In the first place, as to debts, thank God, I owe none.
And therefore shall give my executors but little trouble on that score.
Secondly — As to the poor, I have always treated them as my brethren.
My dear family will, I know, follow my example.
Thirdly — As to the wealth with which God has been pleased to bless me and my dear Louisa and children, lovingly we have labored together for it — lovingly we have enjoyed it — and now, with a glad and grateful heart do I leave it among them.
He then proceeds to the distribution. Liberally to his children: but far more so to his wife — and at the end of each bequest assigns his reasons, viz.,
I give my ever beloved Louisa all my ready money —
that she may never be alarmed at a sudden call.
I give her all my fat calves and lambs, my pigs and poultry —
that she may always keep a good table.
I give her my new carriage and horses — that she may visit her friends
in comfort.
I give her my family bible — that she may live above
the ill tempers and sorrows of life.
I give my son Peter a hornbook — for I am afraid he will always be a dunce.
But Peter was so stung with this little squib, that he instantly quit his raccoon hunting by nights, and betook himself to reading, and soon became a very sensible and charming young man.
His eldest son, who, after his father, was named Gabriel, married a Miss Charlotte Corde, by whom he had six children — Esther, Gabriel, Isaac, Benjamin, Job, and our hero Francis, the least as well as the last of the family. As to his sister Esther, I have never heard what became of her; but for his four brothers, I am happy to state, that though not formidable as soldiers, they were very amiable as citizens. They bought farms — proved their oxen — married wives — multiplied good children, and thus, very unlike our niggardly bachelors, contributed a liberal and laudable part to the population, strength, and glory of their country. God, I pray heartily, take kind notice of all such; and grant, that having thus done his will in this world, they may partake of his glory in the next.
Chapter 2.
Marion's first appearance — a humble cultivator of the earth — the great Cherokee war of 1761 comes on — volunteers his services to his country — is appointed a first lieutenant in the provincial line — commands a forlorn hope — narrowly escapes with his life — the Anglo-American and the Indian forces engaged — bloody battle — the Indians defeated — their country laid waste — peace made — Marion retires.
Among the Mohawks of Sparta, it was a constant practice on the birth of a male infant, to set a military granny to examine him, as a butcher would a veal for the market, and if he were found any ways puny, he was presently thrown into a horse pond with as little ceremony as a blind puppy. Had such been the order of the day in 1732, Carolina would never have boasted a Marion; for I have it from good authority, that this great soldier, at his birth, was not larger than a New England lobster, and might easily enough have been put into a quart pot. This puny appearance continued with him till the age of twelve, when it was removed by the following extraordinary providence.