rear, then advancing on foot before his men, he com manded their instant preparation for that terrible movement. He himself led the way, and fought on foot at their head. His order to "charge bayonets," uttered in the imperfect tones of the foreigner, was heard distinctly through the affray. Catching his spirit, as it were, his line advanced without hesitation, and shouting buoyantly as they did so, in a few moments the line was overpassed which separated them from the enemy's left, commanded by Rawdon. The rival muskets were crossed, their bayonets linked, and for a few seconds the opposing armies reeled to and fro, like so many lock-limbed and coherent bodies: but the rush, and the enthusiasm of the charge of De Kalb, were, for the moment, irresistible, and Rawdon fell back beneath it.

"Where is the commander-in-chief?” cried De Kalb, in a fierce voice, as he beheld the adjutant-general, Williams, advancing with his own, the 6th Maryland, having actually driven the enemy out of line in front.

"Gone!" was the single word with which he announced to the old soldier the isolation of his continentals.

"On, then, on!" was the immediate shout of De Kalb; "look not to the right, nor to the left, brave men— but on! You are alone: your own steel must work your safety. Charge!"

A group of officers and soldiers-British and American ―was seen struggling in front. An officer was down; a squad of soldiers was seeking to despatch him, and two others unequally contending against them with their swords. The wounded officer was an American.

"Again--once more, my brave fellows-once again -through them to the hearts of the enemy-charge-charge!" was the fierce order of De Kalb, in his imperfect English; "through, and heed them not!"

"But the officers are ours-they are aids to the general," cried Brigadier Gist, in the hope to arrest the desperate charge of De Kalb.

"And we are men," was the response-"what are

these officers to us? onward! through them, brave men --once more to the hearts of the enemy !"

The group sought to disperse; the assailing soldiers fled away, leaving the wounded officer, and those who had been fighting in his behalf, alone, before the charging squadrons.

"Hold!" cried Colonel Walton, for it was he, advan cing as he spoke—“hold, I pray you, Baron De Kalb! we are your friends-"

"On then-to the enemy !" cried De Kalb, unheeding the exhortation; and, filled with his own fury-the fury of desperation-the advancing line resolutely obeyed him. The wounded man, and those who stood beside him, must have been crushed, or gone along with the pressing line; and the moment was, therefore, full of peril to the group. Presenting his sword to his advancing countrymen, Colonel Walton cried to the wounded officer, who lay almost senseless at his feet

"I will share your fate, Pinckney, if I cannot divert it. I stand by you to the last. Hold, Americans! What madness is this?-we are friends-would you trample us down?"

"On with us, then!" fiercely cried De Kalb, "on with us, if you be friends! We know you not otherwise." "He is too much wounded," cried Walton, pointing to the insensible officer.

"This is no time, sir, to regard the dead or the wounded. The field is covered with both; shall we lose all for one man-officer or soldier? On with us, Colonel Walton-there is no help else. On!"

It was the last command of De Kalb, who was already severely wounded. In that moment the fierce onset of the continentals was arrested. A new obstacle, in a fire from the right, restrained their progress. This was Webster. Having thoroughly defeated the American left, he was now free to turn his face upon the isolated continentals. This small, resolute, and now compact body, had moved forward irresistibly. The fierce spirit of its commander seemed to have been shared equally with his men; and though every step which they took was with the loss of numbers, they

ceaselessly continued to advance-the fire of the British left and centre still telling dreadfully upon them,but without shaking their inflexible and reckless charge. The sudden movement of Webster upon their flanks first arrested their progress. He turned the whole force of his infantry, together with the twenty-third regiment, upon the exposed flank of the first, or Smallwood's brigade. This had been commanded bravely by Colonel Gunby, and other of its officers, the general himself not being available for some time before. The shock of Webster's charge upon this body was irresistible; they reeled and broke beneath it. They were rallied, and once more stood the assault. They stood but to perish; and it was found impossible to contend longer with the vastly superior and fresh force from the reserve which was now brought to bear upon them. This shock, and the effect of Webster's assault, at this critical moment, saved the life of Walton and that of his wounded friend, Major Pinckney. The fierce command of De Kalb was no longer obeyed by the flank regiment, now compelled to combat with another enemy. They faced Webster ; and Walton found himself on the extreme left, instead of being in front of the body which, a moment before, had been ordered to pass over him, In another instant, the line reeled beyond him: he saw the enemy pressing on, and he rushed to the front of the retreating division of Americans. Again they were brought to a stand; again the impelling bayonets of Webster drove them backward; and while they yet strove bravely, at the will of their officers, to unite more compactly together for the final conflict, the shrill voice of Tarleton was heard upon the left. Then came the rush of his dragoons; the sweeping sabre darting a terrible light on every hand, and giving the final impetus to that panic which now needed but little to be complete throughout the army.

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Spare! oh spare the Baron De Kalb !" was a cry of anguish that went up from the centre of the line. It was doubly agonizing, as the accents were uttered evidently by a foreign tongue. Walton looked but an

instant in the direction where lay the old veteran, feebly striving still to contend with the numbers who were now pressing around him. The Chevalier Du Buysson, a faithful friend, stood over him, vainly endeavouring to protect him by the interposition of his own body. His piteous cry-"Spare the baron! spare the Baron De Kalb!" had little or no avail.

Eleven wounds already testified to the reckless courage of the veteran, and the earnestness with which he had done battle to the last for the liberties of a foreign people. The bayonet was again lifted above him to strike, when Colonel Walton pressed forward to his relief. But, with the movement, he was himself overthrown-himself exposed to the bayonet of the enemy. He threw up his sword and parried the first stroke of the weapon, which glanced down and stuck deeply in the grass beside him. Another pinned him by his sleeve to the spot; and his career in the next moment would probably have been ended, but for the timely appearance of Colonel Tarleton himself. His order was effectual, and Walton tendered him his sword.

"You have saved my life, sir: my name is Colonel Walton."

The lips of Tarleton wore something of a smiling expression, as, returning the weapon, he transferred his prisoner to the guardianship of two of his troopers. The expression of his face, so smiling, yet so sinister in its smile, surprised Walton, but he was soon taught to understand it.

The battle ceased with the fall of De Kalb. It had been hopeless long before. Turning his eyes gloomily from the thick confusion of the field, Colonel Walton moved away with his conductors, while Tarleton, with his eye kindled with fight, and a lip quivering with its pleasurable convulsions, led his cavalry in pursuit of the fugitives, marking his progress for twenty-two miles from the field of battle with proofs of that sanguinary appetite for blood, which formed the leading feature of his character, according to history and tradition, in all the fields of Carolina.

VOL. II.-T

CHAPTER XXIII.

"A stubborn knave, you may not trust or tame.
Go, bear him to the block! The biting axe
Shall teach him quiet hence."

THE Victory was complete in all respects. The army of Gates was dispersed that general, a melancholy wanderer, hopeless of fortune, and, with a proper self-rebuke, dreading the opinion of his country. The loss of the Americans in this battle was heavy. Of the continentals but six hundred escaped; and as their number was but nine hundred in all, they necessarily lost, in killed, wounded, and prisoners, one third of their entire force. The whole number slain of the American army must have been six hundred men—a large proportion, in a small body of three thousand and fifty-two. The loss admitted by the British commander, was three hundred killed and wounded-an amount certainly unexaggerated, and showing conclusively what must have been the result of the contest had the militia done their duty,-had they but stood the first round, -had they but returned the fire of the foe. The continentals alone bore the brunt of the conflict, and they were victorious until isolated and overborne by numbers.

The prisoners, among whom is included Colonel Walton, were roped by the command of Tarleton, and formed not the least imposing portion of the triumphal procession of the victor, on his return to Camden. De Kalb died a few days after in the arms of Du Buysson, his aide. His last words were those of eulogy upon the gallant troops whom he had so well trained, and who, justifying his avowed confidence in them, had stood by him, in the previous struggle, to the last.

"My brave division!" These, in broken accents and