New Orleans.
The telegraph tells this morning the most deplorable tale ever heard in America, or, we believe, in the whole world. Two contemptible little steamers have come up to the great city of New Orleans — inhabited by a population of two hundred thousand souls, defended by miles upon miles of columbiads and rifled cannon, possessing six floating batteries of mense power, containing within her bosom not less than thirty thousand disciplined troops — and have commanded the authorities to haul down the Confederate flag! As we write, there had been no intelligence of its having been hauled down, but we are prepared to expect the worst. Sailing through miles of the heaviest artillery, it does not appear that so much as a single shot was fired at these two little steamers. On the contrary, every thing seems to have been prepared beforehand for their quiet reception. The troops were immediately withdrawn lest they might feel disposed to demur, all the defences on the lake were dismantled, the guns were thrown down without being injured, the steamboats, that could have gotten up steam in an hour and been off, were burned, and the defenders were drawn off to a distant point.Never since the world began was there such a transaction — so dark, so mysterious, so altogether unaccountable.
The telegraph, thus far, gives a very confused account of this most mysterous and most deplorable affair. Terrible suspicious are afloat, but we hold it best not to give voice to them until something more definite shall have reached us.
