guished themselves, and their names are preserved among the gallant spirits who in the hour of peril deserved well of the country.

This affair recalled the attention of Sir Henry Clinton from Connecticut, whither he had sent an expedition under Governor Tryon, and he advanced up the Hudson towards the Highlands, where he repossessed himself of Stony Point. Finding, however, that he could not attack Washington with any chance of success, in the strong position he occupied, Sir Henry fell back upon New-York, and devoted his attention to the affairs of the South, whither the tide of war was now flowing.

A

CHAPTER III.

State of the South-Marion-Anecdote-Situation of the Northern Army-Firmness and Patriotism of the Army and People -Effects of the French Alliance-Paper-money-Defects in the Military Establishment-Disposition to Mutiny-Resolution of the Officers to Resign-Prevented by the Influence of Washington-Bank in Philadelphia-Patriotism of American Women-Expostulation of Washington with Congress-Incursion of the Enemy into New-Jersey, and noble conduct of the Jersey Blues-Washington-Clinton comes from the South-Invades New-Jersey, and retires-Arrival of a French Fleet and Army-Operations in consequence-Close of the Campaign.

THE states to the south of the Potomac had early partaken in the sufferings of the war. Virginia had been ravaged by Dunmore; North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia had not escaped. South Carolina, most especially, had partaken of more than her full share. Many of the inhabitants of that state were loyalists, and bore an inveterate hatred, not only to the cause of liberty, but to all its supporters. Internal fires burned within the bosom of the

state, while the flames raged on its borders. The British, probably instigated and exasperated by the representations of the tories, repaid the wrongs alleged to have been inflicted on their friends, by retaliating with still greater severity. At one time the enemy even flattered himself that the southern states were conquered. But there was still a spirit stirring within their bosoms, which might be repressed for a while, but could not be subdued. The flame of liberty was kept alive in the pine-barrens, the swamps, and the mountains, by Pickens, and Sumpter, and Huger, and Horry. Above all, there was Marion, who, when all seemed lost, retired to the woods, and with a few followers, worthy of such a leader, kept the war alive, when scarcely a spark was left to kindle it into a flame.

Among the fine spirits of the revolution, there were few whose character and services are more worthy of remembrance and admiration than those of Francis Marion. He was a man of great talents as well as great courage. His patriotism was warm and thrilling, and his love of liberty unconquerable. After the fall of Charleston, Tarlton and his myrmidons in

sulted and ravaged the lower parts of the state almost with impunity; and the tories became imboldened to new acts of ill-neighbourhood, if not of inhumanity, to their unfortunate countrymen. Their houses were burned, their plantations laid waste, and their wives, mothers, and daughters insulted and abused. There was no force that could make head against external and internal enemies, and the country lay at their mercy.

In this situation the services of Marion were invaluable. Patient of fatigue, and capable of enduring every privation; intrepid and cautious; quick and persevering; a soldier and a philosopher; he never remitted his exertions to sustain what remained of the liberties of his country, nor ever despaired of her cause. Collecting together a little band of hardy and active spirits, he retired into the inaccessible swamps where he watched his opportunity, darted out on his enemies, struck his blow, and before it was known whence he came, was safe in his woods again. Within his sphere, he might be said to have carried on a war of his own, for the State authorities were distant, inaccessible, and almost destitute of power. His mode of subsist

ing himself and his soldiers is affectingly illustrated by the following striking anecdote, derived from an old friend and fellow-soldier of Marion, many years ago.

While occupying one of his fastnesses, in the midst of a swamp, a British officer with a flag, proposing an exchange of prisoners, was one day brought blindfold to his camp. The exploits of Marion had made his name now greatly known, and the officer felt no little curiosity to look at this invisible warrior, who was so often felt but never seen. On removing the bandage from his eyes, he was presented to a man rather below the middle size, very thin in his person, of a dark complexion and withered look. He was dressed in a homespun coat that bore evidence of flood and field, and the rest of his garments were much the worse for wear.

"I came," said the officer, "with a message for General Marion."

"I am he," said Marion; "and these are my soldiers."

The officer looked around and saw a parcel of rough, half-clothed fellows, some roasting sweet potatoes, others resting on their dark