top in any walk of
life, but though he had a good home--his father was a prosperous
merchant of Liverpool--he gave his whole life to Ireland. I often heard
from him of his adventures, for he always looked me up whenever he came
to Liverpool, and how, sometimes, he and his friends had to fare very
badly indeed.

It was most extraordinary that, while constantly Tunning risks, for he
was a man of great daring, he never once was arrested, though he had
some hair-breadth escapes. On one occasion, about the time of the
Rising, a good, honest, Protestant member of the Brotherhood, Sam
Clampitt, was taken out of the same bedroom in which he was sleeping
with Ryan, who was left, the police little thinking of the bigger fish
they had allowed to escape from their net, the noted Fenian leader,
"Captain O'Doherty." I forget his precise name at this particular time,
but it was a very Saxon one, for he was supposed to be an English
artist sketching in Ireland. Questioned by the police, he was able to
satisfy them of his _bona fides_. He had a friend in Liverpool, an old
schoolfellow like myself, Richard Richards--"Double Dick" we used to
call him--a patriotic Liverpool-born Irishman. He was an exceedingly
able artist, making rapid progress in his profession, and, about this
time, having some very fine pictures, for which he got good prices, on
the walls of the Liverpool Academy Exhibition. Richards supplied all the
trappings for the part that Ryan was playing, and also sent him letters
of a somewhat humorous character, which he sometimes read to me before
sending off. In these he was anticipating all sorts of adventures for
his friend in the then disturbed state of Ireland. As John Ryan had much
artistic taste, and was himself a fair draughtsman, and well up in all
the necessary technicalities, and as Richards' letters, which he always
carried for emergencies like this, were strong evidences in his favour,
he had not much difficulty in convincing the Dublin police he was what
he represented himself to be.

Some of Jack Ryan's reminiscences had their droll sides, for he had a
keen sense of humour. One of his stories was in connection with the
well-known old tradition of the Gaels--both Irish and Scottish--that
wherever the "_Lia Fail_" or "Stone of Destiny" may be must be the seat
of Government. There is some doubt, as is well known, as to where the
real stone now is. At all events, the stone which is under the
Coronation Chair in W