The British heartily congratulated his return, and restored him to his ancient honor of sitting, Mordecai-like, at the king's gate, where, it is said, he behaved very decently ever afterwards. Smith's friends say of him, that in his own country (South Carolina) he hardly possessed money enough to buy a pig, but when he got to England, after the war, he made out as if the rebels had robbed him of as many flocks and herds as the wild Arabs did Job. The British government, remarkable for generosity to their friends in distress, gave him money enough to return to South Carolina with a pretty assortment of merchandise. And he is now, I am told, as wealthy as a Jew, and, which is still more to his credit, as courteous as a christian. Chapter 28. The author congratulates his dear country on her late glorious victories -- recapitulates British cruelties, drawing after them, judicially, a succession of terrible overthrows. Happy Carolina! I exclaimed, as our late victories passed over my delighted thoughts; happy Carolina! dear native country, hail! long and dismal has been the night of thy affliction: but now rise and sing, for thy "light is breaking forth, and the dawn of thy redemption is brightening around." For opposing the curses of slavery, thy noblest citizens have been branded as `rebels', and treated with a barbarity unknown amongst civilized nations. They have been taken from their beds and weeping families, and transported, to pine and die in a land of strangers. They have been crowded into midsummer jails and dungeons,* there, unpitied, to perish amidst suffocation and stench; while their wives and children, in mournful groups around the walls, were asking with tears for their husbands and fathers! -- * All Europe was filled with horror at the history of the one hundred and twenty unfortunate Englishmen that were suffocated in the black hole of Calcutta. Little was it thought that an English nobleman (lord Rawdon) would so soon have repeated that crime, by crowding one hundred and sixty-four unfortunate Americans into a small prison in Camden, in the dogdays. -- They have been wantonly murdered with swords and bayonets,* or hung up like dogs to ignominious gibbets. -- * A brother of that excellent man, major Linning, of Charleston, was taken from his plantation on Ashley river, by one of the enemy's galleys, and thrust down into the hold. At night the officers began to drink and sing, and kept it up till twelve o'clock, when, by way of frolic, they had him brought, though sick, into their cabin, held a court martial over him, sentenced him to death, very deliberately executed the sentence by stabbing him with bayonets, and then threw his mangled body into the river for the sharks and crabs to devour. -- They have been stirred up and exasperated against each other, to the most unnatural and bloody strifes. "Fathers to kill their sons, and brothers to put brothers to death!"