It was a proud moment.
The plaza had almost filled up with citizens, and every man and woman wore green, which would be the fashionable color now that the revolution had been an accomplished fact.
They fairly howled at sight of me, though I am of the opinion many of the same worthy fellows had howled at me quite recently.
Perhaps the majority of them were as yet somewhat in the dark as to what the whole thing signified; but they were always ready to join in the general shouting.
I felt my position, and became imbued with a sense of my responsibilities.
Raising my hand, I begged an opportunity to speak a few words, and at the silenzio that passed around, the shouts gradually ceased until not a sound was heard.
Five hundred pairs of eager eyes were fastened upon my face.
Then I addressed them.
What I said has passed beyond my memory, but Robbins declares it was the best thing he ever heard—a “corker,” he called it, in his original and emphatic way.
I believe I thanked them for the great honor, expressed my deep regrets at the untimely death of so valorous a warrior as Gen. Toreado, and then launched into a prophecy of what the nation would be within two years, when her full greatness came upon her.