immense force of the foe. The fleet now ran along to the western extremity of the lake, and landed the troops at the mouth of the Bayou Bienvenue. The shallow water would not allow the large ships to approach near the land; but sixteen hundred troops were speedily put on shore by the boats but eight miles from New Orleans. Unaware how feeble the force Gen. Jackson had at his disposal, they did not deem it prudent to move upon the city until they had greatly increased their numbers. This delay probably saved New Orleans.

The British troops commenced landing on the 16th. The process was very slow and tedious; and it was not until the 22d that they were prepared to move forward. Thus far, it had been uncertain by what direction they would advance upon the city. As soon as Gen. Jackson heard of their line of approach, he advanced to meet them. He had placed the city under martial law. Every available man, horse, mule, ox, had been called into requisition. Two armed schooners were stationed in the river. Fort St. Philip was strengthened, to prevent the British fleet, which was impelled by wind alone, from ascending the river.

At two o'clock in the afternoon of the 23d, Gen. Jackson learned that the foe, marching from Lake Borgne, were within nine miles of the city. He immediately collected his motley force of young farmers and mechanics, about two thousand in number, and marched to meet them. He fell upon them impetuously in a night attack, checked their progress, and drove them back towards their landing-place. The British, surprised by the fury of the assault, waited for re-enforcements, which came up in large numbers during the night.

In the mean time, Gen. Jackson, with that indomitable energy, that fiery impetuosity, in which he surpassed all living men, fell back with his men to a point about four miles down the river from New Orleans, and commenced cutting a ditch, and throwing up a line of breast works from the river across the plain, which was about a mile in width, to the impassable swamp. Every man and boy in the city was put to the work. The general was everywhere. His zeal inspired all. He seemed neither to eat nor sleep. It is said, that, for five days and four nights, he was without sleep. Two precious days the British allowed him, while they were laboriously bringing up their re-enforcements of men, ammunition, provisions, and guns.

Gen. Jackson had two sloops of war in the river, which annoyed the foe terribly. It is but a narrow strip of land which lines the turbid Mississippi. It was only along this strip that the foe could advance. They were on the eastern banks, and were exposed unsheltered to the fire of these vessels. The levee, rising some fifteen feet from the plain, alone prevented the inundation of the ground where the British forces were collecting. On their right, as they looked up the stream, the swamp shut them in; while the swift, turbid, deep river was on their left. On the 25th, Sir E. Packenham reached the British camp, bringing with him a powerful battery. He planted it near the levee in the night, opened fire in the morning, blew one of the vessels into the air, and drove the other out of range of his guns. He was the nephew of the Duke of Wellington. But Andrew Jackson was in spirit the duke himself, expanded and intensified.

Packenham, on the 28th, pushed his veteran battalions forward on a reconnoissance, and to sweep, if possible, like a Mississippi flood, over Gen. Jackson's frail and unfinished breastwork. In the construction of his ditch and earthworks, he could scoop up the earth only to the depth of three feet before he came to the water. It was a brilliant morning, the 28th of December. Jackson, with an old borrowed telescope in his hand, was on the watch. The solid columns of red-coats came on, in military array as beautiful as awe-inspiring. The artillery led, heralding the advance with a shower of Congreve-rockets, round shot, and shell. The muskets of the infantry flashed like mirrors in the light of the morning sun. The Britons were in high glee. It was absurd to suppose that a few thousand raw militia could resist the veterans who had conquered the armies of Napoleon.

Gen. Jackson had not quite three thousand men behind his breastwork; but every one had imbibed the spirit of his chieftain. There were eight thousand veteran soldiers marching upon them. For a few hours, there were the tumult, the horror, the carnage, of a battle; and then the British host seemed to have melted away. Panting, bleeding, with shattered ranks, leaving their dead behind them, again they retreated.

Another week passed away. Both parties exerted almost superhuman energy in preparing for the renewal of the strife. Gen. Jackson had made his arrangements, if defeated, to retire to the city, fire it, and, amidst its flames, to fight with desperation; slowly