as I am thus freed from responsibility, I share the
emotion of the crowd, and perhaps even feel as they feel when the glass
crashes. Maud Gonne has a look of exultation as she walks with her
laughing head thrown back.

Later that night Connolly carries in procession a coffin with the words
"British Empire" upon it, and police and mob fight for its ownership, and
at last that the police may not capture, it is thrown into the Liffey. And
there are fights between police and window-breakers, and I read in the
morning papers that many have been wounded; some two hundred heads have
been dressed at the hospitals; an old woman killed by baton blows, or
perhaps trampled under the feet of the crowd; and that two thousand pounds
worth of decorated plate glass windows have been broken. I count the links
in the chain of responsibility, run them across my fingers, and wonder if
any link there is from my workshop.

* * * * *

Queen Victoria visits the city, and Dublin Unionists have gathered
together from all Ireland some twelve thousand children and built for them
a grandstand, and bought them sweets and buns that they may cheer. A week
later Maud Gonne marches forty thousand children through the streets of
Dublin, and in a field beyond Drumcondra, and in the presence of a Priest
of their Church, they swear to cherish towards England until the freedom
of Ireland has been won, an undying enmity.

How many of these children will carry bomb or rifle when a little under or
a little over thirty?

* * * * *

Feeling is still running high between the Dublin and London organizations,
for a London doctor, my fellow-delegate, has called a little after
breakfast to say he was condemned to death by a certain secret society the
night before. He is very angry, though it does not seem that his life is
in danger, for the insult is beyond endurance.

* * * * *

We arrive at Chancery Lane for our Committee meeting, but it is Derby Day,
and certain men who have arranged a boxing match are in possession of our
rooms. We adjourn to a neighbouring public-house where there are little
pannelled cubicles as in an old-fashioned eating house, that we may direct
the secretary how to answer that week's letters. We are much interrupted
by a committee man who has been to the Derby, and now, half lying on the
table, keeps repeating, "I know what you all think. Let u