ish post at Georgetown to the swamp encampment
of Marion, in order to effect this object. He was encountered by one
of the scouting parties of the brigade, carefully blindfolded, and
conducted, by intricate paths, through the wild passes, and into the
deep recesses of the island. Here, when his eyes were uncovered, he
found himself surrounded by a motley multitude, which might well have
reminded him of Robin Hood and his outlaws. The scene was unquestionably
wonderfully picturesque and attractive, and our young officer seems to
have been duly impressed by it. He was in the middle of one of those
grand natural amphitheatres so common in our swamp forests, in which
the massive pine, the gigantic cypress, and the stately and ever-green
laurel, streaming with moss, and linking their opposite arms, inflexibly
locked in the embrace of centuries, group together, with elaborate limbs
and leaves, the chief and most graceful features of Gothic architecture.
To these recesses, through the massed foliage of the forest, the
sunlight came as sparingly, and with rays as mellow and subdued, as
through the painted window of the old cathedral, falling upon aisle and
chancel. Scattered around were the forms of those hardy warriors with
whom our young officer was yet destined, most probably, to meet in
conflict,--strange or savage in costume or attitude--lithe and sinewy of
frame--keen-eyed and wakeful at the least alarm. Some slept, some joined
in boyish sports; some with foot in stirrup, stood ready for the signal
to mount and march. The deadly rifle leaned against the tree, the
sabre depended from its boughs. Steeds were browsing in the shade, with
loosened bits, but saddled, ready at the first sound of the bugle to
skirr through brake and thicket. Distant fires, dimly burning, sent up
their faint white smokes, that, mingling with the thick forest tops,
which they could not pierce, were scarce distinguishable from the long
grey moss which made the old trees look like so many ancient patriarchs.
But the most remarkable object in all this scene was Marion himself.
Could it be that the person who stood before our visitor--"in stature
of the smallest size, thin, as well as low"**--was that of the redoubted
chief, whose sleepless activity and patriotic zeal had carried terror to
the gates of Charleston; had baffled the pursuit and defied the arms of
the best British captains; had beaten the equal enemy, and laughed
at the superior? Certainly,