"Hush," I said to her. "They may be going to some place else."
I stopped an old man and asked him, "Where are they going? I thought the fighting was in Dublin."
"They're going to Wexford," he replied. "The rebels have captured two or three towns and are holding them. These fellows," pointing with his thumb over his shoulder at the soldiers, "are going down to try and drive them out. God curse them," he added, spitting towards the soldiers.
"There now," I said as I turned to Agna. "Isn't that good news? Wexford out and the West awake! East and West the men are fighting for Ireland. For Ireland, Agna! O, aren't you glad to be alive! We used to read about the men who fought for Ireland and dream about them, and now, in a couple of hours we'll be amongst the men and women who are fighting in Dublin. We'll be able to do something for Ireland."
That thought cheered us so and spurred us on that we arrived in Drumcondra, a suburb of Dublin, at seven o'clock on Sunday night.
MAP OF DUBLIN
(1) General Post Office.
(2) Hotel Metropole.
(3) Kelly's Fort—O'Connell St. and Bachelor's Walk.
(4) Liberty Hall.
(5) Four Courts.
(6) Fairview.
(7) Trinity College.
(8) Bank of Ireland.
(9) Dublin Castle.
(10) City Hall and "Daily Express" Office.
(11) Jacob's Biscuit Factory.
(12) St. Stephen's Green.
(13) Pembroke and Northumberland Roads.
(14) Haddington and Northumberland Roads.
(15) Clanwilliam House, Mount St.
(16) Portobello Bridge.
(17) South Dublin Union.
(18) College of Surgeons.
(19) Shelbourne Hotel.
(20) Westland Row Railway Station.
(21) Harcourt Street Railway Station.
(22) Broadstone Railway Terminus.
(23) Custom House.
(24) Magazine Fort, Phoenix Park.
(25) Boland's Mill.
We were going to the house of a friend in Clonliffe Road. On our way there we were astonished at the ordinary aspect of the streets. Save for the fact that we saw no soldiers, we could have thought that there had been no fighting at all. Dublin is the most heavily garrisoned city in Europe. Ordinarily one could not walk the streets without seeing scores upon scores of soldiers. Therefore, our not seeing them was a sure sign that things were not in Dublin as they had been. When we reached the house of our friend, the two daughters, Kathleen and Margaret, were at the door.
"My God!" said Margaret, when she spied us.