In this materialistic world of cause and effect there sometimes seem to be recurring fatalities which attend individuals that needlessness has not caused and that foresight could not have prevented--a fate of fire or flood or shipwreck, of good fortune or of bad fortune, of successes or of casualties of escapes or of disasters--a fate that fastens upon an individual and cannot be shaken off. The fate assigned to Pinckney seems to have been oblivion. Substantially everything which he prized is gone. His house was one of the finest in Charleston, if not the finest, and it was destroyed. He believed his library to be the most valuable library in the South and his great gallery to hold the rarest pictures in this country yet but a few volumes remain of the one and but two portraits of the other. His garden was the most beautiful in the State, it was his pride, his delight, and obliteration has indeed been its portion; even the soil which bore him flowers and shrubbery and trees and was laden with all the loveliness of semi-tropical vegetation is gone; for it was carried away during the Civil War to make military defenses. At the beginning of this investigation I began to search for the papers of which Pinckney speaks in his letter to the Secretary of State--papers which might throw new light on the framing of the Constitution or solve the problem of the contents of the draught. In this search General McCrady, of Charleston kindly and sympathetically co-operated, but I soon received his assurance that the quest was not a new one for him, and that neither in the Historical Society of South Carolina of which he was President nor in the possession of his friends could a document or paper or even a letter be found. At that time I desired to obtain a specimen of Pinckney's early handwriting and accordingly carried my pursuit into the circle of his direct descendants; but the sad reply came from his great-grandson, Mr. Charles Pinckney of Claremont, South Carolina that "all of his papers and private manuscripts were destroyed in the great fire in Charleston in 1861," and that his descendants possess "no remains of his handwriting except the autographs in his books." Letters and papers of eminent men are constantly coming to the light from unexpected hiding places and there is the official correspondence in the State Department and papers may exist in the public offices of South Carolina, but apart from these, my investigation stops at a point where it must be said that not so much as a single line of the writing of Charles Pinckney now exists.