It were perhaps difficult to select the brave from a body of men who were all brave, but it is not invidious to say, that there was not a man of more fearless courage in the corps than Lieutenant Manning of the Legion infantry. At the battle of Eutaw, commanding his platoon to charge, he rushed on in his usual reckless manner, without stopping or looking behind him, until he was brought up by a large stone house, into which the Royal York Volunteers under Lieutenant-Colonel Cruger, were retiring. The British were on all sides, and no American soldier within two hundred yards of him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he threw himself upon a British officer, and seizing him by the collar, wrested his sword from his grasp, exclaiming, in a harsh voice, “You are my prisoner, sir.” Interposing him between the enemy and himself, as a shield from the heavy fire pouring from the windows, he then very coolly and deliberately backed out of danger: the prisoner, who was not deemed by his brother officers a prodigy of valour, pompously enumerating his rank and titles, which Manning occasionally interrupted with, “You are right—you are right—you’re just the man, sir,—you shall preserve _me_ from danger, and rest assured I’ll take good care of _you_.” Manning had retreated some distance from the house, when he saw his friend Captain Joyett, of the Virginia line, engaged in single combat with a British officer. The American was armed with his sword, while the Briton was defending himself with a bayonet. As the American approached, the Englishman made a thrust with the bayonet, which Joyett successfully parried with his sword, when both of them dropping the arms which they could not wield in so close an encounter, simultaneously clinched, and being men of great and nearly equal bodily strength, they were soon engaged in a desperate and deadly struggle. While thus engaged, an English grenadier seeing the danger of his officer, ran up and with his bayonet made a lounge, which luckily missing Joyett’s body, passed only through the skirts of his coat, but the bayonet becoming entangled in the folds, upon its withdrawal dragged both of the combatants together to the ground. The soldier having disengaged it, was about deliberately to transfix Joyett by a second thrust, when Manning, seeing the danger of his friend, without being sufficiently near in the crisis to assist him, called out as he hurried up in an authoritative tone, “You would not murder the gentleman, you brute!”—The grenadier supposing himself addressed by one of his own officers, suspended the contemplated blow and turned towards the speaker, but before he could recover from his surprise, Manning cut him across the eyes with his sword, while Joyett disengaging himself from his opponent, snatched up the musket, and with one blow laid him dead with the butt;—the valiant prisoner whom Manning had dragged along, and who invariably asserted that he had been