The author congratulates his dear country on her late glorious victories — recapitulates British cruelties, drawing after them, judicially, a succession of terrible overthrows.

Happy Carolina! I exclaimed, as our late victories passed over my delighted thoughts; happy Carolina! dear native country, hail! long and dismal has been the night of thy affliction: but now rise and sing, for thy "light is breaking forth, and the dawn of thy redemption is brightening around."

For opposing the curses of slavery, thy noblest citizens have been branded as `rebels', and treated with a barbarity unknown amongst civilized nations. They have been taken from their beds and weeping families, and transported, to pine and die in a land of strangers.

They have been crowded into midsummer jails and dungeons,* there, unpitied, to perish amidst suffocation and stench; while their wives and children, in mournful groups around the walls, were asking with tears for their husbands and fathers!

—
* All Europe was filled with horror at the history of
the one hundred and twenty unfortunate Englishmen that were suffocated
in the black hole of Calcutta. Little was it thought that
an English nobleman (lord Rawdon) would so soon have repeated that crime,
by crowding one hundred and sixty-four unfortunate Americans
into a small prison in Camden, in the dogdays.
—

They have been wantonly murdered with swords and bayonets,* or hung up like dogs to ignominious gibbets.

—
* A brother of that excellent man, major Linning, of Charleston, was taken
from his plantation on Ashley river, by one of the enemy's galleys,
and thrust down into the hold. At night the officers began
to drink and sing, and kept it up till twelve o'clock,
when, by way of frolic, they had him brought, though sick, into their cabin,
held a court martial over him, sentenced him to death,
very deliberately executed the sentence by stabbing him with bayonets,
and then threw his mangled body into the river for the sharks and crabs
to devour.
—

They have been stirred up and exasperated against each other, to the most unnatural and bloody strifes. "Fathers to kill their sons, and brothers to put brothers to death!"

Such were the deeds of Cornwallis and his officers in Carolina! And while the churches in England were, everywhere, resounding with prayers to Almighty God, "to spare the effusion of human blood," those monsters were shedding it with the most savage wantonness! While all the good people in Britain were praying, day and night, for a speedy restoration of the former happy friendship between England and America, those wretches were taking the surest steps to drive all friendship from the American bosom, and to kindle the flames of everlasting hatred!

But, blessed be God, the tears of the widows and orphans have prevailed against them, and the righteous Judge of all the earth is rising up to make inquisition for the innocent blood which they have shed. And never was his hand more visibly displayed in the casting down of the wicked, than in humbling Cornwallis and his bloody crew.

At this period, 1780, the western extremities were the only parts of the state that remained free. To swallow these up, Cornwallis sent Col. Ferguson, a favorite officer, with fourteen hundred men. Hearing of the approach of the enemy, and of their horrible cruelties, the hardy mountaineers rose up as one man from Dan to Beersheba. They took their faithful rifles. They mounted their horses, and with each his bag of oats, and a scrap of victuals, they set forth to find the enemy. They had no plan, no general leader. The youth of each district, gathering around their own brave colonel, rushed to battle. But though seemingly blind and headlong as their own mountain streams, yet there was a hand unseen that guided their course. They all met, as by chance, near the King's mountain, where the ill-fated Ferguson encamped. Their numbers counted, made three thousand. That the work and victory may be seen to be of God, they sent back all but one thousand chosen men.

A thousand men on mountains bred,
With rifles all so bright,
Who knew full well, in time of need,
To aim their guns aright.

At parting, the ruddy warriors shook hands with their returning friends, and sent their love. "Tell our fathers," said they, "that we shall think of them in the battle, and draw our sights the truer."

Then led on by the brave colonels Campbell, Cleveland, Shelby, Sevier, and Williams, they ascended the hill and commenced the attack. Like Sinai of old, the top of the mountain was soon wrapped in smoke and flames; the leaden deaths came whizzing from all quarters; and in forty minutes Ferguson was slain, and the whole of his party killed, wounded or taken.

To avenge this mortifying blow, Cornwallis despatched colonel Tarleton with thirteen hundred and fifty picked troops, against Morgan, who had but nine hundred men, and these more than half militia. At the first onset, the militia fled,* leaving Morgan with only four hundred to contend against thirteen hundred and fifty, rushing on furiously as to certain victory. What spectator of this scene must not have given up all for lost, and with tears resigned this little forlorn, to that unsparing slaughter which colonel Tarleton delighted in? But, contrary to all human expectation, the devoted handful stood their ground, and, in a short time, killed and captured nearly the whole of their proud assailants!

— * While Weems' exaggerations have been left largely unremarked in this text, the disservice done to those militia who fought bravely at Cowpens compels me to note that this description is inaccurate. — A. L., 1997. —

Raging like a wounded tiger, Cornwallis destroys all his heavy baggage, and pushes hard after Morgan. The pursuit is urged with unimaginable fury: and Cornwallis gains so fast upon the Americans, encumbered with their prisoners, that on the evening of the ninth day he came up to the banks of the Catawba, just as Morgan's rear had crossed at a deep ford. Before the wished-for morning returned, the river was so swollen by a heavy rain, that Cornwallis could not pass. Adoring the hand of Heaven, the Americans continued their flight. On the morning of the third day, Cornwallis renewed the pursuit with redoubled fury, and by the ninth evening, came up to the banks of the Yadkin, just as Morgan's last rifle corps was about to take the ford. Presently the rain came rushing down in torrents, and by the morning light the furious river was impassable! Who so blind as not to acknowledge the hand of God in all this?

Soon as he could get over, the wrathful Cornwallis renewed the pursuit; but before he could overtake them at Guilford Courthouse, the Americans, joined by their countrymen, gave him battle, and killed one third of his army. Cornwallis then, in turn, fled before the Americans; and as he had outmarched them before, he outran them now, and escaped safely to Wilmington. With largely recruited force he returned to Virginia, where four hundred deluded men, (tories) under colonel Pyles, came forward to join him. On their way they fell in with Col. Lee and his legion. Mistaking them for Tarleton and his cavalry, they wave their hats and cry out, "God save the king! God save the king!" Lee encourages the mistake, until they are all intermixed with his dragoons, who at a signal given, draw their swords and hew the wretches to pieces. Only one hundred make their escape. These fall in, the next day, with colonel Tarleton, who, mistaking them for what he called "damned rebels", ordered his troops to charge, which they did; and regardless of their repeated cries, that "they were the king's best friends," put most of them to death.

Thus wonderfully did God baffle lord Cornwallis, and visit a sudden and bloody destruction upon those unnatural wretches, who were going forth to plunge their swords into the bowels of their own country.

After this, being joined by all the British troops in that quarter, he rolled on like an angry flood to Williamsburg and York, where God sent his servant Washington, who presently captured him and his fleet and army, near ten thousand strong.