The End of the War
There were other battles upon the land and other battles upon
the water in this War of 1812; but as battles are all
the same old story of murder and bloodshed over and
over again, no matter how just or how unjust the cause,
I think you will by this time be glad enough to come
out of this cloud of fire and smoke, and breathe once
more under the clear quiet skies of peace.
The war ended finally with the battle of New Orleans.
The commander of the American forces in this battle was
General Andrew Jackson; the same Andrew Jackson who, in
the Revolutionary times, had been knocked down for
refusing to clean the boots of an English officer who
had taken him prisoner. What he had seen and what he
had suffered in those old days had filled him with a
life-long hatred of the English; and so there were few
generals in the American army better fitted to fight
the English than this fiery Andrew Jackson.
On reaching New Orleans, he went to work with a will.
He formed regiments of black men—a thing unheard
those days; and when at last the enemy approached, he
and his men, both black and white, worked like ants,
piling up cotton bales, sugar barrels—anything
they could lay their hands on; until they had about
them a wall which Wellington himself might well have
dreaded to climb.
The battle which followed ended successfully for the
Americans, and with it closed the war. There was great
joy throughout the country. Messengers were sent, as
at the close of the Revolution, with all the speed
their horses could make, from State to State; and
everywhere the bells were rung, bonfires were built,
bands played and processions marched, anything and
everything was done in celebration of another victory
over the English, and of another time of peace.
The Attack on New Orleans.