It may be present to the memory of some of our readers, that when the British troops, under Sir Edward Pakenham, menaced New Orleans, the constitution of Louisiana was temporarily and arbitrarily suspended by General Jackson, commanding the American forces in the south, with a view to greater unity in the defensive operations. This suspension excited great indignation amongst the Louisianians, who viewed it as a direct attack upon their liberties, unjustified by circumstances. Meetings were called, and the general's conduct was made the subject of vehement censure. When the news of the peace between England and the United States, concluded in Europe before the fight of New Orleans took place, arrived, judicial proceedings were instituted against Jackson; he was found guilty of a violation of the Habeas Corpus act, and condemned to a fine of two thousand dollars. This fine the Louisianian Creoles were anxious to pay for him; but he preferred paying it himself, and did so with a good grace, thereby augmenting the popularity he had acquired by his victories over the Creek Indians, and by the still more important repulse of Pakenham's ill-planned and worse-fated expedition. In the book which forms the subject of the present article, this historical incident has been introduced, rather, however, to illustrate American character and feelings, than in connexion with the main plot of the tale. Captain Percy, a young officer of regulars, brings the announcement of the suspension of the Louisianian constitution to a town on the Mississippi, then the headquarters of the militia, who, at the moment of his arrival, are assembled on parade. The general commanding reads the despatch with grave dissatisfaction, and communicates its contents to his officers. The news has already got wind through some passengers by the steam-boat which brought the despatch-bearer, and discontent is rife amongst the militia. The parade is dismissed, the troops disperse, and the officers are about to return to their quarters, when they are detained by the following incident:—
From the opposite shore of the river, two boats had some time previously pushed off; one of them seeming at first uncertain what direction to take. It had turned first up, then down stream, but had at last pulled obliquely across the river towards the bayou or creek, on the shore of which the little town was situated. It was manned by sailors, judging from their shirts of blue and red flannel; but there were also other persons on board, differently dressed, one of whom reconnoitred the shore of the bayou with a telescope. It was the strange appearance of these persons that now attracted the attention of the officers. They were about twelve in number; some of them had their heads bound up, others had their arms in slings; several had great plasters upon their faces. They were of foreign aspect, and, judging from the style of their brown, yellow, and black physiognomies, of no very respectable class. As if wishing to escape observation, they sat with their backs to the bayou. At a word from General Billow, an officer stepped down to meet them.
The boat was close to shore, but as soon as the suspicious-looking strangers perceived the approach of the militia officer, it was turned into the creek and shot rapidly up it. Suddenly it was brought to land; one of the better dressed of the men stepped out and approached the captain of regulars, who just then came out of the guard-house. With a military salute he handed him a paper, saluted again, and returned to his companions in the boat. After a short time the whole party ascended the bank of the bayou, and walked off in the direction of the town. The captain looked alternately at the men and at the paper, and then approached the group of officers.
"What do those people want?" inquired General Billow.
The officer handed him the paper.
"Read it yourself, general. I can hardly believe my eyes. A passport for Armand, Marceau, Bernardin, Cordon, &c., planters from Nacogdoches, delivered by the Mexican authorities, and countersigned by the general-in-chief.
"Have you inquired their destination?"
Captain Percy shrugged his shoulders. "New Orleans. Any thing further, the man tells me, is known to the general-in-chief. A most suspicious rabble, and who seem quite at home here."
"Ah, Mister Billow and Barrow, how goes it? Glad to see you. You look magnificent in your scarfs and plumes."
This boisterous greeting, uttered in a rough, good-humoured voice, proceeded from our friend Squire Copeland, who had just landed from the second boat with his companions and horses, and having given the latter to a negro to hold, now stepped into the circle of officers, his broad-brimmed quaker-looking hat decorated with the magnificent bunch of feathers, for which his daughters had laid the tenants of the poultry-yard under such severe contribution.