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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 scarcely enough of thread-bare homespun to cover his nakedness! and, instead of tall ranks of gaydressed soldiers, a handful of sun-burnt, yellow-legged militia-men; some roasting potatoes, and some asleep, with their black fire-locks and powder horns lying by them on the logs. Having recovered a little from his surprise, he presented his letter to general Marion, who perused it, and soon settled every thing to his satisfaction. The officer took up his hat to retire.

"Oh no!" said Marion, "it is now about our time of dining, and I hope, sir, you will give us the pleasure of your company to dinner."

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

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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 roasting under the embers, and which Tom, with his pine stick poker, soon liberated from their ashy confinement; 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 of the ashes, partly by blowing them with his breath, and partly by brushing them with the sleeve of his old cotton shirt, he piled some of the best on a large piece of bark, and placed them between the British officer and Marion, on the trunk of the fallen pine on which they sat.

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

The officer, who was a well bred man, took up one of the potatoes and affected to feed, as if he had found a

great dainty; but it was very plain that he ate more from good manners than good appetite.

Presently he broke out into a hearty laugh. Marion looked surprised. "I beg pardon, general," said he, "but one cannot, you know, always command one's 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.'

(6 No, indeed," quoth the officer, "and this, I imagine, is one of your accidental lent dinners: a sort of ban yan. In general, no doubt, you live a great deal.better.

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"Rather worse," answered the general, "for often we don't get enough of this."

"Heavens!" rejoined the officer; "but probably what' you lose in meal you make up in malt, though stinted in provisions, you draw noble pay."

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

"Heavens and earth! then you must be in a bad box. I don't see, general, how you can stand it."

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Why, sir," replied Marion, with a smile of selfapprobation," these things depend on feeling."

The Englishman said, "he did not believe it would be an easy matter to reconcile his feelings to a soldier's life on general Marion's terms: all fighting, no pay, and no provisions, but potatoes."

"Why, sir," answered the general, “the heart is all; and when that is much interested, a man can do any thing. Many a youth would think it hard to indent himself a slave for fourteen years. But let him be over head and ears in love, and with such a beauteous sweetheart as Rachael, 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 heavenly nymph my champion, and these woods shall have charms beyond London and Paris in slavery. To have no proud monarch driving over me with his gilt coaches; nor his host of excisemen and tax-gatherers, insulting and robbing; but to be my own master, my own prince and sovereign; gloriously preserving my national dignity, and pursuing my true

happiness; planting my vineyards, and eating their lus-cious fruit; sowing my fields, and reaping the golden grain; and seeing millions of brothers all around me, equally free and happy, as myself. This, sir, is what I long for."

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

"Happy," quoth Marion, "yes, happy, indeed: and I would rather fight for such blessings for my country, and feed on roots, than keep aloof, though wallowing in all the luxuries of Solomon. For now, sir, I walk the soil that gave me birth, and exult in the thought, that I am not unworthy of it. I look upon these venerable trees around me, and feel that I do not dishonour them. I think of my own sacred rights, and rejoice that I have not basely deserted them. And when I look forward to the long, long ages of posterity, 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 heart to think that I am now contending for their freedom, with 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 honest head, and looked, I thought, as if he had seen the upbraiding ghosts of his illustrious countrymen, Sidney and Hamden. On his return to Georgetown, he was asked by colonel Watson, why he looked so serious.

"I have cause, sir," said he, " to look so serious."
"What! has general Marion refused to treat?"
"No, sir."

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

"No, sir, not that neither, but worse.'

"Ah! what can be worse?"

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"Why, sir, I have seen an American general and his officers, without pay, and almost without clothes, living on roots, and drinking water; and all for LIBERTY!! What chance have we against such men?"

It is said colonel Watson was not much obliged to him for his 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.

General Marion was, in stature, of the smallest size, thin, as well as low. His visage was not pleasing, and his manners not captivating. He was reserved and silent, entering into conversation only when necessary, and then with modesty and good sense.

He possessed a strong mind, improved by its own reflections and observations, not by books or travel. His dress was like his address; plain, regarding comfort and decency only. In his meals he was abstemious, eating generally of one dish, and drinking water only.

He was sedulous and constant in his attention to the duties of his station, to which every other consideration yielded.

The procurement of subsistence for his men, and the contrivance of annoyance to his enemy, engrossed his entire mind. He was virtuous all over; never, even in manner, much less in reality, did he trench upon right. Beloved by his friends, and respected by his enemies, he exhibited a luminous example of the beneficial effects to be produced by an individual, who, with only small means at his command, possesses a virtuous heart, a strong head, and a mind devoted to the common good. After the war the general married, but had no issue.

General Marion died in February, 1795, leaving behind him an indisputable title to the first rank among the patriots and soldiers of our revolution.

MERCER, HUGH, was born at Aberdeen, in the north of Scotland, and received his education in the university of that place. His profession was that of a physician, and he acted in the capacity of surgeon's-mate, at the memorable battle of Culloden. Soon after that event, 1746, he left his native country, and came to this. He settled in the then colony of Pennsylvania, and took an active part in the wars of that day, carried on in the back parts of the settlement, against the savages. He

was with general Braddock in the disastrous campaign of 1755, and was thus the early companion in arms of the illustrious Washington. He served in the expedition under colonel Armstrong, in the year 1756, and received a medal for his good conduct at the battle of Kittaning, from the corporation of the city of Philadelphia. This mark of approbation is still preserved by his children, as a sacred memorial of his public worth, and private virtues. In this battle, which terminated in the defeat of the Indians and the destruction of their town, general Mercer was severely wounded in the right arm, which was broken. Upon that occasion he narrowly escaped being taken prisoner, and being separated from his party, wandered a fortnight in the wilderness, slaking his thirst in the brook of the forest, and subsisting on the body of a rattle-snake which he had killed, until he reached the settled country.

Being a physician, he applied temporary relief to his wound. While wandering in the woods, much exhausted from loss of blood, and the want of proper food and nourishment, and surrounded by hostile savages, he took refuge in a hollow tree which lay on the ground. In that situation he was, when many of the savages came up, and seated themselves on the tree. They remained there some time, and departed without discovering that a wounded soldier and a foe was near them. General Mercer then endeavoured to return by the route in which the army had advanced, and, incredible as it may appear, he reached fort Cumberland, through a trackless wild of more than a hundred miles, with no other nutriment than that already mentioned.

After the peace of 1763, doctor Mercer came from Pennsylvania, and settled in Fredericksburg, Virginia, and married Isabella, the youngest daughter of John and Margaret Gordon.

General Mercer was a zealous advocate for the rights of the colonists; and upon the breaking out of the war between them and the mother country, was among the first who entered the revolutionary army. He was soon afterwards honoured by congress with a brigadier-general's commission. For a long time previous to the American revolution, he pursued his profession as a physician,

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