His agitation was great, his voice became altered and broken;
and his face kindled over with that living fire with which

it was wont to burn, when he entered the battles of his country.
I arose from my seat as he spoke; and on recovering from

the magic of his tongue, found myself bending forward
to the voice of my friend, and my right hand stretched by my side;

it was stretched to my side for the sword that was wont to burn
in the presence of Marion when battle rose, and the crowding foe

was darkening around us. But thanks to God, 'twas sweet delusion all.
No sword hung burning by my side; no crowding foe darkened around us.

In dust or in chains they had all vanished away, and bright in his scabbard
rested the sword of peace in my own pleasant halls on Winyaw bay.

Chapter 32.
The death of Marion -- his character.

"Next to Washington, O glorious shade!
In page historic shall thy name have place.

Deep on thy country's memory are portrayed
Those gallant deeds which time shall ne'er erase.

Ah! full of honors, and of years farewell!
Thus o'er thy tomb shall Carolina sigh;

Each tongue thy valor and thy worth shall tell,
Which taught the young to fight, the old to die."

The next morning, I set out for my plantation on Winyaw bay.
Marion, as usual, accompanied me to my horse, and, at parting,

begged I would come and see him again soon, for that he felt
he had not long to stay. As the reader may suppose, I paid

but little heed to this expression, which I looked on as no more
than the common cant of the aged. But I soon had cause

to remember it with sorrow. For I had been but a few weeks at home,
before, opening a Charleston paper, I found in a mourning column,

"THE DEATH OF GENERAL MARION". Never shall I forget the heart-sickness
of that moment; never forget what I felt when first I learned

that Marion was no more. Though the grave was between us,
yet his beloved image seemed to appear before me fresher than ever.

All our former friendships, all our former wars returned.
But alas! he who was to me the soul of all the rest; the foremost

in every battle; the dearest at every feast; he shall return no more!
"Oh Marion, my friend!" my bursting heart seemed to say, "and art thou gone?

Shall I no more hear that voice which was always so sweet; no more see
that smile which awakened up such joy in my soul! Must that beloved form

be lost forever among the clods in the valley. And those godlikevirtues,
shall they pass away like the empty visions of the night!"

From this deep gloom which strong atheistic sorrow had poured
over my nerves, I was suddenly roused, as by an angel's touch,

to the bright hopes of religion. The virtues of my departed friend
all flashed at once upon my kindling thoughts: his countenance

so stern with honor; his tongue so sacred to truth; that heart
always so ready to meet death in defence of the injured;

that eye ever beaming benevolence to man, and that whole life
so reverential of God. The remembrance, I say, of all these things,

came in streams of joy to my heart.
"O happy Marion!" I exclaimed, "thou art safe, my friend; thou art safe.

No tears of mine shall doubt thy blissful state. Surely if there be a God,
and that there is, all nature cries aloud through all her works,

he must delight in virtue, and what he delights in must be happy."
Then it was, that I felt what a benefactor Marion had been to me.

How dear his company while living; how sweet his memory when dead.
Like the sun travelling in brightness, his smiles had ever been my joy,

his example my light. And though now set in the grave,
yet has he not left me in darkness. His virtues, like stars,

are lighted up after him. They point my hopes to the path of glory;
and proclaim, that, though fallen, he is not extinguished.

From the physicians and many others who attended him in his last illness,
I learned that he had died as he had lived, a truly GREAT MAN. His chamber

was not, as is usual with dying persons, a scene of gloom and silent distress,
but rather like the cheerfulparlor of one who was setting out

on an agreeable journey. "Some," said he, "have spoken of death as a leap
in the dark; but for my part, I look on it as a welcome resting place,

where virtuous old age may throw down his pains and aches,
wipe off his old scores, and begin anew on an innocent and happy state

that shall last for ever. What weakness to wish to live
to such ghastly dotage, as to frighten the children, and make even the dogs

to bark at us as we totter along the streets. Most certainly then,
there is a time when, to a good man, death is a great mercy even to his body;

and as to his soul, why should he tremble about that? Who can doubt
that God created us to be happy; and thereto made us to love one another?

which is plainly written in our hearts; whose every thought and work of love
is happiness, and as plainly written as the gospel; whose every line

breathes love, and every precept enjoins good works.
Now, the man who has spent life in bravely denying himself every inclination

that would make others miserable, and in courageously doing all in his power
to make them happy, what has such a man to fear from death, or rather,

what glorious things has he not to hope from it?"
Hearing one of his friends say that the methodists and baptists

were progressing rapidly in some parts of the state, he replied,
"Well, thank God for that; that is good news." The same gentleman

then asked him which he thought was the best religion. "I know
but one religion," he answered, "and that is hearty love of God and man.

This is the only true religion; and I would to God our country was full of it.
For it is the only spice to embalm and to immortalize our republic.

Any politician can sketch out a fine theory of government,
but what is to bind the people to the practice? Archimedes used to mourn

that though his mechanic powers were irresistible, yet he could never
raise the world; because he had no place in the heavens,

whereon to fix his pullies. Even so, our republic will never be raised
above the shameful factions and miserable end of all other governments,