[Illustration:  Lee’s Legion.]

“We’ve already argued that question,” said Davenport, “and in my mind, it is a settled point that Lee was right.”  Nobody seemed disposed to revive the argument, and Kinnison continued.

“In this instance you see how ready Manning was to break a net or weave one.  I can tell you of another instance in which he showed his daring courage, and quickness of resource in time of danger.  At the battle of Eutaw, after the British line had been broken, and the Old Buffs, a regiment that had boasted of the extraordinary feats that they were to perform, were running from the field, Manning, sprang forward in pursuit, directing the platoon which he commanded, to follow him.  He did not cast an eye behind him until he found himself near a large brick house, into which the York Volunteers, commanded by Cruger, were retiring.  The British were on all sides of him, and not an American soldier nearer than one hundred and fifty or two hundred yards.  He did not hesitate a moment, but springing at an officer who was near him, seized him by the collar, and exclaiming in a harsh tone of voice—­’Damn you, sir, you are my prisoner,’ wrested his sword from his grasp, dragged him by force from the house, and keeping his body as a shield of defence from the heavy fire sustained from the windows, carried him off without receiving any injury.  Manning has often related, that at the moment when he expected that his prisoner would have made an effort for his liberty, he, with great solemnity, commenced an enumeration of his titles—­I am, Sir Henry Barry, Deputy Adjutant General of the British Army, Captain in the 52d Regiment, Secretary to the Commandant of Charleston.’  ‘Enough, enough, sir,’ said Manning, ’you are just the man I was looking for; fear nothing for your life, you shall screen me from danger, and I will take special care of you.’  He had retired in this manner some distance from the brick house, when he saw Captain Robert Joiett of the Virginia line, engaged in single combat with a British officer.  They had selected each other for battle a little before, the American armed with a broad-sword, the Briton with a musket and bayonet.  As they came together, a thrust was made at Joiett, which he parried, and both dropping their artificial weapons, being too much in contact to use them with effect, resorted to those with which they had been furnished by nature.  They were both men of great bulk and vigour, and while struggling each anxious to bring the other to the ground, a grenadier who saw the contest, ran to the assistance of his officer, made a longe with his bayonet, missed Joiett’s body, but drove it beyond the curve into his coat.  In attempting to withdraw the entangled weapon, he threw both combatants to the ground; when getting it free, he raised it deliberately, determined not to fail again in his purpose, but to transfix Joiett.  It was at this moment that Manning