Page:The Partisan (revised).djvu/127

CHAPTER XI. {|align="center" style="font-size:90%;line-height:135%" "Now, this were sorry wisdom, to persuade My sword to mine own throat. If I must out, Why should I out upon mine ancient friend, And spare mine enemy?"
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"," the dwelling-place of Colonel Walton, was one those antique residences of the Carolina planters to which, at this day, there attaches a sort of historical interest. A thousand local traditions hang around them&mdash;a thousand stories of the olden time, and of its associations of peril and adventure. The estate formed one of the frontier-plantations upon the Ashley, and was the site of a colonial barony. It had stood sieges of the Indians in the wars of the Edistoes and Yemassees; and, from a blockhouse station at first, it had grown to be an elegant mansion, improved in European style, remarkable for the length and deep shade of its avenues of solemn oak, its general grace of arrangement, and the lofty and considerate hospitality of its proprietors. Such, from its first foundation to the period of which we speak, had been its reputation; and in no respect did the present owner depart from the good tastes and the frank, manly character of his ancestors.

Colonel Richard Walton was a gentleman in every sense of the word; simple of manner, unpretending, unobtrusive, and always considerate, he was esteemed and beloved by all around him. Born to the possession of large estates, his mind had been exercised happily by education and travel; and at the beginning of the revolutionary struggle, he had been early found to advocate the claims of his native colony. At the commencement of the war he commanded a party of horse, and had been concerned in some of the operations against Prevost, in the rapid foray which that general made into Carolina. When Charleston fell before the arms