Thus are affairs arranged when official notice of the peace reaches the General from Washington. Instantly he withdraws his grip from the city, restores the civil rule, and releases from captivity Jurist Hall, Citizen Hollander, and Legislator Louaillier.
Upon the disappearance of martial law, Papa Plauche, with his immortal “Fathers of Families,” gives that ball of victory, the exiled Consul Toussand creeps back into town, while Jurist Hall signalizes his restoration to the woolsack by fining the General one thousand dollars for contempt of court—which he pays.
The Legislature, guards withdrawn from its treasonable doors, expands into lawmaking. Its earliest action is a resolution of thanks for their brave defense of the city to officers Coffee, Carroll, Hinds, Adair, and Patterson. The Legislature pointedly does not thank the General, who grins dryly.
Colonel Coffee, upon receiving the vote of thanks, writes a letter of acknowledgment, in which he intimates his opinions of the General, the Legislature, and himself. This missive is a remarkable outburst on the part of Colonel Coffee, who fights more easily than he writes, and shows how he is stirred to his hunting-shirt depths.
Through the clouds of pestiferous jurists and treason-hatching legislators descends a grand burst of sunshine. The blooming Rachel, as unlooked for as an angel, joins her gaunt hero in New Orleans, and the General forgets alike his triumphs and his troubles.
Papa Plauche—foremost in peace as in war—at once seizes on the advent of the blooming Rachel to give another ball. The whole city attends the function; the heroic “Fathers” in full panoply and very splendid. The band plays “'Possum up a Gum Tree,” in the execution whereof it soars to vainest heights.
Papa Plauche dances with the blooming Rachel. The General unbuckles in certain intricate breakdowns, with which he challenged admiration in those days long ago when he was the beau of old Salisbury and read law with Spruce McCay. The “Fathers” are not only edified but excited by the General's dancing; for he dances as he fights, violently.
Colonel Coffee, not being a dancing man, goes looking about him. He discovers a flower-piece, prepared by Papa Plauche, that is like unto a piece of flattery, and spells “Jackson and Victory!” in deepest red and green. He shows it to the General, who suggests that if Papa Plauche had made it “Hickory and Victory!” it would mean the same, and save the euphony.
While the blooming Rachel, the General, the non-dancing Coffee, and the ardent Papa Plauche, with the beauty and chivalry of New Orleans about them, are at the ball, Colonel Burr, gray and bent and cynical, is talking with his friend Swartwout in far-away New York.
“It was a glorious, a most convincing victory!” exclaims Mr. Swartwout. “President Madison cannot do the General too much honor. He has saved the country!”