Under the new form of government he was appointed a Judge of the civil and criminal courts. In that capacity he was called to perform a painful but imperious duty. Several persons were arraigned before the court charged with treasonable correspondence with the enemy. They were tried, found guilty and condemned to be hung in sight of the British lines at Charleston. With feelings of deep sympathy and humanity but with the firmness of a Roman he performed his duty with great dignity and delicacy. He knew they had immortal souls and soared above the cold indifference--the keen invective that sometimes _have_ but _never_ should be resorted to. Judge Heyward also participated in the perils of the field. He commanded a company of artillery at the battle of Beaufort and was severely wounded. At the attack upon Savannah he exhibited the bravery of a practised veteran. At the siege of Charleston he commanded a battalion and was one of the unfortunate prisoners who were incarcerated in the Spanish castle at St. Augustine, Florida. During his absence his property was destroyed by the enemy. To cap the climax of his severe afflictions, his amiable and accomplished wife had been laid in the tomb. She was the daughter of Mr. Matthews and married in 1773. The tidings of these heart rending occurrences did not reach him until he was exchanged and arrived at Philadelphia. With the calm and dignified fortitude of a Christian, philosopher and hero--he met the shafts of afflictive fate. He mourned deeply but submissively the premature exit of the wife of his youth, the companion of his bosom. His physical sufferings and loss of property he freely offered at the altar of liberty without a murmur. He again resumed his duties upon the judicial bench and discharged them ably and faithfully up to 1798. He was an influential member of the convention that framed the constitution of his native state in 1790. He married Miss E. Savage for his second wife. After the close of the trying and bloody scenes through which he had passed he sat down under his own vine and fig tree and enjoyed the rich fruits of that LIBERTY he had sacrificed so much to obtain. A peaceful quiet reigned in his bosom and around him. The British yoke had been thrown off--the Gallic chain had been broken--the increasing millions of his countrymen could look through the vista of the future with cheering hope and exquisite pleasure. In the enjoyments of the present--past pains were merged. He was happy.