to Pensacola and took possession of the place driving away the enemy.

The rumor was spread throughout the South that a large English fleet had set sail for the mouth of the Mississippi.

General Jackson therefore hastened with his troops to New Orleans, and arrived about the first of December, 1814.

The city was ill prepared for defense. The people knew of the impending danger. The citizens had met to consult about it, but they could agree on nothing. At length the news was spread that Jackson had arrived, and there was magic in the news.

A leader had been greatly needed, and here was now a leader who was born to command. He had been but a few hours in the city when the plan of defense was fully decided upon, and hope was seen to beam in every counte

nance.

Some days were now taken by the general in viewing the various approaches to the city. It was soon found that the fears of the people were well grounded. A large British fleet had landed. It consisted of fifty ships, carrying

twenty thousand soldiers and a thousand heavy guns.

It was commanded by Sir Edward Pakcnham, a brave and successful soldier, and brother-in-law of the duke of Wellington, the hero of Waterloo.

Against this force Jackson had less than four thousand men, and many of them were badly armed. Many had never been in a battle.

General Jackson was himself in poor health. The long exposure in the Indian country and the long horseback rides through the wilderness had greatly injured his health.

When he reached New Orleans, he was scarcely able to sit on his horse. But the power of his will was wonderful; and now for weeks he was active day and night preparing to save the city.

The British army was slowly making its way up the river on the eastern bank toward the city. As soon as Jackson knew of their approach he decided to attack them.

This he did on the night of December 23; and the battle raged in the darkness for several hours. But neither side won a victory.

On the next day, just one day before Christmas, a treaty of peace was signed between England and the United States, at the little town of Ghent in Belgium.

But there was no Atlantic cable then, and the news of the peace was not heard in America for several weeks; so the preparations for battle were continued.

General Jackson saw that the only way to save the city was to throw up an embankment and have his men fight from behind it.

He therefore put them to work, and for nearly three weeks the soldiers worked like beavers day and night with spade and shovel and wheelbarrow.

It would remind one of bees building a honey-comb, or a colony of ants making an ant-hill.

During this time the British made two or three assaults on the American line, but were driven back each time. The loss of men reached several hundred on each side. In one of these attacks General Jackson was in a large wooden house back of his army.

The English, knowing this, directed their fire

toward it, and the house was struck by a hundred cannon balls in ten minutes, but the general was not hurt.

General Pakenham was ready for a grand assault. By the evening of the seventh of January there was a feeling on both sides that an awful battle was about to take place.

And so there was-one of the most terrible this Western World had ever seen-but that will be given in the next chapter.

XI.

BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS.

WAR is a dreadful thing at best. It sweeps over a land and leaves a frightful trail— suffering and woe, widows and orphans! The shouts of victory are mingled with the wails of the dying; the songs of triumph with the groans of the fallen foe.

But with all its horrors, war will sometimes come and we cannot help it. At such times it is the part of one who loves his country to

fight for its honor with his heart brave and unfaltering.

Such were the men who fought under Jackson at the battle of New Orleans on January 8, 1815.

General Jackson and his soldiers felt it their solemn duty to repel the English invaders of our land, and now the supreme moment had

come.

The general remembered how, thirty-five years before when only a boy, he had been captured by the English in the Revolutionary War, and a cruel officer had struck him with a sword, leaving a scar that he still bore.

4

He remembered how that war had deprived him of his loving mother and his two brothers; and perhaps these memories made him the more anxious now to inflict a terrible blow upon the enemy.

He arose on this day at one o'clock in the morning and rode along his lines, rousing his men to their places of duty.

Within a few hours everything was in readiness-the cannon mounted, and every man at his place.