The day for inauguration and celebration approached, and where he had expected the triumph of his life he faced defeat; where he had expected exultation and bliss he was filled with disappointment and bitterness. Still, preparations for the ceremonial proceeded. The day dawned at last. General Saguanaldo was present as the central figure, and was received with cheers as the savior of his country. But neither Mrs. Rizal or Ambrosia Lonzello were present. The people were merry with feasting and noise, and the enemies did not show themselves. The ceremonies of inauguration of the first Filipino president proceeded without interruption, and Saguanaldo made an inaugural address that was favorably received. Yet to him it was a disappointment, because the One was not there amid the thousands. It is always the One we care for. The applause we crave is as nothing except the One applaud. The attainment we secure is mediocrity unless the One see us advanced and glories in our deed. And when, instead of the applause of the One, the approval and sympathy of the One, the One turns away with disapproval, then we feel the deed were better not done, and the applause is a mockery. So the day was not a triumph to Saguanaldo. Even when the shades of evening fell, and the people brought forth the fireworks, when Manila was noisy with explosives and when she was gay with rejoicing and sportive people, Saguanaldo's heart was like lead, and he was bitter against the two who were the most loyal to him of all others. Yet there seemed to be no reason for the heaviness of his heart. Perfect weather, a program without a hitch, expressions of good will only, without a word or act of disapproval from the enemies of the republic, it seemed that Saguanaldo ought to have been happy. He was making history as his friends told him. He would hereafter be hailed as the liberator of the Filipinos. The day would be celebrated for years as the day of rejoicing, the greatest in Filipino history. Why could he not shake off the dread apprehension that lay like lead on his heart? Is there such a thing as premonition, which tells one things to come, when he is too hard of hearing to receive the message? But Saguanaldo got through the day. As night came he was wearied, exhausted from sorrow. But with the weariness peace came to him. It is the ease that comes when nature would heal a wound. Saguanaldo thought it meant success for him. He would triumph anyhow, and then they would believe in him. It was the fate of the great to be misunderstood and derided by their friends, and he must greatly bear if he would triumph greatly. At last the last fireworks had been exploded, the last hurrahs expressed, and in the deep silence and serenity of the night Saguanaldo lay to rest, feeling that, after all, it was not a failure; and, being tired, he slept. VII. SUBJECTED BY WORDS.