Right and Might Ten o'clock at night: the last rockets rose lazily in the dark sky where a few paper balloons recently inflated with smoke and hot air still glimmered like new stars.

Some of those adorned with fireworks took fire, threatening all the houses, so there might be seen on the ridges of the roofs men armed with pails of water and long poles with pieces of cloth on the ends.

Their black silhouettes stood out in the vague clearness of the air like phantoms that had descended from space to witness the rejoicings of men.

Many pieces of fireworks of fantastic shapes--wheels, castles, bulls, carabaos--had been set off, surpassing in beauty and grandeur anything ever before seen by the inhabitants of San Diego.
Now the people were moving in crowds toward the plaza to attend the theater for the last time, Here and there might be seen Bengal lights fantastically illuminating the merry groups while the boys were availing themselves of torches to hunt in the grass for unexploded bombs and other remnants that could still be used.

But soon the music gave the signal and all abandoned the open places.
The great stage was brilliantly illuminated.