand in her pocket, she 
 
 scooped up a shining parcel of English guineas, and 
 
 fcxultingly cried out, **• See there, general ! see there's 
 
 j a sight for you ? and every penny of it given me by 
 
 ( that dear good gentleman, major Muckleworth ; every 
 
 penny of it, sir. Yes, and if you will but believe me, 
 
 general, when I and my daughters were getting 
 
 breakfast for him and his people, if he didn't come 
 
 here himself with his sergeants, and had this place 
 
 •wept out all so sweet and clean for them poor sick 
 
 jpeople J and^ with his own dear hands too, helped that 
 
170 THE LIFE OF 
 
 gentleman there to dress and doctor the poor things j 
 diat he did. 
 
 " And then besides all that, general, he was such a 
 sweet spoken gentleman ! for when I asked him how 
 his men came to be hurt so, he did not, like that beast 
 Tarleton, turn black and blue in the face, and fall to 
 cursing the d — d rebels. Oh no ! not he indeed. But 
 he said with a smile. We got them wounded last 
 night, madam, in a little brush with your brave coun- 
 tryman, general Marion. 
 
 " Now only think of that, general ! And besides, 
 when he was going away, what do you think he did ? 
 Why, sir, he sent for me and said. 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 hands for a fortnight yet? 
 
 " I told him it was no business of mine to fix a price. 
 
 " He seemed surprised, and asked me Virhat 1 meant 
 Dy that. 
 
 " I answered that I was now all one as his prisoner^ 
 and prisoners had nothing they could call their own. 
 
 "My king, said he, madam, does not make war 
 against widows. 
 
 " I told him I wished to God all his countrymen had 
 remembered that I it would have saved the hunger and 
 nakedness, and cries and tears of many a poor widow 
 and orphan. At this he seemed mightily hurt. 
 
 " I then told him tliat 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 paify as he had done, had turned in to 
 ylunder^ 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 backs. 
 
 "My God! said ht, and is this the way that my 
 countrymen have come here to carry on war ! Well 
 madam, (so he went on,) my king does not know any 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. m 
 
 tiling of this, nor does the English nation, I am sure- 
 If they did, they would certainly call those officers to 
 Account. Such men will ruin our cause. For the 
 word of God assures us, that his ear is always open 
 to the cry of the widow and orphan j 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, so 
 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 givmg me something, I 
 begged to leave the matter entirely to himself. Upon 
 which, after a moment's study, he looked at me and 
 said, Well, madam, suppose we say sixpence sterling 
 a~pie»ce man and horse, all around, will that do ? I 
 replied that was too much, a gi'eat deal too much, foi- 
 such a poor breakfast as I had given him and lus 
 men. Not a penny too much, inadam^ said he, live and 
 kt live is the royal law, madam, and here's your mo- 
 ney. With that he put all these guineas here, into 
 my hand ! and said moreover, that if the doctor and 
 sick people should be longer with me, and give me 
 more trouble and cost than we had counted on, then I 
 must sena a note to him, at such a house in Charles- 
 ton, and he would send me the money. And now, 
 general, would it not be a burning shame to go kill 
 such a dear good gentleman as that V 
 
 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 push 
 after the enemy with all speed. We followed close 
 in the rear. For an hour the general did not open 
 
 1 his mouth, but rode on like one absorbed in thought. 
 
 I At length heaving adeepsigh,he said " Well, I sup* 
 
172 THE LIFE OF 
 
 pose I feel now very much as I should feel, were I 
 m j:)ursiiit of a brother to kill him." 
 
 About three oV'lock our advance came up with the 
 enemy, near the wealthy and hospitable captain John 
 Singleton's mills, wliere the fusing 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 genei*al'» 
 wavering mind the casting vote in favour of generosi- 
 ty j for he immediately cried out, '■''Call off the troops I 
 call off the troops /" Then turning to his aid he said, 
 ** I cannot stand it any longer ; we owe yon English- 
 Hien to our injured country ; but there is an angel 
 that guard? them. Ten righteous 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. A'lid to their credit be it 
 spoken, they never, I believe, obeyed his orders w^ith 
 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 widows 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 Rawdor 
 and Tajleton, than hurt a hair of major Muckle« 
 worth's head. 
 
 From the effect produced on our troops, by thif. 
 amiaMe officer's condj'ct, I have been often led to 
 think favourably of a saying common with Marion, 
 viz. bad the Bricish officers but acted as became a 
 wise and magnanimous enemy, they might easily 
 have recovered the revolted colonies. 
 
 Never did the pal?=e of lore towards a parent state 
 beat ntronger in hvimac b-iscTr:>.5 than in those of the 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ira 
 
 If 
 
 Cai-olmians towards Britain. V/e 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 v/as 
 time, and a long time too, when the whole state waa 
 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 youi 
 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 v/ould, 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 I but after all, us Christ says, 
 " he is our countryman who showeth mercy unto us." 
 
 A British officer, a major Pvluckle worth, for exam- 
 ple, calls at rny plantation, and takes my fine horses 
 jind fat beeveSj my pigs, poultrv and grain ; but at 
 parting, launches out forme afistfull of yellow hoys t 
 On the other hand, an American officer calls and 
 sweeps me of every thing, and then lugs odt a bundle 
 of continental proc I such trash, that hardly a cow 
 would give a corn shock for a horse load of it. 
 
 The Englistiman 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. Noav I wish to know where, in such a self- 
 ish world as this, where is there a man in a miUioh, 
 but would take part with the generous Englishman, 
 and fight for him ? 
 
 This was the theory of Marion ; and it was the 
 practice of Muckleworth, whom it certainly saved to 
 the British; and would, if universal, have saved Ca- 
 .rolina and Georgia to them too; and perhaps, dU 
 
174 THE LIFE OF 
 
 America. But so little idea had they of this mode of 
 conciliating' to conquer^ that when the good majoi 
 Muckleworth returned to Charleston, he was hooted 
 at by the British officers, who said he might do Avell 
 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 be'tter 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, !)ut a boundless 
 passion for the brutalizing sports of the bear-garden 
 and cockpit ? Bull-baiters, cock-fighters, and dog 
 worriers, turned officers, had no idea of conquering 
 the Americans, but by " cutting their throats or 
 knocking out their brains ;" or as the tender hearted 
 Cornwallis commanded, by " hanging them, and tak- 
 ing away, or desti-oying their goods." 
 
 Now Satan himself could have couni»< Ued my lord 
 better than that; as any man may seCf who will buU 
 open his bible and turn to the book of Job, chap. iM^ 
 1st, verse 6th, and so on. There Moses informs^ thar,^ 
 when Satan, whose effrontery is up to any thing, pre ' 
 sented himself at the grand levec^ the Almighty vtxy 
 civilly asked him, (now mind that, saints^ in yoiii^ 
 speech to poor sinners) — the Almighty, I say, vev^ 
 civilhf 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 " up 
 and down the earth." 
 
 The divine voice again interrogated : " Hast thou 
 considered my servant Job? an excellent man, is hf 
 not ; one who leareth God and escheweth evil ?" 
 
 " Job's well enough," replied Satan, rather pertly 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARK^N. 175 
 
 ' but where's the ^voiKler of all that ? You have done 
 ^reat things for the fellow ; voli 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 thhie hand iioxv, 
 and touch all that lie hath^ and he* II 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 ray lord Cornv/allis said unto 
 my lord Rawdon ; and my lord Rawdon said un>to 
 my 7V0uld-bc lord, colonel Tarleton; and colonel 
 Tarleton said unto major Weymies ; and m.ajor 
 Weymies said unto Will Cunningham, and unto the 
 British soldiers v/ith their tory negro allies ; ^^ Put 
 forth your hands, boys, and burn, and plunder the 
 d-n-d rebels ; and instead of cursing you to your face, 
 they will fall down and kiss your feet." 
 
 " Experieace," says Doctor Franklin, ^' is a dear 
 school; but fools will learn in no other, and hardly 
 m that.-' And wliat right had lord Norih to expect 
 j*ucces3 in America, when for ofiicers he sent such 
 fools as would take no lesson either from God or devil. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ^oloiiel IVatson aitempts to .surprise Marion — is out' 
 ^eneraled^ and after much loan driven back to GeorgC' 
 town, 
 
 IN consequence of his incessant attacks on tlie 
 Critish and tories, Marion v/as, I 'relieve, heartily 
 hated by them, as ever Sampson was by the Philis- 
 tines, or George ^Vhitefield by the devil. Numerous 
 were the attem]:>ts made by tlieir best officers to sur- 
 < prise him; but such was his ov/n viguance and the 
 (idelitv of his whig: friends- thnt lie seldom failed ^3 
 Q2 
 
1JF6 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 
 m 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 
 forc€, 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 irova friends acting 
 as market people) they were to mount and push off 
 at full speed to the nearest of a cham of posts estab- 
 lished at short and convenient distances, with fleet 
 horses ready saddled and bridled, to bear the intelli- 
 gence with equal speed, the first to the second, the 
 second to the third, and so on. In this expeditious 
 method, as by a telegraph, Marion was presently no 
 tificd of the designs of the enemy. Of the exceeding 
 importance of such a plan, we had a very striking 
 proof at this time. Exasperated against Marion, for 
 the infinite harm he did the royal cause in Carolina, 
 the British general, in Camden, determined to surprise 
 him at his old place of retreat, Snow's Island; and 
 thus destroy or break hi^n up completely. To this end 
 he despatched a couple of favourite ofhcers, colonels 
 Watson and Doyle, with a heavy force, both cavalry 
 and infantry, to seize the lower bridge on Black river 
 and thereby efTectually prevent our escape. But the 
 vigilance 2uid activity of his scouts frustrated thid 
 well-concerted plan entiiely. 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, v,*c had 
 the good fortune to gain the bridge before the enemy ^ 
 
 I 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. in 
 
 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 oip us, two of their men came down for water 
 to the river. Unable to resist such a temptation, two 
 of our noted marksmen instantly drew their sights and 
 let fly. The two Englishmen fell ; one of them was 
 killed dead ; the other badly 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 
 but 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 knov/n of them, 
 the British officers were the last men on earth who 
 had any right to preach about honour and Immanity, 
 That for men to come three thousand miles to plun- 
 der and hang an innocent people, and then to tell that 
 petjple hoiv 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 
 the forest." 
 
 Thus ended the correspondence for that time. 
 
 While things remained in this state betv/een the 
 
178 THE LIFE OF 
 
 hostile parties, Macdonald, as usual, was eniploying 
 himself in a close and bold reconnoitre of the eiiemy'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, v/hose 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 anotlier 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 \vho is lieutenant Torquano T' 
 
 I replied that he was a young Englishman, who had 
 been quartered in Charleston, at the house of that 
 good whig lady^ Mrb. Brainford and her daughters, 
 whom he had treated very politely, and often pro- 
 tected from insults. 
 
 " Well," said he, " if that be lieutenant Torquano,he 
 must be a very clever fellow ; and shall certainly have 
 a passport to Charleston, or even to Paradise, if I 
 had the keys of St. Peter." 
 
 On repassing Black river in haste, Macdonald had 
 left his clothes behind him at a poor woman's house, 
 where the enemy seized them. By the return of the 
 flag just mentioned, he sent word to colonel Watson, 
 that if he did not immediately send back his clothes, 
 he would kill eight of his men to pay for them. 
 
 Several of W^atson'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 act of 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. X79 
 
 iKmbing 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 
 ciie night, and took the road towards Santee. On the 
 return of day announcing their flight, Marion order- 
 ed me to take the mounted riflem.en, thirty in number, 
 with fifty horse, and pursue and harass the enemy as 
 much as possible, till he could come up with the in* 
 fantry. 
 
 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 'jf infantry ply their legs so briskly. The 
 rogues WL-re 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, save 
 that of scratching some three or four of us. 
 
 On coming within a few miles of it, we made a 
 rapid push for the bridge, 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 destructioTi 
 through their ranks. 
 
180 ' THE LIFE OF 
 
 But, to my infinite mortification, no lightnings 
 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, at 
 the head of the riiemen, came stooping^ along with 
 his gun in his hand, and the black marks of shame 
 and cowardice on his sheepish face. " Infamous pOf 
 troon^'' said I, shaking my sword over his head, 
 *'*' where is that hecatomb of robbers and murderers diit 
 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 tlius 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 darancd rebels^ v/ho 
 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^ moke alarming advances upon 
 general Marion — his men begin to desert him — Hoy' 
 ry turns orator^ and harangues the troops — then re- 
 peat their assurances of patriotism and attachment t') 
 Marion — he dashes out again upon the enemy — pros 
 ttects brighten — and the good old cause begins to 
 look up again. 
 
 IT was not for the British and Marion to He 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 aftei 
 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 
 Bons 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 
 did lady of taste and manners could have no objcc- 
 iion : so waiting upon the colonel, and taking a chair 
 which he handed her, she sat down and emptied her 
 jajlass to his health. He then commenced the follow- 
 ing conversation with her, 
 
 " So, madam, they tell me you have several sons in 
 general Marion's camp ; I hope it is not true." 
 
 She said it v/as very true, and v/as only sorry that 
 it was not a thousand times truer. 
 
 *' A thousand times trtier, madam /" replied he with 
 great surprise, ''^ pray what can be your meaning' tn 
 that r' 
 
 " Why, sir, I am only sorry that in place of three ^ 
 have not thret thousand scnfi v/ith general Marion.'' 
 
 ^"^ A'^e indeed' v/dl then madani, begging youj 
 
 I 
 
182 THE LIFE OF 
 
 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." 
 
 " Why, sir," said the old lady, " you are very con- 
 siderate of my sons ; for which at any rate I thank 
 you. But, as you have begged my pardon for giving 
 me this advice, I must beg yours for not taking it. 
 My sons, sir, are of age, and must and will act for 
 themselves. And as to their being in a state of re- 
 bellion against their king^ I must take the liberty, sir, 
 to deny that.'''* 
 
 " What, madam P"* 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 ?" 
 
 " No, sir," answered she : " they are only doing 
 iheir duty., as God and nature commanded them, sir." 
 
 " The d — / 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 l^e rude to a lady, he filled 
 her glass, and saying, "he'd be d — n — d if she were 
 not 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 her 
 with a constrained smile, and said^ " Well, madam, 
 f re's George the Thir.V 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 183 
 
 " With all my heart, sir !" and turned ofFher bum- 
 per with a good grace. 
 
 After a Jecent interval of sprightly conversation 
 he called on the widow for a toast ; who very smartly 
 retorted, " Well, sir, here's George Washington !'''' At 
 which he darkened a little, but drank it off with an 
 officer*like politeness. 
 
 The next morning early, we left the good Mrs. 
 Jenkins ; and burning with impatience to give Wat- 
 son another race, we drove on Jehu-like. 
 
 We encamped that night almost within sight of the 
 enemy's fires : but found them too much on the alert 
 for surprise. We kept, however, a good look out, and 
 learning next morning, that a roosting party were out, 
 Marion detached my brother colonel Horry, with 
 some choice cavaliers, to attack them ; which he did 
 with such spirit, that at the first 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 regain their camp, though 
 in full view of it v/hen they were charged. This 
 brilliant stroke of my brother, threw the enemy's 
 camp into the utmost hurry and uproar ; and their 
 dragoons were quickly mounted, 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 v/as far inferior to that ot 
 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 
 !h€m talk at that rate. 
 R 
 
184 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " Our prospects ^"^ said I, " gentlemen, are to be sure 
 dark, very dark j 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 vv ill 
 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 paj'- yourselves out of theii ill- 
 saved treasures ?"" 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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. 185 
 
 ** Gttitlemen and felloxv-soldiers. 
 
 " It is not for words to express what I feel when I 
 look around upon your diminished numbers. Yester- 
 day I commanded 200 men ; men whom I gloried in, 
 and who I fondly thought, would have followed me 
 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 
 talk, that you and your families must be ruined if you 
 resist any longer ! But, my friends, if we shall be 
 ruined for bravely resisting our tyrants, what will be 
 done to us if we tamely lie down and submit to them ? 
 In that event, what can we expect but to see our own 
 eternal disgrace, and the wide-spread ruin of our 
 country ; when our bravest and best citizens shall be 
 hung up like dogs, and their property confiscated to 
 enrich those villains who deserted their country, and 
 joined her enemies ; when Cornwallis, Rawdon, and 
 farleton, after so long plundering and murdering 
 your friends, shall, in reward of such services, be set 
 )ver you as your governors and lord lieutenants, with 
 princely salaries out of your labours; when foreign 
 bishops and their hireling clergy shall be poured 
 upon you like hosts of consecrated locusts, consuming 
 the tithes and fat of the land ; when British princes, 
 and nobles, and judges, shall swarm over your devot- 
 e.d country, thick as eagles over a new-fallen carcass ; 
 when an insatiate king, looking on your ccamtry 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 harassisg and 
 giving up to military execution the best and worthiest 
 of your fellow-citizens I 
 
186 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " Now my brave brethren in arms, is there a man 
 among you, who can bear the thought of living to sec 
 his dear country and friends in so degraded and 
 wretched a state as this ? If there be, then let that 
 man leave me and retire to his home. I ask not his 
 aid. But, thanks to God, I have now no fears about 
 you: judging by your looks, I feel that there is no \ 
 such man among us. For my 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 
 iimch, 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 — ^^' 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 Lynche'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 thd 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. tsT 
 
 force of the current, arrived safely on our side, where 
 wc had prepared some largf^ 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 
 njy horse was swept from under 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 toiies, 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 }'0ung fellow of the company ov^rr 
 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 talcen 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 all 
 that day, to surprise colonel Doyle. About midnight 
 wc had approached the house of a good whig, who 
 told us that Doyle had been there, but that warned by 
 R2 
 
188 THE LIKE OF 
 
 an express from Camden,he had started in great haste, 
 and was certainly by that time far 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 driv^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 
 join us; and also that general Green, with a choice 
 detachment from the great Washington, was bending 
 towards Camden, to recover the laurels which the in- 
 cautious Gates had lost. These glorious tidings at 
 once explained the cause of the enemy's flight, and 
 inspired us with a joy which the reader can better 
 coiKeive than I express. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 MariorCs method of managing the militiu— sends the 
 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 bipthe British, hut come off 
 with flying colours. '* 
 
 THE world, perhaps, never contained a partisan 
 olEcer who better understood the management of 
 militia than did general Marion. He was never foi 
 dragooning a m-an into the service. " God loves a 
 cheerful giver, and so do /," said he, "(7 -ivilling sol- 
 dier. To have him such you must convince him that 
 it is his 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 
 frienda. Convince him that all these invaluable 
 blessings cannot be had without sweet I'lbertij^ 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 bad reposed ourselves but two days in th«. 
 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 yourseU 
 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 TPIE LIFE OF 
 
 tatoes, but for- bed and furniture, we can prom'sc you 
 nothing better than earth qjid sky. I shall place ii 
 sentinel on the road to conduct you to, 
 Honourable Sir, your friend, 
 
 Peter Horry, 
 
 Mr. Kinloch, who was one of the clev^erest men m 
 tJie world, instantly set out to come to us, but unluck- 
 ily missed our sentinel, and went several miles below 
 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 xvcij'm Slipper and 7i gcod bed. Mr. Kinloch accept- 
 ed Jonathan's offer very cheerfully, and after taking 
 part of a nice fowl and a cup of coffee, went to bed. 
 He had not slept long before Jonathan waked him up, 
 and, with great terror in his looks, told him, " he was 
 mighty 'fraid there was harm a brewing." 
 
 " Aye, Jonathan! why so, my good lad ?" 
 
 " 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 !" 
 
 " Poh !" quoth Mr. Kinloch, turning himself over 
 for another nap : I have dreamed nothing about it^ 
 Jonatlian. 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. 
 
 " Well, Jonathan," said fAr. Kinloch, veiy good* 
 naturedly, "" if you are determined to turn me out of 
 doors, I suppose I must go. But where can I get to, 
 this time of night ?" 
 
 " Why," sir, quoth Jonathan, " I'll get your horse 
 and go with you to the main road, sir, and from there, 
 
OEN. 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 things; but they some- 
 limes 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 efFeptually 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 
 j bringing up the rest of the corps. 
 :[ The British first discovered captain Clarke, which 
 
 I 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 
 j yet seen the enemy, and mistaking their bugles for 
 ( the huntsmen's horns, ordered a halt to see the deer 
 go by. But instead of a herd of flying deer, behold ' 
 a column of British cavalry all at once bursting into 
 the road, and shouting and rushing on with drawn 
 swords to the charge. In a moment, as :f themselves 
 metamorphosed into deer, Clarke and his advance 
 
192 THE LIFE OF 
 
 wheeled about, and giving their horses ** the tia< 
 6er,"* flew back upon our main body, roaring out as 
 they came in sight — ^" The British ! the British!" 
 
 Quick as thought my men caught the panic, aud 
 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 I 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 toOj 
 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 gitth gave way, my saddle 
 turned, and my charger fetching aground start, threw 
 me, saddle, holsters, and all, full ten feet over his 
 head, and then ran off. I ijeceived no harm, God be 
 praised for it, but recovering my legs in an instant, 
 bawled out again to my meji 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 oirily sixteen dragoons un- 
 der colonel Camp, continued the chase. 
 
 Scorning to fly from such a handful, some of my 
 more resolute fellows, thirteen in number, faced 
 about, and very deliberately taking their aim at th« 
 enemy as they came up, gaj/e them a spanker^ which 
 killed upwards of half theif number. The rest took 
 to flight, leaving their colonel, whose horse was slain, 
 to shift for himself, which |ie quickly did by running 
 into the woods. | 
 
 j 
 
 * This IS a Carolina phrase for clashing. If a husband should sc 
 far forget himself as to beat his Wife ! Avliich, thank God, is ver^ 
 rare, his neighbours, with great scorn, say of him as he pokes Ins 
 hated face along, Aye, tliat's th? jockey that gives nis wife the? 
 timber. 
 
GEK. FRANCIS MARION. 193 
 
 ^rhe British were so near us when they received 
 the fire of my men, that one of them, a stovit fellow, 
 as he wheeled to go off, came so close to me, where 
 I stood on the ground, that hiPwas lifting his broad 
 sword for a back-handed stroke, Vvdiich would proba- 
 bly have saved me the trouble of writing this history, 
 had I not. with one of my pistols, v/hich I took from 
 the saddle when 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- 
 phiining to him of my men, whose behaviour, I said, 
 in this last affair, had been so very dastardly, that 1 
 v/as much afraid, I should never again put confidence 
 in them, nor gain mvy 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 men in high spirits, with 
 Durning 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 bouncujig 
 ivith their s\re to the chase of the buffaloes. But on 
 the other hSnd, if by any unlooked-for providence 
 they get dismayed, and begin to run, you are not to 
 fly in a passi(&n with them, and show yourself as mad 
 Rs they are cowardly. No ! you must learn to run 
 too: and as fast as they; n^y faster, that you may 
 get into the front, and encourage them to rally. 
 
 " And as to the credit that you are to get by com- 
 manding them, I find, my dear fellow, that you are 
 entirely i-n die wrong there also. Our country can- 
 not expect us to cope with British regulars. War is 
 an art, the dtn'pcst of all artSj because the greatest of 
 
194, THE LIFE OF 
 
 all earthly conb'equences depend on itj And noneca^ 
 expect to be masters of that terrible art, but such as 
 serve a long apprenticeship to it. But as we hav^ 
 served no apprenticHliip, we can know biit littlej 
 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 arq noble adran- 
 tages. Let us but improve them by Redoubled acti- 
 vity and vigilance, and kindness to our men, and 
 especially by often conversing with them on the 
 grounds of the war, the merits of our cause, and the 
 vast consequences depending. Let us, I say, in this 
 way, make them soldiers in principle, and fond of 
 their officers, and ail will be well yet, By cutting off 
 the enemy's foraging parties, drawing them into am- 
 buscades and failing upon them by surprise, we shall, 
 I hope, so harass and consume them, as to make them 
 glad to get out of our country. And then, the per- 
 formance of such a noble act 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 CamphellWnade 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^ y^'^^g: 
 Gales and Dinkins^ colonel Lee^s little bugler^ John 
 PFiley^ Peter 7'arnal^ young M''Coy^ major Broxvti^ 
 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 heard that, in deep art 
 and undaunted courage, he was a second Marion.-— 
 This, our high opinion of him, was greatly exalted by 
 his own gallant conduct, for he had been with us bat 
 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 m.idnight, and at a signal f-oiv. the latter, to 
 commence the attack. Unfurtunr-^telv, the cavalry 
 did not get up in time, owing to s-omt fault of their 
 guide. The infantry arrived at the appointed mo- 
 ment, and dreading the dangers of dola)', 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 ofRcers, 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 oilicers leaped out of bed, and not waitin<? 
 W dre??, flew into the piazza, flourishing their pistol- 
 
196 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ana ahouting to the charge. Major Irvin, with more, 
 f-'ourage than discretion, fired a pistol, and would have 
 tried another, but ji^t as he had cocked it, he was 
 stopped short by the ^roke of 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 gir was engaged to be mar- 
 ried to Crookshanks. Waktrf by the firing and hor^ 
 rid din of battle in the piazza, •'he was at first almost 
 ^reft of her senses by the fright But the moment she 
 lieard her lover's voice, all her terrors 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 lover, she got to him just 
 in time to throw her arms around his neck and scream 
 out, " Oh save ! save major Crookshanks !" Thus, 
 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 left him to those deli- 
 cious sentiinents which he must have felt in the arms 
 of an elegant young woman, who had saved his life 
 oy an effort of love sufficient to endear her to him lo 
 all eternity. 
 
 It was told us afterwards of this charming girl, 
 that as soon as we we^ 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 in his arms, were too much for her deli- 
 cate frame. 
 
 There is a beauty in generous actions which charms 
 he souls of men •' and a sweetness, which like that 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 197 
 
 immortal love whence it flows, can never die. The 
 t^es of all, even the poorest soldiers in our camp, 
 sparkled with pleasure whenever they talked, as they 
 often did, of this charming woman, and of our gene- 
 rosity to major Crookshanks ; and to this day, even 
 after a lapse of thirty years, I never think of it but 
 writh pleasure ; a pleasure as exquisite, perhaps, as 
 what I felt at the first moment of that transaction. 
 
 And it is a matter of great satisfaction to me, to 
 think how nobly different in this respect was our con- 
 duct from that of the British. I speak not of the 
 British natio7i^ which I hold most magnanimoits ; but 
 of their officers in Carolina, such as Cornwallis, Raw- 
 don, Tarleton, M^eymies, Brown, and Balfour, who 
 instead of treating their prisoners as we did Crook- 
 shanks, have often been known to butcher them in 
 cold blood; Xhou^.xhQiv fathers^ mothers and children^ 
 on bended knees, with wringing hands and streaming 
 eves, hiive been imploring pity for them. 
 
 There was Mr. Adam Cusac, of Williamsburg dis 
 
 tricty this brave man, 
 
 " This buckskin Hampden ; that, with dauntless breast, 
 " The base invaders ot 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-hoiise, and 
 after exposing him to the insults of a sham trial, had 
 him condemned and hung ! The only charge evei 
 exhibited against him wa^that hp had shot across 
 Black river at one of Weylpes' 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 their beds by a party of tories, who hurried 
 them away to lord Rawdon, then on his march from 
 Charleston to Camden. Rawdon quickly had them, 
 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 harm.ing 
 such a child. Scarcely had Lee left him, when he 
 was overtaken by Tarletifc's troopers, who dashed up 
 to him with looks of deam, 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 aa 
 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 wound* 
 that he died the next day, 
 
 "' Is your name IViley ?'''' said one of Tarleton's cap- 
 tains, whose name was Tuc b . to Mr. John Wiley, 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 19§ 
 
 '.heriff of Camden, who had lately whipped and crop- 
 ped a cioted horse thief, named Smart. " Is your 
 name Wiley V 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 Yarnall's case seems still more de- 
 plorable. This hard fated man, a simple, inoffensive 
 quaker, lived near Camden. Having urgent business 
 with a man, 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 torij prisoners. 
 A paper which Yarnall wanted to see was, it seems, 
 in a jacket pocket in the man's tent hard by. " Hold 
 my piece a moment, sir," said he to Yarnall, "and 
 I'll bring the paper,* Yarnall, though averse, as a 
 quaker, from all killing of enemies with a gun, yet 
 saw no objection to holding one a moment. The 
 next day, a day for ever black in the American calen- 
 dar, witnessed the 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 ktng^s yrzV/zr/i-, prisoners to the rebels. 
 The poor man's house was quickly surrounded by the 
 British cavalry. Vain were all his own explanations, 
 his wife's entreaties, or his children's cries. He was 
 
200 THE LIFE 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 dogdays, 
 into a small prison, with one hundred and sixty-three 
 half-stifled VvTetches. 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 sec her husband. " Follow me," said one of 
 the guard, " and I'll show you your husband." Aa 
 she turned the comer, " There he is, madam," said 
 the soldier, pointing to her husband as he hung dead 
 on a beam from the windov/. 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 
 •\ilmly begged one of the soldiers to assist her to 
 take down tbe corpc^e 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 an<l 
 nerforming the funeral duties, she preserved the 
 same firm unaltered looks. But soon as the grave 
 had shut its mouth on her husband, and divorcer! 
 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 ap-onv, 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 v/as young M'Coys the eye of humamtr 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 20t 
 
 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 JVr.Coy. His just views and strong feel- 
 ings, were carefully instilled into his boy, who, 
 though but fifteen, shouldered his musket, and, in 
 bpite of his mother's tears, foUov/ed his father to war. 
 Many a gallant Englishman received his death at their 
 hands. For, being well acquainted with the river, 
 and bravely supported by their friends, they often 
 fired upon the enemy's boats, killing their crews and 
 intercepting their provisions. This so enraged co- 
 lonel Brown, the British comrAander 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 gi*eat 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 ofBcer. 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 throvv'n 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 ofHcer, 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 Ilia son still to fight iindauntedly for the liber* 
 
202 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ties of his countT} . After the death of his fatkcr, 
 voung M'Coy joined the brave captain Clarke. In 
 an expedition against colonel Brown, Clarke was de- 
 feated, and young JVr Coy made prisoner. Hearing 
 of his mitifortune, 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, 
 in thus losing her husband and only son. 
 
 The behaviour of young M'Coy, it is said, was he- 
 roic beyond his years. Instead of melting with his 
 disconsolate mother, he exhorted her like one who 
 had acted on principle, and now felt its divine conso- 
 lations stronger than death. 
 
 He entreated his mother not to weep for him, nor 
 for his father. " In the course of nature, mother," 
 said he, " we were to part. Our parting indeed, ia 
 early ; but it is glorious. My father was like a Uon 
 in battle for his country. Asa young lion, I fought 
 by his side. And often, when the battle was over, 
 did he embrace and call me his boy I his own brave 
 boy ! and said I was worthy of you both. He has 
 just gone ])efore, and I now follow him, leaving you 
 the joy to remember, that your son and husband have 
 attained the highest honour on earth ; the honour of 
 fighting and dying for the rights of man." 
 
 Anxious to save the life of so dear a son, poor Mrs. 
 M^Coy fell on her knees to colonel Brown, and with 
 all the widowed mother agonizing in her looks, plead 
 for his life. But in vain. With the dark features 
 of a soul horribly triumphant over the cries of mercy, 
 he repulsed her suit, and ordered the executioner to 
 do his office I 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 
 she had so often pressed to her bosom, and kissed 
 with all the transports of a doating mother^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. SOS 
 
 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 ruhrick for conquered rebels 
 he had a right to send fire and sword before him, with 
 blood and tears following in his course ; though he 
 had a right to feed the birds of heaven with rebel 
 carcasses, and to fatten his soldiers with their confis* 
 cated goods, yet he meant not to use that dreadful 
 right. No indeed ! Far from him was all such odious 
 thoughts. On the contrary he wished to be merciful j 
 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 '^»hould no longer take part nor 
 lot in the contest, but contiyiue peaceably at their homes. 
 And that, in reward thereof, they should be most 
 sacredly protected m property and person. 
 
 This proclamation was accompanied with an m* 
 strument of neutralit)', as an ^' outrvard and visible 
 sign of an inward and spiritual grace," in my lord 
 Cornwallis towards the Carolinians ; and which in- 
 strument they were invited to sign, that they might 
 have a covenant right to the aforesaid promised bless- 
 ings oi protection^ both in property and person. 
 
 The heart of colonel Haynes was with his country- 
 men, and fervently did he pray that his hands could 
 be with them too. But, these, alas ! were bound up 
 by his wife and children, whom, it is said, he loved 
 passing well. Helpless and trembling as they were, 
 now 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 
 
204 THE LIFE OF 
 
 strument, which promised security to his family ana 
 fortune. But alas ! from that fatal moment he neve? 
 more enjoyed peace. To hate the ministerial mea 
 sures as he did, and yet thus tamely to have submit* 
 ted to them ; to love his country as heartily as he did* 
 and to know that she was now fighting, with her all 
 at stake, and yet thus to have deserted her ! 
 
 These keen self-condemning reflections harrowed 
 every root of quiet from his soul. If he went to his 
 couch, it was only to groan, sleepless and tossing, all 
 the restless night. If he got up, it was but to sit, or 
 walk to and fro in his family, with dark and woful 
 looks, like one whom trouble had overcome. 
 
 In the midst of these anguishing reflections, which 
 appeared to be wearing him fast to the grave, a res- 
 pite was afl'orded, and by a hand from which it was 
 least expected. Lord Cornwallis, having by his first 
 proclamation, obtained to the instrument of neutrality 
 aforesaid, the signatures of many thousands of the 
 citizens of South Carolina, then came out with a se^ 
 cond 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 ! — threat- 
 t^.ning 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, he was compelh-d to Jjg'ht^ he very na- 
 turally determined to fight the British, rather than his 
 own countrymen. He fled to his countrymen, who 
 received him Avith joy, and ga\'c 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^ 
 was held over him, and colonel Haynes was sentenced 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 205 
 
 t(y be bung! Every body in Charleston, Britons , 
 wed 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 largei 
 part, even of his enemies, believing that it was done 
 merely from sympathy with his wife and children, felt 
 the generous disposition to forgive him, yet he could 
 never forgive himself. It had inflicted on his mind 
 ft wound too ghastly to be healed. 
 
 To their own, and to the great honour of human 
 nature, numbers of the British and loyalists, with 
 governor Bull at their head, preferred a petition to 
 iord Rawdon in his behalf. But the petition was not 
 noticed. Tha ladies then came forward in his favour 
 with a petition, couched in the most delicate and 
 moving terma, and signed by all the principal females 
 of Charleston, tories as well as whigs. But all to no 
 Durpose. It was then suggested by the friends of 
 humanity, that if the colonel's little children, for they 
 had no mother, she, poor woman ! crushed under the 
 double weight of grief and the small-pox, was just 
 Bunk at rest in the grave. It was suggested, I say, 
 that if the colonel's little children, dressed in mourn- 
 ing, were to fall at the knees of lord Rawdon, he 
 would pity their motherless condition, and give to 
 their prayers their only surviving parent. They 
 were accordingly dressed in black, and introduced 
 into his presence : they fell down at his knees, and, 
 with clasped hands and tear-streaming eyes, lisped 
 their father's name, and begged his life : but in vain. 
 
 So many efforts to save him, both by friends and 
 generous foes, could not be made, unknown to colo- 
 nel Haynes. But he appeared perfectly indifferent 
 about the result; and when told that they had all 
 failed, he replied with the utmost unconcern — ''*' Well, 
 thank God, lord Rawdon cannot hurt me. He can- 
 
W6 I'HK LIFE OF 
 
 not be more anxious to take my life tnan I am to lay 
 it down " 
 
 With his son, a youth of thirteen, who was per 
 mitted to stay with him in the prison, colonel Haynes 
 used often to converse, in order to fortify him agjainst 
 the sad trial that was at hand. And indeed it was 
 necessary, for seldom has a heavier load been laid on 
 a tender-hearted youth. War, like a thick cloud, had 
 darkened up the gay morning of his days ; the grave 
 had just closed her mouth on a mother who doated 
 on him; and he now beheld his only parent, a be- 
 loved father, in the power of his enemies, loaded with 
 irons, and condenmed 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. 
 You will accompany me to the place of my execution ; 
 and when I am dead, take and bury me by the side 
 of vour mother." 
 
 1?he 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 — "Abzu, my son, shovi 
 yourself a mem. Thai tree is the Imndary of my life 
 
^^ 
 
 i*age 206. 
 
 Oh my father ! my father I I will die with you. 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. SOT 
 
 and of aU my lifers sorrows. Beyond that, the wtcied 
 cease from troubling and the xveary are at rest. DoJi^t 
 lay too much to heart our separation from you; it will 
 be but short. ' Twas but lately your dear mother died 
 To-day I die. And you, my soUy though but youngs 
 must shortly folloxv us.^^ 
 
 " Yes, my father," replied the broken-hearted youth, 
 •* I shall shortly follow you : for indeed I feel that I 
 cannot live long." And so it happened unto him. 
 For on seeing his father in the hands of the execi*. 
 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 himi 
 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 tfie 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 other man, 
 let him be who he would. But thank God those pre- 
 judices, so dishonourabltt to the head, and to uneas/ 
 
208 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to the heart, are done away from me now. And from 
 this most happy deliverance, I am, through the divine 
 goodness, principally indebted to my honoured friend, 
 general Marion, of whose noble sentiments, on these 
 subjects, I beg leave to give the reader some little 
 specimen in the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Short and sweet — or, a curious dialogue between gene^ 
 ral Marion and captain Snif^s^ 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 mem. 
 Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows 
 Down virtue's manly cheeks, for others' woes." 
 
 WHAT gigantic form is that which stalks thus 
 awfully before the eyes of my memory; his face, 
 rough and dark as the cloud of winter, and his eye- 
 balls burning like coals of fire ? 'Tis the impetuous 
 captain Snipes. He is just returned from the quarter 
 house near Charleston, where he and captain M'Cau- 
 ley, with Macdonald and forty men, have recently 
 surprised and cut to pieces a large party of the ene- 
 my. He looks as if the fury of the battle had not 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 Rawdoii. 
 
 " Ah shame ! shame upon him !" replied the gene- 
 ral with a sigh, and shaking his head ; " shame upon 
 lord Rawdon '" 
 
GEN, FRANCIS MARION. a09 
 
 " 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 quartei 
 to the British or tories." 
 
 3Iarion. 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 v/e take no revenge ? 
 
 M. Revenge? O yes, to be sure, sir; revenge is 
 sweet, and by all means let us have it ; but let it be 
 of the right kind. 
 
 S. Of the right kind, sir ! what do you call revenge 
 of the ri-ght kind ? 
 
 AL Why, sir, I am for taking that kind of revenge 
 which will make our enemies ashamed of their con- 
 duct, and abandon it for ever. 
 
 S. Ashamed of their conduct ! Monsters ! they ar« 
 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. 
 
 yr. 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 v/hich is the same thing, have thought they 
 had gieater provocations. 
 
 S. They be d — n — d, they and their provocation! 
 too ! Are not -ive the persons who have been invaded| 
 T2 
 
210 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and plundered and murdered by them^ and not they by 
 us T 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 oflP 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 
 tliat some day or other we should be of service to 
 them ; that now, at the v^ery time when, by our im- 
 mense population, we were just arrived to the so long 
 desired point, to swell their wealth and spread their 
 commerce and arms over the v/orld, we should sepa- 
 rate from them, blast all their fond hopes, and throw 
 them back to the former level ; this, I say, you will 
 certainly allow, must be a very severe provocation. 
 Now, sir, putting all these provocations together, and 
 also taking poor human nature into the account, is it 
 to be w ondered at, that the British should be so much 
 more 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 tramp up a pack of claims against 
 me, and all of them because I can't credit him in the 
 abominable extent he wishes, to fall upon me and kill 
 and murder me, as the British and tories have done 
 with us, and we not stop them by revenge ! why, my 
 God ! sir, it will never do. For, at this rate, whom 
 shall we have living in all this country, in a little time, 
 hut ti'ie British, and their friends the tories and ne- 
 groes ? 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2H 
 
 M. My brave captain let me tell you again, I an^ 
 as 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 it 
 was policy to act against a foreign enemy. But our 
 standing with the tories is quite a different case, and 
 requires a very different course. The tories are our 
 countrymen, a part of our own population and 
 strength, so that every man of them that is killed, is 
 a man for ever lost to ourselves. Now, since the 
 British have put them up to murder us, if we go, out 
 of revenge, to murder them again, why, in the course 
 of a little time our population will be so cut up, as to 
 allow the British ministry, with ease, to take our 
 country, and make slaves of us all; which is just 
 what lord North desires. 
 
 S. Yes, I dare say it is. But I hope he'll be dis- 
 appointed yet. 
 
 M. No doubt of it, sir ; if we shall be wise and 
 magnanimous enough to follow the true policy, which 
 s no other than iiumanitv to these deluded people, 
 the tories . and to this we have every inducement 
 that generous spirits could desire. The tories and 
 ourselves are brothers ; many of us went to the same 
 school together \ and a thousand times have v^X^ and 
 
SIS THE LIFE OF 
 
 drank in each other's houses. And as to the quarrel 
 Ui which we are now unfortunately engaged, though 
 not the most, still we are much in fault. We made no 
 allowances for those follies of theirs which led to it. 
 They thought — Firsts That we were too nearly allied 
 to England to go to war with her : this was a weak- 
 ness, but there was something amiable in it. — Se- 
 cofidli/, 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 thaf 
 they might save their property : this was altogethei 
 (rom Jear^ 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 tc 
 end it. 
 
 S. Well! let them set about ending it themselves. 
 They were the first to begin it. 
 
 31. But would you have the tories to lead to glory I 
 
 S. Glory ! I should think it meanness to be the 
 first to make overtures to such rascals ! 
 
 M. Well, but, captain Snipes, when brethren, as we 
 are, fall out, is it policy to go on to exasperate and cut 
 
 h other's throats, until our enemy comes and takes 
 away a 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 mends 
 again, and joining our forces against the common ene* 
 my, drive him out of our country; and then bv estab^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 213 
 
 Tishing a free government, and encouraging agricul- 
 ture and commerce, and learning, and religion, make 
 ourselves a great and happy people again ; would not 
 this, I say, be the true policy ? 
 
 S. Why yes, I confess, general Marion, it would 
 be a noble thing, and very desirable, if it could be 
 done. But I cannot bear to think of being the first to 
 make terms with the tories, after they have been 
 burning, and plundering, and murdering our best 
 friends. It is too hard, sir, for mortal flesh and blood. 
 
 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 UT> courage and do it, it will never be done. — 
 The toi ies 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 
 t^ne more. We have better information, and we have 
 also a much better cause. These are great advantages 
 which God has given us ; and now it becomes us to 
 improve them, to his glory and to our own honour, by 
 showing a conciliatory and magnanimous spirit to- 
 wards our enemies. And though it should cost us 
 labour to win such a victory, 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- 
 mands higher admiration from the v/^orld, and is re- 
 flected on by ourselves with far more self-esteem and 
 
$14 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 a%ctionate 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 not even 
 talk of exterminating' war ! that unnatural crime whiclf 
 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 ver)^ name the odium of all 
 generations. But, far differently, let us act the gener- 
 ous part of those who, though now at variance, are 
 yet brothers, and soon to be good friends again. And 
 then, when peace returns, we shall be in proper frame 
 to enjoy it. No poor woman that we meet will seem 
 to upbraid us for the slaughter of her husband ; no 
 naked child, for robbing him of his father ; no field 
 will cry against us for a brother's blood. On the 
 contrary, whenever the battles which we are now fight- 
 ing, shall recur to our thoughts, with the frightened 
 enemy grounding their arms and crying for quarteri 
 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 of our days in glorious peace. And when death 
 
GEN. FRANCIS INIARION. 81J 
 
 shall call us to that better world, we shall obey with- 
 out reluctance. Conscious of neither drGad 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 I 
 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 nielancholy, 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 hi» 
 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 reddened 
 and swelled J as under the powerful eloquence of the 
 pulpit. 
 
816 THE LIFE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Marion and Lee attack and take fort Watson and fort 
 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 on 
 a mighty barrow or tomb like a mount, formed of the 
 bones of Indian nations, there heaped up from time 
 immemorial, and covered with earth and herbage. — 
 Finding that the fort mounted no artillery, Marion 
 resolved to make his approaches in a way that 
 should give his riflemen a fair chance against their 
 musqueteers. For this purpose, large quantities of 
 pine logs were cut, and as soon as dark came on, were 
 carried in perfect silence, within point blank shot of 
 the fort, and run up in the shape of large pens oi 
 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 idle the 
 while, but returned the blaze with equal fury, pre- 
 senting to us, who lay at a distance, a very interesting 
 scene — as of two volcanoes that had suddenly broke 
 out into fiery strife, singeing the neighbouring pines. 
 
 Though their enemy, yet I could not but pity the 
 British, when I saw the great disadvantage under 
 which they fought. For our riflemen, lying above 
 them and firing through loopholes, were seldom 
 hurt; while the British, obliged, ^very time they 
 fired, to show their heads, were frequently killed. — • 
 Increasing still the awkwardness of their .situation, 
 their tt-'f//, which was on the outside of the fort, v/as 
 so entirely in the reach of our rifles, that they could 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. SIX 
 
 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 had been very judiciously fixed in a coun- 
 try exceedingly fertile, and on a lake aboanding 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 fingers 
 of our ragged militia-men on such an itch, that mere 
 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 
 bacon! which he did by such extraordinary running 
 and jumping, as threw us all into a most immoderate 
 laueh. 
 j Presently up comes my black waiter, Billy, with a 
 I broad grin on his face, and says, " V/hy, master, them 
 " militia men there, sir, are tarnal fools : they do not 
 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 
 U 
 
Sid THE LIFE OF 
 
 will never do, my lad. I value you much too highly, 
 Billy, to let you be knocked on the head, so foolishly 
 as all that comes to." 
 
 " Lord bless you, sir," replied he, smiling, " there 
 is no more danger in it, than in eating when a body is 
 hungry. And if you will only please let me try my 
 hand, sir, if you see any danger, why then, master, 
 you may call me back, you know, sir." 
 
 Upon this he started. Fortunately for him ©ur 
 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. 919 
 
 100 strong white shirts for soldiers, 
 50 fine do. do. for ofRcers, 
 50 camp blankets, 
 
 100 black stocks, 
 
 100 knapsacks, and 
 6 dragoon's cloaks, 
 were the valuable contents of JBIilly'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 oxvn failure^ 
 and a li ttle 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. '* ^y^s 
 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 one 
 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, singing and dancing around 
 their shirts, which they had just washed, and hung on 
 the bushes to dry. 
 
220 THK LIFE OF 
 
 From the reduction of fort Watson, we set out im- 
 mediately in high spirits, for the still nobler attack 
 on fort 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 Icng ravaged by the war, her- 
 self turned into a log cabin, her negroes dispersed, 
 and her stock, grain, &c. nearly all ruined ! must she 
 now lose her elegant buildings too ? Such scruples 
 were honourable to the general ; but they showed his 
 total unacquaintedness with the excellent widow. For 
 at the first glimpse of the proposition, she exclaimed, 
 " O ! burn it ! burn it, general Marion ! God forbid I 
 should bestow a single thought on my little concerns, 
 when the independence of my country is at stake.— 
 No sir, if it were a palace it should go." She ihen 
 stepped to her closet and brought out a curious bow 
 with a quiver of arrows, which a poor African boy 
 purchased from on board a Guineaman, had formerly 
 presented her, and said, *^ Here, general, here is what 
 will serve your purpose to a hair." The arrows, 
 pointed with iron, and charged with lighted combus- 
 tibles, were shot on top of the house, to which they 
 stuck, and quickly communicated the flames. The 
 British, two hundred in nurnbey, besides a good many 
 lories, instantly hung out a white flag in sign of sub* 
 mission. 
 
 The fjxcellent Mr?. Motte was present when hei 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ^u 
 
 Sne 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 ail 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 thav 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-goverii- 
 ment; or, in odier words, of living under a republici 
 which must certainly be his delight, because both im- 
 plying and producing more wisdom and virtue, than 
 any other government among nnen. 
 
 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 
 
 U 2 
 
2^2 THE LIFE 0¥ 
 
 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 colonej 
 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 v/ere present- 
 ed with a spectacje 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 v/as 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 J or whether it was the happy result of our gene- 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2US 
 
 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 
 coming round to the general, told him in a low voice, 
 that the Americans were hanging' the tories who had 
 been taken i?i the fort ! 
 
 In a moment he sprang up, in a violent passion, aad 
 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 dow^n ! cut him down !" 
 cried the general, as soon as he had got near enough 
 to be heard, v/hich was instantlv done. Then running 
 -Up, with cheeks as red as fire coals, and half choked 
 with rage, he bawled out, " In the name of God ! what 
 are you about, what are you about here !" 
 
 " OvAy hanging a few tories, sir," replied captain 
 Harrison of Lee's legion. 
 
 " Who gave you a right, sir, to touch the tories ?" 
 
 7^o this, young M*Corde, of the same corps, replied, 
 
 that it was only three or four rascals of them that 
 
 they meant to hang; and that they had not supposed 
 
 the general xvould 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 (iare to offer them violence, he returned with 
 the company to Mrs. Motte's table. 
 
 Of the three unfortunate tories that were hung dcady 
 one was natr ed Hugh Mizcally. The name of the per- 
 son %o timely cut down was Levi Smith, a most luri- 
 
224 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ous tory. This title produced him such respect among 
 those degenerate Britons, that they appoit^ed 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 thai 
 the men ; insomuch that though married to tories, 
 they would be whigs still. 
 
 These fair ladies, in consequence of their relation 
 to the tories, could, at pleasure, pass into Charleston ; 
 which they never left without bringing off quantities 
 of broadcloth cut and jumped into petticoats, and art- 
 fully hid under their gowns. The broad cloth, thus 
 brought off, was for regimentals for our officers.— 
 Things went on swimmingly in this way for a long 
 time, till Smith, getting one day more groggy and 
 impudent than usual, swore that some young women 
 who were 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 alTected 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. MXorde. 
 
 Her son, who was a dragoon in Lee's legion, swore 
 
 vengeance against Smith, and v/ould, 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 lee 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 225 
 
 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 undt^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 dav 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- 
 cai-like, at the king's gate, where, it is said, he be- 
 haved very decen'tlj^ 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 
 v/ar, lie made out as if the rebels 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, gav6 him money enough 
 to return to South Carolina with a pretty assortment 
 of merchandise. And he is now, I am told, as weaU, 
 
320 THE LIFE OF 
 
 X- 
 thy as a Jew, and, which is still more to h\s 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* 
 rtble overthrows. 
 
 HAPPY Carolina ! I exclaimed, as our late victo- ' 
 ries passed over my delighted thoughts ; happy Caro- 
 lina ! dear native country, hail ! long and dismal has 
 been the night of thy affliction : but now rise and 
 sing, for thy " light is breaking forth, and the 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 oi 
 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,! 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 suffo- 
 cated in the black hole at Calcutta. Little was it thouglit that 
 an English nobleman (lord Rawdon) would so soon have repeated 
 that crime, by ci-owding one hundred and sixty-fom' unfortunat;j 
 Americans into a small prison in Camden, in the dogdays. 
 
 t A Brother of that excellent man, major Linning, of Charles 
 ton, was taken from his plantation on Ashley liver, by one ^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 227 
 
 - They have been stirred up and exasperated against 
 6ach other, to the most unnatural and bloody strifes, 
 * Fathera 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 
 vionsters 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 
 r 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, tlian in humbling 
 Cornwallis and his bloody crew. 
 
 At this period, 1780, the western extremities were 
 the only parts of the state that remained free. To 
 , Bwallow 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 thiiist 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 
 deatli. very deliberately executed the sentence by stabbing him 
 with bayonets, and then threw his mangled body into the river 
 for tlie sharks and crabs to devour i 
 
528 THE LIFE OF 
 
 youth of each district, gathering around their owft 
 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, as by chance^ near the King's moun- 
 tain, where the ill-fated Ferguson encamped. Theit 
 numbers 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, 
 
 W'iXh. rifles all so bright. 
 Who knew full weD, m time of need. 
 
 To aim their guns aright. 
 
 At parting, the ruddy warriors shook hands with 
 their retumitig friends, and sent their love. " Tell 
 our fathers," said they, " that we shall think of them, 
 in the battle, and draw our sights the truer P 
 
 Then led on by the brave colonels Campbell, Cleve- 
 land, Shelby, Sevier, and Williams, they ascended the 
 hill and comm.enced the attack. Like Sinai of old, the 
 top of the mountain was soon wrapped in smoke and 
 flames ; the leaden deaths came whizzing from all 
 quarters ; and in forty minutes Ferguson was slain, 
 and the whole of his party killed, wounded or taken. 
 
 To avenge this mortifying blow, Cornwallis des' 
 patched colonel Tarleton with thirteen hundred and 
 fifty picked troops, against Morgan, who had but 
 nine hundred men, and these more than half militia. 
 At the first onset, the m.ilitia fled, leaving Morgan 
 with only four hundred to contend against thirteen 
 hundred and fift\% rushing on furiously as to certain 
 victory. What spectator of this scene must not have 
 given up ail 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 vStood their ground, 
 and, in a short time, killed and captured nearly the 
 whole of their proud assailants ! 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 229 
 
 Raging like a wounded tiger, Cornwallis destroys 
 all his heavy baggage, and pushes hard after Morgan, 
 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 Catav/ba, 
 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 CornwalliB 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 this ? 
 
 Soon as he could get over, the wrathful Cornwallis 
 renewed the pursuit ; but before he could overtake 
 them at Guildford court-house^ the Americans, joined 
 by their countrymen, gave him battle, and killed one 
 third of his army. Cornwallis 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 ..to 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, " God save the 
 king! God save the king!" Lee encourages the mis- 
 take, until they are all intermixed with his dragoons, 
 who at a signal given, 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, mistakmg them for what he called 
 ^ damned rebels," ordered his troops to charge^ which 
 they did; and regardless of their repeated cries, that 
 
tSO THE LIFE OF 
 
 " they were the king's best friends," put most of them 
 to death. 
 
 Thus wondeifuUy 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 WiU 
 Uamsburgh and York, where God sent his servant 
 Washington, who presently captured him and hia 
 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 wistfu) 
 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 the) had stained with 
 blood, and pursuing them to the very gates of Charles- 
 ton. Afi we approached the i^ity, 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 MA.RION. 231 
 
 of war. Robbed of all animal and vegetable life, the 
 neighbouring plantations seemed but as dreary de- 
 serts, compared with what they once were, when, co- 
 vered with sportive flocks and herds, and rice and 
 corn, they smiled with plenteousness and joy. In the 
 fields, the eyps 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 P'nglish and 
 Americans. Indeed, had those days continued, no flesh 
 could have been saved ; but blessed be God, who 
 shortened them, by chastising the aggressors (the 
 British) as we have seen. 
 
 On the memorable 14th of December, 1782^ we en- 
 tered and took possession of our capital, after it had 
 been two years seven months and two days in the 
 hands of the enemy. The style of our entry was 
 quite novel and romantic. On condition of not being 
 molestefl while embarking, the British had ofl*ered to 
 leave the town unhurt. Accordingly, at the firing of 
 a signal gun in the morning, as agreed on, they quit- 
 ted their advanced woiks, 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 
 
232 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 clcgaut 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 ' 
 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 v/as to be heard but shouts 
 of. Liberty and America for ever; and nothing 
 was to be seen but crowds of citizens shaking handa 
 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, m.ingling their congratulations. The day 
 was precious to all, but none I believe enjoyed it so 
 highly as did the ladies of Charleston. Being, great 
 noimbers of them at least, women of fortune and libe- 
 ral education, they had early discovered the deformi- 
 ty of lord North's enslaving principles, *' iinconditio7ial 
 taxation^'* which they abbjprred 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 plen* 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. S3S 
 
 sure to contemplate the British in that prepossessing 
 light. On the contrary, compelled to view them as 
 mtrejighting machines^ venal wretches, who for pay 
 and pkmder, had degraded the man into the brute, 
 tne Briton into the buccaneer, how could they 
 otherwise than detest them ? 
 
 Nor were the manners of the British officers at all 
 calculated to remove those antipathies. Coming to 
 America, under the impression that the past genera- 
 tion were convicts^ and the present rebels^ they looked 
 on and treated their daughters only as pretty Creoles^ 
 whom it was doing great honour to smile on ! 
 
 But this prejudice against the British officers, found- 
 ed ^r*^ 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-throats. And on the other hand, 
 to be treated thus by buckskin girls^ the rebel daught- 
 ers of convict parents, v/as more than the British offi- 
 cers could put up with. The whig ladies, of course, 
 were often insulted, and that very grossly too j and 
 not only often threatened, but actually thrown into the 
 frovost 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 ol 
 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 m 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 I welcome ! welcome to your homes again !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Marion returns to his plantation — -z^ appoitited a meni' 
 her of the legislature — some valuable anecdotes of 
 him — his marriage — and retirement. 
 
 AFTER the retreat of the British from Carolina, 
 Marion sheathed his ?>\Yord 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 covmsel,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 v/ar, 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 severity to the tories, whom he used 
 to call hi^" poor deluded countrymen." The reader 
 may form some idea of general JNIarion from the fol- 
 lowing anecdote, which was related to me by the 
 honourable Benjamin Huger, Esq. 
 
 During the furious contests in South Carolina, 
 between the British and Americans, it was very com- 
 mon for men of property to play jack cf both s'ldes^ 
 for the sake of saving their negroes and cattle. — 
 Among these, a pretty numeraus 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 soon 
 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. Everybody 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 confscatioii act was passed, 
 had him down on the black ll'it^ fondly hoping, no 
 doubt, to divide a large spoil. PfXarion, 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 Marion, 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. 
 
236 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Having counted on general Marion as his firmest foe 
 they were utterly mortified to find him his fastest 
 friend, and, venting their passion with great freedom, 
 taxed him with inconsistency and fickleness that but 
 illy suited with general Marion's character. 
 
 " It is scarcely eighteen months, sir," said they, 
 " since you treated this old rascal with the most 
 pointed and public contempt, on account of the very 
 crime for wliich we wish to punish him. ^nd here, 
 now, instead of taking part against him, you have 
 declared in his favour, and have become his warmest 
 advocate with a legislature." 
 
 " True, gentlemen," replied Marion, " but you 
 should remember that it was war then ; and there- 
 fore my duty to make a difference between the real 
 and pretended friends of my country. But it \^ peace 
 now, and we ought to remember the virtues of men, 
 particularly of the old and ti?nicl^ 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 upon the general, who, waving 
 his bumpei in the air, thus nobly called out — " Well^ 
 gentlemen., here'^s damnation to the conjiscation act?"^ 
 
 The following anecdote of Marion 1 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 aw* 
 nesty of all those arbitrary measures which the Ame- 
 rican officers had been obliged to adopt during the war, 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2«7 
 
 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 friends, 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 name mentioned as one of the subscribers, in- 
 st^tly 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, v/hen 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 theii 
 cattle do something; and as they had not shed any of 
 their blood for the public service, they might certainly 
 spare a little corn to it: at any rate he had no notion, 
 he said, of turning over to the mercy of these pol- 
 troons, some of the choicest spirits of the nation, to 
 be prosecuted and torn to pieces by them ; but that, 
 nevertheless, he did not like to have his name to the 
 petition, for, thank God, he had no favours to ask of 
 them. And if, during the war for his country, he had 
 done any of them harm, there was he^ and yondei 
 his property y and let them come forward^ if they darc^ 
 and demand satisfaction.'''* 
 
 And I never heard of any man who ever accused 
 Kim 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 
 Fort Johnson^ to the command of v/hich he was ap- 
 pointed, with the pay of a.bout twenty-two hundred 
 dollars per annum. Though this salary had been 
 
238 THE LIFE OF 
 
 voted him chiefly because of his losses during the w«*v, 
 yet it was not continued to him longer than two oi 
 three years, when it was reduced to less than five hun- 
 dred dollars annually. Numbers of people had their 
 feelings greatly hurt on this occasion, and, I dare sayj 
 much worse than his own. For he was a man who 
 caied very little for money; and besides, about that 
 time he entered into matrimony with that excellent 
 and wealthy lady. Miss Mary Videau, who, with her 
 affections, bestowed on him a fortune sufficient to sa- 
 tisfy his utmost wishes, even though they had been 
 far less moderate than they were. Seeing now no par- 
 ticular obligation on him to continue longer in the 
 public service, he gladly yielded to his sense of what 
 he owed to a generous and beloved companion, and 
 with her, retired to his native parish of St. John's, 
 where, amidst the benedictions of his countrymen^ 
 and the caresses of numerous friends, he spent the 
 short remnant of his days, participating every rural 
 sweet with the dear woman of his choice, feasting on 
 tlic 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 shoxvn 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. tZ9 
 
 " Oh no," said he, " we must not talk of bed yet 
 It is but seldom, you know, that we meet. And as 
 this may be our laat, let us take all we can of it in 
 chat. What do you think of the times ^" 
 " O glorious times," said I. 
 
 " Yes, thank God !" replied he. " They are glorious 
 times indeed ; and fully equal to all that we had in 
 hope, when we drew our swords for independence. 
 But I am afraid they won't last long." 
 I asked him why he thought so. 
 " Oh ! knowledge, sir," said he," is wanting ! know- 
 ledge is wanting ! Israel of old, you know, was </e- 
 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 knoxun^ 
 and properly valued, Satan, we are told, was once 
 an angel of light, but for want of duly considering his 
 glorious state, he rebelled and lost all. And how 
 many hundreds of young Carolinians have we not 
 known, whose fathers left them all the means of hap- 
 piness ; elegant estates, handsome wives, and, jn 
 shoit, every blessing that the most luxurious could 
 desire ? Yet they could not rest, until by drinking 
 and gamblings 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 knoivledgef 
 For had those silly ones but known the evils of pover- 
 ty, what a vile thing it was to wear a dirty shirt, a 
 long beard, and ragged coat; to go without a dinner, 
 or to spunge for it among growling relations ; or to 
 be bespattered, or run over in the streets, by the sons 
 of those who were once their fathers' overseers ; I say^ 
 had those poor boobies, in the days of their prospe- 
 rity, known these thir.gs as they norjj do^ would they 
 have squandered away the precious means of inde- 
 
240 THE LIFE OF 
 
 pendence and pleasure, and have brought themselves 
 to all this shame and sorrow ? No, never, never, never. 
 
 "And so it is, most exactly, with nations. If those 
 that 2iX^free and happy ^ did but kno-w their blessings, 
 do you think they would ever exchange them for 
 slavery ? If the Carthagenians, for example, in the 
 days of their freedom and self-government, when they 
 obeyed no laws but of their own making ; paid no 
 taxes, but for their own benefit ; and, free as air, pur- 
 sued their own interest as they liked ; I say, if that 
 once glorious and happy people had known their 
 blessings, 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 ? 
 
 " No, surely they would not. 
 
 " Well, now to bring this home to ourselves. We 
 fought for self-government ; and God hath pleased to 
 give us one, better calculated perhaps to protect our 
 rights^ to foster our virtues^ to call forth our energies, 
 and to advance our condition nearer to perfection 
 and happiness, than any government that was ever 
 framed under the sun. 
 
 *' But what signifies even this government, divine 
 as it is, if it be not known and prized as it deserves ?" 
 
 I asked him how he thought this was best to be 
 done? 
 
 "\Vhy, certainly," replied \\e^*'''hy 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 
 swch ^ penny 7vit and pound fooUshne^-s T 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 brought 
 
GEN FRANCIS MARION. S41 
 
 the British, 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 7r6, 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 toryism 
 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 Ca/olina 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. 
 
 "Well, in these two rxtia years of tory-begotten 
 war, Carolina lost, at. least four thousand men ; and 
 among them, a Laurens, a Wiliiams, a Campbell^ a 
 Haynesy 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 
 ITiird, to shoot the Americans, say, thirty pounds 
 sterling ahead, or one hundred and fifty dollars, tliey 
 make six hundred thousand dollars. Then count the 
 tweuty-five thousand slaves which Cariolina certainly 
 lost, and each slave at the moderate !:>nce of three 
 W 
 
242 THE LIFE OF 
 
 hundred dollars, and yo\^ have seven millions five 
 hundred thousand. To this add the houses, barns, 
 and stables that were bu^-it ; the plate plundered ; the 
 furniture lost j tlie hoga 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- 
 h 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> g 2 000 000 
 
 year's war, 5 ' ' 
 
 2d. For her four thousand citizens } -qq 00^ 
 
 slain in that time, 5 ' 
 
 3d. For twenty-five thousand slaves > ^ »qq O^q 
 
 lost, J ' ' 
 
 4th. For buildings, furniture, cattle, 1 _ ^vv^ r^rxr 
 
 gram, &c. &c. destroyed, J ? ? 
 
 Sl5,100,00C 
 
 Making the enormous sum of fifteen millions and 
 odd dollars capital; and bearing an annual interest 
 of nearly ten hundred l;hou sand dollars besides! and 
 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 jmblic 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, rnth ^ reat 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 foetid breath, ichorous 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 lusty 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 ig-norance^ ought to teach us that of all sins, 
 there is none so hateful to God as national igyiorance ; 
 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 » 
 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 happy ; that 
 5o be happy they must have virtue ; that virtue is not 
 to be attained without knowledge^ nor knowledge with- 
 out instruction^ nor public instruction without ^ree 
 schools^ nor free schools without legislative order. 
 
 ^ Among a people who fear God, the knowledge of 
 duty is the same as doing it. Believing it to be th« 
 
244 THE LIFE OF 
 
 first command of God, " let there be light;" and be- 
 lieving it to be the will of God that" all should be in- 
 structed, from the least to the greatest," these wise 
 legislators at once set about public instruction. They 
 did not ask, how will my constituents like this ? won't 
 they turn me out ? shall I not lose my three dollars 
 per day ? No ! but 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 Engw 
 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 their 
 neighbours, plundering their property, carrying off 
 their stock, and aiding the British in the cursed work 
 of American murder and subjugation. But on the con- 
 trary, with minds well informed of their rights, and 
 hearts glowing with love for themselves and posteri- 
 ty, they rose up against the enemy, firm and united, 
 as a band of shepherds against the ravening wolves. 
 
 " And their valour in the field gave glorious proof 
 how men will fight when they know that their all is at 
 stake. See major Pitcaini, on the memorable 19th of 
 April 1775^ marching from Boston, with one thousand 
 British regulars, to burn the American 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-founh 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^ suffci lord Cornwallis, w«th 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2ii 
 
 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 stantl 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 
 i?iv\d o( Jree schools ; to Bunker's Hill. There, be- 
 hind a poor ditch of half a night's raising, you be- 
 hold fifteen hundred militia-men waiting the approach 
 of three thousand British regulars xvith a heavy train 
 of artillery / With such odds against them, such fear- 
 uil odds in numbers, discipline, arms, and martial 
 fame, will they not shrink from the contest, and, 
 like their southern friends, jump up and run ! Oh no ; 
 to a man they have been taught to read i to a man 
 they have been instructed to knoxv^ and dearer than 
 life to prize, the blessings of freedom. Their 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 gall ant forefathers 
 dared for liberty and for them. They looked 
 forward to their own dear children, and yearn over 
 the unoflfending millions, now, in tearful eyes, looking 
 up to them for protection. And shall this infinite 
 host of deathless beings, created in God's own image,, 
 and capable by virtue and equal laws, of endless 
 progression in glory and happiness ; shall they be ar- 
 rested in their high career, and from the freeborn 
 W2 
 
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 w^ithout 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 besto\f it freely upon them. And the more per- 
 fect the government, the greater the duty to make it 
 well known. Selfish and oppressive governments, in- 
 deed, as Christ observes, must " hate the light, and 
 fear to come to it, because their deeds are evil.^* But 
 a fair and cheap government, like our republic, " longs 
 for the light, and rejoices to come to the light, thai 
 it may be manifested to be from God,'* and well 
 worth all the vigilance and valour that an enlightened 
 nation can ndly ?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 o%vii excellencies. For as some of the most valu- 
 able truths", for lack of careful promulgation, have j 
 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 folio v/ them. 
 Vast armies will be formed, and bloody battles fought, 
 And after desolating their countrj' with all the hor- 
 rors of civil war, the guilty survivors will have tc 
 bend their necks to the iron joke of some stern 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARtON. ii? 
 
 usurper, and like beasts of burden, to drag, unpitied, 
 diose galling ch-ains 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. 
 
248 THE LIFE OF - 
 
 'J 
 
 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 eraae. 
 
 ** Ah I full of honours^ and of years ^farewell I 
 
 " Thus o'er thy tomb shall Carolina sigh ; 
 " Each tongue thy valour and thy worth shall tell, 
 
 *' Which taught the young to fight, tlie 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 
 to stay. As the reader may suppose, I paid but little 
 heed to this expression, which I looked on as no more 
 than the common cant of the aged. But I soon had 
 cause to remember it with sorrow. For I had been 
 but a few weeks at home, before, opening a Charles- 
 ton paper, I found in a mourning column, "The 
 DEATH OF GENERAL Marion." Nevcr shall I for- 
 get the heart-sickness of that moment ; never forget 
 what I felt when first I learned that Marion was no 
 more. Though the grave v/as between us, yet his be* 
 loved image seemed to appear before me fresher than 
 ever. All our former friendships, all our former wars 
 returned. But alas ! he who was to me the soul of all 
 the rest ; the foremost in every battle ; the dearest at 
 every feast ; he shall return no more ! " Oh Marion, 
 my friend !" my bursting heart seemed to say, " and 
 art thou gone ? Shall I no mere hear that voice which 
 was 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 those godlike virtues, shall they pass away like 
 the empty visions of the night 1'^ 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 249 
 
 From this deep gloom which strong atheistic sor- 
 row had poured over my nerves, I was suddenly 
 roused, as by an angePs touch, to the bright hopes of 
 religion. The virtues of my departed friend all flash- 
 ed at once upon my kindling thoughts ; his counte- 
 nance so stern with honour; his tongue so sacred to 
 truth i 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. 
 
 " P happy Marion I'* 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 
 live to such ghastly dotage, as to frighten the chil- 
 
&S0 THE LIFE OF 
 
 dren, and make even the dogs to baik at us as we 
 totter along the streets. Most certainly then, there is 
 a time when, to a £;-ood 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 
 as to be happy ; and thereto made us to love one ano- 
 ther P which is plainly written in our hearts ; whose 
 every thought and work of love is happiness, and as 
 plainly written as the gospel ; whose every line 
 breathes love, and every precept enjoins good works. 
 Now, the man who has spent life in bravely denying 
 himself every inclination that would make others 
 miserable, and in courageously doing all in his power 
 to make them happy, what has such a man to fear 
 from death, or rather, what glorious things has he not 
 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, " Well, 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. Jor 
 it is the only spice to embalm and to immortalize 
 our republic. Any politician can sketch out a fine 
 theory of government, but what is to bind the peo* 
 pie to the practice ? Archimedes used to mourn that 
 though his mechanic powers were irresistible, yet 
 he could never raise the world; because he had nc 
 place in the heavens, whereon to fix his puUies. 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' puUies, fixed on heaven. The xvorld 
 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 
 it J so enraged^ that devotion only can becalm it; and 
 
GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 251 
 
 so broke down, that it takes all the force of heavenly 
 hope to raise it. In short, religion is the only sove- 
 »*eigii 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 latter 
 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." 
 
 When he was near 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- 
 neral Greene has often been heard to say, that " the 
 page of history never furnished his equal." And if 
 any higher praise of Marion were necessary, it is to 
 be found in the very remarkable resemblance between 
 Jiim 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^ 
 iour, 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 our 
 admiration. And even in the lesser incidents of their 
 lives, the resemblance between these two great men 
 is closer than common. They were both born in the 
 same year ; both lost their fathers in early life ; both 
 
5152 THE LIFE Ol GEN. MARION. 
 
 married excellent and rcealihy ladies; both lef 
 dows ; and both died. childless. 
 
 The name of jV^rion continues dear to the people 
 of the south ; and to this day, whenever his amiable 
 widow rides through the country, she meets t^ 
 most pleasing evidences, that her husband, thou/^ 
 dead, is not forgotten. The wealthy every where^ 
 treat her with the respect due to a mother y while 
 the poor, gathering around her carriage, often press 
 to shake hands with her, then looking at each oth' 
 with a sigh they exclaim — ^"That's the ^i in*?, 
 
 OP OUR GLOJRIOUS OLD MaRION." 
 
 THE 'T:?vr?.