ess of the
spot, and the happiness of its dwellers, suited well its name of
"Peaceful Retreat," by which it was known through all the country.

But in those troublous times it could not always remain "peaceful." In
the spring of 1779, the British took possession of all the sea-board.
General Prevost marched up from Savannah and laid siege to Charleston.
The beautiful city was about to fall into the enemy's hands; all night
the men had toiled in the trenches, the women had prayed on their knees
in their chambers, expecting every moment to hear the besieging cannon
roar through the darkness. At daylight the next morning the housetops
were thronged with anxious watchers; but as the sun came gloriously out
of the sea, it shone upon deserted fields; not a tent was to be seen.
Hearing that General Lincoln was hastening on with his army, Prevost
had struck his tents in the night, and was retreating rapidly toward
Savannah. He crossed the Stone Ferry, and fortified himself on John's
Island, as the island of St. John's was often called.

For weeks now the noise of musketry and heavy guns destroyed the quiet
joy at "Peaceful Retreat." The children, in the midst of play, would
hear the dreadful booming, and suddenly grow still and pale. The eldest
daughter, Mary Anna, was a sprightly, courageous girl of thirteen. She
had the care of all the little ones, for her mother's hands were full,
in managing the great estate and caring for her husband. The children
never played now in the park, unless Mary was with them; and when the
frightful noise came through the trees, they ran to her as chickens to
a mother's wing.

After a time, the enemy determined to take possession of this beautiful
place. A body of British and Hessians quietly captured the landing one
midnight, and, creeping stealthily onward, filled the park and
surrounded the house. At day-break, the inmates found themselves
prisoners.

Then came trying days for the family. The officers took up their
quarters in the mansion, allowing the family to occupy the upper story.
They may have been brave soldiers, but they certainly were not
gentlemen, for they did everything to annoy Mrs. Gibbes, who bore all
her trouble nobly and patiently. Little Mary had entire charge of the
smaller children, which was no easy task, for they were continually
getting into some sort of trouble with the troops.

John's Island was less than thirty miles from Charleston, and when the
American office