Flores the president was much beloved by his soldiers, and respected by the people. The news of his death infuriated the garrison in the fort, who immediately marched out to the cabille to take it, firing up the streets in every direction to clear them of the people. Noticing, from the house where I lived, several persons peeping round the corner of the street, I went out to see what was the matter. The balls were coming up this street from the soldiers who were advancing; and just then a gentleman on the opposite side of the street was shot through the thigh, and taken into a house. A peon crossing the street at this spot was shot dead, picked up, placed on a shutter, and carried away. On this I thought it prudent to retire into the house. When the troops reached the plazza, they fired volleys on the mob, to clear it. The cathedral was on one side and the cabille on the other.. For a whole week the Blanco party in the city were routed out of their houses and abodes, and were hunted down and shot in the streets in every direction, such was the rage of the soldiery, until a public proclamation appeared forbidding the slaughter, and ordaining that the guilty party be fairly and legally tried. Twenty corpses were lying at the prison, and doubtless many innocent persons suffered. A small army of Blancoes were cut to pieces outside the city. All the English merchants shut up their houses, and business was totally closed. Every one armed himself with a revolver. No one was suffered to be in the streets after eight o'clock at night. Nothing was to be seen there but the serenos, or watchmen, - like our "old Charlies," with lanterns and a sword, crying the hour1
