"About this time we received a flag from the enemy in Georgetown S. C. the object of which was to make arrangements about the exchange of prisoners. The flag, after the usual ceremony of blindfolding, was conducted into Marion's encampment. Having heard great talk about Gen. Marion, his fancy had naturally enough sketched out for him some stout figure of a warrior, such as O'Hara or Cornwallis himself, of martial aspect and flaming regimentals. But what was his surprise when led into Marion's presence and the bandage taken from his eyes, he beheld in our hero, a swarthy, smoke-dried little man with scarcely enough of thread-bare homespun to cover his nakedness and instead of tall ranks of gay dressed soldiers, a handful of sun burnt, yellow legged militia-men--some roasting potatoes and some asleep, with their black firelocks and powder horns lying by them on the logs. Having recovered a little from his surprise, he presented his letter to Gen. Marion, who perused it and settled everything to his satisfaction. "The officer took up his hat to retire. 'Oh no'--said Marion--'it is now about our time of dining and I hope, sir, you will give us the pleasure of your company at dinner.' "At the mention of the word dinner, the British officer looked around him, but to his great mortification, could see no sign of a pot, pan, Dutch oven, or any other cooking utensil that could raise the spirits of a hungry man. "'Well Tom'--said the General to one of his men--'come give us our dinner.' The dinner he alluded to was no other than a heap of sweet potatoes that were snugly roasting under the embers and which Tom, with his pine stick poker soon liberated from their ashy confinement--pinching them every now and then with his fingers, especially the big ones, to see whether they were well done or not. Then, having cleansed them of the ashes, partly by blowing them with his breath and partly by brushing them with the sleeve of his old cotton shirt, he piled some of the best on a large piece of bark and placed them between the British officer and Marion on the trunk of the fallen pine on which they sat." "'I fear sir'--said the General--'our dinner will not prove as palatable to you as I could wish--but it is the best we have.' "The officer, who was a well bred man, took up one of the potatoes and affected to feed, as if he had found a great dainty--but it was very plain he ate more from good manners than good appetite. Presently he broke out into a hearty laugh. Marion looked surprised. 'I beg pardon General'--said he--'but one cannot, you know, always command one's conceits. I was thinking how drolly some of my brother officers would look if our government were to give them such a bill of fare as this.' "'I suppose'--replied Marion--'it is not equal to their style of dining.' "'No, indeed'--quoth the officer--'and this I imagine is one of your accidental dinners--a sort of _ban yan_. In general, no doubt, you live a great deal better.'