and
destruction were at their height. "The levee of New Orleans," says
Farragut in his report, "was one scene of desolation. Ships, steamers,
cotton, coal, etc., were all in one common blaze, and our ingenuity was
much taxed to avoid the floating conflagration. The destruction of
property was awful." Upon this pandemonium, in which the fierce glare of
burning property lit up the wild passions and gestures of an infuriated
people, the windows of heaven were opened and a drenching rain poured
down in torrents. The impression produced by the ships as they came in
sight around the bend has been graphically described by the boy before
mentioned, who has since become so well-known as an author--Mr. George
W. Cable. "I see the ships now, as they come slowly round Slaughter
House Point into full view, silent, grim, and terrible; black with men,
heavy with deadly portent, the long-banished Stars and Stripes flying
against the frowning sky. Oh! for the Mississippi! for the Mississippi!"
(an iron-clad vessel nearly completed, upon which great hopes had been
based by the Confederates). "Just then she came down. But how? Drifting
helplessly, a mass of flames.

"The crowds on the levee howled and screamed with rage. The swarming
decks answered never a word; but one old tar on the Hartford, standing
lanyard in hand beside a great pivot gun, so plain to view that you
could see him smile, silently patted its big black breech and blandly
grinned. And now the rain came down in torrents."

That same morning, as though with the purpose of embarrassing the victor
whom he could not oppose, the Mayor of New Orleans had ordered the State
flag of Louisiana to be hoisted upon the City Hall. His secretary, who
was charged with this office, waited to fulfill it until the cannonade
at English Turn had ceased, and it was evident the fleet had passed the
last flimsy barrier and would within an hour appear before the city. The
flag was then run up; and the Mayor had the satisfaction of creating a
position of very unnecessary embarrassment for all parties by his
useless bravado.

To Captain Bailey, the second in command, who had so gallantly led both
in the first assault and in the attack at Chalmette, was assigned the
honor of being the first to land in the conquered city and to demand its
surrender. It was no barren honor, but a service of very sensible
personal danger to which he was thus called. General Lovell having to
devote his attention sole