The province which was assigned to his control by Governor Rutledge, was the constant theatre of war.  He was required to cover an immense extent of country.  With a force constantly unequal and constantly fluctuating, he contrived to supply its deficiencies by the resources of his own vigilance and skill.  His personal bravery was frequently shown, and the fact that he himself conducted an enterprise, was enough to convince his men that they were certain to be led to victory....  He had no lives to waste, and the game he played was that which enabled him to secure the greatest results, with the smallest amount of hazard.  Yet, when the occasion seemed to require it, he could advance and strike with an audacity, which in the ordinary relations of the leader with the soldier, might well be thought inexcusable rashness....  The reader will perceive a singular discrepancy between the actual events detailed in the life of every popular hero, and the peculiar fame which he holds in the minds of his countrymen.  Thus, while Marion is every where regarded as the peculiar representative in the southern States, of the genius of partizan warfare, we are surprised, when we would trace, in the pages of the annalist, the sources of this fame, to find the details so meagre and so unsatisfactory.  Tradition mumbles over his broken memories, which we vainly strive to pluck from his lips, and bind together in coherent and satisfactory records.  The spirited surprise, the happy ambush, the daring onslaught, the fortunate escape,—­these, as they involve no monstrous slaughter,—­no murderous strife of masses,—­no rending of walled towns and sack of cities, the ordinary historian disdains.  The military reputation of Marion consists in the frequent performance of deeds, unexpectedly, with inferior means, by which the enemy was annoyed and dispirited, and the hearts and courage of his countrymen warmed into corresponding exertions with his own.  To him we owe that the fires of patriotism were never extinguished, even in the most disastrous hours, in the low country of South Carolina.  He made our swamps and forests sacred, as well because of the refuge which they gave to the fugitive patriot, as for the frequent sacrifices which they enabled him to make, on the altars of liberty and a befitting vengeance....  It is enough that his fame has entered largely into that of his country, forming a valuable portion of its national stock of character.  His memory is in the very hearts of our people.

* * * * *

=_Harriet Beecher Stowe, 1812-._= (Manual, p. 484.)

From “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”

=_305._= MEMORIALS OF A DEAD CHILD.

At the door, however, he stopped a moment, and then coming back, he said, with some hesitation,—­

“Mary, I don’t know how you’d feel about it, but there’s that drawer full of things-of-of-poor little Henry’s.”  So saying, he turned quickly on his heel, and shut the door after him.