SOMETHING LIKE A REVOLUTION!

(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.