in a state of phrenzy, and there is nothing improbable or unnatural
in the statement. Privation of food, the use of salt water,
and exposure in an open boat to a burning sun, might very well
produce such an effect. The only difficulty, however,
consists in the simple fact that we have no other authority
for the statement. James is silent on the point, and contents himself
with simply stating the death of two of the crew. Weems, however,
adds that of two others, whose end receives, as usual,
quite a dramatic finish at his hands. He suffers none to live
but "little Marion", and, in the exuberance of his imagination,
actually goes so far as to describe the particular food,
"chocolate and turtle broth", by which the youthful hero
is recruited and recovered. By this he designs to show, more emphatically,
the immediate interposition, in his behalf, of an especial providence.
The truth is, that any attempt at details where so little is known
to have been preserved, must necessarily, of itself, subject to doubt
any narrative not fortified by the most conclusive evidence.
Unfortunately for the reverend historian, his known eccentricities
as a writer, and fondness for hyperbole, must always deprive his books
-- though remarkably useful and interesting to the young -- of any authority
which might be claimed for them as histories. As fictions from history,
lively and romantic, they are certainly very astonishing performances;
have amused and benefited thousands, and entitle the writer to a rank,
in a peculiar walk of letters, which has not yet been assigned him.
--

Francis Marion was one of these survivors. The puny boy lived through
the terrors and sufferings under which the strong men perished.
So intense were their sufferings, so terrible the trial,
that it will not greatly task the imagination to recognize