a party of friends at a house in Tradd-street, the
host, with that mistaken hospitality which has too frequently changed
a virtue to a vice, turned the key upon his guests, to prevent escape,
till each individual should be gorged with wine. Though an amiable man,
Marion was a strictly temperate one. He was not disposed to submit to
this too common form of social tyranny; yet not willing to resent the
breach of propriety by converting the assembly into a bull-ring, he
adopted a middle course, which displayed equally the gentleness and
firmness of his temper. Opening a window, he coolly threw himself into
the street. He was unfortunate in the attempt; the apartment was on
the second story, the height considerable, and the adventure cost him
a broken ankle. The injury was a severe and shocking one, and, for the
time, totally unfitted him for service. He left the city in a litter,
while the passage to the country still remained open for retreat, in
obedience to an order of General Lincoln for the departure of all idle
mouths, "all supernumerary officers, and all officers unfit for duty."
Marion retired to his residence in St. John's parish. Here, suffering in
mind and body, he awaited with impatience the progress of events,
with which, however much he might sympathize, he could not share. His
humiliation at this unavoidable but melancholy inaction, may be imagined
from what we know of his habits and his patriotism.

The siege of Charleston, in consequence of the firm bearing of the
besieged, and the cautious policy of the British Government, was
protracted long after the works had been pronounced untenable. It was
yielded unwillingly to the conqueror, only after all resistance had
proved in vain. It fell by famine, rather than by the arms of the enemy.
The defence was highly honorable to the besieged. It lasted six
weeks, in which they had displayed equal courage and endurance. The
consequences of this misfortune leave it somewhat doubtful, whether
the determination to defend the city to the last extremity, was not the
result of a correct policy; considering less its own loss, and that
of the army, than the effect of the former upon the rustic population.
Certainly, the capture of the army was a vital misfortune to the
southern States; yet the loss of the city itself was of prodigious
effect upon the scattered settlements of the country. The character and
resolve of the capital cities, in those days, were very much the sourc