stances were well calculated to make even the most submissive soldier oppose the

authority that would have controlled him. The decided advantage of the Americans

gave to the conduct of the enemy more of the character of madness than of valor. As has already been stated, the fall of General Pakenham and the two next in command devolved the leadership upon Lambert, the only general officer left upon the field, and to whom had been consigned the charge of the reserve; and though, meeting the discomfited troops in their flight, he endeavored to restore the fortune of the day, the effort was fruitless to the last degree.

BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. JACKSON'S TERRIFIC SLAUGHTER OF THE BRITISH.

On the ninth, General Lambert determined to relinquish altogether so desperate and hopeless an enterprise, and immediately commenced the necessary preparations, though with the utmost secrecy. It was not until the night of the eighteenth, however, that the British camp was entirely

evacuated.

The loss of the British in this fatal expedition was immense, the narrow field of strife between the opposing combatants being strewed with dead. So dreadful a carnage, considering the length of time and the numbers engaged, has seldom been recorded. Two thousand, at the lowest estimate, pressed the earth, besides such of the wounded as were not able to escape. The loss of the Americans did not exceed seven killed, and six wounded. Military annals do not furnish a more extraordinary instance of disparity in the slain, between the victors and vanquished. The entire British force engaged in this attempted reduction of New Orleans, amounted to twelve thousand men; the Americans numbered some six thousand, chiefly militia.

Pakenham, the distinguished leader of the British forces, was a brother-in-law of the great Duke of Wellington, had long been in high repute for military skill and personal bravery, and on this occasion numbered among his troops those who had won laurels of victory on the battle-fields of Europe. But, that he felt convinced of the magnitude and hazard of his present undertaking, as distinguished from all previous ones, is evident. When an officer leads his troops on a forlorn attempt, he not unfrequently places before them allurements stronger than either authority or duty. According to General Eaton's historical statements, a positive charge is made against General Pakenham, in this respect, — inducements having been held out by him, than which nothing more inviting could be offered to an infuriated soldiery. By this gallant but misguided general, there was promised to his soldiers. -to excite their cupidity-the wealth of the city, as a recompense for their gallantry and desperation; while, with brutal licentiousness, they were to revel in lawless indulgence, and triumph, uncontrolled, over female innocence. The history of Europe, since civilized warfare began, may be challenged to afford an instance of such gross and wanton outrage. The facts and circumstances which were developed at the time, left no doubt on the minds of the American officers, but that 'Booty and Beauty,' was the British watchword of the day. The information was obtained from prisoners, and confirmed by the books of two of their orderly sergeants taken in battle.

Jackson was well aware, from the first, of the bold and reckless character of the enemy he had to deal with. With patriotic indignation he declared: "The redcoats will find out whom they have to deal with. I will smash them, so help me God!" And the spirit with which he led 12

his men forward may be easily judged of from his emphatic exclamation-"Remember, our watchword is 'Victory or Death!' We will enjoy our liberty, or perish in the last ditch!" Never before did a general bring upon his troops such a spell of enthusiastic devotion to himself, and to the demands of the hour. So, too, in the flush of triumph, he did not forget mercy and magnanimity. "General Jackson," says Blackwood's Magazine, of London, "behaved with humanity and generosity to all his prisoners, which did him as great honor as his conduct in the defense. We do not hesitate to call him a great man." Such was the encomium bestowed upon him by the pen of an enemy,-one of the most influential organs of British opinion.

At this time, the person of General Jackson is described as being neither robust nor elegant. He was six feet and one inch high, remarkably straight and spare, and weighing about one hundred and forty-five pounds. His physique appeared to disqualify him for hardship; yet, accustomed to it from early life, few were capable of enduring fatigue to the same extent, or with less injury. His dark blue eyes, with brows arched and slightly projecting, possessed a marked expression; but when from any cause excited, they sparkled with peculiar luster and penetration. In his manners he was pleasing-in his address commanding. His countenance, marked with firmness and decision, yet beamed with a strength and intelligence that struck at first sight. In his deportment, he was easy, affable, familiar, and accessible to all.

The annunciation of the triumphant defense of New Orleans was hailed, in every section of the country, with acclamations of delight, and won for Jackson the title of "the conqueror of the conquerors of Napoleon."

Be

to change toward the south and to increase in violence while the rain abated. tween nine and ten o'clock in the forenoon, it began to excite alarm. Chimneys and trees were blown over both to the west and north; but shingles and slates, that were torn from the roofs of buildings, were carried to the greatest distance in the direction of about three points west of north.

Between half-past ten and half-past eleven o'clock, the greatest destruction took place. The rain ceased about the time the wind shifted from south-east to south; a clear sky was visible in many places during the utmost violence of the tempest, and clouds were seen flying with great rapidity in the direction of the wind. The air had an unusual appearance. It was considerably darkened by the excessive agitation, and filled with the leaves of trees and other light substances, which were raised to a great height and whirled about in eddies, instead of being driven directly forward as in a common storm. The rivers raged and foamed like the sea in a storm, and the spray was raised to the height of sixty or one hundred feet in the form of thin white clouds, which were drifted along in a kind of wave form, like snow in a violent snow-storm. Travelers were frequently driven back by the force of the wind, and were obliged to screen themselves behind fences and trees or to advance obliquely. It was impossible for even the stoutest man to stand firm in a place exposed to the full force of the wind. The pressure of the wind was like that of a rapid current of water; pedestrians could with great difficulty hear each other speak at the distance of two or three yards; and they moved about almost as awkwardly as if attempting to wade in a strong tide.

In Boston harbor, the sea had risen unusually high, two hours before the calendar time of high water. But the direction of the wind at this time tended to counteract the tide, and thus secured the port from that awful calamity which threatened it. Great losses, however, were sustained

from the wind alone; many buildings were blown down, great numbers were unroofed or otherwise injured, and few entirely escaped. The most calamitous destruction befell the trees,-orchards and forests exhibiting a scene of desolation, the like of which had never before been witnessed in America. The roads in many places were rendered impassable, not only through woods, but in the more cultivated towns, where they happened to be lined with trees; and the streets in Boston and neighboring towns were strewed with the ruins of innumerable gardens and fruityards. A considerable proportion of the large and beautiful trees in Boston mall, and in other public walks, some of which trees measured from eight to twelve feet in circumference, were torn up by the roots and prostrated. Apple trees, in especial, being separated at a considerable distance from each other, were overturned in great numbers; no less than five thou sand were thus destroyed in the town of Dorchester alone. In this same town, also, seventeen houses were unroofed, sixty chimneys blown over, and about forty barns demolished.

Rhode Island felt the full force of this remarkable gale, Providence suffering to the amount of millions of dollars, accompanied with a fearful loss of life, as in other places. This was owing to the wind. blowing directly up the river on which the place is built, unbroken by the cape or Long Island, and in sweeping over such an extent of water it accumulated a dreadful and most destructive tide, so that vessels were actually driven over the wharves and through the streets. Early in the morning, the wind was north-east, but, at about eight, it shifted to south-east, and soon began to blow violently, continuing to increase until ten, when it became a hurricane. All was now confusion and dismay in the exposed region. The tide, impelled by the tempest, overflowed the wharves; vessels, broken from their moorings in the stream, and their fastenings at the wharves, were seen driving with dreadful impetuosity towards the bridge, which

they swept away, without a moment's check to their progress, and passed on to the head of the basin, where they drove high up the bank. Every exertion to protect property, was rendered futile by the violence of the wind, the rapid rise of the water, and the falling of trees; indeed, these, with the crashing of chimneys, tumbling upon the houses and descending into the streets, together with tiles and railings from the tops of buildings, and many other species of dangerous missile flying through the air, rendered it perilous to appear in the streets. All consideration of property, however, was soon forgotten in the more important one of selfpreservation. The tempest still raged

elements, were seen removing the panicstricken inmates; and on the east side, an awful torrent rolled through the main street, in depth nearly to a man's waist, and by which boats, masts, bales of cotton, and immense quantities of property of every description, were driven along with resistless force. It was an awful and terrific scene. Every store below, on the east side, was either carried away or completely shattered; and every building on the opposite side and on the wharves, were swept from their foundations-so that all the space, where, an hour or two before, were so many valuable wharves and stores crowded with shipping and merchandise, was now one wide waste of tumultuous

with increasing violence; the flood was overwhelming the lower parts of the town; stores and dwelling-houses were tottering on their foundations, and then, plunging into the deluge, blended their shattered remains with the wrecks of vessels, the whole passing, with irresistible impetuosity, in full view, on the current to the head of the cove, to join the already accumulated mass of similar wrecks.

By this time, the water on the west side of the river had risen nearly to the tops of the lower windows of the houses, and boats and scows, struggling with the maddened

water. Only two small vessels, of all that were in the harbor, succeeded in riding out the gale, all the rest having drifted ashore, or been carried high up on the wharves. It was such a scene of widespread ruin and desolation, as beggars all description-vessels of all kinds and in every position, blended promiscuously, with carriages, lumber, wrecks of buildings of every variety, furniture, and tens of thousands of fragments from far and near, all told the story of universal havoc and destruction. Women and children were saved in boats from chamber-windows.