to the mercy of these poltroons, some of the choicest spirits of the nation, to be prosecuted and torn to pieces by them; but that, nevertheless, he did not like to have his name to the petition, for, thank God, he had no favors to ask of them. And if, during the war for his country, he had done any of them harm, there was he, and yonder his property, and let them come forward, if they dare, and demand satisfaction." And I never heard of any man who ever accused him of the least injury done him during all the war. Marion continued a member of the legislature, until orders were issued to repair and put in commission Fort Johnson, to the command of which he was appointed, with the pay of about twenty-two hundred dollars per annum. Though this salary had been voted him chiefly because of his losses during the war, yet it was not continued to him longer than two or three years, when it was reduced to less than five hundred dollars annually. Numbers of people had their feelings greatly hurt on this occasion, and, I dare say, much worse than his own. For he was a man who cared very little for money; and besides, about that time he entered into matrimony with that excellent and wealthy lady, Miss Mary Videau, who, with her affections, bestowed on him a fortune sufficient to satisfy his utmost wishes, even though they had been far less moderate than they were. Seeing now no particular obligation on him to continue longer in the public service, he gladly yielded to his sense of what he owed to a generous and beloved companion, and with her, retired to his native parish of St. John's, where, amidst the benedictions of his countrymen, and the caresses of numerous friends, he spent the short remnant of his days, participating every rural sweet with the dear woman of his choice, feasting on the happy retrospect of a life passed in fighting for THE RIGHTS OF MAN, and fondly cherishing the hopes of a better. Chapter 31. The author's last visit to Marion -- interesting conversation on the importance of public instruction -- free schools shown to be a great saving to a nation. I often went to see Marion. Our evenings were passed as might have been expected between two old friends, who had spent their better days together in scenes of honorable enterprise and danger. On the night of the last visit I ever made him, observing that the clock was going for ten, I asked him if it were not near his hour of rest. "Oh no," said he, "we must not talk of bed yet. It is but seldom, you know, that we meet. And as this may be our last, let us take all we can of it in chat. What do you think of the times?" "O glorious times," said I. "Yes, thank God!" replied he. "They are glorious times indeed; and fully equal to all that we had in hope, when we drew our swords for independence. But I am afraid they won't last long." I asked him why he thought so.