_(From Our Own Correspondent on the Spot.)_
[Illustration: Our Correspondent at Breakfast.]
_Samol Plazo_, 8 A.M.--My _plat_ of _egsibaconi_ has just been knocked
out of the hands of my servant, PATPOTATO, by a bullet. My man (who
is of Irish extraction) thinks that the long-expected revolution
must have commenced; "for," as he argues, "when everything is down,
something is sure to be up." I think so too. I am now going to
Government House. If I don't get this through, make complaint at the
Post Office, for it will be their fault not mine.
9 A.M.--Am now at Head Quarters. Not much trouble getting here. Came
by a _bussi_, a local conveyance drawn by two horses, and much used by
the humbler classes. On our road one of the steeds and the roof of the
_bussi_ were carried away by a shell, but as I was inside this caused
me little annoyance, and I got comfortably to my destination with the
remainder. Just seen the President, who says laughingly, that "there
has been practically nothing but perfect peace and quiet." I doubt
whether this can be quite the case, as he was sitting in front of
Government House, which was at that very moment undergoing a vigorous
bombardment. When I pointed this out to him, he confessed that he had
noticed it himself, but did not think much of it. He was in excellent
spirits, and told me a funny story about the narrow escape of his
mother-in-law. I am now off to see how the other side are progressing.
If the Post Office people tell you they can't send my telegrams to
you, refuse to believe them.
[Illustration: Narrow Escape of Our Correspondent.]
10 A.M.--As I suspected, from the first, there _has_ been a
disturbance. I thought it must be so, as I could not otherwise
understand why my _cabbi_ should have been blown into the air, while
passing through a mined street on the road here. I am now at the
Head Quarters of the Oniononi, who seem to be in great strength. They
appear to be very pleased that the fleet should have joined them, and
account for the action by saying that the sailors, as bad shots, would
naturally blaze away at the biggest target--Government House. So far,
the disturbances have caused little inconvenience. I date this 10
A.M., but I cannot tell you the exact time, as the clock-tower has
just been carried away by a new kind of land torpedo.
12, NOON.--I am now once again at the Government Head Quarters. As I
could get no better conveyance, I inflated my canvas carpet-bag with
gas, and used it as a balloon. I found it most valuable in crossing
the battery which now masks the remains of what was once
Government House. The President, after having organised a band of
_pic-pockettini_ (desperadoes taken from the gaols), has gone into
the provinces, declaring that he has a toothache. By some, this
declaration is deemed a subterfuge, by others, a statement savouring
of levity. The artillery are now reducing the entire town to atoms,
under the personal supervision of the Minister of Finance, who
deprecates waste in ammunition, and declares that he is bound to the
President by the tie of the battle-field.
[Illustration: Our Correspondent in an Elevated Position.]
2 P.M.--Have rejoined the Oniononi, coming hither by ricochet on a
spent shell. The people are entirely with them, and cheer at every
fresh evidence of destruction. Found a well-known shopkeeper in
ecstasies over the ruins of his establishment. He said that, "Although
the revolution might be bad for trade, it would do good, as things
wanted waking up." A slaughter of police and railway officials, which
has just been carried out with infinite spirit, seems to be immensely
popular. If you don't get this, make immediate complaint. Don't
accept, as an excuse, that the wires have been cut, and the office
razed to the ground. They can get it through, if they like.
4 P.M.--Just heard a report that I myself have been killed and buried.
As I can get no corroboration of this statement, I publish it under
reservation. I confine myself to saying that it may be true, although
I have my doubts upon the subject.
6 P.M.--It seems (as I imagined) that the report of my death and
funeral is a canard. This shows how necessary it is to test the truth
of every item of information before hurrying off to the Telegraph
Office. Efforts are now being made to bring about a reconciliation
between the contending parties.
8 P.M.--The revolution is over. When both sides had exhausted their
ammunition, peace naturally became a necessity. The contending parties
are now dining together, _al fresco_, as the town is in ruins. Nothing
more to add save, All's well that ends well!
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