rament would be refused to him. Two nights
afterwards the hedge around his house was set on fire, and fire was
placed on the gate in front of it. This was a gentle hint that the
people were backing the priest, and that unless he complied his house
might be next destroyed. When Mr. Michael Saurin, J.P., a member of
the Ballinabrackey congregation, went to vote, the door of the booth
was crammed to keep him out. The crowd booed and shouted at him, and
he was spat upon. The priests were present in force. Nicholas Cooney
was also spat upon, and so was his brother, both on their clothes and
in their faces. Father Woods was looking on. Matthew Brogan, who was
also thought to be against clerical dictation, was refused admission
to mass; and not only poor Matthew himself, but his son,
daughter-in-law, her children, and two friends who were suspected of
sympathy. The woman insisted on entering the chapel, when one of the
crowd of true believers "near cut the hand off her." Michael Kenny and
Peter Fagan were served with the same sauce by these enthusiastic
preachers of the Onward March to Freedom, poor Fagan exhibiting the
touching devotion of the Irish peasantry by kneeling outside during
the whole of the service. Englishmen do not realise what these
refusals mean to Irish Catholics. They constitute the cruellest and
most effective coercion possible. To be refused the sacraments, to be
turned away from the door of his chapel, is to the Irish peasant a
turning away from the gates of Paradise, a denial of the Kingdom of
Heaven, a condemnation to everlasting torment, to say nothing of the
accompanying odium in which he is held by his neighbours and
associates, and the ever present dread of boycotting. Thomas Brogan
dare not leave the polling-booth for his life, until Mr. Carew took
him on his car. He had been threatened by the priest, who drew a
circle round him with a walking stick, to show that he was cut off
from his fellows, and that contamination must be feared. Patrick
Hogan, whose views were not in accordance with those of the priest,
was afraid to vote. He went to the booth, but feared to proceed.
Thomas Dunn was more plucky, but his temerity resulted in a cut face
and a black eye for his wife at the hands of a patriot named James
Mitchell. Father McEntee tore down a party flag belonging to the
station-master of Drumree, a Parnellite, and jumped on it, in a
towering rage, saying that the owner must follow the instructions of