piled high, its bales cut open, soaked
with whiskey, and set on fire. The blue flames of burning alcohol gave a
touch of weird and sinister color to the scene.

The men who owned this cotton stood by cheering and helping in its
destruction. The two flat-boats with flames leaping into the smoke pall
of the darkened skies led the fleet of fire down the river to greet
Farragut's men in their way.

Every saloon was emptied and every gutter flowed with wines and liquors.

* * * * *

Jennie found her grandmother resting serenely in her great rocking
chair, apparently indifferent to the uproar of the town. The household
with its seventy-odd negro servants was running its usual smooth,
careless course.

Jennie read aloud the announcement in the morning paper of Butler's
order to New Orleans:

"All devices, signs, and flags of the Confederacy shall be suppressed--"

She clenched her fist and sprang to her feet.

"Good! I'll devote all my red, white and blue silk to the manufacture of
Confederate flags! When one is confiscated--I'll make another. I'll wear
one pinned on my bosom. The man who says, 'Take it off,' will have to
pull it off himself. The man who does that--well, I've a pistol
ready!--"

"What are you saying, dear?" the old lady asked with her thin hand
behind her ear.

"Oh, nothing much, grandma dear," was the sweet answer. "I was only
wishing I were a man!"

She slipped her arms about her thin neck and whispered this in deep,
tragic tones. With a bound she was off to the depot to see the last
squad of soldiers depart for the front before the gunboats arrived.

They waved their hats to the crowds of women and children as the train
slowly pulled out.

"God bless you, ladies! We're going to fight for you!"

Jennie drew her handkerchief, waved and sobbed the chorus in reply.

"God bless you, soldiers! Fight for us!"

Four hours later the black gunboats swung at their anchors. The proud
little conquered city lay at the mercy of their guns.

Jennie watched them with shining eyes, and that without fear. The Union
flag was streaming from every peak and halyard.

The girl rushed home, made a flag five inches long, pinned it to her
shoulder and deliberately walked down town. Mattie Morgan joined her at
the corner and drew one from the folds of her dress, emboldened by the
example.

They marched straight to the State House terrace to take a good look at
the _Brooklyn_ lying close