"If," said he, "you are resolved to be free; if you are worthy of the heroic blood that has come down to you through hallowed generations; if you have fixed your undimmed eyes upon the brightness that is spread out before you and your children, and are determined to shake away for ever all political association with the venal hordes that now gather like a pestilence about your fair country; now, my fellow-citizens, is the time to strike." He meant strike a light; for he continues thus: "One sparkling, living torch of fire, for one hour, in manly action upon each other's plantation, and the eternal seal of southern independence is fired and fixed in the great heart of the world."

This sublime effusion had its effect, supported as it was by the presence of the Union fleet in the sacred river. Hence, as we are officially informed, two hundred and fifty thousand bales of cotton were consumed, during the next few days, in a region already impoverished by the war. Not a pound of this cotton was in danger of seizure; it was safer after the fall of the city than before.

About twelve o'clock, the fleet hove in sight of assembled New Orleans. The seven miles of crescent levee were one living fringe of human beings, who looked upon the coming ships with inexpressible sorrow, shame, and anger. Again the cry arose, burn the city; a cry that might have been obeyed but for the known presence and determination of the European brigade. The people were given over to a strong delusion, the result of two generations of De Bow falsehood and Calhoun heresy. That fleet, if they had but known it, was Deliverance, not Subjugation; it was to end, not begin, the reign of terror and of wrong. The time will come when New Orleans will know this; when the anniversary of this day will be celebrated with thankfulness and joy, and statues of Farragut and Butler will adorn the public places of the city. But before that time comes, what years of wise and heroic labor! The fleet drew near and cast anchor in the stream, the crowd looking on, some in sullen silence, many uttering yells of execration, a few secretly rejoicing, all deeply moved.

CHAPTER XV.

NEW ORLEANS WILL NOT SURRENDER.

CAPTAIN FARRAGUT'S fleet emerged from the hurly-burly of the fight on the morning of the 24th, into a beautiful and tranquil scene. Soon after leaving quarantine, the sugar plantations, with their villas girdled with pleasant verandas, and surrounded with trees, each with its village of negro huts near by, appeared on both sides of the river. The canes were a foot high, and of the brightest April green, rendered more vivid by the background of forest a mile from the river. Except that a white flag or rag was hung from many of the houses, and, in some instances, a torn and faded American flag, a relic of better times, there was little to remind the voyagers that they were in an enemy's country. Here and there a white man was seen waving a Union flag; and occasionally a gesture of defiance or contempt was discerned. The negroes who were working in the fields in great numbers-in gangs of fifty, a hundred, two hundred-these alone gave an unmistakable welcome to the ships. They would come running down to the levee in crowds, hoe in hand, and toss their battered old hats into the air, and shout, sing and caper in their wild picturesque fashion. Other gangs, held under stronger control, kept on their work without so much as looking at the passing vessels, unless it might be that one or two of them, watching their chance, would wave a hand or hat, and straight to hoe again.

None of those batteries with which the river was said to be "lined," were discovered. At three o'clock the ships were off Point la Hache, which had been reported to be impassably fortified. No guns were there. On the contrary, on a plantation near by thirty plows were going, and two hundred negroes came to the shore in the highest glee, to greet the ships. "Hurrah for Abraham," cried At eight o'clock in the evening, at a point eighteen miles below the city, the fleet came to anchor for the night. The city was not more than half that distance in a straight line, and consequently, the prodigious volumes of smoke from the burning cotton were

one.

plainly seen, exciting endless speculation in the minds of officers and crew. Perhaps another Moscow. Who knows? Nothing is too mad for secesh; secession itself being madness.

At midnight, an alarm! Three large fires ahead, concluded to be fire-rafts. Up anchor, all! The vessels cruised cautiously about in the river for an hour or two; Captain Farragut not caring to venture higher in an unexplored river, said to be lined with batteries. The fires proved to be stationary; and when the fleet passed them the next morning, they were discovered to be three large cotton ships burning-their blockade-running ended thus for ever.

At Chalmette, Jackson's old battle-ground, now but three miles below the city, the river really was "lined" with batteries; i. e., there was a battery on each side of the river, each mounting eight or ten old guns. The signal to engage them was made the moment they came in sight. The leading ships were twenty minutes under fire before they could return it; but then a few broadsides of shell and grape drove the unsheltered foe from the works, with the loss of one man in the fleet knocked overboard by the wind of a ball, and our Herald friend hit with a splinter, but not harmed. “It was what I call," says Captain Farragut, 66 one of the little ele

gancies of the profession—a dash and a victory."

Round the bend at noon, into full view of the vast sweep of the Crescent City. What a scene! Fires along the shore farther than the eye could reach; the river full of burning vessels; the levee lined with madmen, whose yells and defiant gestures showed plainly enough what kind of welcome awaited the new-comers. A faint cheer for the Union, it is said, rose from one part of the levee, answered by a volley of pistol-shots from the by-standers. As the fleet dropped anchor in the stream, a thunder-storm of tropical violence burst over the city, which dissolved large masses of the crowd, and probably reduced, in some degree, the frenzy of those who remained.

The banks, the stores, all places of business were closed in the city. The mayor, by formal proclamation, had now invested the European Brigade, under General Juge, "with the duty of watching over the public tranquillity; patrols of whom should be treated with respect, and obeyed." General Juge and his command saved the city from plunder and anarchy-probably from universal conflagration. Night and day they patrolled the city; and the gene

ral, by personal entreaty and public proclamation, induced some of the butchers and grocers to open their shops. A fear of starvation was added to the other horrors of the time; for the country people feared to approach the city, and the markets were alarmingly bare of provisions. And then the Confederate currencywould that be of any value under the rule of the United States? "It is as good now as it ever has been," said the mayor, in one of his half-dozen proclamations, " and there is no reason to reject it;" but "those who hold Confederate currency, and wish to part with it, may have it exchanged for city bills, by applying to the Committee of Public Safety." Another proclamation called upon those who had carried off sugar from the levee to bring it back; another promised a free market and abundant provisions on Monday; another desired the provision dealers to re-open their stores; another urged the people to be calm, and trust the authorities with their welfare and their honor.

At one o'clock, the fleet was anchored. The rain was falling in torrents, but the crowd near the Custom-House was still dense and fierce, the rain having melted away the softer elements. A boat put off from the flag-ship-man-of-war's boat, trim and tidy, crew in fresh tarpaulins and clean shirts, no flag of truce flying. In the stern sat three officers, Captain Bailey, second in command of the fleet, Lieutenant Perkins, his companion in the errand upon which he was sent, and Acting-Master Morton in charge of the boat. Just after the boat put off, a huge thing of a ram Mississippi, pierced for twenty guns, a kind of monster Merrimac, or fortified Noah's Ark, came floating down the river past the fleet, wrapped in flames. At another time the spectacle would have been duly honored by the fleet, but at that moment every eye was upon Captain Bailey's boat, nearing the crowd on the levee.

We all remember the greeting bestowed upon this officer. It was by no means that which a conquered city usually confers upon the conqueror. Deafening cheers for "Jeff. Davis and the South;" thundering groans for "Lincoln and his fleet;" sudden hustling and collaring of two or three men who dared cheer for the "old flag." Captain Bailey and Lieutenant Perkins, however, stepped on shore, and announced their desire to see the mayor of the city. A few respectable persons in the crowd had the courage to offer to conduct them to the City Hall, under whose escort the officers started

66

on their perilous journey, followed and surrounded by a yelling, infuriated multitude, regardless of the pouring rain. "No violence," says a Delta reporter, was offered to the officers, though certain persons who were suspected of favoring their flag and cause were set upon with great fury, and roughly handled. On arriving at the City Hall, it required the intervention of several citizens to prevent violence being offered to the rash embassadors of an execrated dynasty and government."

Mayor Monroe is a gentleman of slight form and short stature; he was not equal to the exceedingly perplexing situation in which he found himself. Supported, however, by the presence of several of the "city fathers," as he styled them, and aided by the talents of Mr. Soulé, he performed his part in the curious interview with tolerable dignity. While the colloquy proceeded, the City Hall was surrounded by an ever growing crowd, whose cheers for Jeff. Davis and groans for "Abe Lincoln" served as loud accompaniment to the mild discord within the building. Captain Bailey and his companion were duly presented to the mayor, and courteous salutations were exchanged between them.

"I have been sent," said the captain, "by Captain Farragut, commanding the United States fleet, to demand the surrender of the city, and the elevation of the flag of the United States over the Custom-House, the Mint, the Post-Office, and the City Hall."

"I am not," replied the mayor, "the military commander of the city. I have no authority to surrender it, and would not do so if I had. There is a military commander now in the city. I will send for him to receive and reply to your demand."

A messenger was accordingly dispatched for General Lovell, who, though he had sent off his troops, remained in the town, a train waiting with steam up to convey him and his staff to camp.

Polite conversation ensued between the officers and the gentlemen in the office of the mayor, with fitful yell accompaniment from the outside crowd. The officers praised with warm sincerity the stout defense made by the forts, and the headlong valor with which the rebel fleet had hurled itself against the Union ships. Captain Bailey regretted the wholesale destruction of property in the city, and said that Captain Farragut deplored it no less than himself. To this the mayor replied, not with the courtesy of his monitor, Mr. Soulé, that the property being their own, the destruction of it