with a kind
of despairing hope that the husband and father would yet _come home_,
and so he did.

Let us see what became of Peter Houp, the carpenter. As he strolled
along with his basket under his arm, on the eventful morning he sought
the leg of mutton, he met a platoon of men dressed up in uniform,
muskets on their shoulders, colors flying, drums beating, and a mob of
hurrahers following and shouting for the volunteers. Yes, it was a
company of volunteers, just about shipping off for the South, to join
the "Old Zack" of that day, General Jackson. Peter Houp saw in the ranks
of the volunteers several of his old _chums_; he spoke to them, walked
along with the men of Mars, got inspired--patriotic--_drunk_. Two days
after that eventful Saturday, on which the quiet, honest, and
industrious carpenter left his wife and children full of hope and
happiness, he found himself in blue breeches, roundabout, and black cap,
on board a brig--bound for New Orleans. A volunteer for the war! It was
too late to repent then; the brig was ploughing her way through the
foaming billows, and in a few weeks she arrived at Mobile, as she could
not reach New Orleans, the British under General Packenham being off the
Balize. So the volunteers were landed at Mobile, and hurried on over
land to the devoted (or was to be) Crescent city. Peter Houp was not
only a good man, liable as all men are to make a false step once in
life, but a brave one. Having gone so far, and made a step so hard to
retrace, Peter's cool reason got bothered; he poured the spirits down to
keep his spirits up, as the saying goes, and abandoned himself to fate.
Caring neither for life nor death, he was found behind the cotton bags,
which he had assisted in getting down from the city to the battle
ground, piled up, and now ready to defend his country while life lasted.
Peter fought well, being a man not unlike the brave Old Hickory himself,
tall, firm, and resolute-looking. He attracted General Jackson's
attention during the battle, and afterwards was personally complimented
for his skill and courage by the victorious Commander-in-chief. Every
body knows the history of the battle of New Orleans--I need not relate
it. After the victory, the soldiers were allowed considerable license,
and they made New Orleans a scene of revel and dissipation, as all
cities are likely to represent when near a victorious army. Peter Houp
was on a "regular bender," a "big tare," a long spree--and