They say—­that is, some people seem to want to say it and so do—­that Dewey is a strange sort of man; as was said of Wolfe and Nelson, who died when they won immortality.  Dewey lives and is covered with glory.  It has been held that there were not enough Americans hurt in the Manila fight to make the victory truly great.  But the same objection applies to the destruction of Cervera’s fleet when he ran away from Santiago.  General Jackson’s battle at New Orleans showed a marvelously small loss to Americans; but it was a good deal of a victory, and held good, though won after peace with England had been agreed upon.  The capture of Manila is valid, too.  Spain surrendered before the town did.  If Dewey had been an every-day kind of man, he would have left Manila when he had fulfilled the letter of his orders, as he had no means of destroying the Spanish army, and did not want to desolate a city, even if the Spaniards held it.  He remained and called for more ships and men, and got them.

“How is it?” “Why is it?” “How can it be?” are the questions Admiral Dewey asks when told that the American people, without exception, rejoice to celebrate him—­that if one of the men known to have been with him May 1st should be found out in any American theater he would be taken on the stage by an irresistible call and a muscular committee of enthusiasts, and the play could not go on without “a few words” and the “Star Spangled Banner,” “Hail Columbia,” “Yankee Doodle,” “Dixey” and “My Country, ’tis of Thee”; that the hallelujah note would be struck; that cars are chalked “for Deweyville”; that the board fences have his name written, or painted, or whittled on them; that there are Dewey cigars; that blacksmith-shops have the name Dewey scratched on them, also barn doors; and that if there are two dwelling-houses and a stable at a cross-roads it is Deweyville, or Deweyburg or Deweytown; that there is a flood of boy babies named Dewey, that the girls sing of him, and the ladies all admire him and the widows love him, and the school children adore him.  The Admiral says:  “I hear such things, and altogether they amaze me—­the newspapers, the telegrams, the letters become almost unreal, for I do not comprehend what they say of my first day’s work here.  There was not a man in the fleet who did not do his duty.”

The Admiral is told that he need not think to stay away until the people who have him on their minds and in their hearts are tired of their enthusiasm; that he cannot go home undiscovered and without demonstrations that will shake the earth and rend the skies; that the boys will drag the horses from his carriage, and parade the streets with him as a prisoner, and have it out with him, giving him a good time, until it will be a hard time, and he might as well submit to manifest destiny!  His country wanted another hero, and he was at the right place at the right time, and did the right thing in the right way; and the fact answers all questions accounting for everything.  Still he has a notion of staying away until the storm is over and he can get along without being a spectacle.  Why, even the ladies of Washington are wild about him.  If he should appear at the White House to call on the President, the scene would be like that when Grant first met Abraham Lincoln.