Like lightning, the flashes; like thunder, the noise;
Our rifles struck the poor Tories with sudden surprise."
Old Song.*
HE Sabbath which I passed in Charlotte was exceedingly unpleasant. The morning air was keen and hazy; snow fell toward evening, and night set in with a gloomy prospect for the morrow's travel. I breakfasted by candle-light on Monday morning, and before sunrise was on the road for King's Mountain and the Cowpens. I passed the United States Branch Mint, upon the road leading from the village to the Tuckesege or Great Catawba Ford, and at the forks, about a mile from the town, halted a moment to observe the operation of raising gold ore from a mine, by a horse and windlass.
