might well be thought inexcusable rashness.... The reader will
perceive a singular discrepancy between the actual events detailed in
the life of every popular hero, and the peculiar fame which he holds in
the minds of his countrymen. Thus, while Marion is every where regarded
as the peculiar representative in the southern States, of the genius of
partizan warfare, we are surprised, when we would trace, in the pages of
the annalist, the sources of this fame, to find the details so meagre
and so unsatisfactory. Tradition mumbles over his broken memories, which
we vainly strive to pluck from his lips, and bind together in coherent
and satisfactory records. The spirited surprise, the happy ambush, the
daring onslaught, the fortunate escape,--these, as they involve no
monstrous slaughter,--no murderous strife of masses,--no rending of
walled towns and sack of cities, the ordinary historian disdains. The
military reputation of Marion consists in the frequent performance of
deeds, unexpectedly, with inferior means, by which the enemy was annoyed
and dispirited, and the hearts and courage of his countrymen warmed into
corresponding exertions with his own. To him we owe that the fires of
patriotism were never extinguished, even in the most disastrous hours,
in the low country of South Carolina. He made our swamps and forests
sacred, as well because of the refuge which they gave to the fugitive
patriot, as for the frequent sacrifices which they enabled him to make,
on the altars of liberty and a befitting vengeance.... It is enough
that his fame has entered largely into that of his country, forming a
valuable portion of its national stock of character. His memory is in
the very hearts of our people.

* * * * *

=_Harriet Beecher Stowe, 1812-._= (Manual, p. 484.)

From "Uncle Tom's Cabin."

=_305._= MEMORIALS OF A DEAD CHILD.

At the door, however, he stopped a moment, and then coming back, he
said, with some hesitation,--

"Mary, I don't know how you'd feel about it, but there's that drawer
full of things-of-of-poor little Henry's." So saying, he turned quickly
on his heel, and shut the door after him.

His wife opened the little bedroom door adjoining her room, and taking
the candle, set it down on the top of a bureau there; then from a small
recess she took a key, and put it thoughtfully in the lock of a drawer,
and made a sudden pause, while two boys, who, boy-like, had followed
close o