4 
DOTTINGrS ON THE ROADSIDE. [Chap. I.—B. S. 
was not afraid to act upon his own responsibility. 
The morning after the outbreak he was busy making 
arrests, and the coolness which he displayed sat well 
upon him. He wore plain clothes, and carried nothing 
but a riding-whip. A young officer and a private 
soldier, a grinning, good-humoured, shoeless Indian, 
dressed in a dirty-white cotton uniform with red 
facings, and merely a bayonet by his side, were the 
General’s only companions. Amongst those whom I 
happened to see arrested was a well-dressed coloured 
man, who went to prison with a swagger, involuntarily 
reminding one of Don Csesar de Bazan. He smoked 
his cigarette with the greatest nonchalance and in 
passing some of his friends made gestures as much as 
to say, This is the way in which the last of a noble 
race should die. The grinning Indian had also lit his 
cigarette, and seemed quite to enjoy the fun of the 
situation. Two of the negro servants of Aspinwall 
Hotel were beckoned out and shut up ; whilst another 
servant, also a darky, had been too severely wounded 
the night before to allow him to be removed. The 
latter was to have been minister-of-war; and, under 
these circumstances, he had thought it incumbent 
upon himself to turn out the night before and lead 
the charge, which resulted in his receiving two shots 
in the back, almost fatal to him. He had been indis¬ 
creet enough to tell the other waiters the grandeur 
that he was about to assume; how he was going to 
have his bedroom papered with bank-notes, and who 
was the young white lady he had an eye to in case all 
should go well. What a burlesque the politics of 
