the walls of Cambden. He was desirous to make that place the centre of his operations, and this he was the more inclined to do, since he had just received a reenforcement of troops under the conduct of colonel Watson. But he was informed that the inhabitants of the whole interior country at his back, had revolted with one consent, that already Fort Watson had capitulated, and that those of Granby, Orangeburgh and Motte, were closely invested. The last, situated near the junction of the Congaree with the Santee, and containing extensive magazines, was of no little importance. Lord Rawdon, reflecting that all these forts were upon his rear, judged his situation imminently hazardous. He therefore resolved to evacuate Cambden, and retire lower down towards Charleston; this resolution he executed the ninth of May. He rased the fortifications, put in safety all the artillery and baggage, and brought off the families of the loyalists, who by their zeal for the royal cause had rendered themselves odious to the republicans. The whole army arrived on the thirteenth at Nelsons Ferry, upon the banks of the Santee river. Here, having received the unwelcome tidings that all the forts mentioned above were fallen into the hands of the Americans, the British general raised his camp, and carried it still farther back to Eutaw Springs.

General Greene, perceiving that Rawdon, by retreating into the lower parts of Carolina, had abandoned all thoughts of maintaining himself in the upper country, formed a design to reduce Ninety Six and Augusta, the only posts that still held out for the king. These two forts were already invested by the militia headed by colonels Pickens and Clarke. Greene appeared with his army before the walls of Ninety Six, and proceeded to push the siege by regular approaches. One of the officers who distinguished themselves the most in that operation was colonel Kosciusko, a young Pole, full of enthusiasm for the cause of the Americans. The defence of the place was directed by lieutenant-colonel Cruger. During this time, colonel Pickens vigorously pushed his operations against the town of Augusta, which was defended with equal bravery and ability by colonel Brown. These two places were very strong, and could not be reduced but by a long siege.

Meanwhile, lord Rawdon saw with extreme solicitude that in losing these posts, whose value he justly appreciated, he must also lose the garrisons which defended them. A reenforcement of three regiments newly arrived at Charleston from Ireland, gave him hopes of being able to relieve these fortresses, and principally Ninety Six. Every course which presented itself to his mind being equally difficult and dangerous, he preferred without hesitation that which appeared the most magnanimous. He received intelligence on his march of the loss of Augusta. Pressed with great industry by colo, nel Pickens, and without hope of relief, that place had just surren

dered to the arms of Congress. This disaster operated with the British general as a new motive for endeavoring to preserve Ninety Six. Upon the rumor of the approach of Rawdon, Greene reflected that the number and discipline of his soldiers was not such as to afford a hope that he would be able to resist, at the same time, the garrison of Ninety Six, and the fresh and warlike troops that were advancing against him. On the other hand, to raise the siege before having attempted some vigorous stroke against the place, appeared to him too disgraceful a step. Accordingly, however imperfect were the works of attack, he resolved to hazard an assault. He had already reached the ditch, it is true, and had pushed a sap to the foot of a bastion, but the fortifications were yet in a great measure entire. The body of the place was therefore to be considered as being proof against insult. But general Greene was desirous at least to save in his retreat the honor of the American arms. A general assault was therefore given with extreme impetuosity, which the English sustained with no less valor. Greene, seeing the terrible carnage which the artillery made among his soldiers, in the ditch not yet filled up with the ruins of the breach, determined at length to retire. Soon after this check, lord Rawdon being now but a small distance from his camp, he raised it all at once, and withdrew beyond the Tiger and the Broad rivers. The royalists followed him, but in vain. The British general having entered into Ninety Six, examined the state of the place, and was of opinion that it could not hold out against a regular attack. He therefore put himself again on the march, directing it towards the lower parts of Carolina, and proceeded to establish his head-quarters at Orangeburgh. Imboldened by his retreat, Greene soon showed himself before this last place. But a sight of the British forces, and of their excellent position, covered by the windings of the river, he paused, and bent his march towards the heights which border the Santee.

The hot and sickly season being arrived, it effected that which could not have been expected from the rage of men; hostilities ceased. It would seem that during this suspension of arms, civi! hatreds were rekindled with increase of fury. The English especially, as if to revenge their defeats showed themselves more exasperated than the Americans. It was at this epoch that there passed a lamentable event, which excited to the highest degree the indignation of all America, and particularly of the Carolinas. Colonel Isaac Hayne had warmly espoused the cause of American Independence. During the siege of Charleston he had served in a volunteer corps of light horse. After the surrender of that city, Hayne, who was tenderly attached to his family, could not find in his heart to part with it, in order to seek refuge in distant places against the tyranny of the victors. He knew that other American officers had obtained

permission to return peaceably to their habitations, on giving their parole not to act against the interests of the king. He repaired therefore to Charleston, went to the British generals and constituted himself their prisoner of war. But knowing all the resources of his mind, and the authority he possessed among the inhabitants, they wished to have him entirely in their power, and refused to receive him in the character he was come to claim. They signified to him that he must acknowledge himself for a British subject, or submit to be detained in a rigorous captivity. This idea would not have intimidated colonel Hayne; but he could not endure that of being so long separated from his wife and children. He knew also that they were under the attack of smallpox; and soon after, in effect, the mother and two of the children became the victims of that cruel malady. Neither could he overlook, that if he did not accede to what was exacted of him, an unbridled soldiery waited only the signal to sack and devastate his plantations.

In this distressing alternative the father, the husband triumphed in his breast; he consented to invest himself with the condition of British subject. The only favor he demanded was, that he might not be constrained to bear arms against his party. This was solemnly promised him by the British general Patterson, and by Simcoe, superintendent of police at Charleston. But before taking this perilous resolution he had waited upon doctor Ramsay, the same who afterwards wrote the history of the American revolution, praying him to bear witness to the future that he by no means intended to abandon the cause of independence. As soon as he had signed the oath of allegiance, he had permission to return to his residence.

Meanwhile, the war rekindled with new violence; and the Americans, hitherto beaten and dispersed, resumed the offensive with such vigor that the British generals were alarmed at their progress. Then, no longer regarding the promises which they had made to colonel Hayne, they intimated to him an order to take arms and march with them against the revolted republicans. He refused. The troops of Congress afterwards penetrated into the country; the inhabitants of his district rose and elected him for their chief. No longer considering himself bound to keep that faith which it appeared that others were not disposed to keep towards him, he yielded to the wish of his countrymen, and again took up those arms which he had laid down through necessity. He scoured the country in the vicinity of Charleston at the head of a corps of dragoons. But it was not long before he fell into an ambuscade laid for him by the British commanders. He was immediately conducted to the city, and thrust into a deep dungeon. Without form of trial, lord Rawdon and colonel Balfour, the commandant of Charleston, condemned him to death. This sentence appeared to every one, as it was in reality, an act of barbarity. Even deserters are indulged with a regular trial,

and find defenders; spies only are deprived of this privilege by the laws of war. Royalists and republicans all equally pitied the colonel, whose virtues they esteemed; they would fain have saved his . life. They did not restrict themselves to mere wishes; a deputation of loyalists, having the governor in behalf of the king at their head, waited upon lord Rawdon, and earnestly solicited him in favor of the condemned. The most distinguished ladies of Charleston united their prayers to the general recommendation that his pardon might be granted. His children, still of tender age, accompanied by their nearest relations, and wearing mourning for their mother, whom they had so recently lost, threw themselves at the feet of Rawdon, demanding with the most touching cries the life of their unhappy father. All the bystanders seconded with floods of tears the petition of these hapless orphans. Rawdon and Balfour obstinately refused to mitigate the rigor of their decision.

When about to be conducted to death, colonel Hayne called into his presence his eldest son, then thirteen years of age. He delivered him papers addressed to the Congress, then said to him; Thou wilt come to the place of my execution; thou wilt receive my body, and cause it to be deposited in the tomb of our ancestors.' Being arrived at the foot of the gibbet, he took leave in the most affecting manner of the friends who surrounded him, and armed himself to his Jast moment with the firmness which had honored his life. He was in the same degree, a man of worth, a tender father, a zealous patriot, and an intrepid soldier. If the tyranny of the prince, or the impatience of the people, render political revolutions sometimes inevitable, it is certainly much to be deplored that the first and principal victims of this scourge, should be, almost always, citizens the most worthy of general esteem and affection. After having taken this cruel vengeance of a man so universally respected, lord Rawdon left the capital of Carolina clouded with inelancholy, and brooding terrible reprisals; he made sail for England. To this act of rigor on the part of the English generals, without doubt, may be applied the ancient adage; An extreme justice is an extreme injury.' But whatever may be thought of its justice, it must be admitted, that the English, in showing themselves so ruthless at a moment when their affairs were already in such declension, appeared much more eager to satiate the fury of a vanquished enemy than to accomplish an equitable law. The aversion of the Americans for their barbarous foes, acquired a new character of implacable animosity. The officers of the army of general Greene solicited him to use reprisals, declaring that they were ready to run all the risks that might ensue from it. He issued, in effect, a proclamation by which he threatened to retaliate the death of colonel Hayne upon the persons of the British officers that might fall into his hands. Thus to the evils inseparable from war, were joined the excesses produced by hatred and vengeance.

General Greene during this interval had not remained idle in his camp upon the heights of the Santee. He had occupied himself without relaxation in strengthening his army, in perfecting the old troops by frequent manoeuvres, and in disciplining the new corps. His diligence had not failed of success. Reenforced by the militia of the neighboring districts, he saw under his banners soldiers no less formidable to the English by their warlike ardor than by their number. The temperature of the season being become less burning, at the commencement of September, he resolved to employ his forces in expelling the British troops from the few towns which they still occupied in South Carolina, besides the city of Charleston. Having taken a circuitous march towards the upper Congaree, he passed it, and descended rapidly along the right bank with all his army, in order to attack the English, who, under the command of colonel Stewart, occupied the post of Macords Ferry, near the confluence of that river with the Santee. The royalists, on seeing the approach of an enemy so superior in force, and especially in cavalry, reflected that they were too remote from Charleston, whence they drew their subsistence. They hastened therefore to quit Macords Ferry, and fell back upon Eutaw Springs, where they labored to intrench themselves. Greene pursued them thither, and the eighth of September witnessed the battle of Eutaw Springs. According to the dispositions of the American general, the vanguard was composed of the militia of the two Carolinas, and the centre of the regular troops of those provinces, of Virginia, and of Maryland. Colonel Lee with his legion covered the right flank, and colonel Henderson the left. The rearguard consisted of the dragoons of colonel Washington and the militia of Delaware. It was a corps of reserve destined to support the first lines. The artillery advanced upon their front.

The British commander formed his troops in two lines, the first was defended on the right by the little river Eutaw, and on the left by a thick wood. The second, forming a reserve, crowned the heights which command the Charleston road. After some skirmishing between the marksmen of the one and other army, they fell back behind the ranks, and the engagement became general. It was supported for a considerable time with balanced success; but at length, the militia of Carolina were broken, and retired in disorder. The British division which formed the left of the first line, quitted its position to pursue them. In this movement it lost its distances, and could no longer combat in company with the other part of the line. The Americans observed this opening, and profited of it immediately. Greene pushed forward his second line; it charged so vigorously, that the English, in their turn, were shaken, and began to recoil in confusion. To complete their rout, colonel Lee with his cavalry turned their left, and fell upon their rear. This manœuvre precipitated the flight of all that wing of the British army. The right alone