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Updated: May 14, 2025
Weems, speaking for Horry, describes in ludicrous terms, their journey through North Carolina, through a region swarming with Tories, but, fortunately for our travellers, who were venomous without being active. Our fugitives were without money and without credit, and "but for carrying a knife, or a horse fleam, or a gun-flint, had no more use for a pocket than a Highlander has for a knee-buckle.
It's an easy mistake to fall into, dear boy. And, besides, I don't know that you were trapped that way, after all; it's only a guess on my part." "By Jove, you must have hit upon the right thing, though, and for this reason. I only told Weems about the Recipe.
She paused and glanced somewhat haughtily over her shoulder. "May I speak a word with you?" "My aunt, sir, is within; if you have business, I will inform her of your presence." "My business is with you, Miss Weems," and, dismounting, he passed through the gate and stepped quickly to her side. "Why do you avoid me?"
It will be like setting forth upon a journey through endless solitudes, where my only companions will be a memory and a sorrow." He paused a while, but continued with an effort at composure. "Our hearts are tyrants to us, Miss Weems, and will not, sometimes, be tutored into silence. I see that I have moved, but I trust not offended you."
It was while the second South Carolina regiment lay at Purysburg, that an adventure occurred, which has so often been repeated in connection with the name and life of Marion, that we should scarcely be excused from introducing it here, as properly in place in this memoir. Weems asserts that Marion was present at this time with his regiment at Purysburg.
If you have a copy of Weems' "Life of Washington," you had better wrap it in chamois and place it away for your heirs, for some time it will command a price. Fifty editions of Weems' book were printed, and in its day no other volume approached it in point of popularity. In American literature, Weems stood first.
He was simply a man destitute of historical sense, training, or morals, ready to take the slenderest fact and work it up for the purposes of the market until it became almost as impossible to reduce it to its original dimensions as it was for the fisherman to get the Afrit back into his jar. In a word, Weems was an approved myth-maker.
It was a favorite pastime with my grandmother, when the morning's work was done, to uncover her flax-wheel, seat herself, and call me to sit by her, and, after my childish manner, read to her from the "Life of General Francis Marion," by Mason L. Weems, the graphic account of the general's exploits, by the venerable parson.
Here stranger, if you're a friend of Squire Weems, you kin have a fair show in my house, I reckon, so take hold of this," and taking a revolver from his belt, he passed it to Beverly, who cocked it and slipped it into Harold's hand.
You, you small swab, I can see by the way you're holding it that you've never had a revolver in your fist before this day, much less fired one at a 'live mark. Put the thing back in your pocket, and behave like a rational being." "I shall do nothing of the kind," said Weems, sticking up his left arm, and sighting the pistol over the elbow-joint.
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