The eight hundred Highlanders, with pale faces but firm step, advance to the ditch, and, too proud to run, stand the fire until few more than a hundred are left. These slowly retire with their faces still toward the Americans.

The battle lasted only twenty-five minutes. During this time the American flag was kept flying near the middle of the line. A military band roused the troops. Just after the fight, Jackson and his staff in full uniform rode slowly along the lines. The wild uproar of that motley army was echoed by thousands of spectators, who with fear and trembling had watched the issue of the contest.

[Ill.u.s.tration: General Jackson riding along the Lines, after the Battle]

In the final and decisive action on that Sunday morning, the British had about six thousand men, while Jackson had less than three thousand. Of the British, seven hundred were killed, fourteen hundred wounded, and five hundred taken prisoners. The Americans had only eight killed and fourteen wounded!

It was the most astonishing battle ever fought on this continent.

There had never been a defeat so crushing, with a loss so small.

{197} For a week or more, the British kept sullenly within their lines. Jackson clung to his intrenchments. He was a fearless fighter, but was unwilling to risk a battle with well-tried veterans in an open field. He kept up, however, a continual pounding with his big guns, and his mounted riflemen gave the redcoats no rest.

In about three weeks, General Lambert skillfully retreated to the ships, and, soon afterwards, the entire army sailed for England.

Such was the glorious but dreadful battle of New Orleans, the anniversary of which is still celebrated.

{198} Honors fell thick and fast upon "Old Hickory." Fourteen years later, he became the seventh President of the United States.

The sad part of this astounding victory is that peace had been declared about two weeks before the battle was fought. A "cablegram,"

or even an ocean greyhound, could have saved the lives of many brave men.

When peace was made, nothing was said about impressing our sailors, or about the rights of our merchantmen. From that day to this, however, no American citizen has been forced to serve on a British war ship, and no American vessel has ever been searched on the high seas.

The war of 1812 was not fought in vain. The nations of the world saw that we would fight to maintain our rights. Best of all, perhaps, this war served to strengthen the feeling of nationality among our own people.

{199}

CHAPTER XIV

A HERO'S WELCOME

Rarely has the benefactor of a people been awarded such measure of grat.i.tude as we gave Lafayette, in 1824. Eager crowds flocked into the cities and the villages to welcome this hero. Thousands of children, the boys in blue jackets and the girls in white dresses, scattered flowers before him. If you could get your grandfather or your grandmother to tell you of this visit, it would be as interesting as a storybook.

The conditions in the United States were just right for such an outburst of feeling. Everybody knew the story of the rich French n.o.bleman, who, at the age of nineteen, had left friends, wife, home, and native land, to cast his lot with strange people, three thousand miles away, engaged in fighting for freedom.

It was not until after the battle of Bunker Hill that, at a grand dinner party, the young marquis heard of our struggle for independence. He knew neither our country nor our people, and he did not speak our language; but his sympathies were at once awakened, and he made up his mind to fight for us.

In the spring of 1777, at his own expense, he bought and fitted out a vessel with military supplies, and sailed {200} for America. Seven weeks later, he landed in South Carolina, and at once went to Philadelphia to offer his services to Congress.

He wrote a note to a member of Congress, in which he said, "After the sacrifices I have made, I have the right to exact two favors; one is, to serve at my own expense, the other, to serve as a volunteer."

These manly words and the striking appearance of the young Frenchman, together with letters from Benjamin Franklin, had their effect. His services were accepted, and he was made a major general.

For seven years Lafayette served Washington as an aid and a personal friend. His deep sympathy, his generous conduct, and his gracious ways won all hearts, from the stately Washington to the humblest soldier. Personal bravery on the battlefield at once gained fame for him as a soldier, and made him one of the heroes of the hour. His example worked wonders in getting the best young men of the country to enlist in the army.

During the fearful winter at Valley Forge, the young n.o.bleman suddenly changed his manner of living. Used to ease and personal comforts, he became even more frugal and self-denying than the half-starved and half-frozen soldiers. How different it must have been from the gayeties and the luxuries of the French court of the winter before!

The battle of Monmouth was fought on a hot Sunday in June, 1778. From four o'clock in the morning until {201} dusk, Lafayette fought like a hero. Late at night, when the battle was over, he and Washington lay upon the same cloak, under a tree, and talked over the strange events of the day until they fell asleep.

After the battle of Monmouth, Lafayette went back to France to visit his family, and to plead the cause of his adopted country. He was kindly received at court.

"Tell us all the good news about our dearly-beloved Americans,"

begged the queen.

To the king, Lafayette spoke plainly: "The money that you spend, Sire, on one of your court b.a.l.l.s would go far towards sending an army to the colonies in America, and dealing England a blow where she would most feel it."

In the spring of 1780, Lafayette returned to America with the French king's pledge of help.

At the close of the Revolution, the gallant young marquis went back to France, the hero of his nation, but {202} his interest in America never grew less. When the treaty of peace was signed at Paris, he hired a vessel and hurried it across the ocean, with the good news.

In 1784, the year after peace was declared, Lafayette visited this country for the third time. He made Washington a long visit at Mount Vernon, went over the old battlefields, and met his old comrades.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Lafayette's Visit to Washington at Mount Vernon, in 1784]

In 1824, it was known that Lafayette, now an old man, longed to visit once more the American people and the scenes he loved so well.

Congress at once requested President Monroe to invite him as the nation's guest.

Forty years had wrought a marvelous change in America. The thirteen colonies, in whose cause the young Frenchman came over the sea, had been united into a nation of twenty-four states. The experiment of laying the foundation of a great republic had proved successful. The problem of self-government had been solved.

The United States had taken its place among the great nations of the world,--a republic of twelve millions of prosperous and happy people.

Towns and cities had sprung up like magic. The tide of immigration had taken possession of mountain and valley of what was then the far West.

The people of the young nation were still rejoicing over the glorious victories of Hull, Decatur, Bainbridge, Perry, and other heroes of the sea. Less than ten years {203} before, General Jackson had won his great victory at New Orleans.

Time had dealt heavily with the great generals of the Revolution.

Washington had been laid away in the tomb at Mount Vernon, twenty-five years before. Greene, Wayne, Marion, Morgan, Schuyler, Knox, and Lincoln were all dead. Stark had died only two years before. Sumter was still living. Lafayette was the last surviving major general of the Revolution.

The people of this country were familiar with Lafayette's remarkable history since he had left America. They had heard of his lifelong struggle against tyranny in his native land. They knew him as the gallant knight who had dealt hard blows in the cause of freedom. They cared little about the turmoils of French politics, but knew that this champion of liberty had been for five years in an Austrian dungeon.

Do you wonder that the grateful people of the st.u.r.dy young republic were eager to receive him as their guest?

In company with his son, George Washington Lafayette, and his private secretary, Lafayette landed at Staten Island, New York, on Sunday, August 15, 1824. He spent the night at the house of Vice President Tompkins. The next day, six thousand citizens came, in a grand procession of gayly decked vessels, to escort the national guest to the city. The cannon from the forts and from the men-of-war boomed a welcome, while two hundred thousand people cheered themselves hoa.r.s.e.

{204} Within a few days Lafayette went to Washington, and was formally received as the nation's guest by President Monroe, at the White House.

[Ill.u.s.tration: President Monroe, who received the Nation's Guest]

As our guest now enters upon an unbroken series of receptions and triumphal ovations in the twenty-four states of the Union, let us take a glimpse at his personal appearance.

Lafayette was tall, rather stout, and had a large head. His face was oval and regular, with a high forehead. His complexion was light, and his cheeks were red. He had a long nose, and well-arched eyebrows overhanging grayish blue eyes. He had lost his hair in the Austrian prison, and in its place wore a curly, reddish brown wig, set low upon his forehead, thus concealing the heavy wrinkles upon his brow.

"Time has much changed us, for then we were young and active," said Lafayette to his old friend, the famous Indian chief Red Jacket, whom he met at Buffalo.

{205} "Alas!" said the aged warrior, who did not suspect the finely made French wig, "time has left my white brother red cheeks and a head covered with hair; but for me,--look!" and, untying the handkerchief that covered his head, the old chieftain showed with a grim smile that he was entirely bald.