t was
distinguished. One of these, which occurred to Captain, afterwards
Colonel Snipes, of Marion's brigade, is a remarkable instance; and, as
it has been told elsewhere, in connection with the life of Marion, it
may well claim a place in this narrative.

Snipes was a Carolinian, of remarkable strength and courage. He was
equally distinguished for his vindictive hatred of the Tories. He had
suffered some domestic injuries at their hands, and he was one who never
permitted himself to forgive. His temper was sanguinary in the extreme,
and led him, in his treatment of the loyalists, to such ferocities as
subjected him, on more than one occasion, to the harshest rebuke of his
commander. It is not certain at what period in the war the following
occurrence took place, but it was on one of those occasions when the
partisan militia claimed a sort of periodical privilege of abandoning
their general to look after their families and domestic interests.
Availing himself of this privilege, Snipes pursued his way to his
plantation. His route was a circuitous one, but it is probable that he
pursued it with little caution. He was more distinguished for audacity
than prudence. The Tories fell upon his trail, which they followed with
the keen avidity of the sleuth-hound. Snipes reached his plantation
in safety, unconscious of pursuit. Having examined the homestead and
received an account of all things done in his absence, from a faithful
driver, and lulled into security by the seeming quiet and silence of the
neighborhood, he retired to rest, and, after the fatigues of the day,
soon fell into a profound sleep. From this he was awakened by the abrupt
entrance and cries of his driver. The faithful negro apprised him,
in terror, of the approach of the Tories. They were already on the
plantation. His vigilance alone prevented them from taking his master in
bed. Snipes, starting up, proposed to take shelter in the barn, but the
driver pointed to the flames already bursting from that building. He had
barely time to leave the house, covered only by his night shirt, and, by
the counsel of the negro, to fly to the cover of a thick copse of
briars and brambles, within fifty yards of the dwelling, when the Tories
surrounded it. The very task of penetrating this copse, so as to screen
himself from sight, effectually removed the thin garment which concealed
his nakedness. The shirt was torn from his back by the briars, and
the skin shared in its inj