"Huzza, my brave fellows!" -- they would say to each other; "one more campaign and the `hash' will be settled with the d----d rebels, and then stand by the girls! -- stand by the Miss Pinckneys! and Elliots! and Rutledges! and all your bright-eyed, soft bosomed, lovely dames, look sharp! Egad! your charms shall reward our valor! like the grand Turk, we'll have regiments of our own raising! Charleston shall be our Constantinople! and our Circassia, this sweet Carolina famed for beauties! Prepare the baths, the perfumes, and spices! bring forth the violins and the rose buds! and tap the old Madeira, that our souls may all be joy!" 'Twas in this way they would rant; and then, brightened up to the pitch, they would look and grin on each other as sweetly as young foxes, who, prowling round a farm yard, had suddenly heard the cackling of the rooster pullets. The reader shall presently see the violent and bloody course of these ruffians, who did such dishonor to the glorious island they came from. But before I begin my tragedy, I beg leave, by way of prologue, to entertain him a moment with a very curious farce that was acted on a wealthy old tory, near Monk's Corner, while colonel Tarleton with the British advance, lay there. The hero of the play was a remarkably stout, red-haired young Scotsman, named Macdonald, son of the Macdonald of famous defeat at Morris Creek Bridge, North Carolina. Soon after the defeat of his father he came and joined our troops. Led by curiosity, I could not help, one day, asking him the reason: to which he made, in substance, the following reply.