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sheriff bearing the sword of state, walked out in a
solemn procession from the State-house to the
Exchange, in the presence of the troops and the militia of
South Carolina, whose line extended down Broad street and along the bay; the people, as they crowded with transport round the men whom they had chosen to office, whom they had raised to power from among themselves, whom they for any misconduct could displace, whom they knew, and loved, and revered, gazed on the new order with rapture and tears of joy.
Early in April the legislative bodies, while they
declared that they still earnestly desired an accommodation with
Great Britain, addressed the president: ‘Conscious of our natural and unalienable rights, and determined to make every effort to retain them, we see your elevation, from the midst of us, to govern this country, as the natural consequence of unprovoked, cruel, and accumulated oppressions.
Chosen by the suffrages of a free people, you will make the constitution the great rule of your conduct; in the discharge of your duties under that constitution we will support you with our lives and fortunes.’
The condition of
South Carolina was peculiar; a large part of its population was British by birth; and many of the herdsmen and hunters in the upper country had not been on the continent more than ten years; they had taken no part in the movements of resistance; had sent no gifts to the poor of
Boston, no pledges to
Massachusetts.
At least one half of the inhabitants were either inert and unmoved, or more ready to take part with the king than with the insurgents.
When the planters who were natives of the